Cavan/Arvelion: "The Fever" Part 5
chaze...@aol.com
“Title To Be Determined” Part Five
Lt. Cmdr. Elinor Cavan, M.D.
Chief Medical Officer
U.S.S. Galaxy
Col. For’kel Suum-Arvelion, SFMC
Commanding Officer
188TH Starfleet Marines Detachment- “The Furies”
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Ellie’s eyes snapped open. For a disorienting second, she did not recognize the low ceiling of the adjunct quarters. Then it all flooded back: the granary, the tunnel, Estinov’s black eyes, the name Iancu Molotov.
The beeping was her Starfleet-issue chrono. Six hours. On the dot.
She sat up, her body stiff. The PADDs were still scattered around her like fallen leaves. Fork was gone, the ottoman pushed neatly back against the chair. A single, sealed cup of what smelled like real coffee sat on the small desk beside her, a sticky note attached with a single, slashed 'F' on it. She grabbed the coffee, the heat searing her palm, and took a long, life-giving swallow. Tapping the nearest PADD, she saw a new, flagged message in her queue. It was from Fork, sent an hour ago.
[CP secure. No incidents overnight. Stolnic is cooperating, providing full access to personnel files for the mining team. The Belikovs were questioned again, nothing new. Sanitized sitrep sent to Rhode Island. Your data can be shared whenever you consent. The Mayor demands a meeting, insisting the quarantine is ‘crippling morale.’ When you’re ready..]
Ellie drained the last of the coffee. It hit her system like a field after a drought. A meeting with the Mayor. Perfect. She stood, stretched the kinks from her neck, and gathered the PADDs. The grunt work could be handled by the Rhode Island crew. She was able to delegate, perhaps, a bit.
After a quick shower and costume change, she emerged from the small quarters not any worse for wear. The corridor outside was not guarded by a Marine, but by Fork himself, leaning against the wall and reviewing a data-slate.
“Buestana.” He looked up from the PADD and gave a knowing grin. “You’re looking better rested. Sleep well?”
“Lies and slander,” she said, brushing him off. She held up her message about the Mayor. “So the Mayor has complaints? Let us just give him something to complain about.”
That was almost music to his ears. “Sounds like fun.”
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The mayor’s office was situated in the center of the town. It carried a certain joie de vie, all polished local wood and a large window overlooking the sleepy main square. The man himself stood behind his desk, a figure of immense self-importance, his hands planted firmly on the polished surface as if addressing a rally.
“Colonel! Doctor!” The Mayor’s voice boomed with the power of a man of very little stature as men of that stature tended to be boisterous as they seemed to have a lot to prove, with very little to back it up. He did not offer them a seat. Nor did he seem to have any intention of doing so. “This quarantine is an unmitigated disaster! You are strangling the very lifeblood of New Brasov! The great and proud economy we have built from the very rock of this world is seizing up! I demand a timeline for its immediate dissolution, or I shall file a protest of such magnificent scope with the Federation Council that it will be studied for generations!”
Ellie looked to Fork, who stood like a stone statue. She could tell it was by sheer force of will that he was not rolling his eyes and phasering the guy in the bean bag.
She, herself, also dispensed with the pleasantries. She strode right up to his desk and slapped a PADD down, the screen facing him. It displayed the enhanced image of the bite wounds on the victims. Not holding back on the heinous little details.
“Mayor Alacovu,” Ellie cut through his nonsense with that of a— well herself sick of the whole bullshit scenario already. It was pretty cut and dry. This was stupid and the guy needed to nut the fuck up. “See the striations on this bite? Care to identify it? Or should we talk about the fact that there was an unknown pathogen brought to the surface by a mining crew? I could do this back and forth little tennis match with you all day, but see, I do not have all day.”
The Mayor leaned over, his wide-brimmed hat (where had that come from?) casting a shadow over the screen. He peered at it, his mustache twitching.
“The bite force is 7000 PSI. A Gorn, Mayor, bites at less than 5000. Do you have Gorn on your planet?”
