"Energize defense field filter, one angstrom pores."

"Defense field filter energized."

"Shut down stasis field."

"Stasis field off."

Christopher and his father were assailed by the bright halogen glare of floodlights as their bodies came out of stasis. Christopher's epileptic fits, caused by the neuroparalyzers battle with his bodies muscles trying to obey the post-hypnotic suggestion that was activated, had worn off.

"I don't understand it," he broke in around strangled gasps. "All I wanted to do was kill everybody around who would interfere with those... things."

"They put a neuroparalyzer on you though. Didn't they?"

"Yeah, they said I was probably reprogrammed. But they couldn't go into specifics and I couldn't remember anytime when it could have happened. Until now."

"It's usually that way with reprogramming," Patrick sighed. "I think your superiors owe us a few answers."

"I think you owe me a few too," Chris replied angrily. "I don't like being a pawn in someone's powerplay."

"I don't like to be the recepient of coersion either."

"Okay then! Now what in conscription are macroviruses?"

"All the cards will be laid out on the table when your Commanding Officer arrives."

"I'm afraid Commander Scott will have to fill the bill, our CO is currently indisposed."

"Whatever."

* * *

The Titanium-Steel alloy walls of the quarantine unit lifted out of the frame to expose the defense field filter that let air in but kept biohazards from getting out. Serena, Irene, Captain Cooper of Pinkerton North Cochrane Division, Healer T'Rama - a Vulcan female, and Commander Scott all peered in at the two figures reclining against the interior field.

"They can't hear us unless we use communicators," T'Rama informed the surrounding group. "And the floodlights create a polarizing effect against the defense field so they can't see out. With your permission, Irene, I'm going to turn off the floodlamps."

"Be my guest."

As the lamps shut down, Christopher and Patrick both pivoted their heads in the direction of the observers. Patrick activated his wrist communicator while Christopher searched through his clothes and pulled out his Starfleet issue.

"Well Irene," Patrick's voice hissed through the communications panel on the quarantine unit, not having bothered to activate the quarantine unit transceiver from the inside. "It seems Arbos-II has finally attracted the wrath of puritanism from citizens of the Federation."

"Now just one minute Mr. Edwards," Heather piped in. "I'll have you know that neither Starfleet - nor any agency of the UFP - condones the use of biological terrorism against its member planets."

"I didn't mean to imply that it did...," Patrick looked for her rank insignia. "Commander. Not that many individuals on Arbos-II consider themselves members of the UFP, but the UFP is composed of individuals who you claim as citizens - and unless I am mistaken, individuals are still responsible for their own actions. Or does the blame, once more, get placed on society's vast shoulders?"

"If I may interrupt your discussion," T'Rama broke in. "Through microsecond stasis interruptions, I was able to do a medical scan of you and your son. It appears you are indeed infected by genetically engineered integrated viral colonies, commonly known as macroviruses - a technology thought to be possessed by Arbos-II. I have done a work-up of the genetic programming with the assistance of Genepool Industries, and I was able to determine the eventual outcome of contamination.

"Which is?" Patrick and Christopher queried simultaneously.

"Once a macrovirus is absorbed into the body it breaks down into individual viruses, infecting the cells and causing them to produce more viruses. This is where all similarity with normal viruses ends.

"Ordinary cell activity is still mainatained, but the infected cell also generates a protein which causes the body to display the symptoms of radiation exposure in the lethal levels - leading to eventual death.

"Unless properly treated, the average Homo sapien has an expected continued lifespan of three days. The apparent attraction to sources of heat, such as the human body and phaser fire, was an additional genetic program similar to the one used by Genepool Industries."

"You mean Genepool Industries creates these monsters?" Serena cried in shocked disbelief.

"Genepool Industries does create macroviruses," T'Rama replied. "But I assure you their applications are altogether different.

"Genepool created the macrovirus to cure plagues that are widespread on various planets. Each strain of macrovirus was tailor-made to cure a specific plague, and to insure this, was made impervious to mutation.

"In order to efficiently cure a population, the macrovirus was given the ability to track heat sources given off by lifeforms, and the ability to multiply when coming into contact - and submerging in - a liquid media. For example, the ocean we are rather in close proximity to."

"Don't worry T'Rama," Patrick chuckled, amused at having seen the Vulcan - in her own indirect way - express concern. "All the macroviruses were disintegrated - except the ones that were absorbed by Christopher and myself."

"I assure you Mr. Edwards, Vulcans have long ago mastered the suppression of such emotions," T'Rama expressed pointedly. "But I do thank you for your concern."

"Always happy to oblige T'Rama."

"So if Genepool Industries didn't make these," Serena broke in. "Then who did? And how?"

"I believe I can answer your first question," Christopher replied. "It seems I was reprogrammed by an Assassin-for-hire impersonating LT Joshua O'Halloran. He must have lodged a capsule containing macroviruses in my stomach."

"And this assassin was in turn was hired by a member of the organization Citizens for Decency in the Federation," Heather explained. "But I fail to understand why a special interest group would lower themselves to terrorist tactics." Christopher's thoughts flashed back angrily to the unwanted intrusion of the psychotricorder scan.

"Oh, one member was probably the only one responsible for attempting to make Arbos-II his personal Sodom," Patrick replied - also knowing about Starfleet's psychotricorder scans, CDR Scott's response didn't surprise him. "The others are perfectly content to lobby for legislation against our way of life. Why do the dirty work yourself when Starfleet can do it for you."

"But all this talk isn't going to find a way of making my crewman better," Heather replied in frustration to nobody in particular.

"Not to worry Commander," T'Rama answered calmly. "Genepool Industries and I are currently working on a cure for this affliction. The only problem willl be to overcome the self-repair program that prevents mutation from preventing the viruses' destruction."

"Well, I'd like our Chief Medical Officer to drop in and help out."

"That won't be necessary," T'Rama countered. "But we could use one of your transporter operators."

"Anything to be of help."

"Then I suggest we let these two get some rest," T'Rama switched on the Halogen floodlights, polarizing the filter, and shut off the intercom.

*Copyright © 1998 Bruce Summer
*All Rights Reserved

Next Part