See Part One for Disclaimers
Matthew, his anger negated by concern for the mage, was at his side in a moment. His grasp strong and supportive, he helped him into his recently vacated chair.
He felt terrible. This shouldn't be happening yet, not so soon. He pressed lightly, just below his rib cage on his right side and waited for the sudden rush of energy to take effect. Within moments, he was himself again. "I'm all right, really. No need for your concern."
But the captain was not so easily assured.
Rising, he laid his hand against a console, concentrated his mind and released the doors as systems came back on line. Recalling the image from the air above him, he turned his attention to Gideon, ignoring the sudden rush of crewmen into the room.
"I have to leave now, Matthew. Please don't try to stop me, I have no wish to harm anyone on this ship."
At a gesture from Gideon, the security team exited the area, only Matheson remained despite the captain's nod to leave as well: determination hardened his usually genial features.
"Okay, but if it's all the same to you, I'll escort you down to holding three myself."
Galen couldn't hold back the bark of laughter, though there was no humour within it. They could not stop him, even if they wished it.
"As you wish, Matthew. Shall we go?"
They strode down the almost empty corridors in utter silence. Crew stepped back at their approach; eyes shifting from one stony set face to the other and whispers began as they moved out of hearing.
For a moment his mind wandered back to the night before and the promise he had made to Dureena. She had insisted that before he left they would talk once more: there was so much that needed to be said between them. He had assured her that he would not leave without saying goodbye. Though she knew he had planned on leaving this day, his sudden departure would cause problems between them. Gideon caught the unconscious sigh and glanced enquiringly at the imposing figure beside him.
"What?"
Though security had been dismissed, Matheson dogged their heels every step of the way and he could not speak as freely as he would like. To ask his friend to watch over Dureena as she came to terms with his desertion. For he was sure that was how she would view his sudden departure.
"Do you think we could dispense with your guard dog, Matthew? Much as I like the fellow, he is unnecessary, don't you think?"
"Sorry, Galen, I'm not leaving until I see your flyer off the ship!" Matheson's emphatic announcement only quirked the captain's lips, he refused to answer Galen's request. A more direct approach seemed in order.
"Remember our talk yesterday, about unresolved issues?" A raised eyebrow sufficed to convey his meaning.
"Ah, . . . Right! It's okay, John, I can take it from here." He overrode the protest with assurances of his well being, and watched the young man stalk away, obviously affronted.
By now, they had reached the entrance to the hanger currently housing his flyer. Stepping down the walkway, he began to explain where he had been during the hours the Excalibur's crew had been searching. They had agreed to keep their fragile relationship quiet for now aware the interest such a pairing would engender. This would be hard enough without the crew watching and commenting on every move and gesture.
Her voice pulled them up short. Anger didn't begin to define the tone that rang around the large space.
Standing on the ramp that led to his ship, arms akimbo, she was the epitome of feminine outrage. Bruises stood out in livid Technicolor against her pale skin. Marks that had not been noticeable in the darkness last night. He had never seen her so angry -- or so hurt. With Matthew right beside him, there was little he could do to shield her evident distress from his too observant companion. He took a quick step forward to place himself between Dureena and the captain, focusing all her attention on him and protecting her as best he could from the prying eyes behind him.
"You can't do this to me, Galen! You can't just up and leave." The strain of the past week had obviously taken its toll on her emotional stability. Last nights confession and the opening of her heart had left her drained and edgy. This was the last straw.
The mage took another step closer to find himself suddenly at the point of a wickedly gleaming blade. Its point pressed lightly into the soft flesh under his chin. The brightly shining length flashed in the glaring overhead lights, emphasising the deadly keen edge. He was aware of Gideon's raised wrist as he intended to call for help, with a snap of his fingers the bracelet died, leaving the other man open mouthed.
Quietly, he requested, "Be a good fellow, Matthew, run along and leave us alone for a while." His eyes never left Dureena's twin fires of tawny gold. He saw her mouth thin as her chin raised in defiance and the glisten of unshed tears shone in her fiery eyes. "Now, Matthew, please." Insistent, as he watched her control begin to crumble.