All the bluster and bravado was faltering faster than the electrical systems on a Yugo. “Well, I… that is to say… of course not! The great and biodiverse world of New Brasov has no such—”
Ellie leaned in, her voice was barely above a whisper. She was clearly beyond pissed. “So you can stand there in your very tall hat and give speeches about freighters. Or, you can explain to the next grieving mother that you were too busy delivering a soliloquy to notice the thing that can bite a shuttlecraft in half is currently using your colonists as chew toys.”
“The quarantine is the only thing keeping that… whatever it is… from getting on one of your precious freighters and becoming the entire Federation’s problem. So, unless you want to be the Mayor who exported an apocalypse, I suggest you either start lending a helping hand or get out of our way,” she did not stutter a single syllable.
Ellie spun on her heel. “Anything to add for the Mayor to keep in mind, Colonel?”
Fork fell in by her side, a smidge behind her, in a practiced, smooth display of support. “I think that covers it.”
The Mayor stood stunned in his increasingly large white hat. His moustache trembled.
The Mayor’s silence conveyed he was on a proverbial fence, obviously weighing the financial difficulties against the potential ramifications of the mine collapse being made public, trying to decide whether fighting was worth it. Fork took the initiative to decisively weigh-in and quash further discussion. “Respectfully Mayor, if you think a temporary quarantine is economically painful, imagine what would happen if your customer base walked away because you allowed a contagion to threaten them.”
After a second the Mayor sighed, clearly letting go of whatever alternative he’d been considering to that point. His eyes darted between the two officers standing before him. As if trying to gather the sum of his dignity, he sat straight up in his chair. “A temporary quarantine… but you have to understand that those freighters just don’t pay us for our cargoes and carry them off. They bring in the supplies we can’t produce locally; certain provisions, medical supplies, spare parts that can’t be fabricated in a replicator, technical expertise…”
And acknowledging his fears with a nod, Fork added “and we have a starship nearby that can provide those things for you should the need arise.” It was the oldest play in the book, albeit a relatively novel one for Fork– buying the opposition off. Apparently some of those Diplomacy classes had taken hold, because the concession/offer allowed the Mayor to find sufficient dignity to agree. “Well, if your ship can offer that kind of help, I suppose we can go a little while longer under quarantine.”
“Thank you, Mayor…” Ellie said, her tone dry enough to desiccate the potted plant in the corner of the office.
Fork’s commbadge let out a harsh chirp. =^= Sergeant Tr’Vishnu to Colonel Arvelion– We have a situation, sir. Just found a body behind the municipal archive. He’s badly mauled— =^=
“Secure the perimeter Sergeant. Pull in the QRF fireteam from the CP to help out. Nothing comes or goes through that scene Sergeant.”
“Understood sir, Tr’Vishnu out.”
“I am so glad that we stood here bickering about the quarantine while another murder occurred," Ellie inhaled quietly. “Your concerns are noted, Mister Mayor. Perhaps you will consider a curfew for the town, if that does not get in the way of your pickle ball calendar. Now, if you will excuse us, we have a fresh crime scene to process.”
Had she asked about it prior to the report of another body, the Mayor would’ve been up in arms. As it was though, it was kind of hard to deny the need for additional security precautions when yet another body had just been discovered. “I have no way of enforcing a curfew though, our Constables are…”
“Doing the best they can with what they have, which is why we will be supplementing them. I’ll assign my Marines and request additional support to make sure we have rotating patrols.” It was becoming more obvious that a longer term solution was needed… in short, more people. And if it denied the curmudgeonly politician another argument for avoiding responsibility and got them out of the room… so be it. Ellie brushed past him, undoubtedly heading to the next scene already, so Fork cut off any reargument with a simple promise. “I’ll be in touch.”
Ellie had not waited, she walked out the door. The time for talking to the politician was over. There was another body that was absolutely preventable.
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The alley behind the municipal archives was not what one would expect for a crime scene. The setting moonlight dappled cobblestones surrounded by the high soot walls of the other communal buildings, some of them were clearly prefab structures and others were the stonework buildings that had gone up since the settlement had stabilized.
