"Incoming distress call, Captain." Elise Foster looked up from the navigation console. "From the Independent. Radiation leak."
Miller looked up from the report he was reading. "Ship's Status?"
"Bad, sir."
The woman had a way with words-or a particular lack thereof. Still. "Bad," coming from his communications expert, meant they were most likely in for a hell of a time.
"Elaborate."
"It had already made it past engineering and begun spreading through the rest of the deck before they identified it." Foster reported, eyes wide with horror.
"No one in engineering reported it?" Sommers wanted to know. The man was already punching coordinates into Navigation-Foster must have sent them to him immediately.
Foster shook her head. "By the time it was reported, half of the engineering team was already dead. The rest-" Foster shook her head. "They had to evacuate the entire deck. Medical is overwhelmed, and they haven't found the leak-Captain's worried about it spreading to the adjacent decks."
"How far out?" Miller asked.
"Couple of hours."
"Tell them we're on our way. Try to get a more accurate report for our medical team."
"Yes, sir."
Miller's people were dressed and ready to go as the Lewis and Clark settled into position-radiation suits, equipment, everything in in order. All that was left was to finish docking and clearance to cross over.
"Suits stay on until environmental gives the all-clear," Maggs reminded them, perhaps unnecessarily. "We'll set up a decontamination site outside of engineering once the rest of the deck is safe."
Lee and Patel, the Lewis and Clark's engineer and mechanic, respectively, nodded in unison.
"The captain of the Independent says they haven't managed to clear the area," Miller added. "Be prepared for bodies. Not all of them may be dead."
"We have a plan for if they aren't?" Lee wanted to know. Maggs-Doctor Margeret Andrews, Miller's general medic-shook her head, but it was her fellow physician who answered.
"First priority is medical. Once we get everything under control there and decontamination is set up we can worry about anyone still alive in engineering."
Miller wondered idly if he would have resented the answer as much if it had come from his general medic. He was certain it would not have irritated him nearly as much had his trauma specialist not answered the question in the same dry, disinterested tone he had used that very morning while he and Maggs had been doing inventory.
It was not entirely fair to the man, Miller supposed, given that DJ always sounded slightly bored no matter the topic of discussion, but in the thirty-three days since signing up with them, the man had not done a great job, at least in Miller's opinion, of justifying the other medic's faith in him.
Not that he had been given much of a chance beyond a single incident during which he had managed to save their pilot's life, even if the entire ordeal-and the way the man had handled it-had left a bad taste in Miller's mouth.
"Docked and ready, Captain." Said pilot's voice came through Miller's earpiece.
"Captain Rose is ready and waiting for you on the other side." Foster's voice came through a second later.
Miller looked around. "Everyone ready?" Nods all around. "Let's go."
"Welcome aboard, Captain." Rose's greeting was polite, if short. Miller wasted no time into falling into step beside the man, his people not far behind. "The situation's only gotten worse, I'm afraid. We have reports of people falling ill both above and below deck seventeen-"
"Have both floors been evacuated?" Maggs asked, before the man could continue. Captain Rose blinked, but answered without prevarication.
"We're in the process of doing so now," he said. "Anyone showing signs of radiation sickness has been told to report to medical. Everyone else is expected to quarantine on deck eight."
"Recreation." DJ suggested, and the captain nodded.
"Must be nice," Patel drawled. They all knew that bigger ships tended to have more amenities than the Lewis and Clark, but the realization that the Independent had an entire deck entirely devoted solely to recreational activities, especially after spending the majority of the last thirty-some days on patrol duty, was enough to make a better man than even Miller more than a little jealous.
"Yeah, but at least our engine isn't currently leaking radiation," Lee pointed out.
Miller spared the two men a glance, and they settled down.
"The lift is down this way," Rose said, leading them along as if he hadn't heard the exchange, and as much as the man probably had on his mind, it was likely he had not. "Medical is deck nine."
