IGMS Issue 39

  Issue 39 - May 2014

  http://www.InterGalacticMedicineShow.com

  Copyright © 2014 Hatrack River Enterprises

  Table of Contents - Issue 39 - May 2014

  * * *

  Foreign Bodies

  by Melinda Brasher

  Salt and Sand

  by Kate O'Connor

  Memory of Magic

  by Jacob A. Boyd

  Rapture Nation

  by Jennifer Noelle Welch

  Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Earth to Alluvium

  by Gray Rinehart

  The Other Bank of the River

  by Camila Fernandes

  At the Picture Show: Extended Cut

  by Chris Bellamy

  Vintage Fiction - A Passage in Earth

  by Damien Broderick

  InterGalactic Interview With Damien Broderick

  by Darrell Schweitzer

  Letter From The Editor

  by Edmund R. Schubert

  Foreign Bodies

  by Melinda Brasher

  Artwork by Andres Mossa

  * * *

  Dustin staggered into the colony's biolab, eyes bloodshot. He slammed the door switch hard and watched until it slid shut. "You gotta give me something for this," he moaned, clutching his belly.

  "Nauseated?" Elizabeth asked as she settled him onto the exam table.

  His glare gave the answer.

  "Did you eat something --"

  "Not since last night. Can't stand the thought of it."

  "And before that?"

  "Obviously I ate. But nothing I haven't had before."

  "No mushrooms or berries?"

  "No."

  "Alcohol?"

  "Just a glass of Mirek's Ale. Two days ago."

  "What about meat?"

  His face contorted. She barely got him the trash bin before he heaved. Bile. He wiped his mouth and glared again.

  "I can give you some anti-nausea medication, but --"

  "Will that make him go away?" Dustin asked, his voice low, earnest.

  "Him?"

  Dustin lifted a shaking finger to point behind Elizabeth.

  She looked over her shoulder at the empty lab. When she turned back to Dustin, his eyes were fixed on a spot at the base of one of her tables.

  "Who are you talking about?" she asked gently.

  "You can't see him, can you?"

  "Who?"

  "The wolf. He's crouching right there, growling." He fumbled for something in his belt. Steel glinted in the harsh white lights.

  "Dustin, put the knife down."

  He shook his head, eyes big with fear, a faint tremor in his words. "I know he's not real. Some sort of hallucination. But I can smell him. Like a wet dog, you know. So give me something -- some drug -- to make him go away."

  "I will," Elizabeth promised, as she slowly moved to touch his arm, then his hand, then the fingers wrapped around the knife. "First, you need to let go."

  He loosed his grip and she pulled the weapon away.

  "Am I going mad?" he asked.

  "You've probably got a fever. Put this under your tongue." She slid the thermometer into his mouth and waited.

  "He's white," Dustin mumbled around the thermometer.

  "Hold still."

  "Red eyes. Teeth that hardly fit in his mouth. He's always the same."

  The thermometer beeped. 38.2. A slight fever, inconsistent with sustained polymodal hallucinations.

  "Have you interacted with it?"

  "You mean, have I tried to pet him? Not likely."

  "And it hasn't attacked you?"

  "Not yet. But he bares his teeth a lot. And snaps. I can see every hair on him. He looks as real as you. When we ate those mushrooms last month I saw some pretty wild things, but nothing like this." His eyes moved slowly to one end of the lab, then back. Back. Forth.

  Elizabeth couldn't help looking behind her again.

  "He paces when I talk to my wife, too."

  "Does she share any of your symptoms?"

  "Says she's a little nauseated, but watching me puke all day -- it's enough to turn anyone's stomach. And no, she doesn't see him."

  "I need to do some tests. If we went into the back room, would that keep the wolf out?"

  "Don't patronize me."

  "I'm not. I believe he's very real to you. The brain is a powerful organ. But the tests would be better if you were relaxed."

  He nodded. "Just don't make any sudden movements."

  Dustin, sedated now, lay on the exam table in the back room, breathing slowly, an IV in his arm.

