View from Ararat by Brian Caswell Page B

CLINICAL CRYSTALLOGRAPHY
    # CRIOS POSTMORTEM/PATHOLOGICAL STUDIES
    # DESCRIPTION OF THE POSSIBLE ORIGINS AND SYMPTOMS ASSOCIATED WITH COSTA RICAN ISOMORPHOUS OSSIFICATION SYNDROME (CRIOS), ALSO KNOWN AS ‘CRYSTAL DEATH’
    # DISEASES OF EXTRATERRESTRIAL/UNKNOWN ORIGIN
    # ELECTRON MICROSCOPE STUDIES OF CRIOS SEED-CRYSTAL SAMPLES
    # FOMITE DISEASE-TRANSMISSION FACTORS (COMPARATIVE DATA – GASTRO-BACTERIA/STAFF/E-COLI/TETANUS/HEPATITIS/CRIOS)
    # HAEMATOLOGY (cf: ECCENTRIC BLOOD PATHOLOGY)
    # INORGANIC CONTAMINANTS – TREATMENT REGIMENS
    # QUARANTINE PROCEDURES – INCURABLE/FATAL INFECTIOUS DISEASES
    # SUGGESTED METHODS FOR CONTROL OF ANY FUTURE CRIOS OUTBREAK (ITEMS CC001–CC041) – CLINICAL TRIALS
    # VESTA – OPERATIONAL PARAMETERS (GHO ALPHA [LEVEL SEVEN] CLEARANCE REQUIRED)
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    â€˜Level Seven! Christ . . .’ I let the words leak out, without realising I was talking aloud.
    â€˜What?’
    I don’t think Galen was actually reading the screen. Like I said, fourteen hours without a break. I’d felt his eyes on me all the time I was reading, but I was trying to ignore it. Something was happening that hadn’t been a factor in all the years I’d known him, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Especially not with everything else that was going on around us. I was trying to stay focused.
    â€˜Vesta again,’ I replied. ‘They slapped a Level Seven clearance on it. That’s like . . . I don’t know . . . national security, impending war, that kind of thing.’
    â€˜But,’ he began, then stopped, searching for the right words. ‘Why would they need to? I mean, it’s already a Level Five – need to know. No one lower than a section leader would ever lay eyes on the report anyway. And even then only if they were directly involved, so . . .’
    â€˜So what exactly is Vesta? Who ever gets a Level Seven clearance, except . . .’ This time I trailed off. I looked at Galen and he looked back.
    â€˜Except the military, and Security operatives. And members of the board. Charlie, I’m getting a really bad feeling about this.’
    Like we didn’t have one before!
    For a few seconds there was silence in the room.
    In the corridor outside someone was whistling. It was an out-of-tune, barely recognisable rendition of ‘Ain’t it great?’
    â€˜Charlie . . .’ Galen was shaking my shoulder and tapping my cheek with the flat of his hand. ‘Charlie, wake up.’
    This was a pointless instruction, considering he’d made it just about impossible to do anything else.
    I opened my eyes.
    And right away I was wide awake. The look on his face was enough to trigger a sudden flash of adrenalin, driving the sleep from my brain.
    He looked like someone who’s just been kicked in the guts – and knows he deserves worse.
    â€˜We blew it,’ he said, and thumbed the control on his chair, turning back towards the console.
    I sat up and stared at the monitor, but I’d been asleep for . . . I don’t know how long, so I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.
    â€˜You want to explain?’ I asked.
    He looked at me. ‘The blood tests weren’t enough.’ This was old news. But he was just warming up. ‘Fomite transmission. The Research notes confirm it. You pick up the contaminant from touching any object or surface that’s been contaminated. Shit, Charlie, it was there to be seen all the time, and we just looked right past it until it was too late to do anything about it. I should’ve been more—’
    â€˜Cut the dramatics and tell me what you’re talking about!’ I almost shouted. I’m not usually so blunt, but I was suddenly frightened. It wasn’t anything I can explain. I guess it was just the look of desperation I could see in his eyes. ‘We knew all that days ago. What’s changed all of a sudden?’
    He didn’t answer the question.