Overwhelmed had somehow been an understatement. Miller ended up in medical with Maggs and DJ, lending a hand wherever he could. Following orders barked at him by overworked and exhausted personnel: the Independent had two doctors and several nurses on staff, and it still was nowhere enough. He had lost sight of both members of his own medical team a while ago, though he could hear Maggs, her voice pitched to carry through the chaos, even if he could not make out her exact words from across the room.
His trauma surgeon, on the other hand, he had completely lost track of.
He knew that Maggs had started on one side of the room, DJ on the other, and that logically that suggested that the two were working their way back toward the middle of the room, and that meant the two would find each other again eventually, but in the meantime he did not like not knowing where one of his people were-or how they were performing- during what was only their second medical emergency since coming aboard.
"I know we have potassium iodide on the Lewis and Clark, but do we have DPTA?" Maggs voice sounded in Miller's earpiece suddenly, nearly startling him.
"Calcium and Zinc-DPTA, I believe." Miller's trauma surgeon's reply was every bit as calm and collected as the man always appeared.
"Not enough, I'm sure," Maggs lamented.
"Not for a ship this size, though depending on the last time medical was updated, they may have the means to replicate more as needed."
"If they can make more, then how did they run out in the first place?" Maggs wanted to know. "Never mind. It doesn't really matter at this point, does it? Someone's either going to have to bring it over to us-assuming they know what they're looking for and can find it, or one of us is going to have to go get it, Captain."
"And by us, you mean either you or DJ," Miller guessed.
"Right."
"Recommendation?"
"We risk contaminating our ship, but we have the necessary equipment to scrub everything clean. I'd suggest anyone still on board don a suit, but if someone starts exhibiting symptoms we have the means to treat them." His earpiece went silent for a moment, though Miller could hear the woman barking orders across the room. "Setting up decontamination outside of medical would help, and it's not a bad idea anyway if we're planning on eventually heading to deck seventeen to see if there's anything we can do there."
"I'll talk to Captain Rose. Figure out which of you is going."
"Yes, sir."
"Captain, we have several people alive in here and begging for help-it's not pretty, sir." Lee's voice interrupted Miller mid-conversation with the other captain. "We can't just-"
"You have your orders, Lee." Miller cut the man off sharply. "There's nothing you can do."
"Yes, sir." Miller could hear the other man's frustration as well as his horror.
"How much medical training do you have?" Miller asked.
"None, sir."
"Patel?"
"None." Patel's response was soft and resigned. It was also guilt-ridden. "Some of these people-they-maybe they could make it. But not without immediate help."
"I'm sorry. You have your orders." Let them blame Miller, if it eased their consciences. He needed them focused on their jobs, especially if they were going to prevent this from spreading.
"Captain-" That was Maggs.
"Absolutely not. We need you here."
A hand on his shoulder startled him. He turned quickly, with more force than strictly necessary, to find his general medic had come up behind him.
"DJ could go," she said. Miller shook his head.
"I need one of you here," he reminded her. "I can't have you back on the Lewis and Clark, looking for whatever-it-is you need more of and him running around engineering. The medical staff here are at a breaking point, and you I both know it."
Maggs nodded. "I know," she conceded, voice low. "But he could go pick up what we need, head that way after. If there are people still alive in there, we have to at least try, Captain." Desperation shone in the woman's eyes, leaked into her words. Maggs would blame herself for any deaths taking place going forward, Miller knew, if they did not at least try. She would blame herself-and him as well.
"DJ."
"Decontamination is nearly ready to go, Captain."
"How quickly can you get what you need and get back? Apparently we've got some folks still toughing it out in Engineering who could use some assistance."
"Shouldn't take long, sir."
"See that it doesn't."
"Yes, sir."
"We've got DJ on board, Captain." Sommers' voice sounded slightly thin in Miller's ear right as the crewman he was attending to started throwing up again. "We set up a decontamination site on our side-nothing else to do-and found an old scanner leftover from that incident with the Constant a few years back. It's not picking up anything, but he's stripping down just in case, and we've got a change of clothes for him just in case, but he'll be out of contact for a minute or two while we get him a new earpiece."