Stationed at either end of the alley two marines in full MOPP gear, gave away the poker hand that it was not all that it seemed. Strobing a gentle blue light from their shoulders to ward off pedestrians from the scene in the most basic way possible. It seemed almost archaic, but sometimes the old basic ways were the best ways to keep prying eyes away.
In the center of it all, half-curled beside an overflowing waste reclamation unit, was the body.
Ellie knelt on the cobblestones, her field kit open beside her. The victim was a man, middle-aged, dressed in the simple, sturdy clothes of a shopkeeper or technician. His head was wrenched back at a brutal angle, exposing his throat. The glossy pool of carnage seeped into the bedrock.
Allowing some time for initial scans, Fork asked the question he cared about most. “Do you have a time of death, Doctor?”
“Recently,” Ellie lamented. “Body temp is only a few degrees below baseline— I am surprised no one heard him. This had to have happened right at sundown. While we were still with the Mayor.”
“Arvelion to all Marines, I need a search and clear of this quadrant of town. You’re looking for a predatorial creature with long and sharp teeth. Exercise extreme caution. Tr’Vishnu, keep your men posted at the consulate. Go to a full lock down. Ilal, contact the Rhode Island and request additional security teams immediately. Clear the shuttle pad for their arrival.” It was the strangest order he’d ever given, but it wasn’t like they had a lot to go off just yet.
She moved her scanner down, its light glinting off something. She paused, then carefully pried open the victim's right hand, which was clenched in a final, rigor-mortis-induced fist. Tucked between his stiffening fingers was a shred of fabric. It was about two inches long, a deep, blood-soaked burgundy. Even covered in viscera, it was a far cry from the practical denims, wools and canvas from the rest of New Braslov’s fashions.
Ellie carefully bagged the sample and held it up to her tricorder. The device hummed, analyzing the fiber's composition, dye, and the trace biological elements clinging to it.
“Hey Fork,” she smirked triumphantly. “I have a fresh chemical trail for this bastard. Want to follow it?”
“Absolutely. Send me the data.” He pulled his own tricorder and set it to receive hostile lifesign information. “I can put you with Ilal’s men at the Command Post…”
“No, I am going with you,” she got to her feet. She entered the explicit instructions on how to handle the scene for the Rhode Island crew and where to put the body on ice.
“Doc, this is a hunting trip.” Fork spoke quietly, he didn’t want to undermine her in front of subordinates, but at the same time the last thing he needed was to worry about escort duty while trying to bag something that could out bite a Gorn. “You’re not exactly combat trained, this isn’t the time for a course in small unit tactics, and your type two is going to require you to get way too close to whatever we’re chasing for my comfort.”
“Well then, give me a bigger phaser,” she said, pulling her small type two from her pack. “I left my rifle in the runner if you are really concerned.”
“Ellie…”
She wordlessly put her palm out in a classic, hand it over fashion.
Seeing she was beyond appeal, he grumbled something in his native tongue before turning to one of the Rhode Island crew. “You have a rifle, Petty Officer?”
“Me?” The young man blinked. “Uhhh, yes sir, standard type three charlie…”
“Good enough, give it here.” Fork gruffly ordered. The Petty Officer, to his credit, complied. “You don’t need this right now, not to move a body… I do. If your report asks, blame me.” As the young man answered affirmatively he passed the snow white and night black colored rifle to Ellie. “Type three-C, same one you qualified on back on the Galaxy. Refresher… emitter assembly, targeting display, targeting sensor cluster, trigger group, power setting, charge status, power pack well…” Fork pointed each major aspect out in a kind of rapid fire review. “Lots of options, more than on my Bravo, but handle with care. Picard managed to snap one like a twig.”
“I will keep that in mind, Picard does not have my freakish She-Hulk strength either.”
“Alright. Yaris, set patrols and keep your squad in contact.. Ramirez, Varek, you two are with the Doc and I. Let’s move.”
