Dalton, Tymber - Bightmares [Deep Space Mission Corps 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Tymber Dalton

percent of their entire population. “How many men are in your colony?”
    Ilse went quiet. “There were one hundred and three.”
    “Were?”
    “Five have died because of this…whatever it is. Two died, killed in self-defense by their wives when the men went crazy. One was killed by another man who went into a rage. Two more died from wounds they received while raging.”
    The revelation stunned Emi. Nearly forty percent of their men were infected.
    Ilse continued. “Our veterinarian, Dr. Shourpa, she tried to figure it out. The best she could do was eliminate the obvious suspects. It’s not a bacteria or a virus, no biological agent or amoeba or anything like that. She couldn’t detect changes in their blood work from their pre-arrival results. She’s not a human doctor, there was only so much she could do.”
    “And it’s only men, no women, no children?”
    “The youngest infected is sixteen.”
    Emi’s mind raced. “So who is in charge of research now? Of trying to figure it out?”
    Ilse shook her head. “No one. There is no one with the knowledge or skill. Our other human doctor is also infected. The remaining med staff has its hands full trying to manage everyone and keep them alive. They’re using volunteers from other divisions to monitor vital signs, manage IV nutrition, and handle care. We’ve practically had to cease operations because we need our other staff for critical services, and some of them are doing double or triple duty to keep the colony running.”
    “Take us to them.”
    Sam appeared, wearing a protective suit. He carried the transmitter and a bag of tools. Aaron got him started before he followed Emi and Ilse from the building.
    Emi didn’t miss how Aaron hung back and didn’t interfere with her job, although he kept one hand on the butt of the energy pistol strapped to the hip of his protective suit. She also didn’t miss how on edge he felt, hypervigilant to any potential threat to her.
    Ilse talked as they walked across the compound. “I mean, if it was all the males, then I could understand that, and Dr. Shourpa would have a starting point to work from. But it’s not all the men. We haven’t been able to isolate a common factor that would lead us to a diagnosis. Keep in mind, we’ve been here for several years now. Nothing’s changed, there was nothing like an impact from a meteorite or something, nothing. Nothing has changed!”
    Emi doubted that. What she suspected was a change they didn’t recognize, didn’t notice because they lived here.
    But she wondered if she, a stranger to the planet, could find it.

    * * * *

    To say the small medical complex was overcrowded would have been an understatement of Jupiter-sized proportions. Unconscious men were hooked to IV drips, many of which hung on makeshift poles. With only fifteen patient rooms, they had filled those as well as their emergency room triage area and all but one operating room. Dr. Cayce Shourpa looked overwhelmed and exhausted. When Emi shook hands with her, the woman’s deep despair washed through Emi.
    “Thank the gods you’re here!” she cried, hugging Emi. “I just…” She broke down crying. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve done all I can!”
    Emi felt the other reason for her anguish. “Your husband, too?”
    The vet nodded. “He was one of the first.”
    The nurse and med tech, a man by the name of Shello Taber, sat at a desk with Emi. He passed her a hand-held. “Here are all the records we have, all the data we’ve amassed.”
    “You’re not infected? You’ve had no symptoms?”
    “No. I don’t know why some of us are and some aren’t. The new infections were coming at least one or two a day there, sometimes more. I don’t know why they stopped.” Dark circles lined his bloodshot, green eyes. He also neared exhaustion, Emi sensed. “The rest of us men, we isolated ourselves from the women at first, when this started, after Kale and John were killed.” He took a deep breath.