Schell was already in shipboard coveralls, which suggested he hadn’t brought a change of uniform. What had been in the duffels, then? He declined the sandwich and perched on the bunk Dan waved him to. Grissett remained standing, hands behind him, head lowered. “I understand you’ve been affected by this syndrome too,” the doctor opened with. “How are you feeling now?”
“Still under the weather,” Dan admitted. “Headachy, fatigued. It’s tough to concentrate.”
“Medications?”
“Ciproflaxicin,” Grissett put in. “And Motrin. Cough, elevated temperature, torpor.”
“Interesting.” Schell nodded, then said, “I, um, understand you served with a former colleague of mine. From USAMRIID.”
“Maureen Maddox,” Dan said. Her name brought Signal Mirror back, the covert Marine Recon mission into wartime Baghdad. Nearly everyone had died, either along the way or on the way out, along with Sarsten, their too-gung-ho join-up from the Special Air Service. Zeitner, who’d wanted to start a Firestone station. Gunny Gault, killed holding the rear for their retreat. Maddox, their biowarfare guru, had died in Level Four isolation. Leaving only the blue and white starred ribbon on his service dress to remember them by.
“Um, yes.”
“Right. Any progress on the crud?” His tone came out harsher than he’d meant it.
Schell pursed his lips. “We could’ve used more tissue from the last, uh, fatality. But fortunately, your chief corpsman kept blood samples. We’re running tests. Hopefully, we’ll get something interesting.
“I’ve reviewed the clinical investigation results from your first case, in the Med. Bethesda eliminated a number of possibilities, but couldn’t identify a causative agent. No antibody to LP1 or LP4. The sputum isolate was difficult to type, but possibly a Portland subgroup. In particular, I see, they ruled out legionellosis, based on a negative result from a Legionella pneumophilia serogroup one. They suspected the ventilation system.”
“Chief, you told him what we’ve done so far. Sterilizing the ductwork.”
“Yessir.”
Schell nodded. “We won’t have the results for your female noncom for a few days yet. I suspect it will show pneumonia and multiorgan system failure. But if you did a thorough sterilization, I’m willing to conclude that contrary to what everyone’s thought up to now, we’re not dealing with an airborne fomite.”
Dan blinked. “That’s—”
“A fomite’s an infectious agent, or a vector… virus, bacteria, fungus… in some cases, an insect.”
“We might have insects?”
“I thought about it, but considering how clean you keep this ship, I don’t see that as the vector.”
“Thanks — I guess. So what is, then?”
“I’m hoping our cultures will tell us that. So far we have L1 and L3 antigens identified from the blood sample. In the meantime, I have suggestions for at least localizing the infection.”
“I’m listening,” Dan said. “I’d really like to not have to report another fatality. But even the aftereffects are hurting our readiness. In some watch stations, we’re in port and starboard when we should be in four sections. Over time, that’s gonna wear everybody down.”
“Providing fertile ground for opportunistic infections, like pneumonia… which was the final cause of death in your first case, and I suspect in your second, too.” Schell deliberated, looking at Dan’s screen, which still read TOP SECRET at the top and was an appreciation of Indian nuclear doctrine.
“I should have turned that off,” Dan said. “Aim the monitor away from you, please.”
“I wasn’t reading it, Captain.”
“You said you had suggestions.”
“He wants to secure the showers,” Grissett said, and just the way his arms were folded conveyed doubt.
“Secure the showers,” Dan repeated. “You think it’s in our freshwater systems? Chief, didn’t we already hyperchlorinate? I remember, the water tasted like a Y pool.”
“Yessir, we did,” Grissett said. “Charged it all the way up to 50 ppm.”
“Hyperchlorination may not be effective in rooting out a stubborn infection, with certain organisms,” the major said. “But we don’t know the incubation period, and I understand from your chief of staff that you’re on a fairly important mission out here.”
“We call them executive officers. Yeah.”
“Ordinarily, I’d recommend putting into port, debarking your crew, and tenting for a full-scale disinfection regime.”
“We can’t leave station,” Dan said.
“How many have to die before you can?”
He sucked air. Schell didn’t mince words. “I don’t want to lose anyone, Doctor. But the decision to call off a mission isn’t mine. I’ll report anything you want me to. Endorse your recommendations. But if things go down like they might, having us out here could save a lot more lives than we have aboard.”
Schell gave that a beat, then rose. “Fair enough. I’ll have something more concrete as soon as the results are in. Meanwhile—”
“Secure the showers,” Dan told Grissett.
“Sir, I don’t think—”
”Better safe than sorry, Chief. Let’s go with Leo’s call. I’ll tell the CHENG to secure the supply. Instruct the compartment petty officers to placard them off-limits. What about cooking water, drinking water, Doctor?”
“Cooking should sterilize any organisms. But, yes, I’d avoid drinking the water for the present.”
“Secure the scuttlebutts, too,” Dan told Grissett, who looked stone-faced. “How are we set on bottled water?”
“Offloaded it all in Male, Captain.”
“Crap,” Dan muttered. “Okay, look, get your heads together and figure out how to sterilize enough so we can get everybody a gallon a day, anyway. We can use the feed water, too; it’s made from the steam evaporators and stored in separate tanks from the potable water. It’s deionized, distilled. Ought to be fine to drink.
“But we can’t run long that way, Doctor. Find out what’s making us sick, and tell me how to fix it.”
Schell just looked thoughtful. Dan glanced at his bunk. Then at the bulkhead clock, and sighed. Time to get on the 1MC and tell everybody what was going on. No showers. That certainly wasn’t going to help morale.
The setup conference convened at 1300 in CIC, back by the digital dead-reckoning table, where they could spread out references and argue in something like a roundtable format. Though the DRT was rectangular. Present were Dr. Noblos, Chief Wenck, Lieutenant Mills, Lieutenant Singhe, and Cheryl Staurulakis. Dan opened with, “Okay, everyone’s read the messages. I want to position for the best chances of an intercept, against missiles from the deployment areas the DIA specifies. But before that, I asked Matt to speculate on how this thing’s going to unfold, if it does.” He hesitated. “Which of course we hope it doesn’t. Matt?”
Mills passed out printed slides. “I’ll start with the naval picture. The Indian navy, with overwhelming numbers and the Viraat carrier battle group, dominates the green-water zone. But their force-projection capabilities are limited. Even if they clean-sweep the Pak navy, it doesn’t win the war.
“Ground capabilities are more evenly matched. India’s armored forces are larger, but their ground options are limited by two factors: first, Pakistani bases are closer to the border, so they can deploy faster. Second, India has to guard its northern border as well, against China, which is allied with Karachi. If they coordinate their threats, India won’t have enough divisions to hold both borders. Especially in the Himalayas, which function as a force sponge.