Author's note:

Readers are advised that the content of this and the following chapters may be confronting to some. Any comparisons with real world events and people are purely coincidental.

Chapter 39: Outbreak

Andross's hand rested underneath his chin. His eyes skimmed the open tome before him. Dissatisfaction drove him to flick through its handwritten pages and their illustrations. Many were torn at the edges and crackled with age. Entries detailed the symptoms of all manner of ailments. None of which contained the information that he sought.

"Doctor Andross."

It took a moment for Andross's thoughts to tear away from his studies and return to the outside world. He turned slowly towards the voice that interrupted him. Master Nomar Sharrde stood in the doorway. Though her muzzle was covered in cloth, Andross could see the grim expression that she wore. It never seemed to leave her face of late.

"We have another two patients," Nomar told him.

Grim news indeed. And not unexpected. "Same symptoms?"

"One of them worse than the other," she nodded.

Andross rose from his chair. A groan rumbled in his throat as his old soul felt the blood surge through his younger joints. He followed Nomar out to the wards, where there were more bodies than beds. Lythans flitted frantically every few moments, desperate to keep up with the demand. Andross and Nomar stopped beside the latest additions. One was a male adolescent. The other was female above middle age. The boy's fur had less lustre as he shivered just outside of consciousness.

"Where?" Andross stated.

"Near the tanneries," Nomar answered. "The tod is a worker. The vixen is an owner's mate."

"Same tannery?"

"No. But they are in the district almost every day."

"How long have they shown symptoms?"

"The vixen's mate brought her in three days after she started complaining of dizziness. Neighbours found the tod this morning when they felt his distress. They claim that he was up and walking yesterday afternoon, though he appeared a little tired."

Andross knitted his brows. The boy deteriorated much faster than the woman, despite being younger and having an active lifestyle. "That brings the total cases up to 58. Has anyone else from the male's workplace fallen ill as well?"

Nomar nodded and gestured to another, younger vixen three beds down across the room. "That patient over there came in a week ago. She spent four days bedridden before her family brought her in."

Same place but vastly different rates of progression. Andross looked at the poor girl's face. She slept deeply, bundled in as many blankets as the shrine could offer. Her raspy breath heaved her chest in slow motions. An apprentice lythan placed a freshly dampened cloth upon the girl's forehead to soothe her fever. With the way his health was declining, the tod at Andross's feet would reach the same state by tomorrow.

"How much do we know about their activities before falling ill?" Andross then asked.

"We're still talking to the woman's family. The man lived alone though. As soon as he wakes, we'll do our best to retrace his steps."

"Good. Compare what they say to the other reports and let me know if you find any common factors." The places they visited; the food they ate; the water that they drank; the people whom they encountered. Andross needed that information and more if he were to understand this new epidemic that bedevilled Kezamat. "When the Grandmaster returns, please send him to me."

Nomar sighed. He could not blame her weariness and unease. "Of course. I pray that we find a solution to this sickness soon."

Praying will get none of them anywhere, yet Andross kept that thought to himself for now. As he departed the room, he almost bumped into another master. He shortly recognised McCloud's mate, Krystal, carrying a fresh jar of medicine. Such was her hurry that she barely stopped to apologise.

Andross continued his way back to the small room that now served as his temporary home at the shrine. It contained everything that he could get his hands on to investigate this unknown disease. There was barely space for him to set a bedroll atop a pile of straw. Andross found no more comfort in this place than the patients who had been shoved where they would fit.

When the outbreak first became known, the Lythan Jad reached their wits end trying to identify why foxes were suddenly falling ill. Fevers, dizzy spells, and lethargy were the first signs. Over time, subjects became bedridden, unable to stay conscious for longer than half an hour at most. Breathing and digestion became difficult. And where cases turned for the worst, the afflicted foxes passed away in their sleep. The cause appeared to be widespread organ failure. Unable to determine the source of the problem, or develop an effective cure, the lythans approached Andross for his expertise.

Unfortunately, Andross knew no more than the lythans. His priority became gathering information. He enlisted the city guard to investigate how people got sick in the first place. Whilst he awaited their findings, Andross focused on trying to identify what the people were sick with. Consulting the Jad's archives gleaned nothing useful. Whatever pathogen was behind these cases, it was something unheard of.