They had both forgotten that, should he so wish, he could have burned her to a cinder with a thought. Or just disarmed her with a judicious electric shock. Again, they underestimated him. He was aware of Matthew's slow retreat, and lifted one hand to gently cover hers where knuckles were whitening against the carved bone handle.
She flinched as though burned and her eyes closed briefly, shutting him out. Removing the knife from her unresisting hand, he tucked it back in her belt.
"You know, Dureena, I think I should have you disarmed before we next meet. This is becoming quite a habit you"ve acquired. I already carry one scar for you, two would be overdoing it a bit, don't you think?"
Her resistance collapsed at the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry, Galen. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't think straight. I can't sleep . . . I find you only to have you walk away! This is not me, Galen. I don't fall apart like this, I never have! I can't afford to let myself give in to these emotions that won't leave me alone. This is your fault, damn you!"
Her eyes returned to his, fevered and hauntingly beautiful. Red spots flew on each cheek and sweat sprang from her brow. The sudden change from spitfire to maudlin wretch back to spitfire indicative of more than just her emotional trauma.
Aware that they had been observed, he barked out his order. "Matthew, call for Dr. Chambers would you." He snapped his fingers, allowing him access to the com system. Too quick for even his sharp reactions, she crumpled to a heap in front of him. Kneeling beside Dureena's inert form he pulled her into his arms and prepared to carry her to sick bay for the second time in a week.
The muffled thud from the hanger's entrance turned him from his task. Captain Gideon lay sprawled half in the doorway his upper body lying in the corridor. He too showed signs of fever, flushed face, sweat and a sickly pallor.
Galen swore long and hard. Technomages do not believe in coincidences. Using Matthew's bracelet, he was quickly in touch with the Med Lab. Casualties were being reported all over the ship and Eilerson was already in one of Dr. Chamber's isolation bays. Teams would be sent to gather up the two latest victims. Could his own malady be somehow connected with this apparent epidemic? For he should not need to return home for at least another year, maybe longer, and yet he knew that, if he did not return soon, he would be in mortal danger.
Laying a gentle hand on her cheek, he spoke to her unresponsive form. "You, my dear, will be the death of me. Between your knives and your trips to Med Lab, you'll have me in an early grave yet!"
Dr. Watts came hurrying in with his team and two gurneys: the patients were quickly loaded up and whisked away as Galen watched with speculative eyes. The key had to be Terea. Everyone who had been struck down until now had been on the planet. So far, the infection had not passed to any other member of the crew. Decision made, he followed the hastily retreating medics on their swift journey.
* * *
"Look at this, Galen. Familiar?" Sarah's insistent tone brought him out of the deep concentration that had held him at the 'scope for the past two hours. On the screen, magnified a thousand times, were the tiniest of nanites swimming in a sample of blood. "These are remarkably like the virus currently decimating Earth's population. The differences are subtle, but watch what happens when I introduce the nanites that we adapted."
The drop of water she put onto the slide contained only a few of the altered machines yet they started to attack the virus with a fury unlike its response to the plague that infested Earth. "Now, watch what happens after the initial attack." The doctor turned up the magnification and Galen saw the invaders being beaten back, then finally overwhelmed in this miniature war. "There has to be a way to alter them, increase their resistance, something!"
It was to be far into the night watch before any headway was made. Each time Galen or Dr. Chambers felt disheartened, they took a walk around the couches where their companion's condition worsened hour by hour. And if Galen spent more time by Dureena's side, he doubted anyone noticed.
Finally, a breakthrough; using all his skill and knowledge, Galen continued to refine his initial alterations to the nanites until, around four in the morning, Sarah's exultant "yes" rang around the lab. Hurrying to join her at the screen, he watched as the two viruses attacked one another. This time his altered nanites proved victorious.
Whilst the doctor's attention was fixed on her patients Galen quickly took and tested a sample of his own blood, something he had had no opportunity to do so far. He could not let anyone else review the results for there were secrets even at that level of his being.
Nothing! Nothing that should not be there at any rate but much that would interest the good doctor however. He was quick to destroy the slide and its revealing specimen.
