23: Victims
There were problems as soon as the team arrived on Langara. SG-1 travelled with Major Kav'rak, Captain Sha'pek and two additional makalvari soldiers, both of which carried magnetic rail rifles that carried a grey metal look that lacked the sleek qualities so common to Calsharan-made weapons. The makalvari favoured high-tech ballistics over outright energy weapons, and no doubt this had to do with their overall disadvantage in terms of technological progress compared to their Calsharan rivals. The rifles were slung about each soldier's shoulder, and it was both these weapons that brought the immediate attention of the Langaran security teams.
The Langarans, or more specifically, the Kelownans, had placed their stargate in a remote facility far from their main city. On the inside it was a large warehouse space lined with catwalks, with a ramp leading from the mouth of the stargate to an open stretch of floor watched over by multiple machine gun positions. Sharpshooters were up on the catwalks above, rifles aimed at the new arrivals. A control room was ahead, situated in a small box-shaped partition that was partway up the far wall and accessible by a set of simple metal stairs.
The technology here had a very analogue appearance to it, all cathode ray tubes and bulky terminals adorned with switches and dials that would have been right at home in a Cold War-era bunker on Earth.
John followed the makalvari delegation down the ramp, and in turn Aithris, Jonas, Elsie, Natalia and Daniel kept pace behind him. They were all armed, albeit lightly with submachine guns and side-arms. Even Natalia had travelled light, carrying with her far less explosive material than she usually brought along on a field operation. It had been at the instructions of Kav'rak, who had assured them that the makalvari embassy would have plenty of suitable and more powerful weapons available for their use if the situation on Langara became volatile.
From what John could tell, the situation was already volatile enough. The black-uniformed soldiers on duty here all looked about ready to open fire, and one could almost feel the paranoia on the air within the facility. They moved in on the two makalvari soldiers, motioning for them to halt. Kav'rak instructed the pair in their native tongue, essentially telling the soldiers to not relinquish their weapons. Daniel, who had some loose understanding of the makalvari language, stopped by John's left and offered a loose translation of what was said.
"It's a difficult language to learn," he had told John once, months ago when he had first started looking into it. "That's really down to the fact that the human vocal chords can't actually make some of the necessary sounds. Understanding it is one thing, speaking it is another issue altogether."
The officer in charge of the Langaran security team, his status clear from the slightly different uniform he wore and the black peaked cap he had set over crew-cut dark hair, pointed to the two makalvari soldiers.
"I must ask you to relieve your weapons," he declared. He locked eyes with Kav'rak, who had stepped to the front of the group. Behind them, the stargate switched off, the rippling blue light brought on by its wormhole vanishing. The officer then motioned towards John and his team, his desires here clear: "Your human companions will also have to give up their firearms."
"That is unacceptable, Captain," Kav'rak stated, his voice firm. He clasped his hands behind his back. This was less to appear with a relaxed sense of authority and more to conceal the fact that his hands were shaking, brought on by more than a day spent without a drop of alcohol in his system. He could not wait to get to the embassy, where plenty of makalvari-made liquor awaited him.
"As representatives of the Republic of Makvar, we are protected by diplomatic immunity. My bodyguards must remain armed for the safety of not only myself, but also of my associates. That includes the humans, who are under my protection. That places them under the same immunity." He seemed to have had this all rehearsed, given the ease in which he spoke despite the many tense guards situated before them. None had their weapons raised, not really, but they looked about ready to strike nonetheless.
"To attempt, through coercion, to relieve us of our weapons will damage the diplomatic relationship our two peoples have formed over the past couple of years." Kav'rak might have smiled, John certainly got the hint that he wanted to. Instead, the makalvari Major opted to keep his mouth a thin, grim line. There would be no arguments here, and any threats from the part of the Kelownan Security Forces would be met with a harsh response.
The Kelownan Captain frowned, before he looked past Kav'rak towards the rest of the party. His eyes fell upon Jonas Quinn, who loitered a few steps behind John. Immediately, the Captain's mood soured further.
"That man is a wanted fugitive," he said.
