ZOE ALAKIS
Years ago, Zoe had withdrawn from human society and barricaded herself behind protective walls on Pergamus. For the first half of her life, she had been exposed to countless dangers, infections, and insidious microorganisms; once sheltered in her sterile dome, though, she had never intended to emerge.
But when Tom Rom was dying from the Onthos plague, Zoe had not been able to tolerate being apart from him. He had contracted the disease while on a mission for her, and she could not let him die alone. In that extreme crisis, Zoe had faced her fear and left the sterile dome for the first time in years. Though terrified with every breath she inhaled, every surface she touched, she had survived that ordeal. And it had been worth the risk just to clasp Tom Rom’s hand when he recovered.
Afterward, she retreated to her dome, reduced to cold shudders, vowing she would never leave that safe womb again.
But, now she had to, or risk losing it all. Pergamus was exposed, and she was going on the offensive. Zoe would set the rules and define her future relationship with the King and Queen. If she waited for the Confederation to impose terms, then she would lose.
Tom Rom was not pleased with her decision, but he acceded to it. Though she would travel to Theroc, he would not allow her to take unnecessary risks. She wore an armor-reinforced, biochem-filtered, and triply sterilized containment suit that would protect her every moment she was away from Pergamus. She would face King Peter and Queen Estarra in person, but only through the layers of her suit.
They left the secure facility under heavy mercenary guard; her research teams worked under full lockdown with automated sterilization systems engaged. If her gambit was successful, they would be able to keep working without interruption; if not, they were prepared to evacuate and vaporize their research behind them.
As Tom Rom flew them toward Theroc, she was reminded of their early years after leaving Vaconda, a young orphan and an unwavering protector.
When they arrived at the Confederation’s capital, he guided them through commercial and diplomatic traffic, passing the enormous verdani battleships that hung in orbit as thorny guardians. Zoe grew impatient to take care of this matter. She also wanted to pore over all the Onthos data she had been missing for so long. For that she had to face the King and Queen. Immediately.
She used the comm herself. “My name is Zoe Alakis in charge of the Pergamus facility, here at the request of King Peter and Queen Estarra. Their representative, Rlinda Kett, requested our records and research relating to the medical condition of Prince Reynald.” She felt as if she were tearing the words from her throat. “I have brought all relevant data with me and will discuss terms—but only in person.”
* * *
The worldforest festered with life: plants, fungi, insects. The air was a stew of pollen, dust, gnats, and countless microscopic threats. She clung to the protection of her isolation suit, shocked that Tom Rom didn’t even seem bothered by the viral and bacterial threats all around him.
Mostly naked green priests bounded across the boughs and scaled the worldtree trunks, obliviously exposing themselves to countless hazards. She stared through her faceplate, astonished at how foolish they were—and some of them stared back, amused by the bulky isolation suit that she wore as if she worked at a radioactive waste depot.
Entering the fungus-reef governmental structure, Tom Rom accompanied Zoe as her bodyguard. He was unarmed, but he would have faced an army to protect her if necessary. Knowing he was there gave her the strength she needed, and she did not flinch when she presented herself to the King and Queen.
Zoe addressed them through her suit comm. “Pergamus is engaged in numerous medical research projects, and your representative requested information about your son’s disease.”
Queen Estarra straightened. “Yes, we put out the call for help months ago, and countless researchers are studying the problem. If Pergamus has the key to a possible treatment, we welcome any information you can share with us. Maybe you have the missing piece our other researchers need to help Prince Reynald.”
“Maybe I do,” Zoe said.
Beside her, Tom Rom remained like a statue.
The King made an obvious effort to keep his voice congenial rather than challenging. “Why do you wear a protective environment suit? Do you suffer from an immune deficiency?”
Zoe’s voice remained hard. “I could just as well ask why you allow yourself to be exposed to so many potential diseases … diseases such as the one your son contracted.”
Estarra said, “We didn’t know your facility existed until recently. Who funds your research?”
“I fund it. Personally and privately, and I conduct whatever work interests me. Pergamus is an unaligned, independent, and uninhabitable planet. We are not part of the Confederation. You have no jurisdiction over us, and yet your representative made veiled threats against us.” She waited to see how they would respond.
The Queen said, “If you share all your research relevant to the Prince’s affliction, we will be more grateful than we can express. You can understand our concern for our son.”
