Arrival (54 page)

Jack stood there for the longest time, unable to speak. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing in the mirror, yet he felt he had subconsciously known he had been changing for some time now. Frank’s reflection moved in behind his own, as Frank stepped in behind him.
Is it true?
Jack asked telepathically.
Is this really what I look like?

“I’m afraid it is, Jack.”

How did this, I mean, how could this happen?

“You’re asking me? I’m just an engineer.”

Jesus, Frank,
Jack thought softly.
What am I gonna do?

“Well, look at the bright side,” Frank joked as he too struggled to understand what was going on. “At least now you don’t have to worry about that bald spot you were getting?”

Jack didn’t react at first, still overwhelmed by the realization of what he had become. Finally, a strange twist came over his alien looking mouth, which Frank could only interpret as a smile.
Very funny.

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re alive, pal.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“So it was you?” Frank realized as he sat down at the wardroom table. “
You
brought me back here and fixed me up?”

Yes, it was me. You collapsed out there in the snow. I carried you back here and brought you into the med-lab.
Jack was getting better at communicating with Frank telepathically.

“Last thing I remember was taking shots at you.” Frank looked embarrassed. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Don’t worry about it,
Jack assured him.
The condition you were in, I’m surprised you were even able to carry a weapon, let alone fire it.

“If I remember correctly,” Frank said, suddenly defensive. “I had you cornered.”

Yeah, until you freaked out and ran off,
Jack retorted.

“You would too if you saw an alien mug like yours!” Frank suddenly realized that Jack might have been offended by the remark. “Sorry.” Frank leaned back in his chair at the wardroom table. “So, where’s Will?” Frank wondered. “Does he look like you as well?”

Will didn’t make it
, Jack replied without emotion.

“What?” Frank was obviously shocked.

About a month ago, I think. I sort of lost track of time.

“What happened?”

He fell into a crevice. Landed on some rocks. Busted him up pretty good.
Jack looked at Frank, noting the sorrow on his face.
I’m pretty sure he died instantly.

“Oh, my God.” Frank thought for a moment, taking in what he had just heard.

Jack sat silently, staring off at nothing. Frank noticed his friend’s pain. “So, how did you fix me up, anyhow?” he asked, trying to change the subject for Jack’s sake.

Just basic stuff, really, he answered,
still staring off into space.

“No,” Frank continued, “I mean, how did you
cure
me?”

Cure you?
Jack was puzzled, but it was enough to distract him from his moment of mourning.
All I did was get your vitals and your body chemistry back to something resembling normal.

“Well, you did more than that. I feel better than I have in days,” Frank said as he rose from his seat and headed forward.

What?
Jack rose to follow Frank.
What are you talking about?

Frank led Jack into the med-lab and called up the logs for the past twelve hours on the bio-monitor. “Look,” Frank explained. “My vitals and chemistry get better, that’s true. But here, my kidney and liver functions improved, my white cell count is back up, VQ has improved. The disease is probably still there, but its progression has changed.” Frank turned to look at his friend. “Jack, I may be in remission.”

Jack was shocked.
When did you become a doctor?

“I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, recently. I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Hell,” he bragged, “I even learned how to use the genetic bio-scanner.”

Really?

“Well, I’m not really sure what I’m looking at half the time, but I do know how to work it.”

Did you learn anything about the disease?

“I did find some abnormalities in the DNA strands of the samples Maria collected on everyone.”

Like what?

“Well, there’s something attached to them. Something that wasn’t in the pre-infection samples from our routine physicals.”

What does that mean?

“I have no idea. But I know it’s there.”

Did Maria know about it?

“I don’t think so. From what I read in her logs, she appeared to be too busy trying to care for the crew. I don’t think she had much time to work on a cure.”

Too bad it got Laura first. If it works at the genetic level, she would have been the one to figure it out.

“True,” Frank admitted. “So, how
did
you cure me?”

Like I said, just routine stuff. Cardiac meds, pH buffers, dextrose, and fluids. You were considerably dehydrated.

“That can’t be it,” Frank argued. “That’s the same stuff Maria tried on everyone else.” Frank looked at the nearly-empty feeding bag hanging from the IV pole next to the exam table. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

Just some pureed sweet root. I ran out of dextrose and I needed to get your blood sugar up. I whipped it up in Mac’s blender.