"He is protected as part of my diplomatic mission," Kav'rak countered. "Regardless of whatever trumped-up charges you have against him, he falls under Republic jurisdiction. As long as that protection is granted, you cannot arrest him. The most you can do is return him to our care if you do so happen to arrest him anyway. Doing anything else would be construed as a diplomatic incident." He met the Captain's eyes, Kav'rak's own narrowing into a hardened scowl. "Please, Captain. Step aside. My associates and I have business at the embassy."
The Kelownan Captain appeared reluctant at first. However, after a moment of deliberation he motioned to his soldiers to relax. Weapons were lowered and postures became much less severe, with the guards parting such that Kav'rak's path was no longer hindered. He continued onwards, Sha'pek following, as did the two makalvari soldiers. John looked over to Jonas, wondering how he might be taking his return to Langara. So far, he appeared straight-faced, although he did receive suspicious looks from some of the Langaran personnel within the warehouse space the stargate was situated in.
The atmosphere was tense, and all the way to the facility's exit the team was watched, scrutinised but otherwise avoided. Personnel cleared their path upon sighting the makalvari delegation. Few here wanted anything to do with the aliens, whereas the humans from Earth received wary looks. Aithris was a subject of some curiosity, receiving his fair share of stares along the way. Murmurs were exchanged between those guards and technicians they passed by within the facility's plain grey corridors. None had seen a Nomad before, yet few reacted with outright surprise given their familiarity with the makalvari. Another alien species just did not seem too unusual anymore.
John noticed various posters stuck about the walls, all written in the Kelownan language. He could not read the writing, yet some of the images were unmistakable: hands being washed under a tap, protective gear being recommended depending on what section of the facility one was working in; it seemed the plague that had been spreading through Langaran society had brought with it an appropriate increase in precautions.
"Will we need to get decontaminated?" Daniel caught up alongside Kav'rak as they traversed the corridors. They moved for a rear exit, one that brought them into an exterior compound surrounded by forested hills. Train tracks were out here, as were a trio of armoured six-wheeled vehicles. All three were manned by makalvari soldiers, and one of them motioned for Kav'rak as soon as the group stepped outside.
"The Langaran decontamination process is time-consuming and invasive," Kav'rak replied, his tone dry. "Our diplomatic status allows us to avoid it. Unless you happen to want a large needle being stuck into your backside?"
Daniel shook his head. Kav'rak smiled, showing his pointed teeth. They made their way for the makalvari convoy, all while the resident Kelownan guards watched them. The central armoured personnel carrier was open, its passenger compartment somewhat cramped especially once everyone was inside. John sat down in one of the seats, the air about him carrying with it that musty scent he had come to associate with the makalvari. Like an aviary full of birds on Earth that needed a clean, he reckoned, the smell of old unwashed feathers and bird droppings. The compartment appeared clean, yet all that time spent with its interior packed full of makalvari soldiers had only ensured those mingled scents were practically imbued into the upholstery.
"The drive to the embassy will take about two hours," Kav'rak said. He settled into the seat opposite John, flanked by Captain Sha'Pek and his two bodyguards. "We have some water on board, if anyone here is thirsty."
Behind them, the rear doors slammed shut. On the outside, the armoured carrier was a squat, almost rectangular thing with sloped armour to better increase the odds of any armour piercing rounds glancing off. It had been painted a deep green to better suit the forested surrounds. It was no doubt of makalvari make, presumably older models that had been relegated to the otherwise unremarkable diplomatic outpost that was on Langara.
"What kind of a presence do you have here?" It was Daniel who asked this question. The whole vehicle rumbled around them, the engines stirring. Slowly, it trundled into a steady pace, dead in the middle of the convoy. The forest roads were mostly gravel, rough in places, which made for a bumpy ride.
"Oh, it's small but not to the point it would be a pushover. The embassy we have is on the outskirts of the Kelownan capital. We've got about twenty soldiers stationed there full-time, plus an additional fifteen staff doing the administrative and maintenance duties. Our diplomat, Voro'kur, is in charge of the operation. At least when I'm not around, anyway." Kav'rak gave a small smirk. "Not to worry, you and your friends will be comfortable at the embassy. We're far enough away from the city that we don't have to deal too often with the locals making trouble at our front door."
