“We need to know what exactly it was you did, Lieutenant Ocham, just so we can be prepared for any possible side effects.”

“Essentially, sir, I simulated a tranquilizer, a fairly strong one, so as to put him out quickly, so you can expect only what side effects a normal sedative would cause. That, and a fair amount of exhaustion, as he was pouring out a high level of energy. Captain Polly tells me he may be a bit listless for perhaps a day after the tranq wears off.”

“Alright, thank you for your help, Lieutenant. We will keep you informed.”

The doctor replaces the headset and turns to face Atlas and Reefer. “I’ve had them send over Captain Westerly’s medical chart, but it could be possibly an hour before we receive it; Banse is experiencing a fairly severe wind storm. Is there anything either of you can tell me in the meantime about his medical history, or any allergies?”

Atlas shakes his head. “I—I’m sorry, I was just Re-Organized, and—”

“He has Oliver’s.” Reefer says, folding and unfolding his hands nervously. “Lieutenant Jase Charter is his primary care physician, and his power of attorney, but he’s unconscious, at Lahny.”

“Oliver’s? What’s O—”

“You’re certain?” The doctor interrupts, looking vaguely unsettled. “Oliver’s is very rare; less than a one in one hundred thousand occurrence rate.”

“You can test him, if you’d like, but he’s had it as long as I’ve known him.”

“Of course he has; a person does not ‘catch’ Oliver’s, they are born with it. Do you know when he was last hospitalized?”

“Dr. Morgan? Nurse Waylan said you would want to have these.” A nurse pauses at the door, a lightweight chain spilling out of her hand. Morgan beckons her in and holds out a hand. Luke’s dog tags, identical to Reefer’s own with the exception of a storm cloud as opposed to water drop inscribed in the lower corner, and a third tag, double sided.

“Thank you, Patty. Please, don’t spread this around? We don’t want the captain’s room to turn into a viewing gallery.”

“Of course doctor.”

Morgan holds the third tag up for Reefer and Atlas to see. “All Oliver’s patients wear one of these; with their dog tags if they’re Fleet, and alone if not. It has every single hospital visit listed by date and severity. A dot indicates precautionary hospitalization, a diamond a moderately severe episode, a star a brush with death. No indicator means it was merely a check up.”

“Doctor, I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I’ve never heard of this before.”

“Lieutenant…?”

“Lane, sir. Andrachna class of 80.”

“As I mentioned before, Oliver’s is exceptionally rare; the majority of physicians will never encounter a patient. Therefore, it isn’t taught at the Academies, or Institutes. Should a doctor come across such a patient, a doctor who has dealt with the disease will take over, and they will assist and learn. Also, most people with Oliver’s will die undiagnosed, at a very young age. It presents with an extremely compromised immune system, difficulty maintaining core temperature, fragile skin, low blood pressure, and difficulty clotting. Captain Westerly here is one of two Oliver’s sufferers in the Fleet, the other being Captain name.”

Atlas tries, tries and fails, to hide his shock. He glances over at Luke, muttering and twitching in his ‘sleep’, bruises peppering his face and neck.

“Oldest living is 36, and he isn’t expected to see out the end of the year. Life expectancy is slightly under thirty-three years, depending on the number and severity of incidences. For someone like Luke, who’s such a severe case, its closer to mid-twenties.” Morgan sighs, rolling Luke’s tags almost absently as he talks. “It’s a brutal disease, make no mistake.”

“You-you’ve seen it before?” Atlas asks, eyes flicking between Luke and Morgan, and he looks ill.

“Twice. First time, I assisted Dr. Hermon, one of your professors, I believe. And about three years ago, Julia Lawrence, Commander Lawrence’s wife, was admitted here with a cold.”

“Is this related then?”

“No.” Reefer says, firmly, sharply, and both Morgan and Atlas turn to him, surprised. “I’ve seen him sick before; hell, I’ve admitted him to the hospital myself; this isn’t what it’s like. This definitely isn’t what it’s like.”

“The loss of control that comes with a patient’s contracting a virus can present in a thousand different ways, captain. It’s entirely possibly this is just one way it happens.”

“No,” He repeats, almost angrily. “Not everything about Luke is the Oliver’s.”

“I never said it was,” Morgan says soothingly. “But the likelihood that this is connected is very high.”

“He was fine a couple of hours ago. Absolutely fine.”

“Things can change very quickly with this disease. That’s just one of the reasons why it’s so dangerous. For now, until I get his full chart, he regains consciousness, or Lieutenant Charter does, we are going to have to assume it is related, start testing and broad spectrum antibiotics. It’s always better safe than sorry where Oliver’s is concerned, and the antibiotics will only do him good, even if this is unrelated. First, we need to give him an alcohol bath, to get rid of any contaminants, and I’m going to see if we can’t raise his core temperature a degree or two. If you’d like to stay, the officers’ waiting room is down the hall, just follow the signs, and either way we’ll keep you informed.”

Reefer glances at Atlas, who nods. “We’ll stay.”

Previous: Scene 3-VIII

Scene 3-XI

Next: Scene 3-X