Ellie, ever the forensics bloodhound, followed the trail left presumptively by whatever it was that was hunting the locals for sport. Fork was never more than half a meter from her side. The Human and Andorian pair of Ramirez and Varek were a couple of meters to the left– close enough to rush to the rescue or to call for mutual support if need be, far enough away to get the flank if anyone else was attacked. Beyond them, a further distance away, was another squad of Marines… the anvil to their hammer if it came to it.
Fork was eerily silent for a man wearing some twenty five kilos of equipment and body armor as they moved through the narrow alleys leading towards the gates of the town wall. For him, this was old hat. As a teenager he’d become an avid hunter back on Al’Klei’sh, and those skills transferred well. Tracking never went out of style.
For Ellie, the whole situation bore an eerily similar feeling to being stalked by Nialk There was a surge of adrenaline that was, oddly enough, reinvigorating in a horrible way. The path led to an old style stone building fashioned after a medieval church, but used primarily as an emergency shelter and communal space. It hadn’t been used in years, left unattended and unneeded in a colony that rather quickly expanded its footprint to include more than enough room for its citizens.
“Whoever it is, is here,” she whispered, her voice cutting through the tense silence. She pointed the barrel of her phaser rifle towards the bell tower. “Up there.”
Fork nodded. “Stack up. Stay right behind me.” As Ellie got in behind Ramirez and Varek fell in behind her, sandwiching the doctor between three Marines in what some kinky witch might write to Penthouse as the experience of a lifetime. “Breaching!”
A solid kick smashed the old timber bar in twain and sent the large oak doors flying open. The Marines rushed in, phasers shouldered, checking each corner of the room as they rushed in, scanning for the target. There wasn’t anything immediately visible, but Fork felt something. Intuitively, there was a target nearby.
Fork nodded. “Stay here. Ramirez, watch the door with the doctor. Varek, with me. Yaris, surround the building. Nothing leaves.”
It was then a figure fell from the bell tower opening. Not climbing down gracefully. Simply falling down. Landing front and center with a delicate elegance that was generally bestowed upon the most brutal of the animal kingdom. He was tall and gaunt, dressed in the tattered remains of a fine, burgundy velvet coat. Skin was pale as a grub, and its eyes were pools of absolute blackness that fixed directly on Ellie.
When he smiled—- that terrible, awful smile. Revealing elongated canines.
“Little Raven,” he smirked at her, tilting his head like she was the only person in the entire world. “You brought the flock. How... considerate.”
Ramirez lifted his phaser and shouted “Freeze!”
The creature did not even bother casting a glance in the Marine’s direction. Its gaze was only for Ellie. It took a step forward, and the air grew thick, cloying. A wave of psychic pressure washed over them, a mix of primal fear and a strange, terrifying allure.
The creature moved with impossible speed, a blur of tattered velvet, and the beam sizzled harmlessly against the stone wall where it had been standing. It now stood mere inches from her with startling focus.
Such a brilliant, curious mind— it crooned, its voice slithering into her thoughts. So much better than the cattle. You could understand the gift. Ellie was paralyzed, caught between revulsion and a horrifying, chemical fascination. The creature reached a pale, long-fingered hand toward her face.
Fork opened fire. Chest, neck, head in three shots. The yellow bolts hit home with the Stagnorian’s typical accuracy… but not to their typical effect. “Shoot to kill!” He instinctively called out over the commline before amping up the power level. “Ellie, get down!”
She could not move. Despite knowing she should, it was the impossible could. Her mind was flooding with the possibilities of the universe laid bare at her fingertips. Limitless potential raw, stripped, writhing and it was merely knowledge that was left hungered.
Fork didn’t wait. As the creature stepped closer to her he opened fire. This time a trio of bolts, any one of which would’ve been sufficient to kill an armored Klingon on meth in one strike, hit the creature almost exactly atop the scorch marks from the original three blasts. The result, a perturbed sneer from fanged teeth and the scent of scorched fabric.
The creature growled. Confidently tracing a line over Ellie’s cheek down to her chin in a gentle if chilling caress. “Be still my dear, this will be but a moment.”
