Solbidyum Wars Saga 9: At What Price (36 page)

I was also glad to have Kala with me when it was time to leave for the
NEW ORLEANS
to get the first of my treatments that were starting on the new six-day cycle.  I had a sense of foreboding even before it was time to go.  When we arrived at the med-unit, both A’Lappe and Cantolla were there.  I knew A’Lappe was going to talk to Cantolla about my condition, but I didn’t expect her to be present for my treatment.  The somber look on their faces told me I wasn’t going to like what they had to say.  A’Lappe spoke first.

“Tibby, I’ve consulted with Cantolla and we’ve reviewed your treatment and lab records.  I’m sorry to say the news isn’t good.  Your body’s rejection of the synthetic nerves is stronger than before and we’re not sure how well shortening the treatment sequence is going to help.  We’ll need to monitor this adjustment closely.  We’ve also discussed the possibility of immunosuppressive drug therapies that were commonly used on your home planet with organ transplants, but it would increase your risk for other diseases and neither Cantolla nor I think that it’s a wise choice.”

“I’ve looked at your tissue and blood samples,” said Cantolla.  “Looking at them comparatively in series since you first began taking treatments, it’s clear that the rejection is escalating.  There are signs of more recent deterioration of your overall peripheral nervous system.  You probably haven’t noticed it much or if you have, it was probably so minor, you most likely dismissed it.  That being said, it won’t be long before these symptoms become more obvious.  A’Lappe and I will try to find some way to stop or retard future deterioration, but as the moment we don’t have a solution.”

“So what are we talking about?  How long before it becomes obvious to others and how long before I’m incapacitated by this?” I asked in a weak and more emotional voice than I liked.

“We don’t know,” A’Lappe replied.  “It could happen very quickly or it could just as easily slow down and stabilize.  We’re in completely new territory and we’ve never had to deal with anything like this before.”

“What will happen?  With me, I mean?  What can I expect?  What will go first?” I asked rapidly.

“We don’t know that either.  You’ll probably notice it first with things like fine digit coordination and reflexes.  You'll no doubt experience memory problems and difficulty with thinking or concentration, especially when you let yourself get tired.  Those will be the noticeable signs.  However, it’s what’s happening inside you that may be the most dangerous.  Your central nervous system’s signals to your heart, liver, kidneys and other organs will eventually be affected.  You won’t sense those changes yourself until it’s too late.  Cantolla and I believe that if we monitor you closely, we will be able to detect these more critical fluctuations and intervene at least enough to provide bridge treatments until we can find a more permanent solution.”

“But there is no guarantee of that, is there?” I asked more as a statement than a question.

“No,” A’Lappe replied.  “No guarantees.  Cantolla believes that interferon treatments are still the best bet.  She’s been working on a special formula that she’s used during the cloning processes in the labs that she thinks may help and even possibly heal some of the damage already done to your nerves.  However, it's untested on humans.”

“So, I’ll be your first human test subject,” I said.

“There are risks,” Cantolla said with a grave tone that I’d never heard in her voice before.  “I’ve no idea what impact it will have on you or what other problems it might create.  For all we know, it might cause your body to totally reject your synthetic nerves all at once and shut you down completely.”

“I don’t understand,” I said with some confusion.

“It might kill you,” A’Lappe said bluntly.

“Oh,” I replied.  “What do you recommend?”

Cantolla bit her lip a moment and then began.  “I’d like to do some tests in the lab using synthetic nerves spliced to organic nerves and then treat them with the interferon compound to see what happens.  If it doesn’t speed up the rejection, I suggest we try it on you… starting with small doses.”

“I’m still not sure I understand.  I thought that interferon was already a part of my treatment.  A’Lappe, I was sure you told me that you produced it here in the lab instead of harvesting it from humans and animals.  What’s different with your interferon?”

“It’s a compound consisting of interferon collected from various life forms found throughout the galaxy,” said Cantolla.  “In some ways this compound is more effective and faster acting, but it’s aggressive and in some cases it can have just the opposite of the desired effect.  It does no good to repair your nerves if the therapy destroys your liver.”

