Endurance: The Complete Series Read online

  Doctor Decay was sitting up on the medical bed. The various equipment used to revive him had been moved to one side of the room. The zombie’s flesh was now a (presumably) healthy orange, his eyes no longer milky, but red. The claws on his extra fingers had turned from pallid grey to deep amber. The liver spots on his bald head remained a dark brown, but even that color looked healthier. His frayed tan jumpsuit had been replaced with a shirt and slacks that looked like they’d been donated by Archibald Cleaver. Only the memory of the shambling corpse reminded Viktor that the man had been dead not a day earlier.

  The doctor’s red eyes widened as Viktor entered, and he took a raspy breath. “You,” he croaked, in words that sounded like rocks simmering in a pot. The talkie box on the bed next to him translated. “I know you.”

  Viktor looked at Captain Withers, Maureen, and Chris Fish, the only other people in the room, noting the absence of security. He suspected Areva was hiding somewhere behind the equipment, and gave the captain credit for not making their patient uncomfortable with obvious armed officers around.

  “Yes,” he answered. “We brought you here.”

  The zombie lifted his orange hands and stared at them. “You cured it. You revived me.”

  Maureen smiled. “You weren’t completely dead. Your brain was still functioning. We just turned the rest of you back on.”

  “But the plague, the one the knights of the blood armor dropped on us—”

  “The what?” asked Chris.

  Viktor felt a chill. “Do you mean the—”

  Captain Withers shot them both a sharp look. “The plague appears to be gone,” he told the doctor.

  “Gone?” asked the zombie.

  “Yes. It must have dissipated once all your people had been infected. By then, though, you’d all taken the zombie drug. None of you were coherent enough to realize it was safe.”

  “Ah,” said the alien doctor, staring at his hands again. “That makes sense.”

  “We found some of your records,” said Viktor. “Your planet is called Thassis.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you called?”

  The doctor inhaled, exhaled slowly. “Drugugo,” he said. “That was—is—my name.”

  Withers nodded. “Drugugo, how much do you remember of your time as a ...”

  “Zombie,” finished Chris.

  “Infected,” the captain said with another glare.

  Drugugo shook his head. “It all feels like a blur. I remember sensations—vague recognitions of people, distant thoughts about what had become of us, half-conceived plans to repair the damage, but my mind was empty. It felt like floating. I was not capable of any real action.”

  “Your people attacked us,” Viktor said. “That is active.”

  Drugugo frowned. “Did we? I must apologize for that. In the initial stages of the drug’s influence, patients are driven to spread it to others, either by injecting them or by transferring bodily fluids, but that side effect should have worn off long ago. Perhaps some dormant aspect of it was triggered when you arrived.” He peered at them. “You’re immune to it, aren’t you? And to the plague that was in the air.”

  “Yes,” said most of the humans in the room.

  “God, I hope so,” said Chris.

  “What did the plague do?” the captain asked.

  “It killed us,” Drugugo answered. “Forced our bodies to shut down, slowly, with unimaginable pain. It drove a tenth of our population insane before we managed to distribute the drug. We treated all of the patients in our hospital before injecting ourselves. Other hospitals around the planet did the same. It spread from there.”

  “That is a rather extreme measure,” said Viktor.

  “The blood armored ones wanted us dead. We found a way to let them have their way, but retain some semblance of our society.”

  “Who are they?” asked Viktor. “These ‘knights of the blood armor.’ Your records said the plague was caused by government mistakes. It made no reference to invaders.”

  Drugugo shuddered. “They came from the stars, their bodies all in red armor. I don’t know what demands they made of the government, but the Wogogo administration refused to surrender. So they tried to wipe us out. Some of our people infiltrated their warships and learned what they intended to do. They were captured and killed, but their valor gave us the chance to develop the, as you call it, ‘zombie’ drug to save our society. There was no mention in the records because there was no need. Everyone saw the star-shaped ships in the sky. Everyone knew what had happened.”

