CHAPTER 10
“Alright folks, if you’re going with me, you have to be seated and strapped in,” McKnight informed them on the way to her modified seat. All the controls were tactile in nature, with force feedback. In many ways, the controls resembled the sort of controls that would be in a helicopter, modified of course to handle the difference between spaceflight and air flight.
“How quaint,” McCoy said, strapping into the seat next to the pilot.
“Inertial dampeners may not work,” McKnight said.
“So I gathered,” McCoy said.
“Perhaps you would prefer the transporter?” McKnight said.
“Perhaps,” McCoy said, meeting her eyes. He knew she was messing with him and he should take it playfully, but he was taking it just as he would have fifty years ago. Had he lost his ability to deal with anxiety with a calm demeanor that had taken him most his life to gain, or was this just part of a young physiology? He wondered. Being human isn’t no cake walk. Being young and human, well, sometimes he was amazed there were humans.
McKnight looked over her Away Team. It consisted of two parts; Boris Koslov, Sendak, Brel, and Micceal were designated to take out the subspace emitter. McCoy, and his two Klingon body guards, Or’Ton and Skar, McKnight, Nancy Carter, and Owens, were to gather Intel on the Oriskany mission. The two body guards were barely contained by their seats, which garnered a few comments about their size from McCoy. Shuttle ‘Midnight Rider’ departed, a little shaky on the lift off before thrusting out.
“I thought you said you were rated for this,” McCoy complained, gripping his seats.
“I am. Just haven’t practiced in a while. I should have it down before we hit atmo,” McKnight said, winking at him.
“I hate space travel,” McCoy said.
“And yet, you joined Starfleet,” McKnight said.
“Umph,” McCoy said. “I think I have had this conversation before.” “Not with us,” Carter said.
“I’m sure we’d all love to hear it,” McKnight said.
“I hate to be repetitious,” McCoy said. “At my age, people think you’re senile.” “I hope I look as good when I’m your age,” McKnight said.
“Looks are over rated,” McCoy said.
“You’ve never been a woman before,” McKnight said.
McCoy chuckled. “You got me on that one.”
McKnight fell silent, her face somber. Nothing sadder, she thought, than a dead Starship. At first it had just been a small prick of light in orbit, but the sun reflection started giving way to shadows and relief as they approached, bringing out the depth of the ship. In many ways it looked like a smaller version of the Ambassador Class Starship, such as the New Constitution. Carter unbuckled her seat and came forward for a better look.
“The Mighty O,” Carter said.
“What?” Boris asked.
“The nick name for the Oriskany,” Carter said.
“Do we have time for a fly by?” McCoy asked.
McKnight nodded. “We’ll hit atmo pretty soon after we pass. You best take your seat.”
Carter held her place. The Oriskany was a Korolev Class starship. Its length was 417 meters, beam 190 meters, draught 84 meters, and a mass of about 990,000mt. It could reach warp 9.1 for short durations. NCC-41057.
“Are you crying?” McCoy asked.
“She was on the USS Von Braun at Wolf 359,” Boris explained, his voice surprisingly soft.
This didn’t help the general mood. “Nancy, take your seat,” Boris said. Carter returned to her seat.
“Alright folks, might get a little rough,” McKnight announced.
“How rough?” McCoy asked.
The shuttle, Midnight Rider, hit the atmosphere and the shudder increased in intensity until everything was rattling, including their bones.
“You’re coming in too fast,” McCoy snapped, holding on for dear life.
“Actually this is pretty slow,” McKnight said, her voice just as choppy as McCoy.
“Relax, it’ll even up here pretty quick.”
As if on cue the flames slipping up past the windows disappeared and the shuttle eased over so that they could see the earth and clouds as they continued their descent.
“We’re going to over shoot Colony One and then come back around,” McKnight said.
“You’re still too fast,” McCoy said.
As they came over their ultimate destination, the main tower opened fired with a sustained phaser beam. Midnight Runner shook, even slid into a crab as McKnight rotated the ship to disperse the phaser’s energy over more of the shielding. Colony One went by so fast they wouldn’t have had time to discern much, even if their shields weren’t flaring with the dissipation of energy.
“Any other observations?” McKnight asked.
McCoy just shook his head no. He looked to Owens who was fussing at his tricorder.
“You should have left that off until you were ready to use it,” McCoy said. “Any tech capable of recording data isn’t going to function long. Whatever signal Sha Ka Ree is putting out, it’s effectively coopts technology to extend its own signal. When we split up, we’ll be incommunicado.” Even the ‘ident’ chips on the weapons had been disabled, effectively turning off the safety feature that allows Fleet to track their weapons, or turn them off remotely.