Fork dropped his rifle, it wasn’t the first time he’d come across a phaser resistant opponent, and went straight for his axe. With a speed that made even the veteran Stagnorian marine envious and undeterred by repeated phaser blasts, the creature practically flew to close the distance with the Colonel. Those long and sharp fingers of his clenched around Fork’s armored gorget and pressed with the impressive crushing force of the prior bite mark. The polyalloy collar creaked under the pressure, his helmeted display flashing bright red warnings of excessive pressure and pending structural failure. Fork could feel indents starting to press around his neck as he slashed down with all the might that came with the mechanically enhanced strength the armor had to offer.
The creature howled. It turned out that the bastard did bleed after all, some sludgy, blackened, toxic looking goo, but blood nonetheless. But the strike was nought but a flesh deep blow, the creatures dense and hard skeletal structure absorbing even the heavy blow of a laser milled and particle sharpened blade. Almost enraged by the insult of a lesser being’s annoyance, the murderous predator smashed through the handle, easily splintering it before ripping Fork’s helmet clean off. I’ve yet to taste your kind For’kel… perhaps I’ll leave some of you left to nourish my new queen…
As the creature spoke, a torrent of images flooded Ellie’s mind, bypassing all her mental defenses. She saw not just a lab, but a throne of bone and obsidian in a sunless kingdom. The layered feeling of being sought after centuries of loneliness, isolation to have found her. It was a combination of gratitude and something else, deeper that made her insides ache. I have searched for you Elinor… I have despaired for you.
Fork punched with as much force as he could muster, soliciting an angry roar. Such defiance… such insolence… The second strike was caught by the monster, and that horrific feral smile spread across his lips. You will learn to obey us. You will lead our armies…
As the overly confident monster continued, the rigid components of his armor yielding to superhuman strength, Fork found his opening now that the monster’s arms were occupied. In total desperation he twisted the splintered shaft of the axe in his right hand and drove it with all the force he had right into the creature’s chest. The wooden shaft pierced straight through, glancing off of the dense bones of its ribcage and finding the bastard’s heart.
As if just realizing what had happened the remaining breath in the creature hissed out, and his strength began quickly fading. It staggered backwards, still trying to comprehend how so fatal a wound could have been afflicted by… by…
Unable to hold out anymore, it dropped the Colonel. Fork fell to his knees choking and scrambled to detach the gorget. It fell to the floor with a clang, the ring he wore around his neck dangling like a pendulum as he struggled to breathe; the kind of raspy gasps that you only heard from those who’d been denied oxygen longer than advisable, accented by coughs and the sharp pain of a hairline fracture on his left arm winning out over the palpable tenderness of deep purple bruises around his neck and arm. A strange, early aroma cobbled with mildew and the acrid smell of decaying flesh did little to improve things.
The sudden severing of the psychic link was akin to getting a bucket of ice water dumped over Ellie’s head. Every drop of adoration was dispelled in one fell swoop. Elinor— it rasped.
The other marines kept watch, searching the room for further threats. Before their very eyes, the husk of the powerful creature petrified, breaking down into dust as if centuries had passed in a matter of moments.
“Theta down.” Ramirez announced as the creature’s body seemingly decomposed before his very eyes. “Holy shit Colonel, did you really just drive a stage through that thing?”
“Fuck… that was a good axe.” Fork murmured between raspy gasps and fits of coughing. “Still with us Doctor?”
Ellie just nodded, her own breath coming in short gasps. The phantom touch of its mind was gone, but the violation lingered, a psychic stain. “I am functional,” she mumbled, shaking the cobwebs out of her mind. “We need to get every speck of that into a bio-containment unit. Now.”
It was Ramirez who produced a forensic evidence kit, carefully sweeping the remains into a sealed canister. The mood was not celebratory, but oddly, grimly satisfied. The monster was dead. This particular nightmare was over.
Back at the med-center, the atmosphere was one of exhausted relief. The return of the team, bruised but victorious, sent a visible wave of tension draining from the stationed Marines. Doctor Zohan flitted about nervously as they arrived.