  Elizabeth studied the results of the test panel. Increased brain activity. Elevated levels of adrenalin. Lowered blood pressure. Anomalous proteins in the blood. No evidence of any of the primary hallucination-producing diseases. No drugs in his system. The computer had no diagnosis.

  "Hypothesize," she ordered it.

  A long list of possibilities appeared. Halfway down, Elizabeth tapped her finger on the confirmation of her own best guess. Unknown Venom.

  She set the bioanalyzer on an envenomation cycle. Ten minutes to wait.

  Opening the medical database, she typed "antivenom synthesis," and wished for the thousandth time that she'd taken her second degree in medicine, instead of botany. Maybe then she'd feel more prepared to be the colony's only doctor. Back on Earth, her medic training had lasted a mere six weeks. She'd been so busy with her latest paper on the growth and adaptation of microbiota in prolonged weightlessness that she'd tuned out during some of the more tedious training. After all, she was just supposed to be a medic. How was she to know that all the colony's real doctors would die in the accident before they even arrived?

  She had little idea how to synthesize antivenom, and wasn't sure the twenty-thousand-word database entry would be enough. But maybe it wasn't venom. Or maybe Dustin could just ride out the storm. After all, he'd been sick for hours. Most deadly Earth venoms would already have killed him.

  The door buzzed and Gary stumbled in, dragging Mirek with him. "Found him shooting into the air ten feet from his module," he explained to Elizabeth. His voice changed, as he addressed Mirek in the tone some people reserved for children. "You can not go shooting that close to the colony, hear? And certainly not while drunk. I'm revoking your gun rights until further notice."

  "Not drunk," Mirek mumbled, though his stumble seemed to indicate otherwise.

  Gary turned his ruddy face on Elizabeth. "I thought you might be able to sober him up a little."

  "I'm working on something important," Elizabeth said, grabbing a beaker away from Mirek's flailing arm.

  "He's really out of it," Gary insisted. "Swinging that gun all around, raving about grizzlies."

  Elizabeth nearly crushed the beaker in her hand. "About what?"

  "Grizzlies. North American bears. Went extinct --"

  "I know what grizzlies are." She grabbed Mirek's arm and peered into his bleary eyes. "Mirek, has a grizzly bear been following you?"

  "Yes," he said in relief.

  "Are you nauseated?"

  He nodded, then slouched to the ground, laying his head on the seat of a nearby chair.

  Not venom, then. Something infectious. "Gary, has he been in contact with anyone else today?"

  "How should I know?"

  "Set up a quarantine. Immediately. Keep everyone separate. Have them call me on the com if they feel sick or if they start seeing things."

  Gary backed away from them both, wiping his hands on his pants. "What is it?"

  "I don't know yet. You'll set up the quarantine for me?"

  "Yes."

  "But you may be exposed. Do it by com, not in person."

  Gary's face blanched, leaving red blotches on his cheeks.

  "Go."

&nb
sp; The bioanalyzer chimed, over on the very table at which Dustin's wolf had crouched.

  Probability of envenomation, the screen read, 93.6%. Venom unknown. Then followed three screens of analysis that hardly made sense. Ninety-four percent? The computer was rarely so committal. But venom? With more than one victim?

  "Mirek." She shook him gently. He startled awake, his eyes scanning the room in fear, but the bright lights left nothing to the imagination -- nowhere for a three-meter bear to hide. "Mirek, listen. Have you been anywhere outside the settlement with Dustin the last few days?"

  He shook his head.

  "Have you been bitten by anything?"

  "Just the damned bear." He held out his arm. "But you can't see the marks. I can't feel them either, anymore. But it bit me. I swear. And his claws . . ."

  "I believe you."

  "At least someone does."

  "What about insects? Have you had any itching? Unexplained pain? Discolored spots on your skin?'

  "Not that I know of."

  "I'm going to do a couple tests. Then I'll give you something to make you feel better."

  "Is the door locked? The grizzly can work the panels. It'll get in if you don't secure it with your passcode.