There were only about four small, reinforced windows within the passenger section. John turned his head to get a better look through the one nearest to him, only to see a thick wall of trees lining the road alongside the convoy. The sky above was scattered with clouds and judging from the position of the sun it had to be about mid-morning. It was a little disorienting, having gone from late evening on Earth to mid-morning on Langara.
John had caught some sleep before coming to Langara, so he was not feeling terribly tired. Nonetheless, he could do with a sit down before diving right into the mission at hand. Maybe, and this was a thought that troubled him deeply, he was simply getting old?
The embassy was indeed located on the edge of the city, situated in the middle of a large, vacant space in which there had once stood a sizeable apartment tenement. Instead, it was a barren, sandy expanse of open land that, on one side of the embassy, was dotted with the decaying concrete foundations of that long-ago demolished tenement. The embassy was a squat compound surrounded by a tall brick wall, wherein the main building was the size of a millionaire's mansion but only a single floor in height. There were a few smaller buildings located about it within the compound, each tall enough with accessible rooftops to allow one to look over the perimeter walls and onto the surrounding vacant land.
Plain brick apartment complexes lined the nearby streets. John, once again looking through the window closest to him, sighted a tall and unfinished structure at the far end of the vacant block. Brickwork was only partially done and steel columns jutted up from the construction in-progress, providing an accessible structure about five floors in height. Nonetheless, the makalvari had made a wise and deliberate decision to place their embassy where it was. The surrounding ground on all sides was wide open for some distance. There was little in the way of cover, save for the remnants of the apartment block that was a scattering of half-walls and broken concrete columns. The ground was not even, interspersed with ditches, so there would be some foxholes available if anyone decided to attack. Regardless, the makalvari would be able to defend this place easily, and as the convoy approached the main gates, John sighted a three-barrelled gun position on an elevated platform just beyond the fence. An anti-aircraft piece no doubt, suggesting that those within were expecting just about anything.
The main gates were tall and solid, built out of a rust-coloured metal and marked with scuffs and small scorch marks. John saw graffiti scrawled along the perimeter walls, unreadable to him for it was spraypainted in the Kelownan tongue. Jonas moved alongside John and followed his gaze, offering translations for the more prominent messages:
"It's not flattering stuff," he remarked. "I'm seeing a lot of 'Aliens Unwelcome' and 'Birds go home'. And there's a lot of profanity mixed in."
"I didn't think the Kelownans would be pleased to have a foreign power with a compound in their capital city," Daniel added. Kav'rak leaned forwards from his seat then, a wry smile creeping about his beak-like mouth.
"Most don't like us," he said. "But we benefit Kelowna. Most citizens won't see that, of course. Especially now, when some blame us for releasing the plague."
"They blame you?" Jonas asked, turning to face Kav'rak.
"Naturally. We're the alien outsiders, so obviously we decided to afflict this land with a disease. For what reasoning, who knows? Such hatred does not need a reason. Conspiracy theories abound."
The gates slid open, groaning loudly within ageing housings. A pair of makalvari soldiers checked the credentials of the driver in the lead carrier, before motioning them all in. The convoy came to rest in an open paved lot before the main building, the gates sliding shut after them. As soon as the engine switched off, one of Kav'rak's bodyguards opened the rear doors. Sunlight streamed in, as did a cold breeze. John, relieved to have some fresh air, followed the soldier out into the open courtyard.
The main building had the appearance of a low brick mansion, all carved columns and arched windows. The smaller subsidiary buildings resembled concrete bunkers, and it seemed that they had been built by the makalvari more recently. The main building had been here before they had arrived, and John was curious to note a few other additions: there was a tower jutting from one end of the mansion, and this in turn was next to a sizeable swimming pool. A few trees swayed in the breeze, scattered about the compound and mingled with the odd bed of shrubs and underbrush. A makalvari gardener, an ageing male with a grey head plume, was currently trimming a set of hedges by the central building's front entrance. He looked over to the group emerging from the troop carrier, eyeing them with curiosity for a moment before returning to his work.
"Nice place," John remarked, and he turned to Kav'rak.