Andross peered over a collection of petri dishes sealed on his second table. Each contained swab samples taken from the infected. After a few days of incubating, the cultures grew into splotchy, greenish patterns in varying states. Andross frowned as he compared each dish to the rest.

The key observation that stood out was that the disease didn't progress in each case at the same rate. Some foxes fought off the early symptoms for several days before finally succumbing. Others who felt perfectly healthy descended into the advanced stages almost overnight. Of all the cases reported so far, 23 people had already perished. Only a handful managed to recover. The reasons for this difference in fates remained unclear. Andross needed more data to properly understand it all.

The 20 petri dishes held the key to solving that mystery. Inside one taken from each of 10 subjects, Andross had placed small crystals infused with magic. He did so on little more than a hunch; a hypothesis that he felt needed testing. A hypothesis that Andross started to suspect rang true.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Doctor Andross."

Andross turned. "Grandmaster. Thank you for coming."

Randorn stepped into the cramped room. "Oh, I was in the area," he joked. His expression then fell to that akin to his sister's and fellows'. "Do you have any new insights about what we are dealing with?"

"Perhaps." Andross gestured for him to inspect the samples. "See this? My people use these petri dishes to observe the growth of bacteria cultures; the culprits behind many infectious diseases."

Randorn squeezed past him and grimaced. "Looks like mouldy chutney to me."

"Precisely the point. You'll notice that I've added crystals infused with magic to half of the cultures. Do you see anything interesting between them and the others?"

He gave the Grandmaster time to consider. "The mould grows larger with the crystals."

"Correct. It seems that this strand of bacteria thrives on mana. What effect would you say that would have on an infected Cerinian?"

Randorn's frown darkened. "The body needs mana to function. It is an essential component of life. Even an off-worlder like you, who cannot sense or control mana, has at least a small amount of it. But if something were to feed off another creature's mana, the host would eventually lose the strength to survive."

"Which might explain why people's vital organs are shutting down before death," Andross said. He picked through his notes until he found the reports that he set aside for later. It contained details about all the patients who recovered successfully. "Keza… Warjerat… Noth… Do you know anything about these people that we haven't considered yet?"

"Those are all high-standing clans in Kezamat. We have a few of their members among our ranks in the Jad."

Intriguing. "Is there anything noteworthy about them magic-wise?"

"They are all gifted with strong mana," Randorn replied. "Do you believe that might be tied to how they recovered?"

"It's possible," Andross frowned, thinking. "I'll need to review what we know about the casualties first; but one of the commoners who came in today fell straight into the third stage overnight. It would appear that the more mana you possess, the better chance your body has at fighting the infection."

Randorn tapped his finger upon the staff that he always carried. "So, we should turn our focus to keeping the patients' mana levels strong."

"That would be a start. Our greatest concern should be the people who started with less mana before getting sick. However, we still need a way to treat the disease effectively. There's no telling how many will be able to survive the full course, no matter how much mana they possess."

Randorn agreed. "I will speak with the masters about this. Do you have any other suggestions?"

"As I've instructed before, keep your faces covered and wash your hands with soap. Continue to be cautious of what everyone eats and drinks, as well as who serves it and how. We're already down eight lythans because of this outbreak and we can't afford to lose many more." Fortunately, the lythans now had a good chance of bouncing back. "I need to speak with the chief. Until we get a handle on the situation, we'll need to take some hard measures to slow the spread of infection."

Randorn sighed. "Do as you will. I trust your judgement on this." He stopped short at the door and glanced back to Andross. "Thank you for your assistance, Doctor. I apologise again for the inconvenience we've caused you."

Andross waved his concerns off. "If I lose my entire workforce to sickness, my rocket will never be finished this lifetime. A few weeks cramped in a primitive hospital is nothing if it means protecting my interests."

Strangely, the Grandmaster laughed. "As self-serving as always, Doctor. I suppose we all need our reasons in these trying times. I am grateful for yours all the same." He left before Andross could devise a response.