Bone weary, he entered the isolation ward and watched as his friends began their recovery. Eilerson, first to succumb seemed reluctant to shake off the effects of his malady. Dureena however recovered with remarkable speed, much to the doctor's delight. Her unique physiology making damage repair a quick, and to Sarah's medical mind, fascinating process.
Holding her hand close to his torso, shielding his action from prying eyes, he waited for consciousness to return. Tightening his grip reassuringly as awareness seeped back into her healing body and her eyes opened in panic, skittering around the room until they latched onto his steady gaze.
"Galen?" uncertainty edged her husky voice as though her mind was fogged.
"I'm here. No, don't move . . ."
Using his arm for leverage, she dragged herself upright and tried to get down from the bed. Collapsing against him as the sudden adrenaline rush vanished.
"Doctor!" His urgent request was unnecessary, the minute Dureena had tried to move, monitors had lit up in various sections of the lab, and she was already on her way as her patient was caught in the Mage's firm grip.
* * *
Returning to the flyer, almost stumbling with fatigue, Galen considered his own situation. The Sharian were still trapped on Terea, he hoped, but the most immediate concern was his own failing health. Earlier that day, mists had obscured his vision for a brief moment as the room spun, leaving him dizzy and disorientated. He must return home, yet he had to deal with the Sharian too, maybe with the loss of his own life. Home, Terea, Home, Terea -- the litany whirled in his mind, he was so tired he could hardly think let alone make a choice of this magnitude.
The darkness within his flyer embraced him like a soothing balm, welcoming and familiar. Knots of tension released from his shoulders leaving him feeling light and relaxed. He had been unaware of the taut muscles and incipient aches until now.
"Lights, one quarter." Composing a brief message for the Circle, he hesitated at how much to include. The Sharian must be dealt with, his order had to know of their possible existence, and he could not do this alone for all his bravado earlier that day. He would rather the Excalibur was not involved in this and yet Gideon insisted on returning. In the end, he made no mention of the ship or its crew.
With a long sigh, he sank into a welcoming chair revelling in the peace and solitude. Though he sometimes needed the company of others, there were times, as now, when he craved solitude. Right now, he did not want to hear another voice, feel another presence or be blinded by the artificial world that currently harboured his vessel.
Between one thought and the next he fell into a deep but troubled sleep until awakened by the constant beep signalling an incoming message. The coding marked it as a Technomage using his private frequency. Very few of the order had any recourse to him; most were at the hiding place. Of the few he had entrusted with his codes, only Alwyn was still at large.
"Ship, accept transmission, audio and visual." With effort he stood, though his body resisted the mind's directions. It was as though gravity had turned against him, wanting to drag him back down until he were pinned to the ground by its force. His arms and legs felt heavy and awkward as the room wavered for an instant.
Alwyn's image materialised, slightly blurred yet clear enough for him to see the anxiety in his eyes. Lines that had not previously adorned the old man's face highlighted his evident worry. As one of the more easy going members of the order Galen had always got on well with the mage, their sympathies ran along similar paths. Worry lines were a new addition to those grafted by age alone.
"Disturbing news, Galen. Word has reached our order that the Sharian are found. On Terea! Of all the planets in the Universe that is the last place I would have looked. We are bid to join the others, this must be dealt with now . . ." Alwyn's voice trailed away as he took in Galen's gaunt features. "What have you been doing to yourself?"
Dismissing the concern, Galen quizzed the older man on the source of his knowledge, surely his message could not have been acted upon so quickly.
"The call came an hour ago. The Circle requested all Mage's in the vicinity to gather, they will join us shortly . . .."
The dizziness increased and Alwyn's voice faded into a muted buzz, like the droning of a sleepy bee in his ears.
"Galen! Galen! Give me access to your ship. Galen, can you hear me?"
The familiar voice echoed vaguely, the words only just making sense to his fuzzy brain. "Ship," his soft tone hardly above a whisper, "recognise current transmission voice and mark -- access level four."
His last conscious memory was of Alwyn's concerned face wavering out of his view as the floor rushed up to meet his unresisting form.
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