Star Cruise - Outbreak (19 page)

“I did
not
, not with any certainty,” she protested, as if he could hear her.

“He’s trying to avoid panic, Doctor,” Maeve said, her tone reproving.

Fleming was wrapping up with an admonition to his passengers to be vigilant but to enjoy the rest of their cruise. He promised to keep them updated and signed off.

There was a knock on her door. The portal slid aside, and Jake entered.

“Did you hear what he put in his announcement? I suppose he felt he had to broadcast my presence on board to reassure the passengers,” Emily said before Jake could even open his mouth. “I hope it helps.”

“Sure, Doc, whatever you say.” Jake held up his hands as if to ward off a fight. “We need you out here.”

“Maeve said you had a situation in the casino?” She left the desk.
 

“Woman started bleeding from the nose and eyes, collapsed on the roulette table. Set off something of a panic, so the manager called me. She’s being taken to Level C now. Maeve’s robots are cleaning the casino area, and then management can reopen.” Jake’s face was set in serious lines. “We’ve got to avoid panic at all costs. Not among the crew, who are proven, solid professionals, but the passengers—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Maybe we can manage this outbreak if passengers stay calm and not too many patients progress to stage two, but conditions aboard ship will go to the seven hells if the civilians panic. Putting down a riot would be ugly.”

“Agreed.”

“I want to move you to Level C,” Jake said. “You’re too accessible here. You’ll have desperate patients or their families coming to beg for medicines or treatment. Better if they have to go through the protocol on the quarantine deck before they can see you.”

Emily hadn’t even considered the possibility so she appreciated Jake’s foresight. “I’m going to leave Relba in sickbay to handle ordinary cases. Can you keep a security officer here as well? Despite the captain’s message, I’m sure some passengers will come here first rather than call. Or people will come here hoping for more information.”

“Of course.” Jake escorted her through the lobby, which was growing ever more crowded.

“We need to keep this floor clean of biohazardous materials,” she said, hesitating as she took in the spots of blood and other fluids.

“I’ll send my cleaning robots here next.” Maeve was prompt.

“Station at least one robo here full time,” Emily said. “We’ll require several on Level C as well.”

She walked a few more steps in response to Jake’s tug on her arm, then paused. “I need Vicente and Bevar on Level C. And we have to move the sick passengers we already have. Mrs. Enzell and her son—”

“My staff and I’ll deal with all of it, don’t worry.” Jake maneuvered her past a woman who was trying to grab Emily’s coat. Shielding her with his body, he rushed her down the corridor and into the crew gravlift.

Taking deep breaths, she moved away from him as they descended and tried to straighten her tunic and hair. “That was intense.”

“The situation will get exponentially worse if we have more patients. You’re our only doctor, and people get understandably desperate when they or family members are ill during a crisis.” Jake checked her over with a critical eye. “From now on, you don’t go anywhere without me or a member of my staff.”

“I won’t argue. Panicky crowds of people scare me.” She floated closer to him, reaching for his hand. “Thank you. How did it go with Princess Falyn, by the way?”

“She cried, poor kid. I think Arln was her favorite person, from what I’ve been told. Scorsshyn was a cold bitch, as usual. Reprimanded the princess in that icy voice of hers for showing emotion in front of a commoner, then wanted to know if I was giving her another security officer.”

“Are you?”

“No. Falyn isn’t my only security concern on board right now. I made a request to the other department heads to borrow anyone they can spare who has military experience, and I asked the captain to release my deadly weapons.” He craned his neck to see how much farther their destination was. “He’s also locked the lifeboats, not that he was happy about it. Extra guards on the bridge access and the engine room.”

“Overreacting much?” The idea Jake was expecting things to get so bad on board that he’d want his security forces to carry blasters was discouraging. She didn’t think he was an alarmist, however, which meant his assessment of their chances wasn’t very positive.

He guided her off the lift and into the corridor. “I hope so. I really do.”