Sighing to himself, Andross sorted through the reports for what he was after. His mind splintered in different directions as he tried to tackle the problem from all angles. There was much that he needed to do. The sooner the better. And like with any contagious disease that was more serious than the common cold, fools were bound to resist change necessary for the good of society. Andross could feel the headache budding inside his skull. This was going to be another long day.

Fox rubbed his tired eyes. His brain felt like pudding, and his wrist ached from writing a stream of reports that didn't end. He sat alone in the barracks. While everyone else was out investigating the epidemic, Thalse assigned him the task of compiling intel. Since morning, Fox ended one call only to receive another. One tickled Fox's skull at that very moment.

"Kezamat City Police Department. You're speaking with Inspector Fox McCloud. How can I help you?"

His exhausted attempt at a joke to spice up his day met with palpable confusion. "Fox? It's Sheld. I've found another two cases."

Fox pulled out another length of parchment. "What do we have?"

"Two kits. Sisters. Eight years old."

Fox's pen hovered above the paper. His jaw clenched. Kits… In Cornerian years, they'd be almost 11. "Shit. That's rough… What about the parents?"

"Still healthy, but you know how these things go." Fox did, and he felt sorry for them. It would only be a matter of time before the whole household fell ill.

Each putting their emotions aside, Fox asked Sheld all the questions that he was supposed to. There were moments when visions flashed between them. Two red kits shivered in their beds, crying for their mother to take the fever away. She didn't say it, but this latest case rattled Sheld. Fox tried to offer her as much comfort as he could.

After Sheld left him, Fox leaned back into his chair with a heavy sigh. The situation was getting worse by the day, and the number of cases never stopped growing. Fox felt useless just sitting in a chair and taking notes like this, but he couldn't see anything else he could do. Having come from a completely different environment to Kezamat, Fox's immune system was not equipped to deal with Cerinian diseases. Even a benign illness could render him bedridden for an entire week. Fox could only imagine what something as serious as this would do to him if he caught it. Thus, Thalse kept him confined to a small office where he wouldn't run into anyone carrying the disease. The relative safety provided was painfully lonely.

No one else tried to contact Fox for the moment. A tea break felt necessary. As he boiled water in the kitchen, a knock against wood reached Fox's ears. A familiar voice accompanied it. He walked out to the common room to find Andross there. The old ape looked freshly bathed but tired as a dog.

"Has something happened?" Fox asked, bracing for bad news.

"Nothing much worse than yesterday," Andross said offhandedly. The kettle whistled in the kitchen. "I hope there's enough water in that to share."

Fox soon laid out two cups across the table. He sat opposite from Andross. "How are things at the shrine?"

"Too many patients. Not enough beds. But the good news is that I'm beginning to understand what we're dealing with."

Fox's thoughts turned to Sheld's report and the children. "Have you found a cure yet?"

"That's the bad news. I'm still working on it. We do, at least, know how we might save some lives."

"That's better than nothing," Fox sighed. "And how's Krystal doing?"

Andross flicked his wrist. "I have better things to do than concern myself with your mate's welfare. If she hasn't dropped with a fever already, then she's still fit as far as I'm interested."

Fox scowled. However, he conceded that there were better people he could have asked instead. "So, what brings you here? Thalse is out with the other guards, and Captain Forn is with the chief right now."

"I'm aware. I just finished meeting with them." Andross sipped his tea. "I proposed some measures to slow the spread of this illness. As expected, the chief is opposed to locking down the city, since it would mean cutting off trade."

"Is that necessary?"

"It would have at least stopped the disease from spreading to other settlements. Or if it's foreign, it would prevent whatever the source is from entering the city." Andross brought his hands together. "One thing that Gylis did agree to was sending away any civilians with weak mana. That includes children, the elderly, the infirm, and some commoners."

It took only a second for Fox to realise what Andross was getting at. "And us."

"Specifically, you," Andross said. "I, on the other hand, am safe from infection. I designed this body with an immune system that can quickly overcome any alien pathogen. So, I have little to worry about."

"That's good for you, but I can't just leave!" Fox spread his arms wide. "I'm needed here!"

"I need you to stay alive until we're ready to get off this godforsaken planet," Andross countered. "This disease feeds off people's mana, which you have too little of. If you so much as catch even a single bacterium, there's a damned good chance that you'll die within days. A week if you're lucky. So, would you like to take that risk? Or do you still want to live to see your friends and family again?"

