Scuzzworms (32 page)

“He raped you?”

“A societal definition.  I can’t testify to it.  I should have gone home when I had the chance but I was fed up with being protected.  I wanted to have a good time for a change.”

Post held up the pills.  “He’s the reason...?”

“Before you judge him too harshly, let me tell you the rest.”  She sighed.  “He wanted to marry me.  Practically begged.  I never got a look at his health certificate so I didn’t know all of his reasons at the time.  I’m not sure but he may have been a virgin.  His infection was congenital.  When my next health check revealed the presence of the virus, all hell broke loose.  The Universal Crèche tried to roast him.  If the studios hadn’t already invested so much money in him he would have rotted out the rest of his life in ‘protective isolation.’  As it is, he is allowed to go on tour, but only under twenty-four hour guard.” 

Imelda’s expression was earnest.  “Post, he was in jail for a crime he didn’t commit even before it happened.  Now I’m in that jail, too.  You don’t want any part of this, believe me.  If I knowingly contaminate anyone else, I won’t have a billion dollar contract protecting me.  I’ll be taken out of circulation so fast it will look like the sky swallowed me.”

A noise at the door startled both of them.  They turned to see Caldwell standing there with Jamison.  Caldwell entered slowly.

Imelda snarled.  “It’s about time you got back.”

“So I’m finding out.”  He looked from Imelda to Post and back.  “I’d like to hear the rest of your story too, Imelda.”  He looked pointedly at the pills in Post’s hand. “What have you been up to, exactly?”

Jamison followed
Caldwell and sat uneasily between him and Post on the couch.  “If you don’t mind, fill me in on this virus.  What exactly do you have?”

“Harpies.”

“What?”

“From the Greek tale, godawful ancient literature.  A blind fellow named Phineus was tormented by them.  Sat at a table full of food starving to death because the harpies snatched away whatever he managed to grope out before he could eat it.”

Post frowned.  “Don’t joke, Imelda.”

“Do you know a better name for it?  Under treatment I am contagious only to those I love.  I can infect and kill, or I can not love.  My disease drives me away from what I desire the most.  The only way I can escape the punishment is to not desire.”  Her face twisted in a tortured smile.  “Do you know why I majored in reproduction?  I wanted to be a surrogate mother for the Universal Crèche.  I was due to get my first implant in another year or two when it happened.  I wanted to at least find out what sex was like before starting to have babies.  Now I’m deadly to fetuses.  Any baby that lived would be badly deformed.”

Jamison looked down, embarrassed.  “Most of those viruses respond well to treatment.”

“It’s a mutated parvovirus.  Many generations refined by continuous exposure to antivirals and drug therapy.  The major portion of this one’s genome was originally designed for medical use in treating another viral infection but the two viruses combined.

“It first appeared on the planet Deneb III, probably as a result of the high radiation levels there.  It’s extremely virulent and infects all types of human cells.  Untreated victims survive just long enough for the virus to find a new victim before dying.”  She turned to look at Jamison.  “It’s designated risk level 10.”

Jamison’s face paled.  “Risk level 10!” she whispered.  That’s mandatory permanent isolation!  No way could it be…” 

“CHA allows exceptions if you meet certain psychological parameters,” Imelda responded.  “I met them.  They almost sent me to a sanatorium anyway because they thought I was too attractive to men.  I had to demonstrate competency in the fast brush off.  I’ve often been told that I’m very good at it.”

Caldwell
interrupted pointedly.  “Your infection was under control.  Why did you stop treatment?” 

“My reasons are on file.  In your office.  Security
-locked.”

Caldwell
frowned thoughtfully.  He turned to Post.  “I gather that you took the pills away from her?  She was going to take them all?”

Post nodded.

“I suspect that we are about to become party to a major breach of CHA rules.  I would suggest that you find other quarters if you wish to remain uninvolved.”

“I am already involved.”

Caldwell peered at him acutely. “You are a good researcher, Post.  This is going to be sticky.”

“Yes, sir.”  Post stayed put.  Jamison also made no move to leave.

