h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

*Dr Popescu arrives in the engine room*

*He spares a quick professional glance at Jamie, turning in the wheel, nods that the tom seems to be holding up all right, even though his clothes are clinging to him from the sweat, and turns to the more immediate problem of innoculating the engine room crew*

*When he has done so, he stays while the crew take Jamison off the wheel, and makes sure that Jamie is conscious, lucid, and being cared for by Sgt Williams, before heading to Construction*

*At the Construction office, Dr Popescu rings the announcer*

Mr Fieldman, are you there? It is Dr Popescu. I am afraid I have orders to innoculate you against meningitis. The entire ship must be innoculated. There is grave danger.

*Quirinus slowly becomes aware that he's being talked to, and his hear beats faster at the word "innoculate"*

*Briefly, he considers pretending he's not in - but that would be nonsense, he can't endanger the ship.*

*Anyway, they'd find him by his comlink.*

*Thinking that at least it's not Castlemaine, he uses a console code to unlock the door.*

Come... </>

*He clears his throat.*

Come in, sir. I'm here.

*He doesn't get up, but swivels in his chair to hastily kick the bedroll under the desk.*

*Dr Popescu - whose bedside manner may be a bit lacking by Gael standards, but whose instincts are honed by avoiding being bitten by Ariel (a dog impossible to muzzle) - crosses to Quirinus and fires a hyperspray into his neck before even speaking*

Good watch, Mr Fieldman. Forgive my presumption, but this was epidemiologically necessary, and I wished to cause you as little unease as possible.

*He sticks the hypospray equipment out of sight quickly in his bag, and smiles*

Many crewmembers are uneasy about such things.

*He studies Quirinus more closely*

I am afraid that I have no authority to do this, Mr Fieldman, but were I your physician I would order you to bed immediately. You are obviously exhausted.

And the innoculation may make you drowsy. It would be best - for you, for the ship, for Construction - if you were to go immediately to your quarters, and sleep.

*He cocks his head thoughtfully*

And I mean *sleep*. A proper Arcadian sleep cycle. You are doing no one a favour by being in this condition.

I realise that, as a mere veterinarian, my advice may have little weight with you. But I am certain a qualified medical officer would give the same advice.

*Quirinus starts and stares at Popescu for a moment, rubbing his neck, barely hearing the words.*

*He rolls the chair backwards until it bumps against the desk, then draws his legs up protectively and hides his face in his hands*

Please don't suggest it! I don't want to hear it. I can't hear it. The master is ill, as is one of the apprentices. The work must get done. </>

*He was afraid this would happen, and attempts to speak as clearly and lucidly as possible.*

*Popescu tempting him makes holding the fort, or the workshop, as it were, no easier. And Ilya had said the man might help...*

*He barely feels his icy fingers on his face, but he had found a state in which he felt nothing, not even the passage of time, and in which it seemed easy to do good work. He hopes to return to it.*

*Jamie calls the Captain on his comlink*

Sir. Cuchulainn says we've done it - the FCE is holding. Reda's all right.

*Sharpe smiles when he hears Jamie's voice*

That'll do, Jamison.

But will it hold?

*Dr Popescu smiles patiently at Quirinus*

My good man, what is the use of this? There is always much work to be done. There is never a good time to be ill, or tired.

But Construction, although valuable, very valuable, is not life support.

If some things do not get done so quickly, this is not a tragedy.

*His eyes twinkle sympathetically*

But having yet another valuable person become ill through overwork, that is in my opinion a tragedy. Please be reasonable, and go to bed, Mr Fieldman. These heroics are not called for.

What would happen to us all if we desperately needed you in an emergency, and you were in your present state?

*Quirinus tries hard not to listen, as his overtired brain will not let him.*

*Here is absolution, only an arm's length away. He could simply go sleep, and tell anyone who protests that it's doctor's orders.*

*But maybe it is a false tempter - one who will betray him, who wishes him harm, who will run and inform the Captain and tell him there's supercargo unwilling to pull its weight, and he would be off the ship...*

*He sways gently on his chair, trying to think, grasping at straws, wishing to show his loyalty by staying here, unwilling to betray the master who, for once, needs him.*

Sir - you don't understand, sir - you can't understand! </>

*He looks deeply ashamed of himself*

I already need three watches for one morning's work, if I take the time off now, I'll -

*Pausing, he gazes sadly at Popescu.*

I'll not catch up. I'll disappoint the master. And with everything he's done for me, I just can't do that.

*He lowers his head again.*

I'm an Arcadian, we can go without sleep for a few of your Starfleet days.

* After having played for a while, Eli is satisfied that all of the workers are in good health. The few regulars that aren't there all left a short time before he arrived, none of them because they felt ill, and there haven't been any shuttles from the Mariposa all day. He tells the men he's still got some work to do, so he says goodbye with a smile and returns to his shuttle. *

* After storing his tablas he activates the computer again and sees Sharpe's message. He can hardly believe what he reads, and so he reads it once more. *

Nobody here but us diplomats, eh, Captain? No great loss if *they* blow up along with the entire planet. Well, I'm sorry for replying at an inconvenient time to your oh-so-comforting message about a "minor epidemic" aboard your beloved ship, and for not knowing about a planetary emergency. How foolish of me not to have noticed it, with everything being so alarmingly *normal* down here, to a mere human, that is. Oh, and before I forget, sorry for being stationed on your ship, and for existing at all. </>

* The rest of his thoughts would be objectionable to the hamsters and therefore shall remain undisclosed. *

* He takes a few minutes to regain his composure before replying. *

To: Captain Sharpe
Re: Your last message

All shuttle field workers seem to be in good health. I'll keep you informed.