  Viktor knew of only one spacefaring species with star-shaped ships, red armor, and the technology to come to Thassis and unleash this kind of destruction. “We know these invaders.”

  The captain’s posture was stiff. “Yes, we do. They call themselves the Haxozin Sovereignty. How long ago did they attack you? Have they been back?”

  “I had no sense of time under the drug,” said Drugugo, rubbing the largest of his liver spots. “But given the state of my clothes when I awakened, I would guess no more than a year ago. As for coming back, I do not think so. If they had, I doubt my people would still be here.”

  The captain’s face was grim. “This isn’t the first time we’ve encountered them. Hell, it’s not even the second or third. They’re a menace.”

  “It seems so. I dread the thought of what they will do if they rediscover us.”

  Viktor seized the opportunity. “We are at war with them. You can help.”

  The captain shot him a warning look and then said the exact same thing, if a bit more delicately. “It’s not an open war. We scrap with them whenever we find one of their outposts. But their technology outmatches ours. Frankly, so does yours, and it seems we share them as a common enemy. We’d appreciate any help your people can give, especially seeing how advanced your medical science is. You’re the closest thing we’ve seen to people who’ve foiled their plans. Besides us, I mean.”

  Drugugo nodded. “Of course. We would love to see the blood armored ones defeated. You are welcome to any help we can offer.” He peered toward the door, red eyes squinting. “Did you revive the others? Where are the rest of my people?”

  “Still outside,” said Withers. “We wanted to make sure this cure worked on you before trying it on a larger scale.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  “We’re about due to report back to our home. You’re welcome to come with us, and once we let our people know what’s going on here, they’ll send more ships and we can—”

  “No.” Drugugo’s orange features abruptly turned a darker shade. “I will not abandon my people in this state. Teach me what you did to revive me, and I will start curing them while you are away.”

  “We used a topically-applied viral stimulant,” said Maureen. Every eyebrow rose to hear her use those words that confidently.

  Drugugo’s face fell. “That will take a great deal of time to administer to each individual.”

  “Exactly,” said the captain, “which is why, if you’re willing to wait, we can come back with more helpers—”

  “Can you not cure a few more of them before you leave? I know if my staff were restored to themselves, we could study your drug and perhaps supplement it with our own. We did not finish a cure for this before the drug took effect, but we made significant progress. I know I could make substantial headway in reviving my species if I had the help of my staff. You would not need to cure a large area—perhaps just the clinic.” Seeing the captain’s frown, the doctor continued, “Please. I know you have done much for me already, but this would not take your crew too long. I am only one man. The sooner my people begin to recover, the sooner we can aid you.”

  “He is not wrong,” Viktor murmured to the captain.

  Withers chewed the inside of his cheek. “We don’t have time to treat that many people one by one.”

  “Perhaps a larger scale solution is in order,” said Drugugo. “You said this healing virus works topically, through the skin.
The hospital is equipped with a chemical fire suppression system. Were we to switch your cure for the normal chemicals and then trigger the system—”

  “Everybody would get an anti-zombie bath,” said Matthias, grinning. “Good idea!”

  “You could make this work?” asked the captain.

  “If we can make enough of that Revixothing, sure, Cap.”

  Drugugo watched them with earnest eyes. “Please, Captain. I only want to speed the recovery of my people. As a physician, I’m sure your doctor understands.”

  Maureen smiled blankly before realizing he was directing the comment to her. “Oh! I’m not a doctor, and I am not qualified to give medical advice. I just followed the instructions on the label.”

  “Oh.” The alien pursed his lips, but then elbow-shrugged. “Then, as I seem to be the medical expert present, I hope you understand my desire to help the ailing.”

  The captain sighed and rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other anchored to his waist. “We can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

  “Of course not. I am prepared to take that risk. And you can hardly leave them in a worse state than they are now.”

  Viktor thought that a fair point, and apparently so did Captain Withers. He dropped his hand and nodded. “All right. We’ll give it a try.”

