"All were endangered; young and old were hunted down by the dark death shadow who lurked and swooped in the long nights of the misty moors."
Beowulf 83-85 X Splinters
He ran. His chest burning from the sudden overuse of his lungs. The object he carried in his sweat soaked palm was the true cause of his death march. A tiny data PADD that fit perfectly into his right hand contained all of the information that his master had died to collect. Heavy footfalls echoed through the streets as the Kamien soldiers closed in on him. With his final destination in sight, he picked up his pace. Legs burning from the sudden burst, he slipped the data entry device into rose bush beside private residence's front door before running out into the street.
In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of scent hounds yapping their way toward him. He knew without a doubt that where they apprehended him was where they would start their search for the PADD; it was what he had been trained to do. With a silent muttering of pain, he lunched himself over a nearby fence and bolted for the forest just beyond the sleepy neighborhood. There, he could wade through the river that wound through it, washing his scent away, before racing toward the mountains.
No sooner had he reached the edge of the woods than he heard the nearby shouts of soldiers and dogs. They were closing in quickly. His left hand came up to the wound on his left side. It bled heavily through his thick overcoat. His time was coming soon just as it should be. His work was finished, and it was better to die quickly and quietly than in a Kamien interrogation facility. Shedding his blood soaked coat and shirt, he ventured out of the woods, through the protective shield, and into the bitter cold of the mountain's base. The once distant yells of the soldiers grew closer, but he didn't care. His work was done.
The cold ate through his skin, cooling it at incredible speeds. The snowflakes he'd watched from a safe distance now fell on his bare shoulders, and he watched with awe as they suddenly stopped melting.
A dog howled in warning as the pack picked up his scent. More yelling from men this time. He closed his eyes, feeling his very blood turn to ice.
"Kenoshia, come through the barrier. Sitting in the cold like that will only lead you to your death."
The ampule clicked between his molars. Designed to remove all memory engrams from his mind, it was standard issue to higher ranking officials within the Kamien government in case they were captured by the enemy. It was a gift that had been given to Tumeric by the source they had leaked the original information to. End of days was coming, and he was glad he wouldn't be there to see it.
§ Ø §
Mortimer Harrin, sat on the narrow stool to which he had been assigned, cursing violently at the machine in front of him. If there was one thing he hated more than manual labor it was being forced to do it on archaic technology. His placement in the newly rebuilt sewing factory had been his own fault; he'd questioned a Kamien superior officier about his poor choice of conduit wiring in the electricity grid. Of course he'd received a sound thrashing and been forced into the most minial and repetitive jobs there was.
The gentle murmuring of the machines around him and the hypnotic pacing of the guards was enough to lull him into sleep. His hand slipped yet again, and, for what seemed the four hundred time that day, the needle became unthreaded. Of course, the thread itself had to become tangled. He lifted the needle, pulled the fabric only to find stuck in the tiny hole for the bobbin's feeder. Rather than carefully extracting it like he had the first dozen or so times it had happened, he cut it out, rethread the needle, and continued. At least, if they killed him for doing such a horrible job, he would be free of this machine and this place.
Mistake number 473 occurred not because of mechanical problems or lack of know how. It was caused by a guard losing his step and falling within the direction of his machine, ripping the powercord from the back. He flew back off of his stool and rised his hands in the air.
"I didn't do that. You saw that I didn't do that, right?" His eyes dashing from guard to guard.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot, see what's wrong,"one of the guards yelled. Chell stepped forward, pulling the guard from Harrin's work station and setting him none to gently on the ground. He was sweat soaked and delirious, mumbling non-coherent phrases about the End of Days. Deep crimson blood tricked from his nose, and his body was trembling uncontrolably.
"I think he's dehydrated maybe. Do you have any water for him to drink?" Chell ventured. A murmur broke out through the crowd. One prisoner took the initiative to race to the well near the center of camp and draw a bucket full of water. The mumbling only stopped as the ladel full of water was raised to the guard's parched lips.
A blue beam surrounded the guard and he disappeared instintaneously leaving Chell crouched beside a vast, empty space. The guard that had spoken to them stepped back, clearly showing some of the same symptoms his comrade had. His eyes darted around at the workers that had left their stations to see what was happening. Then, he cast a weary gaze at the only other guard on duty. An unspoken agreement passed between them before he bellowed more orders.