“Oh, my! Colonel! Your neck! The bruising is... prodigious! And you, Doctor Cavan, you are pale! Here, sit, sit! I will prepare a hypospray for the inflammation and a mild sedative for the shock!” he chirped, fluttering around Fork like a nervous, Vincent Price-shaped moth.
“I’ve been through worse Doctor, I just need something for the inflammation, an osteo-regenerator, and a check for any signs of contamination.” Fork cleared his throat as he got up. “We should get those decon checks done first.”.
“But of course! Such bravery! To face such a horror and emerge triumphant!” Zohan gave Fork a hypo of the requested anti-inflammatory and then busied himself with the marines
Ellie stood silently in the doorway of the morgue, watching the canister hum within its glowing containment field. Zohan’s effusive relief was infectious. The Marines around her had begun to believe it, their postures loosening, a few even sharing quiet, weary jokes. The data was clear: the biological entity had undergone rapid, total necrolysis. By every scientific metric, it was over. She nearly believed it herself, except a pulling feeling from her naval.
She went into her temporary quarters, the door closing behind her with a swoosh. Her knees buckled ever so slightly. Ellie braced herself against the wall.
It had been too easy.
Despite the physical challenge on Fork’s part. It was all a little too tidy. Clean. Nothing that had this many kills under its belt was this easy to dispose of from her experience. This was some kind of overly dramatic curtain call for them to get popcorn at the intermission.
The phantom pulled at her, winding around her as it consumed her thoughts. Sweat beading her lower back. Ellie dragged her teeth across her bottom lip in a futile attempt to focus. Gooseflesh began to rise across her body. She needed to go somewhere… anywhere. It was as though if she did not her entirety was going to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Her body was reacting to a stimulus that was not there, her nervous system hijacked. It was not desire—it was a systemic panic, a revulsion so profound it had looped back into a terrifying, physical agitation. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird in a cage, and every breath felt too thin.
This was not a residual, lingering feeling— this was an active broadcast.
It was all theatrics.
The dramatic disintegration, the dust… a performance. A sleight of hand to make them lower their guard. He was never dust. He was in there, conscious, and he was playing with her, tuning her body like an instrument, reminding her of the connection he had placed.
The door chimed, then slid open without waiting for a response. Fork stood there, having overridden the lock.
“Hey, just the person I was looking for.” Fork offered a tired but grateful smile. “Decon cleared me and Doctor Zohan said I was fine but I need to report feeling…” fever or no, he recognized that something was off in Ellie. By now, given her work ethic, she would normally be scrambling for her medical kit. “Are you okay?”
Ellie leaned against the far wall. There was a heavy-lidded calm that had seemingly washed over her that was practically tangible. Her head was tilted back, exposing the line of her throat, and one boot was planted flat against the wall behind her, causing her hips to angle forward. A slow, unfamiliar smile spread across her face as she saw him, not reaching her eyes, which held a dark, knowing glint.
“Took you long enough, I was beginning to think you had gotten lost,” she said in a low throaty voice. She arched her back in a way that made every single curve in her body look like a race track. Then, she let her hair down in one quick motion, the ebony tresses fell accentuating them even further.
Fork, for his part, was slow to react. A sudden throbbing headache decided to pulsate. Normally he would conduct himself better than to stare at a woman, but found himself leering for a moment almost involuntarily, the headache subsiding when he did. When he shook himself out of it, the headache came back with an almost angry insistence that made even basic speech difficult. “Ellie w… we’re not well.”
“Oh, I am more than fine,” she sauntered over to him, her hand grazing his cheek. “All this adrenaline is in dire need to be worked off. You look like you could use the distraction, that is quite the shiner you acquired.”
There was a seductive chill to her touch made even more exquisite by the intensifying fever. His eyes closed. It was distracting. All of it. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she carried herself like an unwritten invitation, and the way the pain eased and the fever ebbed whenever he came close to giving in. Somewhere, deep inside, the Colonel’s ambush sense wasn’t just tingling, it was fall on blaring. He struggled to keep his wits about him, it took literally every trick in the field manual to keep stumbling forward without falling. “Some… thing’s not right. This isn’t you, D…Ellie.”