  Drugugo broke into a sharp-fanged smile. “Many thanks, Captain! My people will not forget this.”

  * * *

  Revixophin turned out to procreate like, well, a virus, and the scientists had enough to fill the hospital’s fire suppression system in short order. In the meantime, Drugugo returned to the hospital and checked his own vital signs with his own medical equipment. He pronounced himself perfectly healthy, confirming that the drug worked.

  Viktor assisted the alien in locating the injured hospital personnel and escorting them out of the building so they could avoid being revived and bleeding out from their wounds. He disliked seeing the undead faces again, especially those that had participated in capturing the team on the rotunda. Aware of their actions or not, he’d thought they were trying to kill him, and had responded in kind. Reunions could get awkward.

  Fortunately, none of the zombies paid them any mind. It seemed Drugugo’s presence reassured the undead aliens and countered their “spread the drug” instinct.

  As one last safety measure, Drugugo located a large cache of the zombie drug on the first floor of the hospital. Viktor watched him remove a long plastic cylinder divided into eight tiny compartments, each filled with an equal amount of pale blue fluid. Attached to the cylinder was a pneumatic injection tube that could slide from one compartment to the next for easy treatment of multiple people in a row. Drugugo nodded his approval. “These were kept sealed, so they should still work. If we missed any of the injured, or if some have internal injuries we couldn’t detect on sight, I may have to re-treat them until we can properly care for their wounds.” He replaced the drug cylinder and closed the cache. “Thank you again for your help. I don’t know how long my people would have remained like this if you hadn’t come along.”

  Viktor muttered some polite words and escorted Drugugo to check the progress of the fire suppression system team.

  They were nearly finished. Matthias and a few of the scientists had disconnected the regular fire suppression tank and replaced it with the Revixophin. They ensured a tight seal in the intake valves, and then headed down to the ground floor, where Drugugo ordered the building’s main control unit to activate the sprinklers on every story. (“I still think my fireworks idea would have been cooler,” said Matthias.) As the verdant goo began spraying from the ceiling, the team darted out the door and headed back to the secluded warehouse.

  Once everyone returned to the ship, Viktor escorted Drugugo to the bridge. “If this works,” he said as they climbed the ladder to the top deck, “we will see them appear on thermal sensors as they revive.”

  Drugugo accepted Viktor’s hand to help him off the ladder, then followed the bigger man through the corridors to the bridge hatch. “I cannot thank your people enough. I look forward to our long and fruitful collaboration.”

  Viktor didn’t answer, but his thoughts did. Chris Fish would say that guarantees our failure.

  He hoped the paranoid scientist was wrong.

  The captain was in his chair in the center of the bridge when they entered, the curving row of stations along the front viewports staffed by the three officers of the afternoon shift. The officer in charge of the shift sat in one of the extra seats along the back wall, ready in case the captain should turn the bridge back over to her.

  “Nothing yet,” Captain Withers asked as Ivanokoff came into view. “We’re keeping an eye on it.”

  Viktor noticed the captain’s two O&I shadows were relegated to the back wall seats as well. Their pocket comps were uncharacteristically stowed at their belts, their faces impassive. He wondered what they were thinking.

  “Still no readings,” reported the scanners operator.

  “Let’s give more computing power to thermal,” the captain said. “Might let us pick up fainter readings.”

  “Routing power,” said the defensives crewman.

  “I’ve got it,” said scanners.

  “Restart scan ... now,” said the captain.

  Viktor thought the pause unnecessary, though dramatic.

  A few tense minutes passed. The beeps and hums of the control consoles intruded into the stillness like alarms. Any second, Viktor expected some report of disaster.

  Instead, the scanners officer looked up. “Reading a few faint heat signatures inside the building. We did it, sir!”

  Cheers erupted, and the captain’s features melted into relief and excitement. Viktor allowed himself a small smile and turned to Drugugo. “Congratu—”

  The words died in his throat. “Doctor?”