  "The door's locked," she assured him.

  He nodded, then let her ply him with needles.

  While the computer worked, Elizabeth picked up the com and punched in Holly's code. She was the closest thing to a colleague Elizabeth had, even though her degree in genetics had served mostly for agricultural engineering. Since landing, she hadn't shown much interest in medicine, despite the cross-training program.

  "What's this about you declaring quarantine?" Holly asked over the com.

  Elizabeth explained.

  "I knew it would happen one day," Holly said. "But they kept assuring us that the immunologists and pathologists would stay one step ahead of it. Now they'll all expect you and me to be able to handle this."

  Elizabeth wondered if it had been a mistake to call. "We will handle it. I'm going to send you some results. See if you find anything I missed."

  "Fine. Hey, I guess this fun couldn't last forever." Then the signal cut off.

  Elizabeth sighed and hovered over the bioanalyzer until the computer chimed and spit out Mirek's results. Probability of envenomation: 93.6%. Venom unknown. Match to previous sample: 98.5%. Probability of contagion: unable to calculate.

  Useless computer. Venom itself obviously wasn't contagious, but the computer must think it more complicated than that. Perhaps this New Eden venom triggered some latent malady that was contagious. Maybe such a slow-moving venom transferred somehow through human contact.

  "Import files NEB1 to NEB582. Recalculate all parameters."

  Inadvisable, the computer answered. Unacceptable number of unknowns.

  "Don't I know," she muttered. "Calculate anyway."

  She'd finished NEB582 just the day before: a report no one might ever read on a carnivorous web-spinning butterfly one of the girls had caught and brought to her. Five hundred eighty-two plants and animals she'd catalogued. Not just sub-species and variations. Distinct species. More than any scientist back home. It was an honor. A whole new world open to her. She loved it. But sometimes the enormity of the task overwhelmed her. The enormity of many things.

  The computer beeped. Probability of contagion: 5.1 to 61.8%

  Edwin answered the com immediately. "So I guess our dinner plans are off?" he asked. "You okay?"

  Five hours had passed since Dustin dragged in. Jasmine -- Dustin's wife -- had just shown up at the lab, breaking quarantine, practically breaking down the door, a hallucinated cobra hot on her heels. She kept insisting that it was coiled around some part of her body, ready to strike. Elizabeth had sedated her, but not before Jasmine gouged her own leg with desperate fingernails, trying to dislodge the imaginary snake. Blanca had called, tearful, to report that she'd been unable to keep anything down since lunch. Dustin's blood pressure had sunk dangerously low.

  They'd ruled out most known bacterial and viral causes. The unknowns were, of course, a looming possibility, but the more she looked at the tests, the more she suspected venom -- some aggressive vermin that had just found its way into the settlement.

  She'd read everything she had about antivenoms, and concluded that without any expertise in the field, without special equipment, the only way she'd be able to produce it was to find one of the actual creatures, milk its venom, incorporate it into some unlucky livestock, then harvest the subsequent antibodies. None of those steps would be as easy as they sounded.

  The sun had long set and Elizabeth's eyes burned with fatigue.

  "Elizabeth, you okay?" Edwin repeated.

  "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "I just wanted to hear your voice. Please tell me you're not nauseated or seeing visions of wild animals."

  "No. Just stir-crazy. Gary actually locked us in, after Jasmine broke quarantine."

  "It's best. Until we find out what we're up against."

  "Don't you think it's possible they all got bit by the same thing and that it's not contagious at all?"

  "Of course I think that's possible."

  "Then shouldn't we all be out looking for whatever bit them?"

  "Yes. But I still have no idea if we're looking for a three-meter snake or a speck of a flea"

  "Well, I think they'd remember a three-meter snake. I could start at their modules, since they haven't been anywhere outside the settlement together. It's probably something small. Something no one's noticed. I could set out insect collectors."

  She didn't want Edwin out looking for something that was probably looking for him. "It might get you, too."

  "We have hazmat suits. It's kinda overkill, but it might work."