"Line up; we're bringing you back to your cells for lunch today."
Harrin's elbow dug into Chell's side as they marched. "Great going, Florence Nightengale. What were you expecting? A medal?"
"Harrin, if you weren't so busy trying to make everyone miserable by extolling your theories then maybe just maybe you would have noticed the look in those guard's faces."
"Yeah. They were terrified that we were going to rebel and take them out," he gruffed, dragging his chains behind him."
"You really do suck at human interaction, don't you?" Ayela called out from behind them. "What Chell meant was that the guard that went down had the same kind of 'attack' that all the other guards have had before they were mysteriously beamed away too."
"And a lot of those same symptoms..."
"Are being displayed by these guards. I got that. So what? All the Kamiens are getting some nasty bug?"
"Which means that sooner or later we could just walk right on out of here without a fight."
"You think they're just going to lower their little shield and let us all skip merrily into the sunset? You two are completely crazy."
"Every morning at exactly 6:15 the shield goes down for ten minutes to allow the workers needed to deliever bodies to the creamatorium leave."
"So, if we timed it right, we'd all be able to walk out."
"Right into the new batch of guards walking in." Harrin volleyed, rolling his eyes at the two conspiritors.
"There's only a finite amount of guards that any group of people can have. If all of them got sick or died from whatever this is..." Chell started.
"Then they'd call out their reserve troops to kill us all before we could escape."
"You're also one of the most negative people I've ever come across. Get over it, Harrin. It'll work." Ayela interjected.
"And if it doesn't everyone on your cell blocks will be dead which is...oh say...everybody left from Voyager."
§ Ø §
The clones stood in eleven lines waiting patiently for their latest injection. This one would take them from age 8 to 12 in a few hours. The following day, they would be given the shot that would level them out to the appropriate age. Young Kathryn came first. She stepped up to Tom with a board smile across her face. The type that reached her eyes. The kind that he hadn't seen from the original Kathryn since he had begun keeping long hours to see Hope.
"Good Morning, Lieutenant Paris."
He winked at her, "Morning, Captain," he teased, pressing the hypospray to her neck.
"You're still taking me out on the shuttle tomorrow, aren't you?" Her voice was filled with youth, overly eager enthusiasum, and an inquizative mind he recalled the original Kathryn having not some long ago. The being in front of him was like a living thing. Bright, shiny, untainted, but, more than anything else, happy and his heart broke for her and the women she would become.
"Of course I am. Don't I always keep my promises?"
§ Ø §
B'Elanna stood at her post on the bridge of Voyager outfitting the con position to include the controls for the new propulsion systems. A lone guard loomed above her. She turned a wary eye on him, watching him sway slightly yet again. A clumbsy hand rose to his brow, wiping the sweat it encountered. Normally, she would have had her own troupe watching over her, but a number of guards had fallen mysteriously ill. All of the displaying remarkably similar symptoms. A cruel smile twisted at her lips, forcing her to lower her head slightly.
"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look well," she said, standing, voice colored with humor. "In fact, you look even paler than normal."
The hand that held his gun at his side rose in the air slowly as he struggled to target her. The strike held little strength and they both knew it. His mouth opened to speak but the words came out in a stuttering mess.
She tilted her head to the side, making a mental note to tell the doctor that the infection's incubation time was excellerating with each generation it was infecting.
With dispassionate interest, she watched him sink to his knees. The color drained from his face, his lips grew blue tinged, and he his hands began to twitch as he lost motor control. Within seconds a transport beam enveloped the guard and he was replaced with another. One that was still in the early stages.
"Get back to work," he growled. She did as was ordered trying carefully to conceal the smile on her face.
§ Ø §
The Doctor sat in his lab, staring down at the latest scans he'd run of the Kamien soldiers at The Farm. The compound that he had created was working perfectly according to the chart. Facts and figures and illness all neatly diagramed. Life and death projections like those found in a history text he'd had entered into his matrix. Funny how it felt different when you knew what each of their faces looked like.
"Maybe they'll name the serum after me," he mused to himself, flipping the PADD off and throwing it onto the steel counter that his feet were currently propped up on. Empty hands came to rest on his bald head. Fingers threaded through one another as a content smile spread across his face.