  Drugugo’s red eyes had faded to a flushed pink, while his orange skin contained patches of pale peach. He clutched his sides with both hands crossed in front of his body, and his breath seemed labored. “What ... why is this ...?”

  Viktor wasted no time in draping the doctor’s arm over his shoulders to support him. “Captain, a problem!”

  Withers had already noticed and was out of his chair, barking orders into his intercom for Maureen and some of the scientists to hurry to the bridge.

  “Pain,” Drugugo hissed in Viktor’s ear. “The pain, I remember, so bad ... feel it now ...”

  A vice tightened around Viktor’s chest. “The cure may not be holding,” he told Withers. “He feels pain.”

  He saw the impact of his words on the captain’s face. In a dark corner of the bridge, the two suits pulled out their pocket comps and begin tapping notes again. The one with the twitchy eye formed the shadow of a grim smile.

  No time to worry about that. Viktor began hauling Drugugo toward the hatch to meet the medical people halfway. The doctor kept rambling. “You said it was gone ... said the plague was gone ... so much pain ...”

  “This is not our fault,” Viktor said.

  “Why? Why kill us?”

  “We wish you no harm.”

  “So much pain!” Drugugo suddenly seized up as a tremor shook his entire body. He wrenched free of Viktor’s grasp and stumbled back against the wall, spasming violently. His fanged mouth opened in a scream that resonated through Viktor’s bones.

  When the seizure subsided and the doctor again opened his eyes, the whites had been replaced by bloodshot pink. The sharp teeth bared, and he pointed an accusatory orange-splotched finger at Viktor. “Finish what you started, red ones! Just end it!”

  It took Viktor a second to realize what he meant. When he did, his skin went cold. “Captain, he thinks we are the Haxozin.”

  Another scream and spasm of pain, and Drugugo launched himself at Viktor, hands shaped into claws, jaws snapping.

  Viktor leapt out of the way, his own hands coming up to defend himself as he spun to one side. Drugugo followed, moving jerkily as pain twisted his body
, his sharp teeth aiming for Viktor’s jugular. He lunged again, and Viktor stumbled back against the bulkhead. The sharp extra fingers sliced toward his throat.

  Quick reactions trapped the alien’s wrists in Viktor’s larger hands, but still the lieutenant struggled to fend off the snarling man. “We are ... not ... your enemies!” he grunted.

  Drugugo didn’t respond. Viktor doubted he even heard.

  He vaguely made out shouts from the other officers and hoped they were scrambling to help. His arms shook with the effort of holding back Drugugo. Older and less muscular the doctor might be, but his pain, or his rage, gave him immense strength. Viktor’s heart pounded in his throat, his vision entirely filled with the gnashing teeth, the pink eyes. He let out a yell and shoved Drugugo back, giving himself space to move away from the wall.

  The doctor leapt for him again.

  Splitting reports shattered Viktor’s eardrums.

  He winced, bringing a hand up to his head. He struggled to regain his breath and looked around the bridge.

  Captain Withers, the helmswoman, and the defensives officer all held standard-issue p-guns. All three had clearly just fired.

  Drugugo dropped to the deck, three holes in his chest. Rocky breaths wheezed in and out of his damaged lungs.

  The captain tapped his intercom interface. “Habassa, do you have the zombie drug samples we took from that hospital?” He paused. “Good. Bring them to the bridge. We need to re-kill the doctor to save his life.”

  * * *

  Thomas stood over Maureen as she injected the zombie drug into Drugugo’s arm. The doctor had lost consciousness quickly after being shot, and Thomas could see his breath becoming shallower. He hoped his idea worked, or he’d be responsible for killing this man. Twice.

  “I don’t understand,” said Chris Fish. “We checked the air. There’s no plague up there, I’d bet my life on it. In fact, I have. Doctor Decay himself said his vital signs were fine! So why did he succumb to it again?”