“Sweet root? Where’d you find it?”

Those tall, green stalks that grow along the rocks. The ones with the yellow tips. Will used to use them to cook the bitterness out of the meat of whatever we could kill to eat.

“Maybe that’s what did the trick. Something in the sweet root,” Frank hypothesized.

Don’t you think that’s a reach, Frank?

Frank’s mind was spinning, working wildly to put everything together. “Wait a minute. A week or so ago, I got tired of eating nothing but protein bars.”

I don’t blame you,
Jack agreed, remembering their foul taste.

“So I went out and started hunting small game again, just for some variety.”

Again?
Jack wondered. Mission protocols required that they grow and consume only the Terran plants they had brought with them. Indigenous consumables were to be used only as a last resort.

“My ATC broke down while I was away on a detail. It took me some time to get back, and I ran out of food along the way. So I hunted to survive.”

Detail, huh?
Jack also knew that protocols forbid anyone from traveling away from camp alone. But that explained the repeater on the ridge, a detail he was sure Lynn wouldn’t have approved.

“After I stopped eating only protein bars and started to eat wild game instead, I started feeling a little better.”

Then why did you stop?

“It got colder. I couldn’t function outside long enough to track and kill anything,” Frank explained. “Besides, I didn’t realize that it was the meat that was making me feel better.”

But you weren’t eating sweet roots,
Jack pointed out.

“No, I wasn’t. But maybe the animals I ate had eaten some of that root.”

I think you’re still a little out of it
, Jack thought doubtfully.

“Maybe,” Frank answered. “But it’s worth investigating.”

Jack was a little shocked. He hadn’t really meant for Frank to hear his last thought.
This telepathy is going to take some getting used to
.

“Tell me about it,” Frank agreed. “It’s a little strange having a one-sided conversation like this. I mean, I’m doing all the speaking. And it’s weird, hearing your voice in my head instead of through my ears. Anyway, do you have any more of that sweet root lying around?”

In the galley, five or six more bulbs.

“Well, let’s chow down on the stuff and see what happens to me.”

I don’t know, Frank. It sounds like a long shot.

“Yeah, but at least it’s a shot. Unless you have a better idea.”

Jack had to admit that even though it seemed an awfully convenient coincidence, they had little to lose at this point. And while Jack had extensive medical training, it was only in emergency medicine, which involved very little pathology. What Frank was hypothesizing did make sense, even if it was a stretch. And it seemed that he had been doing quite a lot of self-teaching as of late. In fact, Frank appeared to have developed a better understanding of disease pathology than Jack ever had. Frank had a sharp mind, which had saved his butt on more than one occasion.

Frank wasn’t waiting for permission, and was already on his way out of the med-lab and heading for the galley.

* * *

Despite the possible promise it might have held, the sweet root was not very palatable when eaten raw. It was soft and easily chewed, but sickeningly sweet with a slight garlic taste to it. Nevertheless, they ate all of it, with Frank consuming the majority of the remaining roots. Jack telepathically told Frank about his and Will’s journey across the plains and mountains, and Frank told him of their own adventures and how the mission had been going since they were separated.

Once the roots were gone, Frank agreed to lie down and rest while Jack went back out to gather more. At Frank’s request, Jack agreed to hunt game to accompany the sweet root and make it a little easier to eat. They would again check Frank’s body chemistry tomorrow, after giving the roots some time to get into his system and do whatever it was they might do for him.

Tracking game was a test in patience, but it was one in which Jack had become quite adept. It gave him time to think, as he waited for his prey to reveal itself to him. Without any distractions, he couldn’t help but dwell on the obvious.
What have I become? And what will become of me? Is there a way to reverse this strange metamorphosis? Or will I change even more?

Jack thought of his wife and children.
How would they react if they see me this way? How would the colonists react? Would the same thing happen to them if they came to live on this world?

Jack struggled to force the thoughts from his head, though it was difficult. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. First, as always, was survival. And he had to help Frank survive and recover until help arrived.