Four months ago, B'Elanna had come to him looking for a fast, easy way to disable the guards. She and Harry were working on outfitting Voyager with the Kamien-based propulsion system. The access they were given allowed them to work on an escape route-- one that was more complex than digging to freedom but also had a much higher success rate.The Doctor agreed to come up with a means if she came up with the method. The engineer was quick to point out the drug could easily be slipped into the weekly injections that the enhanced Kamiens received to keep their systems from rejecting the added sequencing. When he'd delievered the formula for her to enter into the computer system's data core, he'd failed to mention the unfortunate side effect of his invention.
It was a miracle design really. A virus that attacks only Kamien DNA in the very medium used to replicate it-- the mitochondria. The shot would convince the cell to create nucleic acids that were tainted with mutant strands of DNA. These strands were unable to be paired with existing RNA or be broken down into ATP, the sugar that provides the energy for cell division. In other words, their cells would run out of the body's form of gasoline. Without gasoline, the cell's 'engine' would burn and the car, or, in this case, the Kamien soldier, would die. The more of their own people's DNA in their system, the quicker the infection would spread.
As soon as he had seen the evidence that his creation was working, he had begun writing an article for the United Federation of Planet's Medical Jounral. He was sure his entry would gain him attention when they returned home. It wasn't every day that a hologram single-handedly rescued an entire crew from certain death.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Ensign?" He asked, swerving around in his chair.
"I've come to check your holomatrix," he said, looking from the doctor to the camera in the corner and back.
"Working at peak effeciency," he said, picking up the PADD he was holding earlier and handed it to the young man. "And you?"
Harry looked over the message written below the graph. 'Serum working faster than anticipated. Scheduled extration needs to be moved up at least two days.' It read. Harry typed in a response and handed the PADD back to the doctor.
"Doing just fine, Doc. Might even be able to clear enough spare time to help Tom."
The doctor casually looked down at his reply. 'Can do. Will tell B'El. Update Tom.'
"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that. He's been waiting for you to finish work on the Flyer. Seems his clone is anxious to take her out for a spin. Shouldn't be more than a week or so."
"Speaking of being anxious, B'Elanna'll have time to give you that make-over you wanted."
The doctor laughed. "Yes...you know how it is. The Kamien officers feel more comfortable around someone that looks like them, and, if we are going to be here forever, it only makes sense."
The stage was set. The time table was give. Now, he could only hope that the pawns would go out willingly and easily.
The doors to the Doctor's laboratory swished open and a nervous looking Tanari entered the room grasping a PADD as if his very life depended upon the information gather there.
"I'll be back tomorrow to check in. I have a few things left to do on the ship before I call it a night," Harry said, turning and leaving the lab. The Doctor nodded before turning his attention to the young Kamien.
"Yes, Tanari? Is there something I can help you with?"
He took one hesitant step and then another before offering the hologram the PADD he held so tightly in his hand.
"The tests that I have been running on the most recent victims of this plague have shown something...disturbing shall I say."
"Oh? And what might that be?" The Doctor replied, frowning at the information on the screen. Tanari seemed to be unraveling his little creation much sooner than he had anticipated. All thoughts of handling the situation quietly were efficiently cut off when the shy Kamien spoke again.
"The virus seems to have mutated.... It's become airborne."
"What?" The hologram stammered, eyes flying up to meet the Kamien's. Thought he was only partially shocked to hear the news, he hadn't theorized it would have occured this soon.
"That's not possible. In all the simulations I ran it never..." His voice trailed off as his eyes flew to Tanari's, instantly trying to assess if his slipped comment had been detected. Seeing no response, he ventured his next question. Logical and yet not scientifically centered as you would expect. It was the human reaction. "Are you sure?"
"I ran the tests several times. Each time it was the same. I believe that it has something to do with the chemicals I found within their cell structure..."
The Doctor lowered his head to read over the tests, tuning the young man out. His skilled eyes darted from autopsy report to autopsy report. Graph after graph showed the same thing-- the serum he had created had become airborne.
"Doctor?" Tanari repeated, more forcefully.
"What?" he asked, his head shoot up in reaction.
"I asked if you thought it would be prudent to test all the men and place them into isolation, or just shut down The Farm to all outside Kamiens indefinitely."