“When we take out the emitter, we should regain the use of our comm. badges,” Brel said. “Unless the signal comes from Sha Ka Ree himself,” McCoy said. “The same building that fired at us,” McKnight said. “So, as planned, we’ll have
to park outside city limits and take a little hike into town to see the Wizard.”
“The who?” Or’Ton asked.
“Ya don’t know that reference yet?” McKnight asked. “I thought that was like required viewing for anyone working with Garcia.”
“If we chased every allusion Garcia dropped, we’d never get anything else accomplished,” Brel said.
As they came back around, McKnight descended to 1,500 meters above the surface. McCoy pointed to a life pod on the ground, but McKnight had already been steering towards it. Brel unfastened his seat and came forwards to observe. There was evidence it had received a direct hit from phaser fire.
“It must have hit pretty hard,” Brel said.
“Yeah. Compliments of Sha Ka Ree,” McKnight asked.
“Land. We need to check for survivors,” McCoy said.
“No, we need to get closer to the Colony,” Brel said.
“We can walk from there,” McCoy said. “And if there are injured, McKnight can fly them back to the NC.”
“Not leaving till the missions accomplished,” McKnight said.
“Which makes it imperative that we land and render first aid,” McCoy demanded. McKnight and Brell exchanged glances. Brel decided it was best, gave a slight nod, and McKnight slowed their approach further. She set the Midnight Runner down next to the life pod as easily as a feather; a wobbling feather. Dust settled as she powered down. Before opening the door and exiting Brel verified everyone had weapons. McCoy wasn’t carrying.
“I’m a doctor, not a soldier,” McCoy said.
“Today, you are both,” Brel insisted.
“Just in case your old friend brought some of his critters with him,” McKnight insisted.
“Absolutely not. I preserve life, don’t take it,” McCoy said.
“Carry or stay in the shuttle,” Brel said.
McCoy took a phaser and attached it to his belt. Brel opened the shuttle and they exited in order. McCoy’s guards separated to inspect the area and then returned to escort him as he emerged from the shuttle.
Carter edged up next to him. “Been awhile since you’ve been on an Away Team, eh?” Carter asked.
“The last time I was on an Away Team it was called Landing Parties,” McCoy said.
The life pod was partially buried, but the hatch was accessible. One of the view ports was broken. A scraping sound could be heard from inside.
“A survivor,” McKnight said.
Brel tried to open the door, but it was jammed.
“Everyone stand back,” Koslov said. He opened a recessed panel and pulled a lever. Explosive bolts fired in sequence and afterwards Brel was able to pull the door free. As he handled the door, McCoy approached the pod. At the same time, one of the occupants was emerging. The person tripped over the threshold, staggered to an upright posture, orientated, and then limped towards the closest person, McCoy. His eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow, and he was wheezing. He growled, his arms coming up, reaching for McCoy.
“Stand back,” Or’Ton ordered, raising a weapon.
“Don’t soot,” McCoy tried.
“Stop!” Or’Ton insisted, stepping between McCoy and the ‘survivor’ to impede his progress. The survivor attacked and was only able to bite Or’Ton because he was showing restraint.
Skar grabbed the ‘survivor’ by the arms and pulled him back. The ‘survivor’ was too weak to pull free but didn’t cease in his efforts to bite anyone that approached, while growling fiercely. “He bit me!” Or’Ton said.
“What the hell is this?” McKnight asked. “A zombie?”
“What is a zombie?” Brel asked.
McCoy was trying to understand the information on his medical tricorder.
“Dear God,” McCoy said.
“Oh, that so doesn’t bode well,” Owens complained.
“McCoy?” Brel asked.
“We’re looking at a mutated version of the original virus that took out this world’s population,” McCoy said. McCoy cursed and tossed the tricorder down. It was now useless. “The initial virus was intended to extend life, and did for those who hadn’t reached puberty, but after that, the aging process was accelerated and people died within days, if not hours. This virus has the ability to rejuvenate dead tissue. What’s left of this person’s brain is rudimentary at best. For all intents and purposes, he’s…” “A zombie,” McKnight said.
“Dead,” McCoy finished.
“The living dead?” Brel asked.
“Zombies,” McKnight repeated.
“Every damn place we go,” Owens complained. “Alright, I vote we get back on the shuttle, return to the NC, and fire torpedoes till we take out the subspace emitter.”
“This isn’t a committee,” Brel said. “But I concur.” “We can’t go back,” McCoy said.
“I beg your pardon?” Carter asked.
“We’re all infected,” McCoy said. “The moment we started breathing this air, we were infected.
“We are all going to become one of those?” Boris asked, talking over Owen’s lamenting.