Fox snarled. "But where am I supposed to go?"

"That is not my concern. However, the chief will likely send the evacuees to smaller towns and villages inside Kezamat's territory. You can join them until the danger passes."

Fox ran a hand along his chops. What Andross suggested wasn't too far removed from how Lylatian cities would try to stem a pandemic. Escaping the danger was a sensible option. Kezamat simply didn't have the resources or services for Fox to simply wait things out inside his home. However… "I still can't just leave. What about Krystal?"

"Your girlfriend spends day after day with sick patients surrounding her. As it stands, she's the one who is the most likely to infect you. Until this is resolved, you need to keep your distance from her."

When Fox gaped, too stunned to respond, Andross leaned forward. "Imagine what would happen if she were the one to get you sick. How do you think she would feel if she knew that in trying to save lives, she brought yours to a swift end?" Fox hung his head. Andross's expression then softened. "We still have no idea how the disease is spreading. Until we can rule out close contact, it's safer to assume the worst. Therefore, it's in your best interest to get out of Kezamat as soon as possible."

It felt like ice washed over Fox's fur. He pictured Krystal kneeling over his sickbed with tears in her eyes as he struggled for breath. Andross struck a painful nerve. Even if she didn't fall ill, she could still carry the disease and pass it onto him. Fox couldn't bear to put Krystal through that kind of guilt. "Can I at least keep in touch with her?"

"As someone with a medical degree, I'd advise against anything that brings you within 10 feet of each other," Andross replied. "But I'm sure that's something that a Cerinian can work with."

A dozen thoughts churned in Fox's mind at once. They almost prevented him from hearing the voice inside trying to grab his attention. "Fox?"

"I'm still on duty, and I have a call coming," he told Andross. "Excuse me."

"I will finish this before I go," Andross replied into his cup. "If you run into Sharrde, please let him know that I wish to speak with him about the investigation."

"Sure thing." Fox carried his cup back to his office, where he set it down upon the desk. "Krystal?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you while you're at work," Krystal said. "I've just been told about Andross's evacuation plan. I wanted to check on you."

Fox sighed. "Yeah. The doc just told me. I'm not happy about it."

Sorrow flowed through to him. "I don't want to send you away either, but I also don't want you to get sick. Not with whatever this is. Apparently, it saps away a person's mana. And with your weak power…"

"If I catch it, it'll kill me." They both dreaded the possibility. "Andross doesn't think it's safe for you and me to even be near each other. He reckons you could pass on the disease from your patients if we're not careful."

Horror filled Krystal. "Nuhm, have mercy… What if I've already infected you?!"

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Alarmed, Fox waved his hands reassuringly at the wall. "It's okay. I feel as fit as a fiddle. I'm fine. We've been lucky so far. But… maybe it's safer if we don't see each other for a little while."

Krystal agreed reluctantly. "I'll talk to my parents about staying with them from now on." That was a good idea. "I hate this."

"I do too," Fox said. The waking nightmare came back, but another one switched his and Krystal's roles, driving a stake of fear into Fox's chest. "I don't want to just leave you all to deal with this by yourselves. I want to help somehow."

"All I want is for you to be safe."

"I know. But I'll think of something." Fox dug inside for strength. "We'll get through this, Krystal. I promise."

"I hope so." Someone on Krystal's end called for her attention. "I have to go, Fox. We'll talk more after work. Stay safe. I love you."

"I love you too. Please be careful."

Krystal then retreated from his mind. Fox desperately wished that he could hold her in his arms at least one more time before he left town. Yet he had no choice but to follow the doctor's orders and protect his health. Fox owed it to Krystal. And he owed it to his friends and family to live long enough to get back to them. For that, he was going to have to bite the bullet until this crisis blew over.

But before he could think any further on that, another telepath tried to reach him. Fox sat down and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. This time it was Sabre with terrible news. That seemed to be all that the universe had to offer him these days.

The sun's light dimmed with the late hour. Andross's feet ached, and the consecutive nights with too little sleep took their toll. After marching halfway around the city all day, the sight of his laboratory brought him immense relief. Never had he missed it so keenly. Not since he and McCloud returned from their expedition into the Cabbot Valley.

