She could help him, but she couldn’t drag him. Anyway, the fact that the lander’s lights had come on indicated that Faris had seen them coming and was probably on her way. It was going to take their combined efforts, Karine knew, to wrestle the private’s limp form onto the ship.
Maybe she could get him to help stagger the last few meters. Dumping his pack and weapon, she leaned over to try and get him back on his feet. He looked up at her, his eyes shockingly blank—and promptly vomited all over her.
There was some partially digested food in the spew, but most of it consisted of blood and bile. She stumbled backward, almost falling, too shocked even to wipe at her face.
Then Faris was calling to her. Pulling on surgical gloves as she jogged toward her colleagues, the pilot finished by slipping on a face mask. Without having to be told, she grabbed the private’s pack and weapon.
At the same time, and despite her disgust and dismay, Karine made a supreme effort to get Ledward back on his feet. Choking and gasping, he followed her lead and managed to stagger upright. Maybe, she thought hopefully, he had forcefully expelled whatever had been making him so sick.
“Let’s get him to the medbay.” Faris gave both the private’s pack and weapon a quick examination. “Touch nothing on your way through. Follow me.”
Though irritated at the other woman’s sudden and uncharacteristically officious attitude, Karine said nothing. She could bring it up another time. Right now she was too tired to do more than comply. Besides, getting the barely conscious private into medbay and pumping him full of medication took precedence over any violations of protocol, perceived or otherwise.
Perhaps it was the proximity to the lander and the help it promised. Whatever the impetus, Ledward found a reserve of energy. With Karine’s ongoing assistance, they were able to make it up the ramp and into the crew bay. One after the other and heedless of their contents, backpacks were tossed indifferently into a corner.
“Just try to keep him moving, come on!” Faris tore her gaze away from Ledward’s agonized, blank-eyed face. As the scientist stumbled, she and the private bumped into a bay wall. “Karine, don’t touch anything!”
“For fuck’s sake,” the other woman shot back, “I’m trying, all right? The son-of-a-bitch is no lightweight, and he’s gone all limp on me again!”
By the time they reached the lander’s medbay, Karine was reduced to dragging him again. At the limits of her strength, she was relieved when the other woman came over to help steady the private. Activated by Faris moments earlier, the room’s bright white lights rendered Ledward’s appearance even more ghastly than it had been outside.
“Can you stand by yourself?” Faris asked him. When he didn’t reply, she indicated via gestures what she wanted. Karine gladly moved aside. The private remained upright in front of the scientist, but barely.
“Thatta boy. Just stay like that for another couple of minutes, okay? We’ll get you fixed up.” Moving over to the med table, she started releasing straps and tie-downs, then quickly returned. “Let’s get these wet clothes off, darlin’. Wouldn’t want you to catch cold, in addition to whatever you’ve managed to catch already.”
She got his cap and heavily laden vest off first, then knelt to work on his boots. Meanwhile Karine started unsealing his gray expedition suit. In moments they had him down to his underwear. Noticing that the top half of the other woman’s suit was sticky with blood, puke, and a mix of unidentifiable goo, Faris barked at her.
“For god’s sake, Karine, put some gloves on!”
Continuing to undress the private, she all but growled at the pilot. “Little late for that. He heaved up all the fuck over me!”
Perspiring massively but finally stripped, Ledward stood silently, staring into the distance and ignoring his anxious crewmates. Though he remained upright and breathing, he had the look of the dead on him. That’s nonsense, Faris told herself. The dead don’t shiver. And the private was definitely trembling.
Together, the two women alternately led and wrestled him onto the med table. The surrounding and overhead lights instantly brightened. As Faris aligned his legs, Karine scrambled through the med cabinets. In her panic she spilled supplies, tubing, and equipment, without even being sure what she was searching for. She only knew that they had to get something into Ledward, and fast.
“Got to get him stabilized,” she panted. “Where’s the fucking IV kit?”
“Karine!” Turning away from the now prone but still trembling private, Faris yelled in exasperation at her colleague. “Stop touching everything! I’ll do that!” His shivering appeared to be abating of its own accord. Working fast, she peeled off his blood-soaked undershirt, leaving him lying on the table clad only in his undershorts.
“Here, come help me secure him.”
“Why?” Karine objected. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“Just do it!” Faris prepared to fasten the first strap around the sluggish private’s waist. Just because he was calm and quiet now didn’t mean that in—
He twitched once. Then he heaved. And then he bucked, and continued bucking, the series of convulsions incredibly violent and completely uncontrolled as his body, twisting and writhing, slammed again and again into the med table. The loud banging of unprotected flesh and bone against metal echoed through the room. Stunned at the inexplicable physiological fury on display, both scientist and pilot instinctively backed away.
Blood began to leak from his pores. As the two women looked on in horror, a fine mist of blood sprayed in a straight line right down the center of his back, as if shot from a hose. The droplets arced into the air before descending to splatter like red rain on the spotless deck.
“Jesus…” Karine recoiled as far as she was able.
“Stay with him!” Faris headed for the corridor portal. “Try to keep him quiet if the convulsions stop. I’ll contact the captain.”
Exiting the medbay, her expression grim, she waited for the door to shut behind her, then turned and punched the adjacent keypad. The panel flashed silently.
Pulling off the protective face mask, she raced down the corridor and spoke, with as much control as she could muster, toward the nearest omni-pickup.
“Captain Oram. We need you all here. How long?”
As the rest of the team left the forest behind and entered the field of gently waving wheat, a frowning Oram replied.
“Hold on. We’re close. Faris, what the hell is—?”
“I need you back here now. Right now! All of you, everybody! We need to return to the Covenant. Now!” With each word, rising panic became more evident in her voice.
On the Covenant’s bridge, Tennessee struggled to sieve understanding from his wife’s garbled suit-to-suit communications. It was beyond frustrating to hear a sentence start out clearly, only for it to dissolve into static mush halfway through.
“Faris, we can barely make you out. What’s happening? What’s going on down there?” Even through the ongoing electromagnetic distortion, he could discern the alarm in her voice.
“Going on?” The reply crackled and faded, strengthened and screeched at the edge of comprehensibility. “I don’t have any fucking idea what’s going on—with Ledward. Karine showed up pretty much carrying him. We managed to get him into the medbay. Something happened out there—she hasn’t told me anything yet. He looks like a dead man breathing, he’s really sick, and then he started bleeding all over, right from his skin, no visible wounds, and his back… his back…”