“If we die, the virus will reanimate us,” McCoy said.
“Or, if we get bitten?” McKnight asked, noticing Or’Ton seemed suddenly pale.
Or’Ton collapsed, displaying symptoms of an epileptic seizure. McCoy went to aid him. He took a second tricorder out from his medical bag, turned it on, and began taking fresh tricorder readings, tracking as much as he could knowing that he was going to have to remember it all. Brel removed his Gorn weapon from its holster and pointed at Or’Ton’s head.
“Let me save him!” McCoy snapped.
“You have until he turns,” Brel said.
McCoy retrieved a hypospray, filled it with antiviral and anti-seizure medicine. The tricorder ceased working. McCoy tossed it, and activated a third. As McCoy was trying to save the officer, McKnight examined the life pod. There were two other zombies, restrained in their harness, reaching for her. They became more energetic as they saw McKnight. She stepped away from the pod and nodded towards the pod to Brel.
Brel understood. McKnight took out her phaser and destroyed the two hijacked tricorders. McCoy injected another serum into Or’Ton’s arm and he went still.
McCoy stood up. “We need to get him to a medical facility.”
Or’Ton sat up, growling, reaching for McCoy’s leg. Using the Gorn weapon, Brel fired one shot to the heart. The sound the weapon made was like muffled thunder, as it was basically a mini rail gun that shot gold clustered molecules at relativist speeds. The whole in Or’ton’s chest didn’t bleed, and there was a gold tint etching the wound. Or’Ton staggered, but then redoubled his efforts. Brel fired a second shot right through the forehead. Or’Ton went down.
“Damn it, I was trying to save him!” McCoy snapped.
“My first priority is to preserve your life,” Brel said.
“Why didn’t he die with the first shot?” Brel said.
“You don’t know about zombies?” McKnight ask.
“No heart, no blood to the neurons and muscles,” Brel said.
“The brain could take hours to die, even after the heart stopped,” McCoy said. “You mean, if I die of a heart attack, my brain could keep on ticking?” Owens asked.
“Yes,” McCoy said.
“Fuck,” Owens said. “Let’s focus on not dying,” Carter said.
“I’ve read your reports on your visit here. You found a cure for the initial virus. I suspect you can find a cure for this. In fact, I am betting our lives on it. The caveat being, you survive. Got that, team? McCoy is priority number one.”
“I’m going to need a bigger computer than a tricorder,” McCoy said, trying to suppress his emotions and prepare himself mentally for the task before him. “And I’m going to need live samples.”
“I think you’re about to get it,” Carter said, pointing.
A mob was approaching, the slow gait of the infected.
“Back to the shuttle. Now,” Brel said, using his Gorn weapon to put down the ‘survivor’ Skar was restraining.
“Stop shooting people!” McCoy snapped.
Brel instructed Skar to get McCoy on the shuttle. McCoy protested, saying he was young enough to walk on his own now. The mob loomed closer. Micceal and Owens took out their phaser, set for stun. Each fired at the nearest zombie. It didn’t seem to faze the living dead in the least.
“Oh, again, everywhere we go!” Owens cursed.
“Try kill,” Brel said, firing his Gorn weapon.
Owens and Micceal increased the severity of their attack. Kill setting only caused the living dead to pause. As soon as the beam ceased, they pushed ever forwards.
“Why was I assigned to this mission again?” Owens complained.
“Your knowledge of subspace emitters?” Micceal asked.
“Set to disintegrate,” Brel ordered.
Again, Owens and Micceal increased the severity of their attack, this time to its maximum lethality. They fired their weapons. The victims of the beams fully illuminated before their atoms were completely scattered to the wind. They continued firing at the oncoming mob, retreating towards the shuttle. As soon as they were in, McKnight lifted off. “Okay, folks, set phasers to disintegrate. If you’re conservative, you’ll get at least fifty kills before the battery is dead,” Brel said. He opened a chest and began to distribute the Iotia weapon, the P90, and ammo clips and an extra Gorn weapon for each. He got close to McCoy, kneeling so he would be eye to eye. “McCoy, answer me truthfully. Can these living dead be cured?”
McCoy looked away, staring hard out the window before turning to look Brel in the eyes. “Even if I remove the virus completely, they’re gone. They will probably maintain enough brain function to breathe, move, and eat, but their memories, their personalities, that’s permanently gone.”
Brel nodded. “Then I’ll hear no more of your protest about killing these things. As far I’m concern, it’s a mercy killing.”