"Understood."
Miller was too busy cleaning up vomit to give the report more than passing notice, at least until Sommers' abrupt "Jesus Christ!" nearly deafened him.
"Mark? Report!" Miller straightened up, attention now fully on those members of his crew still back on the Lewis and Clark. "What the hell is going on over there?"
"Sorry-caught off guard-" Sommers' sputtering was far from reassuring. "Holy fucking hell. What-?"
"Mark!"
"Mark's overreacting. Sir." Foster's reply was no more effective, given the strangled tone accompanying her words.
"I am certainly fucking not!"
"Everything is fine, Captain." DJ must have gotten a hold of a new earpiece. He, predictably, sounded unconcerned by whatever was currently happening on Miller's ship. "My appearance seems to have caught Mister Sommers off guard."
"Your ap-Captain this man's been cut open."
"It's an old scar." Those his tone remained even, the trauma surgeon's response came almost quickly enough to prevent Miller's imagination from running wild on him. "Hardly cause for concern."
"No reason to believe it would interfere with his ability to perform his duties, Captain." Of course Maggs was listening. And of course she knew exactly what Miller's absent crewmembers were talking about.
"You're certain about that, Maggs?"
"I am."
"DJ?"
"It's nothing."
"Then get what you need and get your ass back over here. We'll figure this out later. Sommers-"
"Captain?"
"Get it together. We have work to do. I want the ship thoroughly scrubbed once DJ's back on the Independent. Decontamination protocols for everyone aboard. Anyone starts experiencing even a hint of radiation sickness, I want to know about it immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Fifteen minutes later they had the medications Maggs needed. A nurse showed Miller how to set up the replicator and assigned him the task of overseeing the job as if she had the authority to order him around. Miller did as he was told, partly because this was, in fact, more her domain than his, but also, truth be told, because he was getting tired of cleaning up vomit.
Maggs found him as the first batch finished. "Run one of those through the scanner-there," she said, pointing. "Always check the first batch to make sure the process worked. After that we should be good to go."
"And when we switch to the other medications?"
"Check the first batch of each. Every time you start a new medication, you check it. If you have to go back and make more of something-"
"You check it." Miller guessed. Maggs nodded. When she did not immediately move on, he turned to face her. "Is there something I should know about our new trauma specialist?" he asked, tone dry.
The woman rubbed the back of her neck. "He has a scar on his chest. It can be a little jarring if you aren't expecting it. It's old, and it does not in any way, shape, or form affect his ability to do his job."
"Quite a scar, if it got that kind of a reaction from Mark."
Maggs shrugged. Miller resisted the urge to sigh.
"We'll talk about this later."
Maggs made a face but did not argue. Instead, she grabbed a batch of medication and dove back into the fray, barking orders as she made her way across the room.
Miller shook his head and turned his attention back to his work.
"We've located the source of the leak, Captain." Patel's voice came over Miller's earpiece. "Should be an easy fix, believe it or not. Lee's checking the logs, but this sort of thing should have been caught before it ever got to this point. He thinks someone might have either forgotten to check it during their last inspection, or simply got lazy about checking equipment."
"Anything you need to finish the job?" Miller asked.
"Standard patch job should do, at least until they can get a new part, Captain." That was Lee. "The real issue is going to be having enough people left to man the engines. We might have to bag-and-tag her anyway."
"Keep me posted. Did DJ make it to engineering yet?"
"I'm here, Captain."
"Report."
"Radiation is interfering with the medical scanner, rendering it all but useless. I'm doing what I can to sort through the bodies and figure out who's still alive and whether or not anything can be done to help them." Damn if that cold, cool voice coming through Miller's earpiece didn't threaten to make his blood boil. Professional or not, confident or not, the man didn't need to sound so callous about people dying around him.
"Keep me informed."
"Yes, sir."
"Let us know what you need in terms of medical supplies." Maggs' voice came in. The woman was starting to sound tired. "There should be a first aid kit near the main console."
