Their return to H'ronmeer's Cathedral was met with a sense of unresolved distrust. J'onn and Da'vizz had been to the other churches and confirmed what had been witnessed with the priesthood there. A pattern was beginning to emerge and J'onn wanted to confirm this. While communication over the telecom system would have made it easier, one could not get all of the nonverbal cues that were present. Facially, it was possible, but a person was more than just their face and telepathy. They were also their physical form, which may betray other emotions. A nervous twitch, a shuffling of feet, a change in stance from agreeable to resistant, they were all better conveyed in person.
And to be quite frank, the priesthood had done little to assuage their innocence with the cleansing of the crime scenes, and their insistence to do so. J'onn felt it was premature to say the church had any involvement, but their actions thus far did not paint them in a good light.
Unfortunately, the sermon for the third day of H'ronmeer's Holy Week was in session. That delayed things considerably as the rites took quite a bit of time. J'onn and his partner could not even find seating as the cathedral was packed with worshipers. They were relegated to standing along the back wall and listening.
Priest He'mor was leading his flock through the rites, standing at the pulpit. The worshipers sat in rapt fascination, though J'onn did detect a hint of boredom ever so often. Only the most devote could listen to the same sermon with the same level of engagement. Faintly, J'onn wondered if this would count as his participation.
Knowing M'yri'ah, it would not.
Because of his years of attendance, he was able to follow along with the sermon, knowing which part they were at and what to expect next. He found himself drifting into thought, Priest He'mor's words becoming a monotonous drone in the background to him. His orange eyes glanced about the cathedral. He saw other priests throughout, performing tasks that were timed along with the sermon. Though, if he wasn't mistaken, there were more present than what he was used to. Either this was the norm, or there weren't as many worshipers that required monitoring when he and his family usually went. It was difficult to say.
"And like our ancestors of old, I ask that you join me in the joining with the Great Mind," the priest said. At this, J'onn's mind sharpened and he focused on the congregation. Da'vizz next to him was doing the same. "We, the devote, the humble, the unworthy, we beseech the Great Mind and beg for its kindness and love to hold us steadfast against the chaos that rages in this world. We seek its loving embrace so that we may endure this next year in the good graces of H'ronmeer."
There was an opening of the mind, J'onn sensed, one so great that he instinctively protected himself by blocking it out. There was, for a brief moment, a glimpse into the minds of hundreds, their thoughts of salvation and joy filling the large room. It pulled at his mind, urging him to join in and be one with all. It was infectious.
This was why J'onn chose to participate in these rites towards the end of the Holy Week. Every time the meddling with the Great Mind was performed, he felt all of the other parishioners at once, and their presence was at times overwhelming. He had been told at a young age that he had a very developed sense of telepathy, which required a longer stay at the ancestral home for him to gain control of it. Even with the additional time, J'onn had been slow to rejoin the local population. Ten separate voices in his head had at one time threatened to overwhelm him. Now the same population within this very church stood the same chance. His defense mechanism to shut out the other minds ensured he did not lose his.
And then it happened.
A scream tore out throughout the cathedral—no, two! Three, four, the voices rang out and the priesthood swarmed towards their sources. J'onn felt a surge of fear assault his mental barriers and he had to shut his eyes tightly as he strove to keep it blocked.
Something bumped into him, forcing him to open his eyes. There was a steady stream of worshipers rushing to leave the church, their panic evident on their faces. There was an urgency in the crowd, even as they managed to maintain some semblance of order. There were those that tried to push the ones in front of them forward, trying to force them to move faster. A couple even shoved their way through the crowd as it poured through the doorway.
Because of this, J'onn could not see what was transpiring throughout the cathedral. So, he made the decision to take to the air, hovering over the crowd. This gave him a good vantage point as he spotted four Martians writing on the floor, the sigil of H'ronmeer branded upon their foreheads. The priests were at their sides, trying to calm them with minimal success.
