A Forest of Stars - Kevin J. Anderson [30]
Basil did not like loose ends. He would invest the necessary expense in stardrive fuel, find a small ship that wasn’t being used for any important matters.
He ran a finger along his chin, pondering. Then he remembered his alien sociologist and spy, Davlin Lotze, who had been sent to the abandoned Ildiran colony of Crenna. Pretending to be an average settler, Lotze had surreptitiously looked under rugs, probed into corners, lifted subtle clues about the Ildiran civilization. By now, he’d had enough time to complete his job there.
Yes, Lotze would be perfect for this job. Basil decided to turn him loose on Rheindic Co to find out what had happened to the archaeologists.
13
DAVLIN LOTZE
At the urgent town meeting, Davlin Lotze silently listened to settlers who wanted to flee Crenna. “We’ve got to get out of here before we all die of the epidemic! It’s the Ildiran plague again!”
Davlin knew it was unlikely that the same biological infection would be compatible with human DNA, but he couldn’t reveal how much he understood about genetics. After all, he was supposedly just a farmer and a civil engineer.
Davlin lived alone in an abandoned Ildiran dwelling he had claimed for himself. He was a tall dark-skinned man with a muscular frame and a soft voice. His left cheek was faintly scarred from an accident with an exploding glass bottle; the marks were a bit more distinctive than he preferred, but he had learned how to draw no particular attention to himself. It was a spy’s job to blend in.
He had helped his fellow settlers install waterworks, sewers, weather stations, and electrical conduits as they rebuilt the damaged colony’s infrastructure. During the epidemic that had driven the Ildirans from Crenna, the alien colonists had burned buildings and ruined generators and substations. They had fled this world in a panic.
And now, five years later, a new mysterious sickness was sweeping through Crenna’s human settlers at an alarming rate. The victims suffered a debilitating respiratory infection, and a rash of alarming orange circles blossomed across their legs and shoulders. When one old man died from “Orange Spot,” the anxiety reached a new pitch.
At the town meeting, one of the colony doctors stood, very short in stature with large owlish eyes. Her face was gray from exhaustion, but she wore a small smile that seemed out of place and an expression of weary relief. “I think I have good news.” She didn’t notice the eager indrawn breaths. “After analyzing samples from fifteen victims of Orange Spot, my team and I have isolated the infectious organism. I’m happy to say that it’s completely unrelated to the virus that causes Ildiran blindness fever.”
On a portable projection screen she displayed several electron micrographs showing blobs and strange shapes. Davlin recognized human blood cells along with large unfamiliar masses. “Orange Spot is a simple amoeboid monocellular creature, not as tough as a virus or even a bacterium. In humans it affects mainly the skin and the lungs. It’s probably in the water or in something we harvested, a natural part of Crenna’s ecosystem.”
“Is it going to kill us all?” asked someone.
“No, but you might have to get used to your orange spots.” The doctor smiled a little more. “That symptom is an inflammation of the skin and a discoloration of melanin. Possibly permanent, but not too dangerous.”
“But my Arkady is dead!” an old woman said.
“Arkady already had scarred lung tissue, and he was particularly vulnerable. Orange Spot is as serious as, say, pneumonia. But treatable, too. All we require is a broad-spectrum antiamoebic. I have some samples in my pharmacy, but not enough to treat the whole population.”
“Well, we can’t just run to the local drugstore and pick up a prescription,” grumbled another colonist.
A man named Branson Roberts, one of the newest colony members, stood. “I can.” He was a thin and lanky