"The central building was already here. We simply purchased it and the surrounding land, as part of an agreement made with the Kelownan government. For all intents and purposes, this compound is part of the Republic of Makvar."
"You get trouble from the locals?" It was Elsie who asked this. She had taken several steps in the direction of the swimming pool. There, she sighted one shirtless makalvari male swimming about, and for a moment her eyes took in the male's surprisingly muscular torso. Turning around, she shifted her attention to Kav'rak.
"Sometimes, but nothing serious. They can graffiti the walls as much as they want, it's not going to make a difference."
"I feel like taking a dip, sir," Elsie said, and she looked to John. "The water looks good."
"Not right now, Lieutenant." The mansion, for that was essentially what it was, certainly looked appealing. And comfortable, which was hardly surprising. Naturally the makalvari would make their lives here as comfortable as they possibly could.
"We've got rooms put aside for you and your team, Colonel Sheppard," Kav'rak said. As he spoke, another makalvari emerged from the entrance ahead. He was tall and had near black skin, his head plume a light shade of grey and his eyes a deep crystal blue. Unlike Kav'rak and the soldiers around them, this one was dressed in a much more regal blue tunic, something that suggested a level of importance that no doubt pertained to some government role.
"Is that you, Major?" The other makalvari approached at a brisk walk. Kav'rak turned to face this new arrival, offering the male a curt nod.
"Ambassador Voro'kur," Kav'rak said. He gestured to the humans (and one Nomad) standing near him. "These are the humans from Earth I told you about in our last communication. Colonel John Sheppard of SG-1." He then nodded to Aithris, who had been looking about the compound with a keen eye, as if searching for weaknesses in its defences. "And a Nomad, Aithris."
"A Nomad?" Voro'kur's face soured at the sight of Aithris. "Are you sure bringing him along is wise, Major?"
"We need the help, Ambassador," Kav'rak countered. The Ambassador, who had to be about the same age as Kav'rak, regarded the team for a further moment, eyes searching each of them with a hint of disdain. Like so many of the makalvari John had run into, this Ambassador had a similar superior attitude to most of his brethren. At least Kav'rak had become better at hiding it, not to mention being humbled somewhat by the mission on Dalabrai where humans had saved his life.
"Well, you came at a good time," Voro'kur stated. "The Kelownan government is in crisis, as you can well imagine. They want to meet, as soon as possible. I was waiting for you to arrive."
Kav'rak nodded in acknowledgment. He motioned to John and the rest of the team, and Voro'kur eyed the group with a mix of curiosity and distrust. In typical fashion, the makalvari were not too keen on outsiders becoming involved in their affairs. In this case, however, it was more the affairs of Langara that were in play here.
Overall, the Ambassador struck John as not being that interested in the humans, although for the purposes of rectifying the crisis at hand he could tolerate their presences here. John regarded Voro'kur briefly, trying to get a read on the makalvari's character. Definitely a politician, he surmised, and thereby probably not one to be readily trusted.
At that point, John noticed that Jonas looked a little restless, and as if on cue the Langaran stepped forwards. Both Kav'rak and Voro'kur turned to him, attentive if wary.
"What about this disease?" Jonas asked, eyes searching the faces of both makalvari. He wanted to know all he could about the disease afflicting his people, and it was upon hearing this question that Kav'rak's expression soured. "Do you have any idea where it came from?"
"Its origin is unknown to us," Voro'kur said. "We've done some research into its effects ourselves, but so far we're operating with limited resources out here. The Kelownan government has not been very forthcoming with information, and as the disease does not affect makalvari they seem to think it's none of our business."
"What about your government back home?" It was Daniel who asked this. "Have they tried offering assistance with finding a cure?"
"Not officially," Voro'kur answered.
"You have to understand, there are rival factions at work in our government." It was Kav'rak who spoke then, his voice laced with frustration. "Some would rather see people such as myself and Voro'kur here fail. Those people stymie any overarching official attempt to aid the Langaran people. That's part of the reason I brought your people on board." He turned to John. "Colonel, once again this mission falls somewhat outside of official channels."
"Like Dalabrai," John said.
"Yes, like Dalabrai." Kav'rak seemed to wince at the memory, and he rubbed at his prosthetic leg in an absent manner, more out of habit than anything else. "We do have some examples of the later stages of the disease here in the compound."
