Picking Up Consequences: Prologue

Prologue
1

                With a long, sighing hiss, the airlock from the landing shuttle to the Gentle Reproof began sealing itself, and Senata 7 wished he could give a similar sigh as he closed his amber eyes. The acidic taste of failure had burned out his throat, roughening his tone when he deigned to speak to his fellow clones.

                If they knew what was awaiting them aboard ship, Senata 7 thought, taking a seat in the shuttle and crossing his arms as a sign of strained patience, then they would also be hoarse when they spoke.

                The fighter sent out after that Myatil shuttle carrying the long-lost artifact had been destroyed, as much by the clones’ incompetence as it had been from the enemies’ luck and choice of tactics. Senata 7 could not help but be impressed by the pilot of that shuttle; it took both skill and talent to fly through collapsing stone they themselves caused. The search teams sent into the cave afterward had also proved fruitless, at least with the time they were given. The shuttle that came down for pickup had given very explicit orders to round up what they could and be on their way back to the Reproof.

                “Commander,” a voice asked, interrupting Senata 7’s train of thought. He looked up to see the medic leaning down to whisper at him. “I think Dorant 4 has something you should look at.”

                “Which one is he?” Senata 7 asked quietly, turning away from the medic and assuming a relaxed position as he leaned against the bulkhead. The cold metal was helping to sooth his oncoming headache. “The more talkative human?”

                The medic gave his commanding officer a strained but patient look. “Yes, sir,” he said. “He was part of the search team that went into the cave.”

2
                Senata 7 nodded and rose from his seat. He could see the other clones clustered by the hatch as they waited to go aboard the Gentle Reproof. “Very well,” he said. “Let’s see what the fuss is about.”

                He and the medic approached the soldiers, who stood at attention as he walked up. Of his original group of twenty, the Dorant clones had been whittled down to three. Unlike his fellow Khommites, the humans had enough variations to their appearance that, if Senata 7 paid close attention, he could spot which was which.

                “Dorant 4,” he said. “Step forward, please. I understand there’s something that requires my attention.”

                “Yes, sir,” one of the humans said. Senata 7 noticed that it was the human he had left in charge of the staging area. He was fishing for something out of a pocket. “When we went down into the cave, my boot struck something that I thought was either a credit chip or debris from one of those guardian droids those mercenaries destroyed. I had put it in my pocket without thinking about it, but I just remembered you wanted any news of small objects found.”

                Senata held back another sigh. The medic clone might have meant well, but personal trophies from field exercises were beneath his notice. “All right,” he said, “let’s see it.”

                Dorant 4 withdrew his hand from his pocket, presented a small object for his inspection…and Senata 7’s heart rate began to quicken. Could it be?

                It was! In Dorant 4’s hand was a small glass vial, containing a mass of something that was purple with black lines moving about within. Within the vial, it looked like it would be a gas, but Senata 7 knew it would be liquid if it ever escaped the vial.

                There were fine cracks all over the bottom of the vial…

                “I had kicked this while we were coming out to of the cave, sir,” the Dorant was saying. “It had made a strange noise when it hit the stone wall, so I thought to grab it and bring it aboard.” He moved as if Senata 7 had said he wanted the object.

  3
               Senata 7 looked from the fine cracks in the vial to the Dorants’ face. That would be the first place to look for symptoms. The human was paler than normal, with his forehead and cheeks having gone almost gray. “Tell me, Dorant 4,” he said. “Have you been feeling ill lately?”

                The Dorant looked perplexed and rubbed his forehead. “A slight fever, sir,” he said, shrugging. “Sore throat and a headache. It’s not going to hamper my combat abilities. It’s probably whatever was down on the planet that’s making your voice rough.”

                “I’m not so sure,” Senata 7 muttered, leaning closer to the human. It was a small detail, but it matched what he had read from the General’s briefings: the Dorants’ eyes were showing blackness in their blood veins. That meant it was in his system, but not yet contagious…

                “Dorant 4,” Senata 7 started, his hoarse tone taking on an official tone, “I believe I’ll have to take you off combat duty. You’ve contracted something that will hamper your ability to serve…for now.”

                The Dorant gave a perplexed look that slowly changed to shock, then horror. “Sir…,” he said, looking down at the vial, “you can’t mean—”

                “I’m sorry, Dorant 4,” Senata 7 said. Before the human clone could react, Senata 7 flipped the hatch release for one of the nearby escape pods and shoved the Dorant inside. He took the vial as the human stumbled inside and, taking care to not grip it tightly in his gloved hand, held it out to one of the Khommite clones. Calster 3, he thought.

                “Calster,” Senata 7 said, “put this in an airtight capsule immediately.” He heard the Dorant clone hit the opposite end of the escape pod and, before the human could regain his wits, sealed the hatch back closed. “Under no circumstances are any of you to open this hatch or engage the pods’ ejection sequence.”

                The Calster clone looked down at the vial and hurriedly put it inside one of his carry-on capsules, sealing the vial inside. He nodded at Senata 7, then turned horrified eyes to the viewport for the escape pod.

4
                The Dorant clone had rushed the hatch and tried the release lever on his side, but Senata 7 had already engaged its lockdown procedure. “The rest of the away team,” he said, raising his voice over the hammering at the hatch that the Dorant was starting, “including myself, will undergo a thorough decontamination and quarantine. Inform the Gentle Reproof that under no circumstances are we to be allowed aboard ship until the decontamination is complete. Also, inform the General.” Senata 7 looked at the viewport, and the human screaming on the other side.

The frantic activity was quickening the infection, he could see. Already, the corroded blood veins were spreading from the eyes to the temples and forehead. Gray fluids were seeping from his nose and mouth. “We have a Patient Zero.”

Leave a comment