Da'vizz was at his side then, hovering in the air. "I can only sense panic and fear," he informed the Martian. "I cannot sense any antagonistic thoughts."
"I rather doubt you would," J'onn told him. "The number of minds that are sharing in fear would drown out any separate thought. Have you detected anyone moving against the flow, or noticed any strange physical movements?"
Da'vizz stared at the continuous flow of worshipers, his eyes moving from the front door and down towards the pulpit. "No, I cannot," he responded. "I'm not seeing any sign of someone possibly masking their presence with invisibility."
Unfortunately, J'onn was the same. The theory of an invisible attacker grew weaker the longer he watched.
However, there was a subsequent theory that was gaining strength.
Spotting Priest He'mor still at the pulpit, a distressed look on his face, J'onn immediately began flying over to him, Da'vizz following after. The priest noticed them quickly and straightened out his posture before they arrived. "It is unfortunate timing that you arrive, Officers," he addressed them warily.
"We have already reached out for emergency services to arrive," Da'vizz told the priest. "They are enroute as we speak."
His partner must have done that as J'onn had done no such communication. That was quick thinking on his partner's part. "I wish we were here in more favorable circumstances," he added.
"Whatever you wish to speak of, may it wait?" Priest He'mor pleaded. "I wish to see my stricken flock tended to before we delve into further unpleasantness."
J'onn merely nodded his acceptance. The priest moved away from his pulpit and headed for the nearest ill-stricken Martian. There would not be much he could do, but it was the role of a priest to offer comfort to those who needed it.
And there were going to be much, much more.
Once the medical responders had arrived and retrieved those suffering with the mysterious ailment, J'onn and Da'vizz made certain to sequester Priest He'mor to a private location. Though he was clearly distraught by the growing number of incidents, the Manhunters would not allow the priest to slink away into a secluded place.
Priest He'mor collapsed into his seat, slumping down into a posture unbecoming of a priest. All who swore servitude to the Gods maintained a rigid posture, one of utmost confidence in their belief. To see such a sight was strange.
"This is not a good time, Officers," the religious man stated as he seemed to stare into a world beyond them. That is to say, he wasn't paying them any attention aside from looking in their direction. The saying "staring into space" seemed to accurately describe this.
"Inopportune, but necessary," J'onn told the man. "We were hoping to speak with you before more fell ill."
"I do not have much to add that may help you in your investigation."
"Not necessarily," Da'vizz countered. "As we watched your sermon, it seems all four of those that fell ill did so at the moment of convergence, when all meld their minds with the Great Mind."
"An unhappy coincidence, nothing more," the priest defended, his facial features sharpening as he focused on the two Manhunters.
"May I ask if you recall when Th'mas fell ill? It clearly occurred during your sermon, but we wish to know which part," his partner pressed.
Priest He'mor paused. "I do not recall, to be honest. Perhaps you can speak to Th'mas when he recovers."
"Th'mas is dead," J'onn told the man bluntly.
The priest looked stunned. "H'ronmeer, protect his soul," he murmured automatically, his voice soft, the refrain a common one during the funeral rites.
J'onn stood up to his full height. He was taller than many Martians, and his size had at times allowed him to appear intimidating to others. He was more than willing to use this aspect to his advantage if needed to obtain the answers they needed from the priest. This also served to put the red X across his chest front and center before the priest's eyes, reminding him of his authority. "Which is why you need to tell us when Th'mas fell ill. At this moment, all we can say is that all of those who have fallen ill have done so during H'ronmeer's Holy Week, all within the walls of the Church. A layman can only come to the conclusion it is the Church itself that is responsible."
"Absurd!" He'mor roared as he threw himself onto his feet.
"Then stop protecting yourself and help protect those that you claim need guidance," Jonn countered, his voice steady, but raised to show that he would not be shouted down.
Priest He'mor stared at him, outrage still on his face, but he seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. As his indignation slowly sunk into thoughtfulness, he eventually replied, "It has been two days, so I may be mistaken, but I believe Th'mas' outburst coincided with the melding with the Great Mind."
