Blood and Fire by David Gerrold

entered, she pulled off her headset, made sure it was off and tossed it on the table. Brik entered the cabin after her, stooping to fit. There were few places in the starship where he didn’t have to crouch, this wasn’t one of them. He stepped over to a work station and scrunched down before it. He punched in his code and brought up a display for her to see. Dr. Williger stepped up beside them both.
    Brik tapped at the readouts grimly. “Captain Parsons, HARLIE couldn’t say it in the clear. The observed phenomena on the Norway matches the description of plasmacytes.”
    Williger added softly, “Also known as ... bloodworms.”
    Parsons reacted sharply. Bloodworms? But even as she started to deny it in her mind, she could see the truth of it on the faces of Brik and Williger.
    Brik continued dispassionately. “The only recorded plasmacyte infection occurred on the fourth planet of the Regulan system. That planet has been quarantined for nearly 250 years.”
    Williger noted, “HARLIE gets a ninety-three-percent probability match on the symptoms.”
    Parsons accepted the information dully. “Does anyone else know?” she asked.
    â€œNo. It’s double red-flagged. HARLIE is only cleared to tell the captain, the XO, head of security and the chief medical officer. Korie has probably figured it out already. We can alert him on his private channel, but ... we thought we ought to talk it over first.”

    Parsons rubbed her forehead, unhappily. It was one thing to do this in a simulation; it was quite another to have the reality of it growling in your face.
    And Brik still wasn’t through. “Captain,” he said. “We have standing orders ... to effect the complete and total destruction of any infected ship. Including crew and passengers. Rescue is not to be attempted.”
    Williger completed the thought. “Too many ships were lost attempting rescues.”
    Parsons sat down at the table. She put her fingertips together and stared at them. She knew what she was required to do now. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
    Molly Williger put a cup of something hot in front of her. Chicken soup? Parsons looked up at her, and from her to Brik. Her face was ashen. “That was 250 years ago ...” But she was grasping at straws, she knew it.
    â€œThe orders are still in effect,” said Brik.
    Williger sat down at the table then. She reached across the corner and put one hand on the captain’s. “Listen to me. There is no known cure. There is no record that anybody has ever survived plasmacytes ...”
    â€œThe order is clear,” said Brik.
    â€œWe hardly had a chance to work together,” Parsons whispered to herself, looking forward, as if she could see through the bulkheads, through the hulls of the Star Wolf and the Norway . “I don’t even know them.”
    â€œWould that make it easier?” asked Brik.
    Both Parsons and Williger looked to him in annoyance. “Shut up, Brik,” said the doctor.
    â€œI can’t. I’m not ready to give that ... that kind of order,” Parsons said to Williger.
    Williger glanced to Brik.
    Brik looked harder and more implacable than ever. “Captain ... if you refuse to give that order, I’m required to relieve you of command and carry it out anyway.”
    â€œI didn’t say I was refusing to give the order,” she said. “I’m just not ready to give it ... now. We need to talk about this. Think about it.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to talk about,” said Brik. “Nothing to think about. Just do it. It will be easier all around.”
    Parsons’ expression tightened, as if she were reminding herself that she must not kill the bearer of bad news. As tempting as it was. No matter how bad. Parsons looked worriedly forward again and shook her head. She looked abruptly back to Williger. “Wait,” she said. “Just wait a minute.