Page 8 of Stellar Drift
“It’s better than what we have right now,” Houyen insisted.He gestured between himself and Petros.“We’ve been trying to coordinate care and prevent a panic, but I’m out of my depth.”He lowered his voice slightly.“And I can’t stay much longer.I’m not supposed to be doing this kind of work.Especially not if it involves infinity fever.”
She didn’t understand his last statement, but now wasn’t the time to ask.Revealing what she knew about the fever was a risk.They would ask how she knew, and what lie could she possibly offer?But the alternative — pretending ignorance while people suffered from an illness her own ship might have caused — was untenable.The guilt that was her constant companion twisted in her gut.She couldn’t walk away.
“First,” Sairy said, her voice firm, “you need to isolate anyone who is sick.Bring them all to the community hall if you can.Don’t let them stay home.People who have had the fever before are probably immune, so they don’t have to stay away.”
“Immune?How do you know that?”Petros asked, his voice shrill.
Sairy scrambled for a plausible answer, but Houyen unexpectedly saved her.
“Wakaman Shire’s medic told me that nine months ago,” he said, his expression steady and his tone soothing.“They had an outbreak a few years back.He said after that, it only hits people who haven’t had it before.”
“Oh.Uh, okay,” Petros said weakly.“I think I had it last year.”
Sairy realized that if she was going to help, she needed to take charge.Her Captain-Pilot persona settled over her like a familiar subroutine.“Good.We need an emergency operations and comms center to coordinate supplies and handle questions.Administrator Petros, can you set that up somewhere at least a hundred meters away from the hall?You’ll need power and lighting.Plus a table, some chairs, and comps that can reach the planetary net.”
“Yes, I can do that,” he said, already turning.Giving him a concrete task seemed to steady him, and with any luck, it would keep him from spiraling into panic again.
She turned back to Houyen, who already looked relieved.“What medical supplies do we have on hand, and what exactly is coming from Irakat?”
The supplies from Irakat Collective had arrived on a cargo flitter a little over an hour after Sairy had taken charge.Now, four hours later, the neat stacks of fluid pouches, fever reducers, and sterile cloths were half-gone.At Sairy’s suggestion, Administrator Petros had rigged a makeshift decontamination booth at the entrance to the community hall, a frame-and-tarp affair with a sanitizer spray that smelled faintly of citrus and ozone.It was a flimsy defense against an invisible enemy, but it was better than nothing.
Inside the hall, a controlled chaos reigned.Sairy and Houyen had fallen into a surprisingly efficient rhythm.He had a gentle, steadying way with the frightened children, distracting them with quiet stories or a simple puzzle on his percomp while Sairy checked their vitals.It was a side of him she hadn't seen, a reminder that she knew almost nothing about how he lived beyond his ranger work in the reserve.Maybe someday, in a different life, she could ask.
Kyala, however, was the undisputed star.She moved from cot to cot, resting her broad, heavy head on a patient’s mattress, her rumbling vocalization a soothing balm.Her sweet, affectionate nature belied her terrifying appearance, keeping patients calm and distracted from their misery.
During a rushed break for a hot sandwich and iced kaffa — a meal some kind soul had organized for the volunteers — Houyen managed a tired smile.“Your gargoyle missed her calling,” he murmured, watching Kyala gently nudge a crying toddler’s hand.“She should be a professional therapy pet.”
“She’s in heaven.But she’d demand a very high salary in ear scratches and premium food,” Sairy replied.The easy banter was a momentary comfort in the pressure-cooker of the sick ward.
When no one was looking, she’d turn her back and subvocalize to Elkano.He’d been an invaluable resource, feeding her information on outbreak protocols from his hypercubes of data and warning her about potential supply issues.By monitoring ambient conversations through her earwire’s mic, he anticipated questions, allowing her to have answers ready.It was effective, but it made her seem preternaturally knowledgeable.One volunteer had even asked if she was a filer, with the talent for perfect recall.She’d been able to honestly say she wasn’t, but being memorable was an uncomfortable feeling.
With maybe ninety minutes of daylight left, the question of her plan for the night loomed.Houyen hadn’t mentioned his own need to leave again, but she’d caught him glancing at the wallcomp’s clock display more than once.She had to either leave within the hour or find somewhere to spend the night, a vulnerable prospect she’d only risked once since landing on Qal Corona.
She was just about to step outside for some fresh air when a worried volunteer asked her to take a look at a pre-teen boy named Samichai.He’d been stable just an hour ago, but had since taken a sharp turn for the worse.His fever spiked dangerously, and the rash spread to cover his small frame with angry crimson marks.The standard treatments weren't touching it.
Sairy checked the boy’s vitals, but her basic medical training felt like a useless pile of untagged data.All she could do was watch and hope the universe would be merciful.The helplessness was a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.She wondered how real medics handled this feeling of abject failure, day after day.
Sami’s rapid decline had clearly shaken Houyen.He watched the boy’s mother stroke her son’s sweat-drenched hair, his jaw tight.He caught Sairy’s eye, his expression grim, and jerked his head toward the small, curtained-off alcove they’d been using as a supply closet.
Once they were inside, shielded from view, he confronted her.His voice was a low, pointed whisper.“Can you save him?”
Sairy froze, cold dread icing her veins.Was he asking what she thought he was asking?
He seemed to take her silence for refusal.He leaned in closer and spoke in a sharp whisper.“Like you saved me?”
Her worst fear, given voice.She felt the walls of the tiny space closing in.“I don’t… It’s experimental,” she stammered, the words feeling like glass shards in her throat.“It’s not safe.”
“I survived,” he pressed, his gaze unwavering.“It’s the only way to save his life.”
“It hasn’t been tested.”At his disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, she amended, “Not scientifically.He’s a kid.He could be allergic.It could kill him.”
“Like the fever isn’t already doing that?”he shot back.
Before she could answer, the curtain was pulled aside.A volunteer named Wayna stood there, her face pale.“Sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem.A whole family from the far bank bend just arrived.Nine of them.Most are sick, and we’re out of beds.”
Sairy pushed past Houyen, grateful for the interruption.“I’ll do triage.”
“I’ll find more beds,” Houyen said from behind her, his tone clipped.The look he gave her promised this conversation was far from over.