"Like those photos you showed us?" John frowned, uncertain. "Are they safe?"
"They're very much dead. And most viruses can't survive long without a living host, so yes, they're very much safe. It might be worth a look, at least that way you and your team can get some idea first-hand of just what is going on here." Kav'rak himself did not sound too keen on the prospect, but he was quick to hide this with a grim smile. "Perhaps your people could pick up on something we might have missed?"
Underneath the main embassy building was a large basement, one that the makalvari had expanded since moving in. This included an entire medical wing, complete with operating rooms and an observation window looking in to a sealed clean-room environment. It was to here that the team were led by both Kav'rak and Voro'kur, a walk that took them down a dreary grey brick corridor and through a guarded door. A makalvari doctor awaited them, a middle-aged male of the species dressed in a loose-fitting blue uniform that denoted him as a member of the Republic's medical corps. His head plumage was a pale grey, with his overall skin tone being a deep blue.
His bright blue eyes regarded the human visitors with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as the team filed into the infirmary. At the moment, the handful of beds present were all empty and the various medical computers and the like were all inert. A quiet post to have, Jonas surmised. This doctor looked like the sort who would have appreciated the quiet, so the recent chaos with the plague had likely come as an unwelcome disruption.
The infirmary was otherwise a typically sterile hospital environment, the brick walls around them having been painted a light blue. The doctor was joined by a female makalvari, one much younger than him, who was dressed in a similar uniform and was presumably the nurse assigned here. She was seated at a nearby desk, tapping away at a computer terminal. Even so, her attention did flit towards the human arrivals and their Nomad companion.
"Doctor Rol'kal, these are the humans I mentioned were coming." Voro'kur motioned to John and the others, with the Colonel managing a small smile as the makalvari doctor surveyed the group carefully.
"Any scientists among them?" The doctor asked. "Because they look like a ragtag bunch if you ask me." His gaze drifted over to Aithris. "And a Nomad as well? Hardly a normal sight on Langara."
"Who are you calling 'ragtag'?" Elsie asked, before John could say anything. Jonas stepped forwards, and the makalvari doctor fixed his eyes upon the native-born Langaran.
"I'm a scientist," he said. "And I'm from Langara. My name's Jonas Quinn."
"Well, Mister Quinn, if you're from this place I take it you're up to speed on what's been happening?"
"I've been away for a while." Jonas had spent more than eighteen months away from Langara, once again a fugitive in the eyes of his government. He would have liked to return home in better circumstances, but as always it seemed there was some sort of crisis on Langara that needed his attention.
"Well, come and follow me to the clean room. We'll get you in the proper gear."
"I'll stick around," John said. "I want to see what we're dealing with." He paused briefly, aware that the makalvari doctor was glaring at him. "I mean, I'll observe. That's what you've got the windows here for, right?"
"Major, could you clear the infirmary?" Doctor Rol'kal sounded annoyed, and he shot the Major a frown. "This is hardly the time for a tour."
Kav'rak gestured for the door.
"All right, everyone else follow me. I'll take you to your quarters." He started for the exit, with Aithris and Elsie and Natalia following. Daniel lingered, no doubt curious to see just what it was they were dealing with when it came to the Langaran plague. He exchanged glances with John and simply gave a shrug.
"A scholar's curiosity?" He suggested.
With the others leaving, Jonas followed the makalvari scientist down the corridor and towards a sealed metal door. There was a retinal scanner here, and Rol'kal had to lean forwards slightly so that the beam could gently scan one eye. After a moment, a beep sounded and a green light flashed. The door slid open, revealing a small chamber of sorts within which various signs were stuck about the walls. All were in the common makalvari tongue, and Jonas' knowledge of that language was adequate enough for him to see they were instructions as to how the airlock was to be operated. There were also warnings interspersed throughout, mainly to do with decontamination procedures.
"Your friends can go through the next door," Rol'kal stated, and he nodded towards John and Daniel, who had both stopped just outside the airlock. There was a door a few metres past the airlock, a means to enter the observation room that looked on into the clean room environment. Both men made their way over and let themselves in, while Rol'kal had a switch somewhere and shut the airlock door behind them.