Emily was relieved to see that there was no crowd as yet on this level. She and Jake walked into the newly created lobby area outside the quarantine ward and were greeted by Meg. “Some healthy passengers arrived who said the captain requested them to assist you? Were those the people you told me to expect? I put them in the smaller conference room you wanted for your office, as you requested.”

“I should probably see the volunteers first, get them up on the curve and ready to receive patients,” Emily said. “Let’s get you that inject before I do anything else.” She tugged Meg toward a small room off the lobby. “Not in front of anyone who wanders in.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to arrange for the transfer of patients from sickbay and coordinate cabin pickups for the newly symptomatic. I’ll stay in touch.” Jake headed to the gravlift. “Have Maeve call me with details of where my staff needs to go to collect passengers for quarantine.”

“Remind them to take biohazard precautions, including suits,” Emily said as he walked away. “We don’t know how contagious this is.”

“Maeve better be fabricating more suits.”

“I assure you I am.” The AI’s attitude was superior, as always.

“One of the summoned passengers with medical experience is pretty irate,” Meg said as she and Emily walked to the office after getting the injection accomplished. “He’s not a willing volunteer. Just a heads-up.”

“Thanks.” Emily took a deep breath and strode into the office.
 

An ill-assorted group awaited her. Seated in front of the desk was an elderly man, eyes closed and lips moving as if he was meditating, and a lady Emily guessed was his wife, busy with an archaic pastime known as knitting that had recently become a fad in these Sectors. A tall, stern woman, dressed in the height of fashion and festooned with jewelry, sat to the left of them, frowning at her personal AI. The fourth passenger was a corporate executive type, wearing what Emily recognized as an expensive label of deceptively casual clothes. Her father patronized the same designer. This last man was leaning against the bulkhead, arms crossed, brow furrowed in a frown.
 

“I’m Dr. Shane, and I want to thank you all for coming,” she said, edging past the executive, who grudgingly made room. She headed for her desk while directing Meg to the chair closest to it. “This is my assistant, Ms. Antille.”

“Why are we here?” demanded the man. He glanced at his wrist chrono. “I’m expected to be in a meeting in ten minutes. If you’re having some kind of trouble with passengers falling ill, I fail to see how the situation becomes my problem.”

“I have to agree with him,” said the woman with all the jewelry. “We paid CLC Line a lot of credits for a smooth, luxurious trip to Sector Hub, not to be drafted as unpaid workers.”

Emily held up her hands. “Let’s start with introductions, and then I’ll be happy to brief you all.”

“A sensible approach, Doctor.” The elderly woman nodded her approval, continuing her busy knitting. “I’m Mellicen Fenn and this is my husband, Airak. Since I’m guessing you were hoping for medical help, let me tell you my husband is a retired neurologist who taught for many years, and I was his colleague at the Sector University. I’m a xenobiologist, strictly research. Together we hold one hundred and thirty seven patents, and until recently we were the majority owners of Advanced Neunanorotech Company. I won’t be hurt or insulted if you’ve never heard of our little family business, but suffice it to say, we sold the intellectual property for a pretty credit, and now we travel the Sectors, sightseeing.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fenn.” Emily transferred her attention to the woman in the next seat. “And you are?”

“Dr. Salel Dalimir, top-ranked body alteration and restoration consultant in the Sectors. You may have heard of me? My clients and I have been the subject of many stories in the media.” She preened a bit, smoothing her hair.

Emily had the hazy recollection that she might have seen Dr. Dalimir at a conference or perhaps read a paper written by her. The military did restoration on the wounded sometimes. But the next passenger was already speaking.

“Clarenz Hillier, CEO of Dautramon Pharmaceutical Group, and if you think I’m going to carry bedpans in this makeshift quarantine ward you’ve got going, you need to think again.” The executive paced restlessly across the office behind the chairs the others were sitting in. “I got my MD decades ago, but I haven’t practiced medicine in years.” Jaw thrust out pugnaciously, he stopped in his tracks and glared at Emily. “Nor am I about to volunteer to do so for your benefit.”