  He sounded so calm. So reasonable. So brave. "I love you," she whispered.

  Silence.

  She pinched her lip, preferring the pain to the humiliation. He wasn't going to say it back. She knew that. She'd known it ever since the day after he agreed to marry her. Once the blush of happiness wore off, she realized that he didn't love her. They were friends. And if Earth abandoned the colonization project and left them stranded here, he'd rather partner with her than Sabine, his only other choice. Not exactly the stuff of love songs. He didn't love her now, but she'd told herself to be patient. Not to press him. Eventually he'd come around. Now she'd uttered those taboo words.

  "I'm sorry," she said into the com. "I'm just tired. If you're willing, look for signs of animals or insects new to the area. Be careful. Wear the suits. And take someone with you."

  "I will. If I can get Gary to unlock my cell." He laughed, but even over the com it sounded forced. "Listen, you'll figure this out. But take care of yourself too. After all, you owe me a dinner."

  Dinner. She was so hungry she felt queasy. After she clicked off the com, she opened a packet of unpleasant-tasting crackers and sat down to work, as half her brain played and replayed the exchange with Edwin.

  Blanca's terror took the form of a jaguar. Black as deep space, she described it. With a smell of rotten meat. The thoughts of that turned Elizabeth's stomach.

  She'd already begun various neural treatments. One of the blocker combos had temporarily transformed Dustin's wolf into a tail-wagging puppy, but temporarily wasn't good enough. He and Mirek suffered dizzy spells, even while lying in bed, even without wolves pacing back and forth at the foot of their beds, or bears rearing up to their full fearsome height. If she didn't get their blood pressure up, their organs might eventually start shutting down. She'd started them on antibiotics, just in case they were barking up the completely wrong tree, and treated their symptoms as best she could.

  Then, while hunting through the database for an article she remembered on homeopathic toxin cleanses, a wave of nausea she'd been trying to ignore hit full force. She barely made it to the bathroom.

  Holly came in after her. "What am I supposed to do alone?"

  "I'm not dead yet," Elizabeth answered, as she
tried not to imagine all the animals that frightened her.

  Half an hour later, as she was emptying another blocker combo into Mirek's IV bag, someone screamed from the back room, where they'd set up Dustin and Jasmine on adjacent cots.

  Elizabeth moved too quickly. Her stomach flipped and she lost the rest of its contents into the waste basket she'd been carrying around under her arm. By the time she reached the back room, the screams had become less terrified and more indignant. Holly stood, wielding a broom like a baseball bat over her shoulder, looking around.

  "Get it off me!" Jasmine screamed, reaching, apparently, for the invisible cobra around her belly.

  "It's gone," Dustin kept repeating. "Baby, it's gone."

  "You're not seeing her snake now, are you?" Elizabeth asked Holly, who still hadn't lowered the broom.

  Holly shook her head.

  "Look," Jasmine screamed, lifting her shirt. For a moment, Elizabeth didn't see the blood against the black skin of her stomach. "He sunk his horrible teeth right into me. Get it off!"

  Elizabeth stumbled, dizzy, over to the cot. She knelt down -- stooping would only make her fall -- and examined Jasmine's stomach. Bite marks, it looked like. Real bite marks. They were all going crazy.

  Holly stood behind her. "It was a rat. Nasty creature. Bulgy eyes. Needley teeth." She shuddered. "Gnawing into her."

  It was Dustin who retched this time. Elizabeth barely held herself together. Her head spun. A rat. Earth rats didn't generally attack healthy people. But what if a New Eden rat made its victim unhealthy?

  "Where did it go?" she demanded.

  "I don't know. Over there somewhere." Holly pointed to a standing cabinet. "It was so fast."

  "We have to find it." Elizabeth pushed herself up and ran to the nearest console, punching in the code to lock the doors and windows.

  "You think . . ." Holly trailed off.

  "Yes. I think it's our culprit. I need it to make the antivenom."

  "Rats don't make venom."

  "Maybe they do here." She punched Edwin's code on the com. "Found anything?"