“My sister has cleared ten liners, which is about the most horrible thing you can imagine. The first one, the second largest in the world, was with my da, a Marine that was barely out of a lifeboat, and an SF sergeant. They’d come out day after day covered in blood, get washed down, eat, sleep, go back in the next day. When I was working in the lab in New York, I couldn’t do the first step which was, sorry, grinding the spines in a blender. At this point, it’s not even in the top ten of the horrible stuff I’ve seen. Not sure if it’s in the top twenty. Come to think of it, no, not in the top twenty. Probably not the top hundred.”
“Okay,” one of the men said after a moment.
“This is the tricky bit,” Sophia said. “We’re backing down this pier, which is almost exactly the width of the five-ton. So far we’ve done it a few times and not gone in the drink. If we fall over the side, just put your face plates back up. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“I’m trying to imagine what is more horrible than grinding up human spinal cords to make vaccine,” Rizwana said. “I’m not sure I want to.”
The container was, well, a container. It wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t great. The cushions they were lying on, still in their suits, were clearly salvaged from a boat. But there was a large plasma screen and someone had gone to the trouble of putting in two plexiglass windows. The large pile of MREs meant that clearly Troy wasn’t going to get his beloved cheeseburger any time soon. There was a distinct odor of bleach, which was comforting, all things considered.
“And she’s fifteen,” Dr. Price said. “She has to have horrible PTSD.”
“I think that pretty much everyone on the planet has to have PTSD,” Troy said.
A silver suit came through the airlock bearing a large plastic box.
“Tomato soup,” Ensign Smith said, setting it down. “Pretty much the most common first food we give survivors. These are microwave containers. They’ve been decontaminated and the box was sterilized. We’re going to try to prop you up so you can drink it…”
“Sorry about my…discomfort with the vaccine concept,” Dr. Shelley said. Decker and Condrey had gotten the astronauts propped up so they could drink, then left. “It must have truly been terrible.”
“Was,” Sophia said simply. “Is. World’s a pretty messed up place right now. I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did. It has been a very long day. And we usually don’t clear at night. That was fairly tense. We also had a friendly-fire incident today and I was worried that Faith was going to get hit by some of her Marines. All in all…I’ve had better days. But at least we got you guys back.”
“When do you get off shift?” Troy asked.
“God knows,” Sophia said tiredly. “Walker, Decker, Condrey and I are the only ones who are supposed to have contact right now. Walker and I ’cause we understand the protocols. Walker won’t talk about his exact background but he was an SF medic. He’s good. Very good. I think he was actually a colonel or something. Decker and Condrey because, well, the only thing they can really do anymore is very precise protocols.”
“Why?” Commander Daniels asked.
“There are so many stories,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “Short answer. Just before they evacced the Iwo Jima, Decker was ordered by his gunny to ‘take care of the lieutenant.’ He was a newbie LT. And he had the virus and he turned. So Decker and Condrey took care of him. Kept him alive. As a zombie. On a rubber life raft.”
“Holy hell,” Troy said. “Are they nuts?”
“They’re Marines, sir,” Sophia said. “They are sort of looked at as the epitome of Marines these days. But they’re so totally inflexible at this point, they’re only good for stuff that is very simple, very strict, protocols. Like, say, cleaning out the five-ton and sterilizing it thoroughly. So, yes, they’re nuts. Sir, we’re all nuts. I’m nuts. My sister is nuts. Every single survivor, pretty much, is nutty as a fruitcake. But we’re getting the job done.”
“Evacced the Iwo Jima?” Troy said. “The assault carrier?”
“Yes, sir,” Sophia said. “Which we cleared right after the Voyage Under Stars. That’s where we got about half our Marines.”
“What about the other carriers?” Troy asked.
“They’re scattered,” Sophia said, shrugging. “Maybe the Hole knows where they are. But we’re on a priority mission right now. You guys and trying to find materials to make more vaccine. And…when you can sit up you can see a wreck out the window, on the point. That’s just one of…thousands. And more ships floating. Talk about oil slicks? Every tanker on Earth, pretty much, has gone aground or sunk. Seen some bad-ass oil slicks. And there’s about four thousand of us, total. Only about three thousand are helping or any real help. Or sane enough to help. We got plenty of people in rubber rooms. So the rest of the world is going to have to wait. We just do what’s in front of us and push the plan.”
“What is the plan?” one of the Russians asked. “Is there one?”
“Clear the planet,” Sophia said, shrugging. “Find survivors and convince them to help and just keep building until we’re old and gray or we’re done. Da says there’s a plan, sort of. Won’t get into it. Says he needs the sub crews to be able to get to the next step. So we’re sweeping the Caribbean for medical supplies and stuff to make the vaccine. Notably polyacrylide gel.”
“That will be difficult to find, I would think,” Rizwana said, sipping soup. “There was a great deal of research going on at the end and it was being used widely.”
“A lot of it was going into vaccine production as well,” Sophia said. “Speaking of which, when Walker gets here we’ll give you your primer shot. You can turn it down, given that it’s from human spinal cords and has all sorts of other negatives. Various possible side effects include causing the disease, auto-immune reaction against your own nervous system and standard allergic reactions. In which case, we’ll move you to a cabin to see if you turn. Which with your immune systems, you will.”
“That’s cold,” Dr. Price said.
“There used to be seven billion people on this planet,” Sophia said wearily. “Right now we know the condition of about six, seven thousand. Every coast is littered with wrecks. Some of them probably have trapped survivors in them who are running out of food and water and air and time. Every shore is patrolled by infected. Every town we’ve cleared has had about one percent survivors.
“You’re astronauts. That’s cool. You’re all really smart and really capable with lots of degrees and stuff. That’s cooler. God knows we need people like you and don’t want you to turn or die. We can’t keep you in a bubble until hell freezes over. We’re holding here, instead of continuing the mission, to give you time to get vaccinated and have it take hold. Or turn. Which is a possibility. We don’t want that. We need your skills, and who wants more zombies? But we haven’t got all the time in the world.”
“Understood,” Commander Daniels said.
“So if you don’t want the vaccine, the cabins are more comfortable anyway,” Sophia said, shrugging again.