Edge of the Abyss: A Space Opera Novella (Max Mars Book 4) Page 10

  Felix rubbed against her shins, purring. He had a concerned look on his face, sensing that something was wrong. Max knelt down and picked him up, but that simple task almost toppled her to the ground. It took all of her strength to erect herself from a squat. But the moment she stood tall she began to waver.

  Winston scooped her from her feet before she fell, cradling her in his arms. “I think it's time I get you to the med center.”

  “What about Volta and the pathogen?"

  "I've taken care of the situation."

  Max's eyes rounded. "You've taken care of the situation?" she said with a heavy dose of skepticism.

  “Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “How?"

  “Do you doubt my abilities?” Winston pushed into the corridor and weaved his way to the med lab.

  “I don’t doubt your ability, but there was an entire squad of highly trained terrorists. I can't imagine you were able to talk your way out of that one."

  “Let's just say I had to choose between the lesser of two evils."

  Max arched a curious eyebrow at him.

  Winston filled her in on all the details as he entered the med lab. He set her atop a bed and covered her with blankets. She was beginning to shiver from feverish chills. He attached wireless electrodes to monitor her vitals. He flicked on the display by her bunk. The peaks and valleys of her heartbeat appeared on the screen like a jagged mountain range. Blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and respiration were all displayed on the screen.

  Felix curled up at her side.

  “No way,” Max said. Her weak voice was thick with mucus. “You're telling me you killed all of them?”

  “Technically, I didn't kill anyone.” He grabbed a bag of IV fluids and hung it from a stand. “The thermal grenade did. I gave them every opportunity to avert disaster. In the end they chose their own fate. I merely acted in the best interest of humanity.” Winston tapped her vein and inserted the IV needle.

  Max smiled at the robot. "You did the right thing. You saved millions of lives.” She coughed and cleared her throat. Her lungs were filling with fluid. Each breath rattled with phlegm.

  Winston smiled. “Yes. I believe I did.” Modesty wasn't one of his better qualities.

  “I’m glad you came back for me.”

  “I wouldn't dream of leaving you in harm's way.”

  “I know," Max said, softly.

  Winston gazed upon her with affection and concern. “Try and rest. I'm going to go to the research lab and work on an anti-virus.”

  Max nodded. "How much longer?”

  Winston almost didn't want to answer. It was clear that Max was entering the final stage of the disease. “Your cellular structure is beginning to deteriorate. Your lungs will fill with fluid, and your internal organs will begin to fail. It will become difficult to breathe. The continued blood loss will make you weak. Before long, you'll fade into a coma. Once in that state, you should pass peacefully."

  “You really know how to make a girl feel good.”

  “It's not going to come to that. I won't let it.”

  “Some things are out of your control.” Max reached out and grabbed Winston's metallic hand. She squeezed it as tight as she could, but her grip was still weak.

  If Winston could have cried, he would have. “I will do my best. I promise."

  Winston raced through the corridors to the research lab. He punched in the access code and stepped into the airlock. Doctor Erickson's body was still lying on the floor. Winston knelt down beside the body. Erickson’s breathing was slow, and his pulse was weak. But despite the plasma wound in his chest, the doctor was still alive.

  Winston rolled him over. "Doctor Erickson? Doctor Erickson?”

  Erickson's droopy eyes peered up at the robot.

  “I need your help. Your plan has failed. Volta is dead. The virus is destroyed.”

  Erickson seemed almost ambivalent. He certainly had no love for Volta anymore. Shooting someone in the back with a plasma weapon is a good way to ruin any friendship.

  “Max Mars’ life is in your hands. I need to know, is there an anti-virus?”

  Erickson hesitated a moment. His scratchy voice was weak and barely audible. “Its a filovirus that reproduces through a lytic cycle.” He paused and attempted to suck in a breath. Erickson winced with pain, then continued. “You may be able to neutralize the virus through antibody mediation.”

  “But that would require a living organism that has survived the virus and produced antibodies.”