J'onn shared a look with his partner. That seemed to match with the pattern they were noticing. "Priest, we have confirmed with the other locations, and it seems what triggers these incidents is the moment of the Melding of Minds. All of whom have fallen ill have done so at this part of the sermon."
The priest lowered himself back into his seat. "This is…most distressing," he admitted, once more sinking back into melancholy. "What else have you discovered?"
"Unfortunately, little else," J'onn responded as he too returned to his seat. "We do not know the illness' transmission nor how it started. As you've mentioned, it has only been two days, which is not nearly enough time to collect all of the necessary information to combat this ailment."
"Surely you have some suggestions," the priest pressed.
"Well, considering the connection we have discovered, it may be in the best interest for future congregations that the Melding of Minds not occur," Da'vizz suggested.
Priest He'mor could not have looked any more stunned than if he had been physically assaulted. "That is preposterous! Remove the Melding of Minds from our service? That simply cannot be done!"
"You asked for a suggestion?" Da'vizz pointed out, though there was noticeable uncertainty in his tone.
"I was hoping for something more substantial, not this...this ridiculousness!"
"What is the necessity of the Melding of Minds?" J'onn questioned. It was quite clear Priest He'mor was aghast at the removal of this rite from his sermon. Perhaps understanding his reaction would allow them to dissuade him from continuing the practice for the time being.
The religious man turned his attention to the Martian. "The Melding of Minds is what connects every Martian to their spiritual center. It attunes us to our Gods and keeps us in their ever-loving grace, H'ronmeer's specifically. Those who do not routinely pay him homage in this matter risk his displeasure and may be cast out."
J'onn frowned before glancing to Da'vizz, who shared his expression. "Is it possible that Th'mas and the others fell ill because of H'ronmeer's disapproval?"
Priest He'mor appeared thoughtful. "I had not considered this. I had always believed that if H'ronmeer were to render judgment, it would be in a private setting, away from prying eyes. All whom I know that have suffered such judgment have reported as much. It may very well be that those who have fallen ill have drawn H'ronmeer's ire."
"It's something worth investigating," Da'vizz said. "And we will do so to determine if there is any truth to the matter."
"Yes, please do so."
For a moment, it appeared as if J'onn partner wanted to say something more, but then he appeared distracted. Feeling it was best to continue the discussion, J'onn said, "So removing the Melding of Minds cannot be done."
"No, it simply cannot," Priest He'mor confirmed. "And if you are correct, it is more important than ever that it does occur."
"If these incidents occurred during another part of the sermon, would that part be removed for public safety?" he pressed.
"Potentially, but that is not the case, is it? You have determined it is the moment of the Melding of Minds that this illness attacks. Speaking of hypothetical equivalents does none of us any good."
"J'onn," Da'vizz spoke up, stopping the exchange of dialogue. "We are needed at the hospital. Dr. Loon'de'gaard is evacuating the facility."
Alarm appeared on both J'onn and He'mor's faces. "Whatever for?" the priest asked.
"There has been a sharp increase of the disease transmission," Da'vizz explained. "He has made the decision to convert the entire hospital to the primary care of this illness and is transferring all other cases to other hospitals."
"Just how many cases are there?" J'onn questioned.
"Including the ones still on-going and the ones we witness? We have surpassed fifty cases, nearing sixty."
There was a stifling silence. Almost sixty cases? In only two days? It was only yesterday that they had reached four, but now they were halfway to the triple digit mark.
What was this pestilence that ravaged them?
J'onn turned his attention back to Priest He'mor, who looked horrified by the reported number. "While I cannot force you to do so, I sincerely hope that you do what is in the best interest of your congregation and remove the Melding of Minds from future sermons," he told the man. "Otherwise, I fear our situation will only worsen. Please consider this conversation very seriously. People's lives are at stake, including your own."