McCoy sulked, but based on what he had seen before the tricorders died, that was indeed what this was. He considered all the times he had used a phaser, all the times he had assisted in a medical death, and he wanted an alternative. It took this moment for him to notice an increase in sympathy towards Garcia using god like abilities to make him young again. If he had it, there would be fewer dead and no dying.
“Well, if I might offer another regret,” McKnight said, going for humor. “Garcia is going to be terribly jealous of our stories about surviving a Zombie apocalypse when we get back.”
Carter laughed and leaned into her ex-husband Boris. She didn’t cry, but she so wanted to. Everyone else remained quiet.
♫♪►
Garcia woke in sickbay, with no one standing over him. He sat up, noticed Jurak reading some files, drinking something from a mug that had a pungent odor, distinctly not the fresh smell one might find in sickbay. He finished what he was reading before he set his material aside to focus on his patient.
“Welcome back,” Jurak said.
“Where’s everyone?” Garcia asked.
“I think you like waking up with everyone hovering over you, so I chased them out,” Jurak said, getting up. He set his mug down, approached Garcia, and at the last moment threw a punch. Garcia didn’t block fast enough and got a solid knock to the forehead and went back down.
“Reflexes are still a bit off,” Jurak said.
“You think?” Garcia asked, applying pressure to his forehead, clearly not happy with his Doctor’s methods, and hurting.
“I didn’t hit you that hard. Don’t be a big baby,” Jurak said.
“Oh, God,” Garcia said, reaching for the babies.
“They’re fine. Surprisingly, the portable womb was the only electronics not effected by the EMP,” Jurak said. “Of course, it probably helped that your body is the backup power supply. That’s one of the reason you felt so cold.”
Garcia sat back up, a bit weary of being hit again. “What are you doing on the NC?”
“Good question,” Jurak said, picking his mug back up. “It’s called continuity of care. I’m you’re attending and they tend to call me every time you’re sick or injured, which, interestingly enough, seems to happens quite a bit.”
“I bet Misan isn’t pleased,” Garcia said.
“He’ll get over it,” Jurak said.
Garcia got up without Jurak impeding his efforts. Coddling the sick wasn’t his way. There was a moment of vertigo but he pushed through it.
“So, what happened?” Garcia asked.
“Your brain has become so dependent on your neural implant that you went into shock,” Jurak said. “The babies sucking you dry didn’t help any. No neural damage, but the connecting clusters surrounding the implant got stuck in a feedback loop. I’ve replaced the power supply and updated the internal components to your implant, bringing them up to the latest specs. You may experience some technical errors as you learn to navigate the new system. Start slow, maybe use the gaming or bio-feedback mode till you get the hang of it.”
Garcia touched his communicator badge but it failed to activate. “You’ll have to get a new one. The tech on your clothes are out as well.”
“Where’s Undine?” Garcia asked.
“The main conference room, discussing your find,” Jurak said.
“Thank you,” Garcia said, headed for the door.
“You bet,” Jurak said, stealing one of Garcia’s expressions. He gave a cheers motion with his mug. “Oh, and congratulations.”
“For?” Garcia asked.
“Marijić pregnant,” Jurak said.
Garcia was confused. He pressed his brain to recall details, but found only empty space. His brain took him as far back as to being under the blanket with her. She did kiss him, but, that was it, right? Socially, given her culture of origins, innocent enough; professionally, definitely inappropriate but not a grievance Garcia would pursue. Angry at himself, he stormed out without further word, not observing or even able to recall in retrospect the details between Sickbay and the Conference room. He barged right into the meeting in progress and went straight to Marijić, oblivious to Jurak behind him.
“I’m so sorry,” Garcia told her.
“For what, Admiral?” Marijić asked, smiling politely.
“Your condition?” Garcia said. She still seemed confused. “For impregnating you.”
Everyone in the conference room laughed out loud, except Rossi, who clearly didn’t approve of the joke. Marijić wiped her eyes. “I’m not pregnant,” she said, laughter leaking through.
Garcia was confused. “But Jurak said…” “You should have seen his face!” Jurak interrupted, standing in the door way. “I so sold that! He didn’t even hear me following.” Garcia was angry. “Not funny!” he snapped.
“It’s pretty damn funny,” Weisberg said.
Garcia sat down at the table. “Undine, you are in on it?”
“I think the whole crew is in on it,” Undine said with a smile.
Garcia outwardly sulked, but if the jest made his crew happy, well, if anyone needed a good laugh, they certainly did. He noticed Soran studying the book that accompanied the cylinders. He was purportedly a weapons expert, so Undine made a good call bringing him in.
“You can read that, Doctor Soran?” Garcia asked, picking up one of the four cylinders resting in the box. No matter how he turned the cylinder, the red matter stayed pretty much in the center. He shook it.