"That cabinet there," the makalvari scientist said, and he pointed to a metal cabinet at the far corner. "There's a respirator and mask, as well as a protective sheath for your clothes. That is, all suitable for humans." He moved over to another cabinet, and from within he pulled similar items designed for makalvari physiology. He began to fit the white sheath over his torso, similar to those on Earth that served as a disposable cover short of a full biohazard suit. Jonas pulled open the cabinet and retrieved the items in question. The white sheath was made from a sturdy and smooth polymer, similar to plastic. It was easy enough to fit on and very elastic, so it seemed that one size did fit all. Gloves and mask followed, and in the case of the latter it was a sealed respirator with two large yellow filters stuck upon it. Rol'kal even provided a set of safety goggles, as in these circumstances they would take no chances.
"I was told the bodies were safe?" Jonas asked, as he slipped on the glasses. He tightened the mask about his face. Right away he could smell that odd, artificial and nearly chemical scent of a brand new respirator. It was not a pleasant smell and only served to remind him of the inside of a hospital, where everything was drenched in disinfectant. Give it a few minutes and that scent would be smothered by that of his own breath, which may have been better or worse, he supposed it depended on what had been in his last meal. After all, he had neglected to bring along some breath mints.
"By all appearances they are," Rol'kal said. He walked up to the control panel at the next door and hit a button. There followed a faint hissing noise as the door slid open, revealing another sterile light blue space, this one home to a trio of metal gurneys and multiple computer terminals. Some form of scanning device was situated above the central gurney, connected to a nearby computer. A wall of small metal cabinets was at the far end, and Jonas had a strong suspicion as to what was being kept in those.
The observation window was nearby. Behind it, he could make out both John and Daniel. They looked on expectantly, and John gave Jonas a small nod when the pair made eye contact. Rol'kal was already on his way to one of the wall cabinets, and when he pulled it open Jonas could see right away that he had been correct in his previous assumption. Each cabinet was a refrigerated compartment to preserve bodies, presumably to see to it that any makalvari killed here for whatever reason could have their remains transported home with a minimum of decomposition. However, circumstances had seen to it that some of these cabinets had been relegated to storing the very human victims of the Langaran plague.
Rol'kal pulled the drawer out. The end of it automatically dropped a pair of metal legs as he brought it out all the way, stabilising the overhanging tray. A body was snugly wrapped under a grey sheet made of the same flexible polymer the disposable sheath Jonas wore was comprised of. Rol'kal looked to Jonas, waiting for him to come alongside. John and Daniel moved along the width of the observation window in order to get a better look.
"This here is a victim we found on the street nearby," Rol'kal explained. His voice sounded muffled through the respirator he wore around his beak-like snout. Gloved hands pulled aside the sheet partway, revealing the gaunt, pale visage of a young woman. She had to have been no older than twenty-five, with a pleasant, rounded face made grim by the lack of life. Her long brown hair appeared patchy, and Jonas noticed the various red sores about her face, neck and even on the upper arms that were exposed.
"You pulled her off the street?" Jonas asked him, frowning behind his goggles.
"The government won't provide us with specimens, so we have to take our own." Rol'kal sounded more annoyed than remorseful. Jonas was about to comment on his use of the word 'specimen', but he stopped himself. A man in Rol'kal's profession needed to maintain a certain level of disconnect, not to mention the simple fact that he was an outsider here. To him, this was his job and the Langarans were little more than 'humans' to him rather than actual people. Even so, Jonas figured that there was a very worried family out there wondering what had become of their daughter, or sister, or mother. It was a sobering thought, and to see the results of this disease up close made for something much more confronting than a mere photo.
The sores varied in size and all appeared to have been bloody, oozing things. The woman's hair appeared thin for some of it had fallen out at some point before death, no doubt a result of the disease. The respirator he wore served to blot out the smell of the corpse, the decomposition having been temporarily halted by the freezer the body had been stored within.
