Гарри Гаррисон - The Jupiter Plague

“It is not hopeful, it is nothing.” Dr. Hattyar’s angry rumble interrupted. “It is no cure or treatment, just stretching out the time of dying.”

Perkins controlled his temper with an effort. “That may be true, Dr. Hattyar, but I am just summing up roughly. Perhaps this might be a good time for you to inform us about the progress of your immunology team.”

“Results zero.”

“That doesn’t tell us very much.”

“There is nothing much to tell. Until I can isolate an antibody I can do nothing. Rand’s disease is very simple, alpha, beta, gamma, all of them simple in the reactions. The organism either is infected or not. If it is infected it dies. There are no mild forms of the disease and apparently none of the organisms affected is capable of doing anything to combat the antigens. They just die.”

“Could you tell me, Doctor,” Chabel asked, “what you think your chances are, or rather what your prospects are of finding the antibody you need?”

“Zero. Unless a wholly new factor is introduced there is nothing that can be done.”

This time the silence was even more prolonged, and a general request for further reports brought no response; Perkins had to call on the team heads by name. Many of them were not as frank as Hattyar — or could not bring themselves to be so— but their words added up to the same conclusion.

“If I may be allowed to sum up,” Professor Chabel said, and there was a thin quaver to his voice that was caused by more than fatigue now, “we are not in a very good position. We know where Rand’s disease came from, we know how it is spread. We know the first symptoms and we know the final result — which we can only postpone by a few hours at most. We know that none of the infected organisms can generate antibodies to combat it, antibiotics do not stop it, interferon has only a limited effect, and we have no chemical agents capable of destroying it during the course of the disease without fatally injuring the host as well. We also know, and this fact is the most unusual of all, that Rand’s disease can infect certain animals, which in turn can infect their own species or reinfect humans. This is a terrible list of factors, a damning indictment, and about the only thing in our favor is that we can’t infect one another.”

“We can’t — yet…” Nita said, then raised her hand toward her mouth as though regretting that she had spoken aloud. Her words were clearly audible in the quiet room and chairs squeaked as everyone turned to look toward her.

“Would you explain that, Dr. Mendel?” Chabel asked frowning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt — and I have no way of proving it. Call it an unjustified assumption if you want to, but it occurred to me when I had passed Rand-beta through seven hosts and found out that it then became Rand-gamma and could infect canines—”

“Pardon me,” Professor Chabel said, leafing quickly through the papers before him, “but I find no record of these experiments.”

“They were not official experiments, Professor, not part of any of the planned research; I undertook them on my own and am writing up my notes now.”

“Unofficial or not — you should have reported this at once, when you obtained your results!”

“I did want to—” she looked up, then glanced away quickly from Eddie Perkins, who was leaning forward, his face white and set, “—but it was just last night. When I went to see Dr. McKay he had just been stricken and there was a great deal of confusion. Soon after this the infected dog was discovered in Connecticut and the danger known.”

“Confusion or not, there should have been a report. Excuse me, Doctor, I’m not criticizing you, I realize that the situation is confused as well as you do. I just wish to stress again that anything that has a bearing on Rand’s disease — no matter how trivial it may seem — must be reported to me at once. Now please continue. You seem to feel that eventually Rand’s disease will become contagious in humans?”

“I’m afraid I can’t back the idea up with any facts, Professor. The disease is alien, we all admit that, and we can see that it conforms to alien laws of some kind, a growing or a changing brought on by passing through various hosts, from man to bird then to man, back and forth until suddenly it gains the capacity to infect dogs. And after passing from dog to man a number of times — then what? I have a feeling that there will be another change; it is not altogether impossible considering what has gone before, perhaps to another species of host. Or perhaps the final mutation to full contagiousness, that would seem only normal — what is abnormal is the present arrangement of inability for one human host to infect another.”

“It could happen,” Chabel said, nodding agreement. “Though I pray it doesn’t. But whether it does or not we must be aware of the danger and I suggest a program of research into the possibility be instituted at once. Dr. Perkins, what arrangements do you suggest?”

There was a hum of cross talk as the required work was apportioned to various teams. Speaking softly, Sam leaned toward Nita and asked, “Why did you take Perkins off the hook?”

“I had to, Sam. With McKay out he’s doing two men’s work and we can’t hang him for one mistake. You can’t rock the boat.”

“Don’t rock the boat — that was what Perkins said — and I’d like to tip it right over. He made a bad mistake in not taking your report to Chabel and it should be mentioned and he should be canned. This is no time for mistakes.”

“Aren’t you being personally vindictive?”

“No, I’m not! Though I admit I would enjoy seeing it happen — no, it’s more than that. He’s the wrong man for the job, he proved that, and as long as he is acting for McKay we are going to have trouble…”

The rapping of the gavel interrupted him. Professor Chabel spoke.

“Thank you for your reports. Now I would like to tell you my reasons for asking for them. The Emergency Council of the UN has been in continuous session, with the American chiefs of staff and the President as you know, and a decision has been reached. Within a few hours we are going to begin what the Army has given the dramatic title of Operation Cleensweep, a concerted effort to halt the spread of Rand’s disease at once. Zone Red, this is roughly the circular area within which the disease is now confined, will be evacuated completely. We are already beginning to move the inhabitants into a series of quarantine camps. As soon as all the developing cases of Rand’s disease have appeared and have been separated, and the incubation period has been exceeded, these people will be lifted out of Zone Red. We are already widening Zone Blue, which is a strip of no-man’s land that circles Zone Red, a dead zone. We are bulldozing and leveling it, using explosives and flamethrowers where necessary, and spreading poison bait through it. Zone Blue is now about two hundred yards wide on the average and when it is done we hope it will be at least a half a mile. If nothing happens to upset our schedule we should have Zone Blue completed at the same time Zone Red is completely evacuated.

“Then Zone Red will be sown by air with radio-actives having a half-life of two months.”

A stunned silence followed his words as they tried to understand the magnitude of it. Over eight thousand square miles of the most metropolitan area in the world would be dead and depopulated. New York City, Newark, Philadelphia, ghost cities from which man had fled and where every bird, insect and animal down to the microscopic life in the soil would be dead. Chabel’s voice continued tonelessly and grimly.

“This will have to be done at once, because the world is afraid. As long as the disease is localized and only vectored by animals Operation Clean-sweep will continue.” His voice dropped, so low that it could be barely heard. “This program, you must realize, is really a compromise. The people of the world are living in fear and they have a right to be. The only alternative acceptable was to drop a hydrogen bomb on Zone Red at once…”