"I found it-" DJ replied promptly. "It does not appear to have been maintained. Don't try to sit up-" A slight pause. "The sooner we can move these people to medical the better."
Another hour, and things were finally starting to settle down in medical. A nurse took over Miller's job, and Maggs left the one doctor who wasn't dead on his feet in charge while bullying the other into laying down in his office, even if only for an hour or two, before turning her attention toward engineering.
Catching the eye of another nurse, Maggs barked a list of instructions at her before grabbing her own medkit. Turning to Miller, she jerked her head toward the door in a wordless order for him to follow.
They ended up having to strip in order to decontaminate, but by this time Miller's crew had seen enough of each other-and their medic of them-that any excitement at the thought had long ago run dry. Standing in the nude, waiting for the all- clear to step through the far curtain where they could don clean clothes was, for them, just another ordinary, boring day.
It was probably different on bigger ships, Miller reflected, where people had their own quarters-some even had their own showers, especially on ships this big-but for him there was nothing remotely exciting about the sight of his general medic standing there shivering, and he knew for a fact his general medic found him even less interesting.
She did give him a quick once-over, though her gaze was strictly clinical, as they moved to the next chamber and started dressing.
"Are you going to badger him about the scar the second you see him, or are you going to at least wait until this mess is over?" she asked as she pulled a clean shirt over her head, her tone deceptively casual.
Miller shook his head. "We have a job to do," he said. "It can wait."
"You know I tell you what you need to know." Maggs reminded him.
"You tell me what you think I need to know," he corrected. "Not the same thing. Either way, it's a conversation that can wait, unless he suddenly can't do his job now that people know."
Maggs let out an annoyed huff of air, but let the matter drop for the time being.
Miller was not prepared for the bodies. Or the blood. Or the vomit. He was not prepared to see still forms laid out on their backs as if they had simply decided to lay down and not get back up, and he was entirely unprepared for those slumped against walls, consoles, or whatever other surfaces were available to help keep them upright.
He tried to tune out the moaning and labored breathing as he made a beeline toward Patel and Lee for a report while Maggs went looking for her fellow surgeon.
"Nearly got it." Lee's voice sounded in his ear as he approached. "It's slow work, but should hold until help can get here. The engines are in bad shape overall, though. They're going to need a tow back to the nearest station for repairs. This should keep them alive long enough to get there."
"Good work." Miller looked around. "Any idea where DJ is?"
"He was holding some girl's hair back while she did her best to throw up on him, last I saw," Lee offered, nodding his head in the direction Maggs had gone. "Dunno if you should be worried or not, but he was coughing as he came in."
"It's the air." Maggs sounded in his ear, torn between annoyance and amusement. "You do know we can hear you?"
"What's wrong with the air?" Miller wanted to know as he turned. Leaving his engineer and mechanic behind, he made his way across the room.
"It's actually the chemicals used in decontamination," DJ chimed in, though the man could not have sounded less interested if he tried. "Specifically, it's the amount I've been exposed to in the last several hours. It's not-" he broke off into a brief fit of coughing before continuing. "It's not life-threatening, and it should clear up within a day or two."
"Maggs?" Miller found the two: Maggs was assuring a dark-haired young man that she was here to help while checking his vitals, and DJ was rifling through his fellow surgeon's bag one-handed. His other hand was held in the tight embrace of a terrified-looking young woman who was only barely upright.
"You heard the doctor." Miller's general medic was starting to get irritated. "What do you want me to say? That he's in no condition to continue treating patients and needs to be rushed straight to medical for treatment?" DJ shifted slightly, turning to catch the other medic's eye, and she sighed. "He'll be fine," she said. "We're going to have to clear everyone anyway after this, medically speaking. If it makes you feel better, he can go first."
"That's about as good as it's going to get," Lee said, coming into Miller's view. "She'll hold until the tow comes, at least. Any additional repairs can be handled then. Also, Dr. Williams says they can start moving patients whenever you're ready-he wants to get us out first, though, so he can block the entire corridor off. Said it would make it easier to move everyone."