There were transport vehicles everywhere. It was as if they had swarmed in around the medical facility, a swarm of h'orite flies to the decayed carcass of a wouthe. Medical staff were moving patients on gurneys, loading them into the transport vehicles, which would lift off and leave. That empty space did not last long as another transporter would immediately take its place and prepare to receive more patients.
Dr. Loon'de'gaard greeted the two Manhunters with a somber expression. "I see you've heard of my orders," he commented stoically.
"We have," J'onn confirmed. "How many are you treating?"
"We've surpassed sixty in the last four hours," the doctor informed him, turning so that he could walk with the Manhunters deeper into the complex. "All are exhibiting the same symptoms as the first, though they appear to be further along in the disease process."
"Is it possible the cause of the illness was allowed to incubate longer and they simply did not begin to show symptoms until they were further along?" J'onn was quick to ask.
"It's possible, but I have my doubts." The three reached an elevator and boarded it, the doors sliding shut before they were raised up the shaft. "We have taken samples and have compared them to the earliest cases. I'm afraid that the disease has mutated."
"Mutated?" Da'vizz repeated.
"It is not an uncommon phenomenon," Dr. Loon'de'gaard said. "We have tracked many different diseases, from bacterial to viral and even prion, and over the course of time, they change. They evolve and adapt to their environment, all in the effort to continue to reproduce. It is the same with all organisms, but their reproduction causes adverse effects in their hosts, thus the term illness."
"How has this mutated?" J'onn then asked.
"For one, it has become more contagious. You simply need to observe the rising number of cases."
At this, the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opening. The three Martians disembarked and began walking down a hallway. J'onn immediately winced as he was hit with a rush of psychic wailing, causing him to immediately put up his mental blocks. Despite his efforts, he could feel the turmoil pushing at his boundaries, fighting to burst through. An expression of discomfort appeared on his face.
Da'vizz and Dr. Loon'de'gaard wore similar expressions, though more subdued to J'onn's, which he found embarrassing. No doubt they were being assaulted by the agony these new patients were experiencing, yet they were able to keep their discomfort to a minimum.
They weren't in the special unit that Th'mas and the earliest cases had been. They were in what J'onn assumed was a normal wing, seeing as the precautions on that specialty unit were not present here. It was most likely due to that unit having filled up and now these ailing Martians were placed in the first location that could be adequately prepared. There were technicians outside of each door, putting into place telepathy inhibitors.
It was a little black box much like the one on the first unit, though these were ones that could be situated anywhere. In this case, they were being placed above and just to the right of each doorway. These telepathy inhibitors were originally designed to help young Martians when they came into their telepathic inheritance, and had no refuge to go to. Hospitals picked upon them to ensure patient privacy, and there were certain businesses that took advantage of the technology as well. It went without saying that the government was a known user of such technology.
"So this mutation has made it more contagious?" Da'vizz questioned once he was able to cope with the intruding psychic thoughts.
"Unfortunately, yes. The original strain is evolving, trying to ensure that it continues to propagate. It is learning our physiology and adapting to what it discovers, allowing it to become more efficient at replication."
"So it is bacterial?" J'onn managed to ask.
At this, the doctor shook his head. "We have yet to discover a bacterial agent. The same could be said for viral. We'll be assessing for prions shortly. All we have to go on is the damage to the tissue that we've collected from all of the infected. That is how I've come to the conclusion of a mutation. The recent samples are further degraded than the originals in a shorter time frame."
Da'vizz came to a stop, his eyes widening. "Wait, does that mean—?"
Before he could finish his thought, a bright light flowed out through a small window next to one of the patient room doors. Immediately, Dr. Loon'de'gaard rushed to the window and peered through, cursing a moment later. "Another one," he spoke out loud to no one in particular. There was a hint of resignation in his voice.
J'onn stiffened as he realized what the source of that light was. Another patient had just combusted, and according to the doctor, this wasn't the first one. "Dr. Loon'de'gaard," he called out cautiously. "What has happened to all of the original infected?"