I looked at Kala, who had been silently holding my hand up to that point.  “What do you think I should do?” I asked.

She didn’t answer me right away, turning instead to ask Cantolla, “What happens if you don’t try this therapy?”

“He’ll continue to get worse,” Cantolla answered.

“But if he takes the treatment, there is a chance he’ll get better?”

“A chance, yes, but he may also get worse.”

Kala paused, then looked at me and said, “So, if he does nothing, he gets worse, without question.  If he takes the treatment, he may or may not get better.  It would seem that the second option is the only option under those conditions.”

“Alright,” I said.  “Cantolla, run your tests and as soon as you feel it’s a good risk, I’ll take your treatment.  But I still have a war to fight, so until then, we’ll continue as we have so far, only I’ll take a treatment every six days instead of every seven.  Are we all in agreement?”

“I think that’s the best plan,” said A’Lappe.

Kala and Cantolla nodded in agreement.

“I have to tell you, Tibby, you and A’Lappe have done an excellent job of hiding your condition.  I never suspected it at all.  When A’Lappe told me about it, I thought he was joking, until he showed me your lab samples.  I was even more amazed when he told me you had kept this from Kala for years.”

“There were signs,” said Kala.  “I just didn’t connect all the clues and see them for what they were.”

“What will you do now, Tibby?” asked Cantolla.

“I’ll continue doing what I have done all along,” I said.  “I’ll keep searching for Ming and fight the Brotherhood until they’re gone or until I’m dead.  I don’t see that I have any other choice.”

I was about halfway through my treatment when my comlink beeped.  Kala answered it for me.  It was Marranalis alerting me there had been another disease canister attack by the Brotherhood on the planet Dandcay.  Three cylinders were dropped, one on each of the world’s three continents.  At the same time, synchronized body-bomber attacks took place at nearly a dozen Cantolla Gate hubs on different worlds.  Ming was ramping up his game of terror.  He wanted to make fear and uncertainty dwell in every moment of every life that existed under the umbrella of the Federation.

There was little I could do, as I was in the middle of my treatment.  My veins coursed with liquid fire, yet I trembled and shivered like I was freezing.  It would be several hours before I would be restored enough to function normally.  I managed enough strength to tell Marranalis that I trusted his judgment and leadership and that he would have to handle things in my stead.  I said that if anyone asked my whereabouts to say simply that I was exhausted and ill, but I was expected to be well enough to resume my duties in the morning.  I just hoped that nothing more would happen that night and that I would be back to normal by morning.

That night I was plagued with nightmares.  Every aspect of every dream was overwhelmed with chaos as people were dying of plague-like diseases all around me and asteroid-ships attacked from above.  Women were screaming as Brotherhood troopers dragged them away to slave ships, while Ming sat on a golden throne, laughing at the Federation senators, who were forced to bow down before him.  I woke up to find myself standing in the living room of our suite on the
NEW ORLEANS. 
I must have gotten out of bed and walked into the room in my sleep.

“Tib, are you alright?” Kala called to me from the bedroom.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, still frog-voiced and bewildered.

“What’s wrong?  Why did you go to the living room?”

“I don’t know.  I just woke up and found myself standing here.”

“I heard you get up, but I thought you were going to the toilet, only you went the other direction instead,” Kala said as she came to my side.  She put her arm around me and then drew back.  “Tib, your soaked in sweat again.  Come on.  Let me get you into the shower.”

“I was having a terrible dream,” I said as she turned on the mist.  “I was dreaming Ming was sitting on a throne of gold and all the senators were bowing down to him.  People were dying of diseases all around me and Brotherhood ships were attacking the planet.”

“It was just a dream, Tib, now take your shower.  Would you like me to get you something to drink?  Some Okaia juice perhaps?”

“Okaia juice sounds good.”  I cheated and ran the shower through two cycles.  Sometimes three minutes just wasn’t enough time to make me feel clean.  I don’t care what the Federation scientists said.