"In most cases, the end result is what you see here," Rol'kal stated. "Bloody sores all over the body. Loss of hair. Cellular breakdown. Symptoms vary, but in many instances they start off as flu-like. Cough, aches, nausea. It progresses quickly, going from nausea to vomiting, to coughing up blood and even as far as neurological issues. Hallucinations, psychosis. The belief that everyone is out to get you. The disease seems to attack everything at once, and because of this most die quickly. Mass organ failure generally, although some go so crazy they end up committing suicide. This woman here suffered a heart attack, which at the age of twenty-four is very unusual." He paused, and Jonas could practically sense the grim countenance the doctor wore underneath his respirator.
"The sores start off as blisters, very painful ones at that. In the end, the victim is left with many oozing sores that exude fluids, blood and pus and the like, and I can only assume this is to assist in spreading the disease. That is, primarily through physical contact. We do have suspicions that it may also be waterborne, but we haven't been able to confirm those."
"Is it a virus?" Jonas may have been a nuclear physicist before he was a biologist, but he had dabbled enough in the other sciences to have a varied and broad knowledge base. "Or is it something else? Bacteria, maybe?"
"That is just it," Rol'kal said. "I haven't been able to isolate it. The machines we have down here are more advanced than anything on Langara and I still haven't been able to get a proper lock on what it is causes these symptoms." He paused, and Jonas saw the makalvari's eyes darken with uncertainty. "Now, Jonas, I haven't said as much to my superiors about what I think we're dealing with, if only because I don't know much. Thing is, I have theories." He replaced the sheet over the dead woman, before he pushed the tray back into the refrigerated wall unit. With that done, he slammed the small door shut, sending forth a resounding clang. Taking a few steps to his left, he opened another of the cabinets, and this time he pulled from it a tray with another body upon it, covered up in the same manner the previous one had been.
"And some of those theories, if I voiced them back home, would be enough to make others within the scientific community laugh at me," Rol'kal added. Jonas moved over to where the tray had been pulled out of its compartment. He noticed right away that the shape under the polymer sheet was noticeably different to what one might expect from a dead body, and he suddenly found himself dreading the doctor's reveal of what lay underneath.
"What if we're not dealing with a virus, or a bacterium or even a parasite?" Rol'kal suggested. And then, he lowered his voice to a more conspiratorial volume: "What if we're dealing with something intelligent?"
Jonas narrowed his eyes.
"Like what, exactly?"
"I don't know, really. But this thing, whatever it is, stumps our computers at every turn. It's as if it's intentionally obfuscating itself."
"How can that be?" The voice that came through then was that of John, and both Rol'kal and Jonas turned to look over at where the Colonel was standing on the other side of the observation window. Of course, everything said inside here was picked up by the microphones scattered about and transmitted into the adjoining observation room. John had found the button that activated the microphone on his side of the glass, and he watched both occupants of the clean room with an intense look to his face.
"I don't know," Rol'kal said, sounding a little annoyed by the interruption. "A theory, nothing more. I think we're dealing less with a disease and more of a 'force' of some kind." He turned to Jonas again and then, with something of a flourish, he pulled back the sheet and revealed the misshapen corpse underneath.
Strands of clear, red-tinted ooze clung to the underside of the sheet. Jagged, chitinous black growths covered much of the dead man underneath to the point that his face was a contorted mess of raw flesh and alien protrusions. Jonas swallowed, suddenly feeling ill. His eyes roamed over the mutated victim, for there was no other way to describe it: this was a mutation, something extreme that Jonas had never seen the likes of before. There was no order to it, however. The growths had twisted and broken bones, yet they provided no indication as to whatever this man may have been turning into. It was a mess, pure and simple. Even the man's eyes had gone, replaced with a small cavity filled with a deep black, as if part of the brain had been swallowed up by whatever this disease was.
"This is a victim who made it to the later stages," Rol'kal explained. "Someone who somehow made it past the sores and the mental degradation. In the end, it seems his body could not tolerate the changes being made. Even if he was alive, the amount of weight that's been added to his head would have made for a miserable, painful living." He motioned one gloved hand to where the eyes had been. "And here, part of the frontal lobe of the brain has gone. Something else was growing in its place."