Eli Charognard

* He sends it off, and leans back in his chair, wondering if he should send a preliminary report to DIA HQ. He decides to do it anyway, as he has no way to tell whether the planet will blow up or not, and if so, when. He gathers his thoughts and starts to write. *

*Dr Popescu looks pained*

My dear man, I cannot tell you what to do. But in my veterinary practice, if I saw a *Gael tom* in your condition, I would insist on his being let rest.

Of course, you must decide. If your need to keep working is so great, then work you must.

*Dr Popescu is unhappy about this*

But please pace yourself. It seems to me that your efficiency would be greater if you were to rest first.

*He heads for the door*

I must see to my patients now. But if I can help you with anything, please do not hesitate to call me.

*And he is gone*

*Jamie leans his head against the bulkhead, and sighs*

Sir, we don't know. Something's *wrong* down there. As soon as we can, we need to get down there...we need to find out what's wrong...and what to do about it.

*Jamie is struck by a sudden thought, filtering in through the exhaustian he feels*

Sir? This may sound strange...but is there some sort of sickness aboard the ship? Maybe among the humans?

*Quirinus continues the discussion after Popescu is gone - after all, it's almost entirely an argument in his own mind.*

*Finally, he decides he can't go sleep. He doesn't have the energy to deal with what would have to come before, finding a way to keep Hank occupied, someone to delegate responsibility to, going all the way to his quarters, eating something on the way, programming the environmental controls, and a lot of worrying...*

*Sleep is more than he can face without a nap.*

*Still, the strange doctor is right - he needs rest, desperately.*

*Feeling incredibly guilty for leaving part of the day's work undone, he shuts down the console, drags his bedroll back out without bothering to pull it smooth, and collapses on top of it unceremoniously, sure the alarm will wake him in time.*

*Sharpe hears Jamie's voice and smiles*

Do not bother about it Jamison, it is being dealt with by sick bay with the help of your good Dr Popescu , who is a quick hand with the hypospray by the way.

It is viral menningitis, and it is rather unpleasant but not terribly deadly.

We are not officially a plague ship. Just not sure how long these sort of bugs last outide the human body. I'm considering having the ship fumigated by a team from the Intrepid.

*Billy is still drifting in and out of consciousness*

*Sometimes he is aware of others being in the room with him*

*At other times he is completely oblivious.. rambling in his own thoughts about adventures and regulations*

*Jamie jerks awake*

WHAT?

*He shakes his head to clear it*

Er, sorry, sir.

*He leans his head back again, sips water, and tries to think through what the Captain said*

Er, sir. The reason I was asking is that I *saw* the energy of the disease...*on the wheel*.

Sir. That. Is. Bad.

It means the outbreak of, er, viral meningitis? was psychosomatically caused.

*Jamie takes a deep breath, and almost groans aloud*

Sir. It means that not only is the Mariposa affecting Reda...Reda's affecting the Mariposa.

We have to find out what's doing this, before you have more problems, sir.

*Sharpe's voice is suddenly sober, snatched away from his drifting thoughts*

WHAT? Are you sure? The planet's FCE is *that* powerful?

What can we do?

*Sharpe presses the bridge of his nose, realizing that his previous waffling was probably caused by fatigue...that smegging injection*

Oh, smeg. I can't take the ship of orbit. We've got to hold on until The Happy Wanderer gets here. But the crew's safety is at stake, too.</>

*Sgt Harper is still prowling the corridors*

*He is not happy, having endured his innoculation*

*He still hasn't seen Billy and the lad isn't answering his comlink*


.. Blah! He's woyse than Layla! At least she wore her comlinks!..

*Jamie's voice is urgent*

Sir, we've got to find the solution on Reda.

Can we get down there tomorrow, sir? Or are we under quarantine?

*Jamie is exhausted, but trying his best to think clearly here - too much is at stake*

*Sharpe thinks*

We'll probably get a clean bill of health tomorrow. The crew's been innoculated.

*He thnks*

Go to bed, Jamison. Forget Fourth Watch. I'll see you First Watch. We'll work this out.

Get to bed. That's an order.

*Well, what have we here?* *A successful mission for the Mariposa and her sister ship, the Intrepid, all in all* *But an outbreak of viral meningitis aboard the Mariposa, and a knotty engineering problem caused by a recalcitrant FCE in orbit above the otherwise lovely planet of Reda, threaten to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory* *How will Captains Richard Sharpe and Christian Fletcher deal with the challenges of the stardate? Will their leadership skills be sufficient to weather the cosmic storms ahead?* *Will we find out the answer to Jamie�s persistent �at leasts�?* *And will some of the more dilatory crew members learn to pull their socks up, and join the Age of Competence?* *Tune in as these and other questions are raised � and driveled over � in the next installment of Beta rpg, Book the Fourth* http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/brunel/F2624845?thread=2731556&post=31523961#p31523961