"The Voyagar Plan's release is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Shutting down this place will only result in panic from the board members, and you know how much strain Kairon is under. I think we shouldn't bother him with this until we have come up with some way to treat it. Until then, treat the symptoms like we have been, terminate those that are in the advanced stages..."
"We're running low on guard clones, sir. There isn's enough of them left to cover the numbers that are dying or already dead, and many of my lower level scientists are already in the advanced stages."
The Doctor resisted the urge to smile at the last confession; it was the news he was hoping for. "Whatever it is that was the original cause has to be something they all had in common," he said, pausing. "What about their food? Don't all Kamiens eat the same meals?"
Tanari offered a genuine smile. "This is true. They do. Perhaps some of the new plant species we gathered from the Kazon vessel were not totally compatable with our cellular structure."
"Or it was a combination of several plant genes that were spliced together."
The Kamien scientists face fell. "That would leave hundreds if not thousands of possibilities."
"We'd better get started then," the Doctor said, rising from his stool. "I'll take the first greenhouse, and you start on the second. Have as many of the biologists that can be spared help you."
In his haste to exit, Tanari left the PADD behind. Fingering the sides of it, the Doctor picked it up, selecting all of the text, downloaded it into his matrix, and deleting all of the files from the PADD. As he exited the lab en route for the greenhouse, be began whisleing to himself as another subroutine worked on encrypting the files.
§ Ø §
Rough hands grabbed Tumeric's lapels and drug his corpse up from his position on the creamatorium's floor. A second man lifted his legs, guiding the body into the oven's great maw.
"Always said that I wanted to do this," Chell said, evenly. "Course, I was usually the one that pulled the trigger to begin with."
"You would have killed him first? I would have just thrown him in the damned thing alive," Ayela replied.
"Not much of a eulogy," Chell said, laughing.
"What were you expecting me to say? I loved you to death and hope you well in the next life?" Ayela said, pressing the button to expose the fire to Tumeric's flesh. His hand rose to wipe the sweat caused by the sudden heat.
"Why do you suppose they killed him?"
"My guess? Probably something to do with his not complyin'."
Both paused for a brief moment, realization that Tumeric was actually dead seeping in.
§ Ø §
The thinning line of crew members stood facing the main stage in The Yard. Tumeric's third in command now stood in front of them. He was a man that barely spoke but had mastered the fine art of scowling. Today, he stood proudly before them announcing that he had just been made the commanding officer. His victory speech was cut short with the deafening approach of three transport ships.
Murmurs broke out in the audience as the hatch opened to reveal several of Kairon's guards. Guns raised, they fanned out into a semi-circle. Behind them, a smaller group that all held scanning devices. They moved through the prisoners towards the Yard's guards, using tiny tricorders to scan their torsos. A single scientist yelled toward the lead vessel a single, three word phrase-- "Scans affirmative, sir."
In a few moments, Kairon exited the shuttle and walked slowly, purposfully toward the main stage. A brief, heated exchange passed between the new leader of The Yard and Kairon in hushed tones. The gathered crowd only picked up brief snatches of their conversation.
"--came to take command..."
"--won't be pushed around by some data pusher."
"--could have you killed..."
"--feels for the humans."
Kairon stepped back, adjusting his tunic with a great tug as his ghostly grey face turning red with anger. "At least I didn't contribute to Tumeric's plan to bring about End of Days."
One hand rose from his side to the brim of his hat, and, within seconds of that action, one of his men from the Farm hit his target with deadly accuracy. The third in command's body fell to the uneven planks of the platform like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Kairon turned and smiled apologetically to the crowd. " He was a non-compliant little man, wasn't he?" A deep silence feel upon the prisoners gathered.
"The Yard is being closed for the time being. You are to turn and enter the passanger vehicle one at a time. We are taking you to The Farm. Once there, you will be given food, new clothing, a shower, and be placed in isolation until the cause ot the virus afflicting the soldiers here in The Yard and Farm is determined," he exampled tersly before turning to the man exiting the lead shuttle.
"Ensign Kim, why don't you lead them out?" Kairon said, walking slowly toward the transport ship. Once inside, B'Elanna's eyes dashed towards his.
"Everything went smoothly," he said, smiling, propping his feet up on the con.
XI: Shattered