“We are also concerned about possibly dangerous research,” Peter added. “We need to ensure the safety of Confederation citizens.”
“I conduct medical research under my own authority. My studies are performed by teams of well-respected scientists, under the most rigorous quarantine protocols and sterilization procedures, all of which exceed the Confederation’s highest standards.”
“We are most interested in a cure for Reynald,” Estarra said. “Do you have any promising results?”
“Perhaps,” Zoe said. “But I do not intend to give you this vital and hard-won medical information. Rather, I propose a mutually beneficial arrangement. I will trade all of the Pergamus data on the microfungus infection for three things.”
Estarra said, “If it is in our power, we will do so.”
“What three things?” Peter asked quickly.
Tom Rom gave Zoe a curious look, but she faced forward. Inside the containment suit, she was sweating, but the life-support systems exchanged the air, cleaned it, cooled down her temperature, scrubbed and expelled any waste and contaminants.
“First, you must agree to leave Pergamus alone. The fact that you know of our existence is a threat. I want a Confederation guarantee that no troops will be sent to seize my specimens, my data, my scientists, or my property.”
Peter frowned. “Provided you pose no threat to the Confederation or its people, I can agree to that. But my promise will be void if you ever release any dangerous organism or sell biological agents to a potential antagonist. In that case, the Confederation will respond with the full resources available.”
Zoe let out a dry laugh. “King Peter, for years I have made every effort to guarantee that no one has access to any of my work. Giving you even this one subset of my data is a severe breach of my principles.”
Queen Estarra seemed relieved. “The second thing?”
“I understand that the industrialist Lee Iswander delivered a complete database of the Onthos species, the plague they suffered, and all the symptoms of the humans exposed to that disease on the derelict space city. In an open exchange of information, I would like a copy of that data.”
“Done,” Estarra said. “Iswander provided that information on the condition that it be freely shared.”
“What is your third condition?” Peter asked.
Tom Rom was looking at Zoe, eyebrows raised. He didn’t know what she intended to demand, but she was certain he would approve.
“You say you’re concerned that our Pergamus research might pose a danger to the Confederation. And yes, my specimens include deadly biological pathogens, but you face a far greater threat to the safety of your citizens—a place where virulent diseases and illicit treatments are openly traded, where biomerchants can be bought at any price, where curesellers offer useless palliatives at exorbitant prices to sufferers who have so little hope they are willing to pay any fee. This place is a hotbed of biological hazards, an outbreak waiting to happen—and it exists outside of Confederation jurisdiction or control.” She hardened her voice. “This is unacceptable to me, as it should be to you.”
Tom Rom’s eyes widened marginally, but she also saw a faint upturn of his lips, as he understood.
Peter looked alarmed. “What is this place?”
“It is called Rakkem, a disaster inside a pressure cooker, ready to explode. You must shut it down. That is my final requirement for delivering all my data on the Prince’s disease.”
“We can provide coordinates,” Tom Rom said, speaking for the first time.
Estarra’s face darkened, and she looked at Peter. “If that’s true, then by all means we should deal with Rakkem, whether or not our son’s cure depends on it.”
Peter leaned forward on his throne. “What do you have at stake there? Are they your competition? Why do you want us to shut down Rakkem?”
“Because I despise them.” Zoe paused. “They murdered my brothers and sisters.” She did not elaborate.
As she watched their reaction, she knew they would accept the terms, and she felt relieved. The CDF would not threaten to impound and shut down Pergamus, she would get the data she wanted, and disgusting Rakkem would be closed down.
All in all, a good bargain.
“You have my word,” Peter said. “Is that enough for you to provide your data to us now? Time is of the essence.”
“I believe so,” Zoe said.
“Thank you,” Queen Estarra said. “We will disseminate your data to all the research teams.” Zoe cringed inside at the thought of her hard work being shared so widely, out of her control, but she did not interrupt. It was a sacrifice she had to make.
Peter said, “Prince Reynald is currently on Kuivahr pursuing other possible treatments. Your data may be useful to Tamo’l and her fellow researchers. We’ll see that they have copies as well.”
Tom Rom spoke up. “Then I will personally deliver our records to Kuivahr. I’ve had previous business with Tamo’l, and it is time that I return there.”