  “The Antarian.”

  Winston pondered this a moment. “Felix?”

  Erickson’s heavy eyelids shut. His respiration appeared to stop.

  Winston grew concerned, but Erickson's eyes fluttered open again. He took another deep, painful breath. “The Antarian cats have one of the most robust immune systems of any species in the galaxy. Use the centrifuge in the lab to separate the blood plasma, then filter it. That anti-serum may help provide an immediate boost to your friend’s system.”

  A glimmer of hope lit up in Winston’s eyes.

  Erickson clutched onto Winston’s forearm. “Destroy the lab and all the data after you’ve finished. The override code for the ship is X9#11H749.”

  Erickson’s eyes went blank. The last breath escaped from his tattered lungs. His body went limp on the deck. In his dying moment, he had thought better of his creation. It was his feeble attempt at redemption.

  Winston sprang to his feet and raced back to the med lab. Max was unconscious. Her vitals looked good, and her respiration was okay. She was alive. But she wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

  Felix looked completely unaffected. It was a good sign.

  Winston drew a sample of the cat’s blood, then spun it in a centrifuge, just as Erickson had instructed. The modular chromatography system allowed for fast purification of proteins, peptides, and nucleic acids. The system removed viruses, prions, and endotoxins, along with the chemicals used to neutralize the virus. The machine was equipped with pre-programmed, automated protocols. All Winston had to do was tab through a few screens and select the proper procedure. The filtered serum dripped into a test tube in a fraction collection unit.

  When the vial was full, Winston loaded the anti-serum into a syringe, then injected it into the portal of Max’s IV line. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. There was nothing more Winston could do but hurry up and wait.

  27

  Max didn’t regain consciousness. She tossed and turned, drenched in sweat as she slept. Winston stood by her side until she finally pried her eyelids open. They felt like they had been glued shut. Her mouth was so dry it could have given the Talovan Desert a run for its money.

  Her joints and muscles ached, and her head still throbbed, but not nearly as severe as when she was in the throes of the sickness. The ice pick had been removed from her brain. Her body no longer shivered with the chills. The fever had passed. All things considered, Max was doing remarkably well. She put it on par with a bad hangover. One time, before a Psychedelic Quasar’s concert, she had downed an entire liter of Zevnoxian Tequila. It was twice as potent as the average tequila, and despite Max's advanced genetics, she wasn't able to process it as fast as usual due to an enzyme particular to the Zevnoxian agave plant. Needless to say, it was a learning experience. That hangover was definitely worse than how she felt right now. If she had survived that, she could survive this, she thought.

  Felix nuzzled against her, purring loudly. He seemed thrilled that she was awake. Max stroked his plush fur and scratched his chin.

  “How long was I out for?”

  “27 hours, 33 minutes, and 10 seconds. But who's counting?”

  Max had a quizzical look on her face. "The Navy's emergency response team should have been here by now.”

  “Oh, I'm sure they are scouring the nebula for the Aurora.”

  Max was even more confused. "Are we not in the nebula?"

  “Doctor Erickson provided me with the overr
ide code to the ship. I thought it best to depart from the nebula before we were involuntarily debriefed. I've come to realize that, in situations like this, debriefed means terminated.”

  “So, you stole a Federation starship?”

  “Borrowed. Temporarily. We can give it back,” he said, innocently. “All of the data regarding the pathogen has been destroyed, and the research lab has been cleansed. I've disinfected the ship as best I could. But the possibility exists for pathogens to survive on surface areas for up to several weeks. Of course, you should have a degree of immunity by now.”

  “You know they're going to come after us?”

  "Yes. But I have disabled all tracking devices aboard the Aurora.”

  A sly grin curled on Max’s lips. “I like the way you think.”

  Winston smiled. "So, you agree, I do think.”

  Max chuckled. “Yes. I believe that’s safe to say. There is certainly something special about you, Winston.”

  Winston’s eyes lit up. “And you as well.”

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