“Let me explain what’s going on here before anyone makes any decisions.” Emily wasn’t optimistic. The people in front of her—even the sweetly smiling Mrs. Fenn—were high-powered and wealthy, years removed from the wards and bedsides of ordinary patients. Was this odd assortment of people the best help Maeve could find? She wished she’d had time to scan the thumbnails on these passengers. “You may have heard the
Nebula Zephyr
suffered a norovirus outbreak earlier in the cruise. Did any of you experience gastrointestinal symptoms?”

“No symptoms.” Dr. Dalimir shook her head, golden earrings chiming. She held up one beringed, perfectly manicured hand. “I pride myself on observing the most stringent hygiene, including handwashing protocols, when forced to travel. I’m rarely ill.”

“The hubby and I were fine,” Mrs. Fenn said, patting his arm as he nodded at her. “We don’t like fancy foods, so we mostly ate at the buffet in the casino. Airak likes to gamble. Roulette.” She dimpled. “I like to play a bit of baccarat myself.”

Emily speculated whether she ever allowed her husband to speak. Dismissing the idle speculation, she studied Hillier, who was now the center of all eyes.

Hands on his hips, he frowned at the wall behind Emily, where there was a gaily colored poster left over from a convention on an earlier cruise. “I’m fine, no symptoms, since you ask. I stay in shape, take supplements, and my immune system is top-notch. Can we please hurry this along?”

“We’ve observed a number of the original patients moving into what appears to be a second stage of the disease, exhibiting symptoms such as nosebleeds, internal bleeding, difficulty breathing and fever.” Emily paused. “There have been two deaths, which may be attributable to underlying health conditions. Based on the number of potential patients, I’ve advised the captain to set up this quarantine ward and try to locate anyone with medical training who can help my staff and me until we reach Sector Hub. I have approximately six patients being moved here from the sickbay today.”

“How many potential patients? How big was the original caseload?” She had Hillier’s attention now. Apparently, the mention of passenger deaths broke through his self-absorption.

“Over one thousand, including more than a hundred of the crew.”
 

There was a collective gasp at her calm announcement of the sobering statistic.

“What’s the R-nought factor? How contagious is this bug?” Hillier took the empty chair and leaned forward.

“R nought?” Meg asked, glancing at Emily in confusion.

“The number of new cases one person with the disease generates,” Emily explained while Hillier drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. “For example, bhengola fever has an R nought of eight to twelve contacts infected during initial onset in an unvaccinated population. So it spreads fast, far and wide. We don’t know about this…this whatever it is.” She glanced at her tiny audience. “For lack of a better name, I’m referring to the pathogen as Groskin’s disease. I’m not an epidemiologist, and since the outbreak presented as a simple norovirus, we didn’t do in-depth analysis. We’re not set up for it on the
Nebula Zephyr
in any case.”

“No analysis. No idea how contagious it is. You haven’t even identified the pathogen.” Hillier’s voice was rising with each word. “You people are incompetent.”

“I’m comparing the samples to all known medical databases in my files,” Maeve said from thin air. “As of yet, there has been no match.”

“The nice young steward on our deck had the bug,” Mrs. Fenn said, nodding. “We didn’t catch it from contact with him, if you want anecdotal evidence.”

“So far we can’t identify a pattern or method of transmission. It seems to strike at random. I can tell you that so far no one has progressed to stage two without showing stage-one symptoms a few days prior,” Emily said. “And we’ve seen no new cases of stage one in three days.”

“How long till we reach Sector Hub?” Dr. Dalimir asked.

“Captain Fleming tells me he’s increased speed—” Emily started.

“We anticipate docking in twelve standard days,” Maeve said over her. “Longer if we have to keep dropping out of lightspeed to send and receive emergency transmissions.”

“What do you need us to do, dear?” Mrs. Fenn set aside her knitting needles and dusted off her hands as if to go to work the next instant.