Maggs looked up. "What's he waiting for? An invitation?"
Miller shook his head, but refrained from commenting. They were exhausted, all of them, and his general medic had spent the last twenty hours or running herself ragged. "You two go ahead. Tell Dr. Williams the rest of us will be out once my medics have been relieved-I assume he has people to take over in here?"
Lee nodded.
"You know the drill." Miller told him. "I'll see you back on the ship
"Yes, sir."
Lee left, Patel right behind him. A few minutes later Dr. Williams himself arrived with two nurses, all three wearing protective suits.
"That's our cue," Miller said, nudging Maggs, who nodded wearily. The woman stumbled slightly as they made their way back to the entrance, bumping against DJ, who wordlessly brought up a hand to steady her, and Miller had to grudgingly concede that at least his trauma surgeon had the decency not to let the woman fall flat on her face.
Not that that made Miller like the man any better.
They stepped outside of engineering and into another decontamination chamber and wearily began stripping. Maggs was not the only one exhausted; Miller spent several seconds staring at the suddenly bare chest of his newest crewmember before the sudden realization of what he was seeing hit him with all the subtlety of a steel beam to the face.
"Jesus Christ."
Scar was not an accurate description of what he was seeing. Cut open was better, but still did not do the reality justice. No, what Miller was currently looking at was nothing short of horrific-a line of white scar tissue starting just above the man's sternum, running down the length of both his chest and abdomen.
It looked like someone had tried to eviscerate the man
DJ shifted and cleared his throat. Caught, Miller somehow forced his gaze upward, away from the gruesome sight, meeting the bright blue-green gaze of the other man.
DJ's lips pressed together slightly before his expression cleared. "Complications from a childhood surgery gone wrong," he offered, voice low.
"Shit." Miller wasn't faring any better than his pilot had.
DJ tilted his head in acknowledgment. "It's an old scar, fully healed. No more medically relevant than the scar on your shoulder."
"Except you actually know about the scar on my shoulder," Miller felt obligated to point out. One eyebrow lifted in response.
"Because I can see your shoulder," DJ nodded the exposed scar on Miller's shoulder. "This," he gestured toward his torso, drawing Miller's attention back to the scar in question, "doesn't affect quality of life, doesn't affect my health, doesn't affect my ability to do my job. In fact, at this point it is little more than an inconvenience, primarily when people find out about it and can't seem to stop staring."
That last bit was almost pointed, at least for him. Miller somehow managed to tear his eyes away from the sight and meet the other man's gaze once again only to realize the medic was waiting for some sort of response.
"I don't like surprises," Miller told him. "And that certainly doesn't look like just an inconvenience. But I've already made it clear to you that I expect you to bring up any health issues that might interfere with you doing your job." He received a slight nod in confirmation. "And while I don't really know you, not yet, I know Maggs, and I trust her tell me if there's something in a crewmember's medical history that might cause problems on board my ship."
He looked over at the woman in question. No guilt or remorse there. Not even defiance. Maggs hadn't said anything, which meant she hadn't considered it important. He turned back to the trauma specialist.
"I trust if that changes you'll let us know."
Both eyebrows raised as if of their own accord. "Of course."
Miller shook his head and turned, stepping into the other chamber. Grabbing some clean clothes, he started getting dressed. He needed some coffee-food, sleep-something, before he gave in to his current irritation and chucked the newest addition to his crew out an airlock.
Never mind that the man seemed fully capable of doing his job. Or that he took just about everything thrown at him in stride. Or that Maggs had gone out of her way to bring him aboard-and had spoken very highly of him from the beginning. The man grated Miller's nerves, and he couldn't wait for the three-month trial period they had initially agreed on to end.
He wanted this man off his ship.
"How's my crew, doctor?" Maggs looked up from whatever hushed discussion she was having with her fellow physician as Miller entered medical.