When I stepped out of the shower, Kala was waiting with an appetizing glass of peach-colored liquid.  I sipped it slowly, savoring the taste and enjoying the refreshing coolness as it slid down my throat. 

“Thank you,” I muttered.  “I needed that.”

As I tipped the glass of juice, I could see Kala appraising me.  Her expression was hard to read.

“Tib, I think you should step down from service.  Let someone else run the military.   We can relax and take the
NEW ORLEANS
and travel outside the Federation and come back after the war is over or when Ming is dead, whichever comes first.  Why do you need to be the one to do this?”

I sighed as I emptied my glass and gazed at my beautiful Kala, trying to think of the best way to answer her question.  “Back on Earth there was a religion that taught partly through parables or stories.  One of those lessons was,
‘To whom much is given, much will be required.’
  I don’t know anyone who has been given more than I have.”

Kala smiled and nodded slightly.  “It wouldn’t matter anyway.  Knowing you, you would still do the same thing, even if you had nothing.”

By the time I arrived at the War Room the next morning, hundreds of thousands of people on Dandcay were already ill.  Like the other planets that had been canister-bombed, Dandcay had been immediately quarantined and no one was allowed to leave the planet.  Several ships had tried but were immediately apprehended and told to stay on orbit or be fired upon.  One ship defied orders and Federation forces were unfortunately forced to destroy it.  It was unclear as yet how many persons were aboard the orbiting ships.

The news media were reporting that citizens throughout the Federation were in panic, fearing the possibility that disease-bearing cylinders would be dropped on their worlds.  Some individuals had purchased their own HAZMAT suits in hopes of surviving the attacks.  However, these were of little value unless we found a way to get unexposed people off the infected worlds.  Cantolla and A’Lappe and the interagency team appeared to be making progress with Rory’s idea, until it was discovered that the effective kill frequency would also kill humans.  It would be possible to disinfect an unoccupied area, such as a room or ship, but a person in a HAZMAT suit would be killed, if the suit were to be sterilized with them inside it.

My luck was running out.  In the past, it seemed that every crisis was met with a solution at the last moment or just by chance someone or something came through with the answer to our problem.  Kerabac had accidentally discovered cloaking technology just when we needed a way to get aboard the
DUSTEN
.  Cantolla was able to enhance the learning headbands in time to teach troopers martial arts before the early battles against the Brotherhood.  At Goo’Waddle, Padaran’s knowledge of Ruwallie Rasson customs and his martial arts skills had seemed to magically come to the rescue when we thought we were through.  Later, the advent of A’Lappe’s powerful 10X fusion reactor provided us with enough compact energy sources use the known technology of the RMFF on our warships, just enough to keep us one step ahead of the enemy.  He also came to our rescue with the faster Gravity Wave engines, discovered the solbidnite and created the PLABE weapon and dozens of other amazing inventions, not to mention the fact that he saved Kala’s life and my life more than once.  Jenira had become legendary as a swordswoman and a protector and had in some measure played a role in changing the course of the war.  The discovery of the Cantolla Gates once again happened at the right moment to keep us on an even standing with the Brotherhood, though Ming’s scientists had since closed that gap and were using their newfound knowledge in devastating ways.

Yes, it looked as though the last of my good fortune had run out.  I could see no forthcoming miracles of chance or technology that were going to save the Federation – or me, for that matter.  My health was failing and I had a feeling that there would be no getting well, despite the expertise and unrelenting dedication of A’Lappe and Cantolla.  My life was ebbing away.  I only prayed that I could bring about Ming’s death and an end to the Brotherhood before I died.

I wasn’t surprised when I received a call from Leader Pheosa shortly before midday.  He wanted to know what progress we were making with cures and vaccines and what plans I had to stop the Brotherhood from more canister bombings.  He showed signs of irritation when I told him that so far all our ideas had met with failure and that we were no closer to coming up with a method of stopping the canister bombings than the last time we had spoken.