That was another question altogether.
Would
help arrive? Jack tried to put himself in the Eden council members’ positions. The Daedalus was nearing the Tau Ceti system, and soon they would have to decide which world to colonize. Once the Daedalus was committed to orbit, there was no going back.

Jack felt confident that he could survive, for years if necessary. Now that he understood the changes that had been taking place within him, he realized he was becoming better suited to survive on this world. His senses had sharpened. Vision, smell, hearing—all had improved. But some of his cognitive functions were slipping. He had not told Frank about his increasing difficulty to read written words. Frank had enough to deal with right now.

Months ago, Jack had felt like a stranger on this alien world. But now, he was beginning to feel at home. Out here, in the open wilderness, things felt right. Back in the LRV, he only felt trapped. He had learned to control the feeling, keeping it from overpowering him so he could function within the LRV itself. But it still felt foreign to him. The question was if it would it ever feel like home again?

* * *

Ray watched impatiently as the six council members filed into the briefing room and took their seats at the conference table. Their last major decision had been to agree to the demands of the separatists to be left behind in the Luyten system with the minimum equipment to survive and build their own civilization. It had been a difficult decision to make, one that Ray had not envied, as it left the Daedalus with insufficient resources and crew. But the decision had been forced at gunpoint, leaving the council with no alternatives. This decision, however, was different. This time, the council
had
several alternatives, each of them with different, yet equal, risks.

Ray did not have any of the expertise or the extensive education of the other specialists in attendance. However, he had the most command experience, having succeeded his late wife as the Daedalus’s commander. He had held the position for over twenty years before handing it over to Captain Ishkin’s father. More importantly, being one of the last three surviving members of the original crew, he commanded the respect of the entire population. In nearly every situation they had faced over the last sixty years, Old Man Wilkins, now approaching one hundred and eight years of age, had been there.

“Due to the urgency of the situation, we have agreed to dispense with the usual formalities,” the chief council member announced from his position at the center of the table. “I’m assuming that everyone in this room has read Captain Ishkin’s report, and the report from the sensor officer?” His question was met with nods of agreement. “Very well then. The question we now face is what to do about the message.”

Ray had never been one for formalities, choosing not to stand as he spoke. He was weak, and conserved his strength whenever possible. “We go and rescue them, that’s what we do!” His statement was met with enthusiasm, but not from the council members.

The chief council member frowned at Ray’s comment. The old man was a nuisance to him. “I agree with your sentiment, Mister Wilkins. But we have to consider the safety of the entire population.”

“They went out there to ensure
our
safety,” Captain Ishkin added.

“That
is
my point,” the chief council member continued. “That is why they sent the message, after all. To ward us off.”

“Bull!” Ray grumbled.

“Did you have something to add, Mister Wilkins?”

“They were asking for help,” Ray spoke up.

“The message was quite specific, Mister Wilkins,” the Chief council member reminded him. “LRV to Daedalus, danger, extreme biohazard, crew infected, approach with extreme caution.”

The room was silent for a moment, as the gravity of the message sank in. Of course, it didn’t stop Ray from speaking his mind.

“So you’re saying we’re
not
going to rescue them?”

“No, sir. We’re simply suggesting that we consider the possibility that mounting an immediate rescue might not be the safest course of action.”

“Safest course of action be damned!” Ray objected. “Those are
our people
out there!”

“Relax, Ray,” Captain Ishkin urged. “We have to think this through, first. We can’t go changing course half-cocked. You know that.”

Ray did know that. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“The first question we have to ask ourselves is
can
they be rescued. I don’t mean just
from
the planet. I would like to know if we can do anything
for
them once we
rescue
them. Doctor Barilla?”

The chief medical officer cleared his throat, standing slowly to speak. He too was getting along in years, and had retired himself from hands-on patient care years ago, leaving that work to the steadier hands of the two younger physicians. “There are a lot of
ifs
involved here.
If
we can find the source of the infection, and
if
the virus reacts to any of our current medications or chemistries…”

“Can you find a cure?” the chief council member asked bluntly.

“My team has no practical experience in exobiology. We have only theories based on assumptions. If the same rules that apply to Terran biology also apply to Cetian biology, then yes, if given time, we should be able to find a cure.”