Jonas watched, with growing anxiety, as Rol'kal put his gloved hands to the area in question. He teased the slick black flesh where the eyes had been, and with a thumb and forefinger he pried open one fleshy flap that had been otherwise hard to discern, being the same colour as the rest of the mutated flesh around it. A pale orange orb of sorts was underneath, and Jonas realised it was the formation of a different kind of eye.
"It's as if this disease scooped out the parts of the brain that have the most control over the choices we make. That is, free will. In the case of humans, anyway. Makalvari brains are arranged slightly differently, but bipedal evolution has given our respective species some similarities." Rol'kal took his hands off of the mutated skull, his gloved fingers now slick with the slimy fluids the corpse was covered in. "I'd bet big money that this thing, virus or parasite or whatever else it may be, is actively transforming people."
"Into what?" Jonas could hardly believe what he was hearing, yet it made a perverted kind of sense. The thought that this was happening to people all over Langara disturbed him on a very deep level. His people, innocent lives, were being mutilated by some unknown disease and no one seemed to have any answers as to how and why. It infuriated him, the sense of powerlessness that fell upon him at that moment. From what he could see of John and Daniel, both men appeared similarly disturbed.
"No idea," Rol'kal replied. "No one's made it to the completed stage. Most people drop dead well before they get close." He paused again, and this time some worry became evident in his gaze: "That is, no one we know about."
"This doesn't look like any orderly change," Jonas noted, referring to the body. "It looks chaotic, as if whatever's happening went out of control."
"As I said, this disease affects people differently. Few reach this stage and those that do usually die." Rol'kal frowned, and he scratched at his chin, near where the respirator clung tightly about his snout. "I suspect there may be a select few who do not suffer this out-of-control genetic manipulation. There must be a few who change as is intended. And there would be, naturally, a select few who are simply immune as a result of some genetic abnormality."
Jonas frowned when he heard this. He had known for many years of a certain genetic abnormality within himself, one that had, briefly, granted him the ability to see into the future. A potential future, one that could be changed, but a glimpse nonetheless. Unlike Aithris' mother, whose visions seemed to come true regardless of one's actions, Jonas had almost died because of his short-lived ability. He had often pondered what had happened to him then, now more than twenty years ago. Not once since then had he experienced anything similar, yet he had known from a young age that he was a much faster learner than others. He soaked information like a sponge and could recall even minute details with unerring accuracy. His memory was practically photographic, and he wondered if all of that had had something to do with his apparently abnormal genetics.
Now, mention of the same sort of thing here only caused him further uncertainty. Was this disease connected, somehow? It was the first thought that came to mind, yet he knew it was none of his doing. He had been absent for a year and a half, so this disease was not connected to him personally. Even so, there was something going on here that he could not help but think had something to do with him. It seemed crazy, but he could not shake the suspicion. He had to get to the bottom of it, not only for himself but for his people. Langara was once again swept up in crisis, and now innocent people were dying horribly to some alien disease.
"Is this disease airborne?" It was John who asked this, his voice coming through the speakers at the base of the observation window. "I need to know, if my people are going to go out there."
"As far as we can tell, it isn't airborne," Rol'kal said. "But I can make no guarantees. We know so little about it that I can't confidently say we're dealing with a conventional disease. I'll keep up my research, but as you can probably tell I'm short-staffed here. As the only doctor present with only one nurse at my disposal, my progress is slow."
"If you need any help, I might be able to assist." Jonas had dabbled enough in medical science that he felt confident he could do something for the weary makalvari doctor. Rol'kal watched him with some doubt in his blue eyes, but otherwise he gave the Langaran a nod.
"Not so fast, Jonas." Again, John interjected, causing Jonas to look his way. "We'll be leaving soon with the Ambassador and the Major to meet with the Kelownan government. I want you there with us. You know these people better than any of us."
Jonas nodded in acknowledgment, although deep down he knew there was little he could do in the face of the same government officials who had branded him a traitor. The same ones whom, they all knew, had been infiltrated by agents of the Scourge that now threatened the galaxy. Still, it would be worth paying the Prime Minister a visit, if only to see his face when he sighted Jonas after all this time. Even more so when he realised how powerless he would be, seeing as how Jonas was under the protection of the makalvari embassy. That alone might make the trip worth it.