“I have never felt more myself,” Ellie angled her head, closing the space between them. Her hand caressed his bruised collarbone. “It is such a waste, all this… tension.”
Her usual scent of firewood, bergamot, coffee, and industrial strength solvents was permeated by something else— something floral, dark… akin to a hothouse flower that had an undercurrent of death.
Her touch should have, would have melted just about anyone else. There wasn’t anyone on the planet, in the sector, or probably in the quadrant that wouldn’t give their most prized possessions for a chance to trade places. That was probably why Fork was the most likely candidate to survive the heat death of the universe. Somehow, he found the strength to put his arms up and back her away. “Listen Ellie…”
For a split second, something cold flickered in her eyes. It was gone so fast he almost missed it, replaced by a petulant pout. “You are being no fun, For’kel.”
“This…” the increasingly distracted Marine gestured. “Isn’t right. We need medical…”
“Lucky for you… I. Am. A. Doctor.” she breathed. Her fingers, which had been tangled in his hair, slid down to the neck of his uniform. A blink would have missed how deftly she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his uniform. Her knuckles brushed the top of his chest. “And my professional diagnosis is that you are wound entirely too tight.”
His hands snapped up, catching her wrists in a grip of unyielding duranium. He forced her back, putting a full arm's length between them, his breath coming in a short, sharp gasp. “Ooooh maybe you are ready for some fun,” Ellie purred. “Whatever will you do with me, Colonel?”
“You’re coming with me.”
The predatorial satisfaction that came from the promise of his declaration soured into bitter dejection as the possessed Ellie realized where she was being led to. It wasn’t an easy trek, but Fork did not loosen his grip until the med-bay doors hissed shut behind them, sealing them in the bright, sterile glow. The room was empty, the lights dimmed to a night-shift mode. Ellie’s body went from smirking and pliant, to suddenly rigid as Fork called out for Zohan.
Ellie blinked rapidly. “Fork… I do not know,” she shook her head. The strange floral smell dissipated with it. “Can you please stop manhandling me for a moment?” She pulled against his grip, not with the seductive, insistent pressure from before, but with genuine, bewildered struggle.
The odd change in aroma didn’t go unnoticed. “Any time now, Doctor!” He tried Zohan again, not releasing his hold. “Ellie, listen to me. We need medical help. What do you remember last?”
Her large dark green eyes searched his. “I... I was in my quarters. I felt... strange. Overheated. Then you were there, and you were... and then we were here. I… do not know,” she stammered, a full body shiver wracking her frame. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked around. “Where is everyone?”
Fork said nothing. He didn't need to. His grim silence and the gesture toward the empty stasis field in the morgue were answers enough.
“No…” she whispered, then her posture straightened. “No. No. No.” She broke away from him, striding to the main diagnostic console. Her hands regained their steadiness as they flew across the console lightning fast scanning for any lifesigns, access logs and security feeds.
“Zohan signed out the last of the Marines twenty minutes ago,” Ellie reported. “He logged his own departure eighteen minutes ago. The stasis field on the specimen was deactivated... sixteen minutes ago.” She swallowed. “Umm… Fork… How long were we in there?”
The answer hung in the air. She looked at Fork for a moment, severing the distance between them by a few more inches with her body. Clearly, it was some amount of time. Ellie pressed play on the security footage. “Security feed. Main med-bay entrance. Timestamp eighteen minutes ago.”
Doctor Zohan stood there looking perfectly normal, waved a final Marine patrol out the door with a cheerful, squeaky farewell. The moment the door shut, his entire demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped. His head tilted. He stood perfectly still for a long moment, as if listening to a voice only he could hear. Then, he turned and walked with a slow, placid gait—the walk of a sleepwalker—directly to the morgue.
He did not wait, nor check a log or hesitate a split moment. He simply deactivated the stasis field around the canister and walked out like it was a donut run on a Sunday morning. Walking out of the medical bay as he probably had thousands of times before. The timestamps matched up perfectly.
“Well,” Ellie whispered. “I guess this sucks.”