When Andross walked through the door, he found everything neat and orderly. "Thene," he called. "I'm home."

No answer. Strange. Normally, Thene would have already greeted him before he entered the building. Was she out? No… Andross discovered her slumped over a desk, sound asleep. He observed her for a moment. She looked peaceful.

Alas, he wasn't there to gawk. "Thene." Andross shook her shoulder. She stirred. Swaying upright in her seat, Thene wiped the sleep from her eyes.

"Darling…?"

It irked Andross to feel his pulse race over something as trifle as a pet name. Thene looked up and smiled to him. His damned stomach tickled. She stood to wrap her arms around him, but Andross held her at bay by the shoulder.

"Careful," he warned. "I've cleaned myself as best as I could, but I could still be carrying the pathogen inside me."

Thene frowned softly. "I can at least embrace my mate, can't I? I haven't seen you in days. At least allow me that much."

Begrudgingly, Andross conceded. When he permitted her into his arms, he felt Thene's soft pelt against the skin of his fingers. His worldly troubles melted away. In place of a kiss, Thene nuzzled him. Her tail flailed with careless abandon.

Andross glanced down at the papers that she had been dozing on. "You've been working on the rocket project," he noted.

Thene pulled away. "Since I'm not allowed to assist you with the outbreak, I need something else to busy myself." There was no need for her to sound so cross. She knew that there was little they could do when she couldn't enter the Lythan Jad's shrine. Even with the order in crisis, she was still exiled.

"What do you intend to achieve all by yourself?" Andross challenged. "Right now, everyone else is more concerned about the epidemic. There is no one willing to help us with construction."

Thene sniffed. "Even so, it is still a better use of my time than sitting on my tail."

Fair enough. "Either way, this outbreak will delay our progress by months. Perhaps longer. It'll be every man for himself until the situation returns to normal." And they were so close to solving the liquid fuel problem. Andross sighed. "If only I had the equipment for a proper pathology lab. I could then find out exactly how this sickness works and whip up a cure within a couple of weeks!"

"Could we try seeking aid from off-world?" Thene suggested. "McCloud's friends claim to have eyes watching over the city at all times."

"Even if we write a message on the ground, there's no guarantee that they'll be able to send us medicine quickly. They'll be hampered with intersystem bureaucracy and logistics. Then they'll drag their heels, wondering whether their treatments will be compatible with your biology. The governments involved would hesitate every step of the way."

Andross scratched his chin. "For all the time that would take, we might as well try making antibiotics ourselves and see if that works. Let's hope that the disease is bacterial and not viral. This epidemic will become much harder to resolve if it's the latter."

"How long would that take?"

"It will depend on how quickly we can acquire the right materials. To wipe out the disease properly, we'll need to be able to supply the entire city." Andross rubbed his tired eyes. "Ugh… I'll have to speak with the Grandmaster again to know what we'll need for the shrine."

Thene pulled him back into her arms. "That problem can wait until morning. You are exhausted."

Andross tried to tear away, but Thene held firm. "The more time we waste…"

"The more time you gain to take care of yourself," she interjected sternly. "If you drive yourself too hard, you'll collapse just like the infected. Then you'll be useless to everyone."

He hated when she was right, and he was not. Andross couldn't muster the energy to fight her. "Fine," he murmured bitterly.

As Thene slipped into his mind, he felt her satisfaction swell with her ego. She breathed gentle thoughts into Andross. Her hands worked to massage the aches across his body. "I love your resolve, Simon. But you have absolutely no idea when or how to relax. Fortunately, I'm here to take care of that."

Andross grumbled. "Thene…"

"Shh… No talking." She guided him into a chair and stood behind him. "Just close your eyes and forget everything else for the moment."

Thene's ministrations focused upon his shoulders. Andross found it difficult to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. Any care he had for the rest of the world melted away as Thene permeated deeper into his consciousness. Like hot water poured over ice. So deep was the calm he felt, Andross did not notice Thene delve into a particular set of memories, stealing them with the silent grace of an owl in flight. A smile curled across her lips as Thene's tail flicked behind her.