The physician bowed his head, a hint as to what his next words would be. "Of the original four that came to this facility, all have expired in the same fashion that Th'mas did."
Four lives, now five, that had erupted into flames. Horror overcame J'onn at the thought that this was most likely a higher number than what he knew now.
With defeat in his body language, the doctor returned to the Manhunters. "A young one was in that room," he said. "Newly introduced to his telepathy. He never stood a chance."
A cold numbness took over J'onn in that instance. A child had just lost its life, no doubt faster due to his weaker immune system. It wasn't as developed as an adult's, so this disease took advantage and consumed the poor child.
Which immediately made him think of his own children.
"What else can we do to combat this…this…plague?" Da'vizz asked, noticeably shaken from the recent demise.
This brought J'onn back to the present, even as his concerns about his family nagged at him in the back of his mind. "Discovering what this is would help tremendously," Dr. Loon'de'gaard answered his partner. "Finding where it originated as well would give us some sort of clue as well. At this time, we are combating an unknown pathogen with an unknown form of transmission. That is a poor starting point."
"Would you be adverse to us including researchers from other facilities?" J'onn inquired. Surely having more people working on this would help.
Dr. Loon'de'gaard wasn't unopposed, thankfully. "I will take whatever assistance I can get. We're just working blindly here and if we can get some sort of direction, I would greatly appreciate it."
Then help he would get. Already J'onn was considering what he would need to arrange such a task. Obviously any researcher would need the samples collected by the medical staff, reports on the patients, and so on. His brother would want these at a minimum if he were to provide further assistance. They needed to get their hands on the medical reports and other recordings of the ailing patients, so this was a perfect time for them to get it.
Hopefully, this would help them make some sorely sought progress.
There was no change in the time setting for the door. It opened the same way at the same pace as it normally did. However, for J'onn, it felt as if it were slowly inching itself open, taking much too long for his comfort.
He was into his domicile the first instance he could be. He could hear the sounds of playing and he strode towards it. The gait his long legs provided allowed him to reach an open doorway in four steps. The doorway revealed a passageway to his left and to his right. He turned to his left and saw the bedroom his children used.
Relief overwhelmed him at the sight of his two young ones, playing some game that seemed to elicit much giggling. He did not recognize it, nor did he care to. It was worth the confirmation that they were alright.
It was perhaps a couple moments before his children noticed him and dropped the pretense of their game. "Father!" they cried out and scrambled towards him. A smile appeared on J'onn's face as he knelt down, opening his arms in time for two small bodies to collide with his. He nearly toppled over backwards from the force he was hit with, momentarily surprising him. He wrapped his arms around his children and hugged them tightly.
"J'onn, I didn't realize you were here," M'yri'ah said from somewhere behind him.
"I just returned," he answered her, not turning to look. He could feel his anxiety lessening with each passing second and he wished to have a firm grasp of his emotional state before he engaged further with his wife. No doubt she would sense that something was troubling him and he did not wish to pass along the burden of his knowledge to her. Inevitably, she would want to know, just like when she dug out his knowledge of Th'mas' death.
All things would happen in due time.
"We are glad that you are back. Come, dinner is almost ready," she told him.
J'onn stood straight up, not once releasing his hold on his children. They giggled in his ears from being held up in the air by him, their little arms tightening against him to better hold on. Turning around, J'onn carried them back into the main living area, taking them to the prepared table. It was only then that he lowered the two young Martians to the floor and released them.
Dinner was its normal affair. The children told him of their day; M'yri'ah asked him of his; and the food was delicious as ever. In fact, dare he say it, it was particularly exquisite today. He would need to see what his wife changed in her recipe to obtain such an outstanding result.
The children returned to their room once the meal was over, leaving the two adults to clean the mess left behind. It was only then that M'yri'ah said, "What is wrong, my husband? I haven't felt such anxiety from you before."
