Chapter One: Broken Promise — Part 6

At Johnson’s quiet request for an update on survivors, Captain Dougan, of the Daring, and the only other officer to have survived the crash to the planet’s surface, threw his hands up in contempt. “It’s about time another person with a brain showed up. It’s a fucking mess right at the moment and none of these fuckers can even read. Or at least they won’t admit to it –” Dougan kicks angrily at one of the nearer boys, a teenager with keen, hateful eyes “– I saw you looking, I know what you’re about.”

“Did you open all the chambers?” Johnson asked Dougan, hoping to divert him. Sadly, it only agitated the pilot further.

“Of course,” Dougan exclaimed. “Otherwise I’d not be opening them at all, would I?” Dougan continued to rant while Johnson silently assessed the situation. “This whole planet’s against us. There isn’t a ship or escape pod that wasn’t sucked into the muck hours ago. Only the caskets stayed afloat, and that’s only because they had grav-lev keeping them up. You can see what few supplies we have – some basic medical equipment, meager rations and absolutely no shelter. We’ve got five thousand Class Two –” Dougan starts kicking out at people again “– deviants of all colors, ages and sizes, and no way to subvert rebellion.”

“You keep agitating the younger ones, it’ll be a wonder if we live the night.” Captain Johnson warned. “Did any medical crew make it to ground?”

“One physician survived. She’s working triage with the wounded even as we speak. Despite her lack of supplies, she seems competent.”

“I am competent.” The doctor, who had been listening just out of sight in the mist, stepped forward so she could be seen. “Not kicking at me, Dougan? Smart idea there. That was wonderful piloting, by the way. It’s a miracle we made it through the take-off, considering the landing.” The doctor might have sounded sarcastic if she had let even a hint of emotion creep into her voice.

Her features were harsh, and focused, at the moment, on the Captains. She was a woman of Blue, a woman to be watched. The Council had voted her here not as temporary punishment, as they would have with most Satraps, but as a permanent internment, as was prone to happen with the Greens and Reds. She was assessing the situation much more thoroughly than Captain Johnson would have expected. He studied the woman closely. Her hair clung to a blue-gray jumpsuit. Her eyes glistened slightly in the misty air, and her skin, though paled by the long journey in dark hibernation, still held pigmentation more attuned with deserts and jungles than with the dank humidity of the world around her. She stared back at Captain Johnson for a moment, waiting for him to talk.

“Who are you?” Johnson almost demanded.

“Susan MacAnderly. It seems that most your Class One citizens wanted a ship to themselves. Pity they all had to die for it.” She giggled a little; the sudden emotion unsettled Captain Johnson. “I had a look at your man, Captain. He’ll be dead by tomorrow.”

Captain Johnson’s head began to throb, his chest felt tight. He rubbed his temples. “He wasn’t cut that bad.”

“It’s an infection – the worst I’ve ever seen. If we could get a fire going and find a decent piece of metal, we could probably lance the wound; maybe even risk an amputation of the infected arm, if necessary. But I doubt it would do any good. I think it’s already in his blood. Since ninety percent of this place seems to be covered with sludge, and metal seems pretty scarce, I wouldn’t count on making fire any time soon. Not to sound grim, but we have more pressing matters to deal with. One concern that comes to mind is how we’re going to feed five thousand people who’ve never seen the outside of an industrial city. Our supplies were buried in the mud, and I don’t know enough about the local life to start trying to eat it.”

Captain Dougan had other things on his mind. Young and alert, he was already wondering how this situation was going to affect his career. He smiled, realizing that no matter how things turned out – so long as he survived, he would probably be a hero. Captain Dougan took charge for a moment, making what he considered a heroic suggestion. The fate of the people, after all, was dependent on the decisions of the powerful, and the intelligent.

“We’ll set traps and order Class Two’s to begin testing food prospects as soon as possible. They should be hungry enough by tomorrow.”

Susan’s eyes turned to slits of rage. “Worthless pig.”

Captain Johnson ignored her, and Dougan, who was only quoting standard protocol as if he thought of it himself, and stared absently at Hodges. The man was pale with fever, his eyes glazed over. He rose and began to stumble around, in a path that slowly brought him toward them. Only he seemed to have a problem with direction, because he would get only so far before stopping looking around, and stumbling off in another direction. He fell to the ground, moaning and looking momentarily paralyzed, then forced his body up again, now keeping Captain Johnson’s image in front of him. He walked like a man caught in an electric field, his head and body shaking, drool mixed with blood leaking from his lips.

“Doctor, if you could have another look at Hodges. What in blazes is going on with him?” Johnson had to wonder. The drive was more an urge to keep the sick man at an arm’s length, and preferably at the length of somebody else’s arms.

“He’s dying, is all.” Susan said, but she went and checked on him anyway, stepping up to Hodges just as he fell again.

Hodges rose from the muck and walked toward Susan, covered in sweat. He looked delirious, his skin reddened as if it was burning from within. His eyes were starting to bleed from the tear ducts. His ears had at some point burst; blood trickled down his cheeks, onto his shoulders. He kept moving right past Susan, stumbling and crawling up to his Captain, a maddening smile on his face. Despite his smile, despite the blood and the obvious pain, his eyes showed a calm contradicting what should have been desperation. The peace in those eyes disturbed Captain Johnson the most.

“Don’t drink the water.” He said, collapsing, suffocating, and dying.

Susan shook nervously, chastising herself, sounding angry. “Damn it, we’re all infected.”

Hodges, though delirious, had grasped the obvious. The disease had gotten him quicker because it had entered his body through an injury. The illness would hit every one of them. The planet had digested the colony ships and supplies within the first few hours, and now a plague would rip its way through the people the same way that that it had devoured Hodges. Susan walked away from the Captains, who were arguing about procedure during a plaque, which seemed to involve a lot of killing and body burning. Her concerns were not for procedure, because no procedure could prepare them for the inevitable wave of death that would overcome all of them. She had scared, sick, and injured men, women, and children to attend to. The Captains, as far as she could tell, would be quite keen to take care of themselves.

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