Vanguard by CJ Markusfeld

Republic’s future workforce. They belong to me.”
    “You will have your workforce, Commandant. Only the very old, young, and weak catch bacterial pneumonia. They aren’t useful to you anyway.” Sophie looked at him slyly. “As long as it does not spread to the healthy young men – the most valuable workers – you’ve no cause for concern.” For a second, she saw his eyes change. Then he went back to his usual smiling self.
    Sophie had found Commandant Jaros’ motivation.
     
    ~~ - ~~
     
    For the first time, the medical team spent the night in Parnaas. For security reasons, they usually left the camp at sundown to return to Soviet territory for the night. Sophie debated ordering them back, but there was no point. Anjali would not leave patients in this kind of a crisis. Will was beside himself with fear for his wife. Sophie took one look at him that evening and decided to give him a job the next day to distract him as much as possible.
    She spent half the night reworking the mission plan and allocating the new staff they’d obtained from the local NGOs. Found a truck and driver to pick up the needed supplies in Kaliningrad. Paced the floor in her office. Stared at the agar plates, as if looking at them could somehow speed the culturing process.
    Late in the night, she received an email from Alex. She stared blankly at the note, not understanding why he was writing with all this stuff about the quirks of Soviet patriarchal society. Then she remembered the question she’d sent the night before. Sophie reread his response with new interest, then did more research online. Very intriguing. She dragged herself to bed around 2 a.m., her eyes feeling like sand.
    She slept badly, dreaming once again that the camp was empty. The door to the infirmary banged in the wind. Everyone was gone – the refugees, Anjali, Will, the Commandant. She screamed for Michael, but there was no answer. From anyone.
     
    ~~ - ~~
     
    February 11, 2014
     
    The next day was hell.
    In the plus column, the new medical building was nearly complete. The workers they’d brought in the previous day had made great progress, and the winter morning rang with hammers. It wasn’t pretty, but it had a roof.
    But the other column had marks in it too. Raj reported that ten more patients had died of the pneumonia during the night, and another six were unlikely to live out the day. Twenty-seven new cases had come in overnight, and the day had just begun.
    Twelve more hours until they had the cultures.
    Jim’s search teams turned up half a dozen new cases before lunch, most among the elderly. Many of these patients resisted being taken to the infirmary, convinced that the Soviets would find a way to kill them there. It made Sophie think of Signe and her bitter hatred of the Soviet Republic. To add insult to injury, it had snowed nearly six inches overnight.
    Jaros observed Sophie with great interest. “You remain confident.”
    “Of course,” she replied. “We’re taking the right steps. I have faith in my teams. We will succeed.” Most of this was true. They were doing the right things, and she had total faith in the people on this mission. She just wished she knew for sure they could get this thing stopped. But damned if she would show any weakness to this bastard.
    “Now what will you do?”
    She turned in her chair and smiled. “Now, Commandant?” Don’t let him see how much effort this takes! “I think I will take lunch. Will you join me?”
    He eyed her for a moment, then laughed. “I’m impressed,” he chortled. “Not only cool headed and confident in a crisis, but firmly in the seat of power. Many would not be able to resist being in the thick of things by now. You are wiser.” He called to his guards and ordered them to bring food. “It is truly a shame that you were not born a Soviet man, Sophie. I would have you for my second-in-command myself.”
     
    ~~ - ~~
     
    Commandant Jaros and Sophie sat across from each other as usual