Of course, she had noticed, as he expected she would. She had bided her time until the children could no longer interfere. "It has been a difficult day," the eldest Martian informed her, resignation in his tone.
"So difficult that you did not calm yourself until you saw the children?"
Every so often, J'onn forgot how perceptive his wife could be. She always had a way of reminding him of that trait of hers. "There have been more that have fallen ill," he told her, "some of whom were children."
M'yri'ah dropped the utensil she was cleaning, her head snapping over to stare at him with shock. "That cannot be," she responded in distress.
Unfortunately, J'onn nodded his confirmation. "One of the infected today that passed was indeed a child. I was reminded of the children, and I feared for their safety until I saw them with my own eyes."
Immediately, his better half pressed herself against him, wrapping one arm around his neck, the other lying against his chest so that she could caress his check with her hand. J'onn wrapped his arms around her to hold her against him, soaking in the comfort she offered.
"We are well," she eventually told him to reassure him, not moving out of their embrace. Whether it was to reassure him or herself, he did not know. "It saddens me that you had to experience such tragedy yet again."
"I fear this is going to worsen before it begins to improve," J'onn admitted. "It is already doing so."
"Is that not how life is?" M'yri'ah countered. "Most of life's greatest moments were the result of dire times. It has been long since the last time Mars faced such adversity."
"So, we were due for this?" he couldn't help but question.
"I do not feel that we were due for anything, but rarely do we advance through life without adversity. It was only a matter of time before we came across such a time, whether it was now, or a century from now." M'yri'ah pulled herself back, but did not leave the safety of his arms. "I am grateful that it is you that is confronting it."
"Why is that?"
"There is no better man I know that could deal with this."
A small smile appeared on his face. "You have much faith in me."
"All of it has been earned."
"Then I hope I can live up to your expectations."
"I have no doubt that you will."
Though it had been long since J'onn had to be reassured in such a manner, he was entirely grateful that it was his wife, the love of his life, that was able to calm him. Stress was beginning to mount the longer answers were not forthcoming from this…this plague. It was only a matter of time before the general public learned the details, the startling lack of answers they had, and would begin to exert pressure on them, if not erupt into a full-blown panic.
The gentle smile that was on his face faded away then. He did have a couple answers though, and ethically, he wondered if what he was about to do was a breach of them. "M'yri'ah, until this case is settled, I am going to have to ask something of you and the children."
"What is it?" she asked him patiently.
"Do not attend any of the services during this Holy Week."
M'yri'ah looked stunned by this request. "But…it is our responsibility to observe this week."
"I understand that, but thus far all who have fallen ill have done so during the observance in the Church. If this is a coordinated attack, these locations are being used as launching points. I could not live with myself if you and the children went and were caught up in this."
"Do…do you believe the Church is involved with this?"
J'onn shook his head, though it wasn't to convey the negative. "I do not know. They have been less than helpful, so that does not paint them in a good light. They seem to be more interested in performing the rites in honor of H'ronmeer than to assist in determining the cause of this matter."
M'yri'ah looked troubled by this. "Then I will keep the children safe," she told him. "We will await your instruction on the matter."
J'onn could not describe the relief he felt when she said that. "Thank you, my love."
"We do need to observe the Holy Week in some way. Obviously from home, but we will come up with something," she said. "I'm certain H'ronmeer would understand."
Yes, he would have to understand. The Martian God could not fault a man trying to protect his family any way he could, even if it came at the expense of religious servitude.
For those that are unfamiliar with prions, they are malformed proteins that can spread similar enough to cancer. There isn't a lot that is known about them, but there are a couple of known conditions caused by them. In humans, we have Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, and then there is the rather infamous Mad Cow Disease. Each essentially caused damage to the brain, which resulted in dementia-like symptoms. That would definitely be a cause for concern in a telepathic race like the Martians, wouldn't you think? Stands to reason they would keep an eye on such little things.