Caldwell turned his attention from them. “Imelda, damn you, I can tell that you did something stupidly brilliant.  I’m not going to let you kill yourself even if you must continue your work from the inside of a plastic bubble.  Show me the goddamn file!”  Caldwell’s look was uncompromising.

Imelda conceded defeat easily.   She hurt, she was tired, and she needed a transfusion of red cells.  She just didn’t care anymore.  She shoved a disk into her monitor.

“The virus was perfect,” she said bluntly.  “Goes for rapidly dividing cells first, wipes them out.  There aren’t too many congenital cases like Golden as a result.  His infection was likely acquired late in fetal development since he isn’t obviously deformed.  He received treatment from day one of life.

“I tested the virus extensively through exposure to large numbers of life forms from Iago IV, ran a biochemical check.  The enzyme systems down there won’t support its reproduction inside Iagan cells.  A recently infected human cell is not damaged until it begins to divide, so infected cells can survive intact inside the worms so long as they remain dormant, to be carried from one borgette to another.”

Her gaze at Caldwell was penetrating.  “I watched it in the ecosystem we reconstructed here.  I experimented on a small borgette nearly dead with the weight of human cells in her ovaries.  There is absolutely no remaining nidus of infestation now.  Look at the slides I made.  They look like the pre-contamination ones.”

Caldwell
let out a low whistle.  Jamison muttered an expletive under her breath, and then caught Caldwell’s eye.  “There ought to be some way we can get approval to release this virus down there.  If we don’t move soon, the whole planet will be locked into producing human fetuses.”

Caldwell
shook his head slowly.  “No way.  CHA would never approve.”  He looked at Imelda.  “Would they?”

Imelda grinned at him.  “Nope.”

Post broke his silence.  “The rate of spread of the contamination has dropped recently on Iago.”

“What?” 
Caldwell looked at the figures Post put on the screen and exhaled.  “The soul of an angel hidden by plastic horns and red spray paint,” he muttered.

He turned back to Imelda angrily.  “Once you had a supply of the virus, why didn’t you start taking your pills again?”

She shrugged.  “No point.  The pills only prevent reproduction of the virus and slow its spread.  In order to get enough virus to inoculate cells in the numbers I needed, I had to have a huge viral load.  The virus doesn’t grow well in the types of cell culture I had available.  The cells die too fast.  I was the culture media.  I doubt that I have any uninfected cells now.  Taking a handful of pills to overdose was for theatrics.  The drug hastens the death of infected cells.  One pill would probably kill me at this point.”

Post shuddered.  “That’s why you’ve been avoiding everyone?”

“Sure.  Didn’t want an accidental contamination to hurt anyone or bring attention to what I was doing.  I’ve been an unholy terror to be around so most people have been sure to stay away from me.”

Jamison stared at her.  “How could you stand it?  How could you possibly tolerate this?”

Imelda looked longingly at the pills that Post was holding.  “I couldn’t,” she said simply. 

Jamison reached for her hand and Imelda withdrew from the contact.   “You couldn’t even talk this over with Fish, could you?  I know he has been trying very hard to help you deal with the isolation.”

Imelda almost convulsed with laughter.  Caldwell shut his eyes, muttering some unknown expletive.  “Fish didn’t know about her infection,” he said.

“Why not?” Jamison and Post chorused.

Caldwell glared at Imelda.  “She wouldn’t consent to release her medical information to him.  I am the only one on the entire project who knew, outside of Calliope, of course.  The computer had instructions not to release the information unless she became careless in her isolation protocol.”

Imelda shrugged.  “Fish doesn’t need to know.  If he knew he would feel sorry for me, and I can’t stand that.”

“Even so, Imelda, everyone needs help sometimes, if only a friend to talk to,” Jamison pleaded.