"Minimal signs of radiation poisoning," the woman replied. "Lee and Patel are both clean-somehow they managed to escape contamination entirely. So did Foster. We're keeping an eye on Chavez and Sommers, just in case, but I think they managed to escape the worst of it. Follow up exams at 24 hours, 3 days, and a week, same as you, Captain."
"And my medical team?" Miller wanted to know.
"They seem to have caught the worst of it," Maggs admitted with a wry smile. "Nothing to worry about; your general medic might be a bit nauseous for the next couple of days, but beyond that should be fine." A pause. "Your trauma surgeon's most likely going to be out of commission for a day or two after treatment, though."
Miller turned to eye the man critically. "But still nothing to worry about?" he asked. DJ met his gaze evenly; if the man were worried-or suffering from a significant amount of radiation poisoning-it didn't show.
"Side effects might hit a little harder, based on past experience." Maggs offered, but she didn't sound overly concerned. "Just try to avoid any life-or-death situations for a couple days while we recuperate?"
"I'll do my best." Tired as she was, his response still managed to get a laugh from her.
"I'll take what I can get. Any new assignments yet?"
Miller shook his head. "They're giving us a couple of days. Not enough time to stop anywhere-there's nothing close enough for the time allotted, but it should give us a chance to catch our breath. Might have to keep an eye on Sommers." Sommers' experience had been mostly of the sitting around and waiting variety this time around, and the man could be an absolute menace if he got bored enough.
"Tell him your trauma surgeon's liable to puke on him if he gets too close." Maggs suggested with a chuckle. DJ, predictably, did not react. "Anything else?"
"Not on my end. You going to be able to keep an eye on everyone else while being treated?" Miller asked. Not that there was much he could do about it if she couldn't. Not with the nearest station nearly a week away. Out in space they sometimes had to make do with what they had.
"Should be manageable, as long as no one does something stupid and gets themselves hurt," Maggs admitted freely. "I've handled more under worse circumstances. We both have."
"If you say so." Miller wasn't going to argue with her. "Keep me informed."
In the end his trauma specialist ended up catching the worst of it. Fifteen minutes after Miller's conversation with his general medic the man wordlessly exited medical only to make straight for his bunk. Miller and Chavez, his XO, watched silently as he dragged himself up into the top bunk with trembling arms only to disappear immediately under a blanket.
Miller left him alone; DJ's eyes had been overbright as he passed them, his face pale and drawn. Unless Miller was greatly mistaken, the man was in for a miserable couple of days.
Maggs appeared in the doorway just long enough to confirm that her fellow surgeon had made it to his bunk. Also a bit pale, she at least noticed her crewmates, offering a small wave before making her way cautiously over to them. She sat down almost gingerly, closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh of relief through her nose.
"All right?" Miller kept his voice low. Maggs tilted her head in not-quite confirmation, managing a tiny half-smile as she settled.
"Nothing to worry about," she reminded him softly.
"If you say so." He shot a glance over his shoulder at the bundle of misery huddled up in his bunk. "He all right?"
"Plan is to sleep it off," Maggs offered. "Or at least try. I'll check on him in a few hours if he hasn't moved."
Miller nodded. "Let me know if you need anything."
"I'm fine," she insisted, rolling her eyes only to immediately look as if she regretted it. "So is he."
Maggs was right, of course. By that evening his general medic had regained most of her normal color; his trauma surgeon resurfaced just in time for dinner the next day. Still a bit pale, the man still managed his meal without apparent difficulty. As far as a general lack of conversation, he'd been quiet and reserved since coming aboard, so that was nothing worth taking note of.
By the time they received their next assignment the following day both medics had fully recovered and, like the rest of Miller's crew, were ready to get back to work.
Disclaimer: Event Horizon does not belong to me.
Author's Note: Been a bit busy getting ready for the release of my new book, but am trying to get back into the swing of things. I don't know if anyone actually reads these, but I enjoy writing them, so. If someone else stumbles across them and enjoys them as well, that's honestly just a bonus. ;)