Anger clouded Imelda’s expression.  She snorted, raking them with her eyes.  “My first psychiatrist did know.  She couldn’t handle it.  Even when I was finally coming to accept that there was nothing to be done, she continued to talk with me about it, trying to resolve her own fears and help herself find some sort of peace.  By the end I was supporting her.  I sometimes wondered if it wasn’t all a ploy, to show me the danger of allowing myself to become obsessed by what had happened to me.  If so, it was successful.  I’ve never voluntarily let anyone know since.  My own pain is manageable.  The pain of others is not.”

The three facing her did not respond immediately, not having any easy answers.   Post walked to the intercom.

“Who are you calling?” Imelda asked quickly.

“A medic.  You need help.”

“No, not yet,” she stopped him. 

“Why not?  I don’t think one bag of platelets is going to do much for you.”

Caldwell
was staring at her coldly.  She turned to face him.  “I’m your sacrificial lamb, Caldwell.  My confession is timed to neatly coincide with Trefarbe’s intended lie.  She’ll bury my data to keep me from testifying if she suspects I’m up to something.  She figures that the solution to the problem is to pretend that nothing serious happened, that serendipity will make this turn out good for humanity and Biotech, too.  Jinks will go along with her; he’ll have to. 

“Remember, CHA isn’t a government; it’s only a regulatory body.  Their authority is limited to absolute transgressions of their regulations regarding the safety of mankind. They’ll figure that CHA can’t yank Biotech’s contract if the accident appears to have been without major consequence.”

The three listening were open-mouthed.  “How can they say that the accident was without major consequence?”   Post almost bellowed.

“Serendipity.  If they can show a useful outcome from all of this then the damage will be mitigated.  What is good for humanity is always more important than what is bad for anyone else.  Those of us who won’t go along with Admin will be transferred to other projects and Iago IV restaffed.”

Caldwell frowned.  “What possible good can they have in mind?  I’m sorry, Imelda, but I can’t see...”

Imelda launched into a quick description of Trefarbe’s plan for enhanced human reproduction.  “She thinks that I am depressed over the accident and completely out of commission.  My suicide would have forced a complete investigation that Biotech couldn’t have maneuvered out of.  Trefarbe can’t find out about my illness until CHA has been informed.”

Jamison shook her head violently.  “No, you idiot.  We need to do something for you now!”

Imelda turned to Post beseechingly. “Postman, you know as well as anyone.  Trefarbe will burn us all at the stake and come out glowing if she can.  The committee will take a few days before getting to me and she will be doing all she can to discredit me.  If she finds out that I’m sick she’ll lock me up in sickbay and dare CHA to disturb me.  Jinks won’t let any other biologists testify and he’ll put the muzzle on you too, Dr. Caldwell.”

Caldwell was stern.  “They can’t muzzle me.”

Her expression became amused.  “You weren’t here during the emergency.  You haven’t been supervising.  You won’t be able to show them critical reports because Trefarbe and Jinks will freeze them.  Your career means a lot to you, Dr. Caldwell.  This could mean the end of it if you don’t play.”

Caldwell continued to stare at her, thinking.  Imelda turned back to Post.  “As long as we keep replacing what my bone marrow should be putting out, giving me a little hyperalimentation, I’ll last.  I’ve plenty of supplies in the fridge.  You’re my new roommate anyway.  If we can’t make love, this will at least give us something to do together.”  Imelda was grinning at the last.

Post, whose face was looking more like a death mask, groaned.  “Goddamn you, you’re a bitch, Imelda.   A teasing ice
-queen of a bitch.  Stick you with needles?  Sure.  Nothing could make me happier.”

Jamison and Caldwell looked at Post in surprise.  Imelda laughed.  “Done deal, Postmaster.  Just remember, you hate my guts, and I have repeatedly insulted your manhood.”  She turned to
Caldwell.  “Nothing has changed.  You are my secret lover.  Jamison is my interested neighbor.  I am still the most obnoxious, self-centered pseudoanthropopredator that ever munched an ego.  Everything bad that happened is all my fault.”

Caldwell
’s face was grim.  “I’m due at a conference with Trefarbe and Jinks.  I’ll play this game up to a point, Imelda, but I will not let them hurt you.”  He left the room abruptly.