DAMANIS: They made up for it with us. They went for the injured ones first, went right for their necks and open wounds. There was nothing we could do for them. Some of the less injured tried to run or crawl, but the pack went for their injuries, too. Like they knew that was going to cause us the most pain and drag us down so they could have us. Then at least a couple dozen got into a smaller pack and headed toward those of us who were still uninjured. Some of us tried to run, and didn’t notice that there was another small pack flanking us. Nadeem was one of those; he went down fast and six of them were on him before any of us could do anything. Then the rest of them came right at us.

SPURLEA: How did you manage to escape?

DAMANIS: I didn’t at first. One of the pack things bit into my calf and took a chunk of it. I managed to kick it off and then ran as fast as I could in the other direction. By that time the rest of the crew was down and I guess the pack decided there was more than enough where they were. They didn’t need to follow me. I just kept running until my leg gave out on me.

EL-MASRI: Do you remember which direction you mostly ran? North? South?

DAMANIS: I don’t know. Mostly south? I remember the sun being to my right when I could see it, and I think it was morning here when we landed. So, south?

EL-MASRI: What happened then?

DAMANIS: I rested, but not too long, because my leg was already beginning to hurt, and I didn’t want it to stiffen up on me. I kept heading south, and after a while, maybe ten minutes, I came to a stream. I remembered reading somewhere once that if you ever get lost in the woods that you should find a stream and then walk downstream, because sooner or later you’d find civilization that way. So after I drank some water and washed out my wound, I just started walking downstream. I walked and then I would rest for a couple of minutes and then I would start walking again. Eventually I came out of the woods and saw your colony. I saw a couple of people in a field.

SPURLEA: That would be the Yangs. They found him out in what was supposed to be their sorghum field.

EL-MASRI: Go on, Malik.

DAMANIS: I tried yelling to them and waving my hands, but I didn’t know if they could hear me or not. Then I passed out, and when I woke up I was here, and Doctor Spurlea was trying to fix my leg. That woke me up.

EL-MASRI: I don’t doubt that.

DAMANIS: And that’s everything, sir. That’s everything I know.

EL-MASRI: All right. Thank you, Malik.

DAMANIS: You’re welcome, sir. Can I have my painkillers now? I’m really going to start crying soon.

SPURLEA: Absolutely, Malik. Give me one minute to talk to Chen here, and I’ll come right back and hook you up.

[Door opens, closes.]

EL-MASRI: Well, at least now we know how he got the Rot. That pack bite would do it.

SPURLEA: And if it didn’t, washing the wound in the stream water did.

EL-MASRI: You can’t blame him for not knowing that the stream is packed with the Rot’s bacteria.

SPURLEA: Believe me, I don’t. His blood work just pinged, by the way.

EL-MASRI: Bad news?

SPURLEA: Don’t make it sound like you care,Chen.

EL-MASRI: Just tell me.

SPURLEA: He’s got it in his blood. He’s got about twenty-four hours before the septicemia blows him up from the inside.

EL-MASRI: We don’t have enough painkillers for you to let him ride out that whole time, Aurel. That’s how we got into this situation with the painkillers in the first place.

SPURLEA: I know.

EL-MASRI: You’re going to take care of this, then.

SPURLEA: When I go back in I’ll give him enough to get him to sleep. I’ll take care of it from there.

EL-MASRI: I’m sorry I have to be like this to you about it.

SPURLEA: I understand, Chen. I do. I’m just certain that when I die and meet Hippocrates, he’s going to be sorely disappointed in me.

EL-MASRI: He’s going to die anyway, and painfully. You wouldn’t be doing him any favors.

SPURLEA: I’m going to change the subject by saying, Look, here comes Magda.

GANAS: The easterly team found the containers with the crew from the Erie Morningstar.

EL-MASRI: What’s the report?

GANAS: Everyone’s dead. Death at impact at one site. Death by the pack, it looks like, at the other. They’re less than a klick apart, with the death-by-impact site being the most northerly one. The team took pictures, so if you want to have nightmares tonight, you can look.

EL-MASRI: No other containers?

GANAS: If they’re there, they haven’t found them yet.

EL-MASRI: Have them keep looking. Give all the other search teams the coordinates and fan out from there.

GANAS: How is Malik?

SPURLEA: The Rot’s in his blood.

GANAS: Jesus.

SPURLEA: Just another perfect day here in New Seattle.

EL-MASRI: Look at it this way. It’s unlikely to get much worse.

GANAS: Don’t jinx it.

EL-MASRI: Thank you, Aurel, Magda. I’ll let you know when or if we find those supplies.

SPURLEA: Thank you, Chen.

GANAS: There goes a right bastard.

SPURLEA: We knew what he was when we hired him.

GANAS: I know, but it’s painful to be reminded of it so frequently.

SPURLEA: Without him we might be dead already.

GANAS: Which is also painful to be reminded of so frequently.

SPURLEA: Come on. We have to give Malik his painkillers.

GANAS: Did Chen tell you to finish him off after you did?

SPURLEA: He did.

GANAS: Will you?

SPURLEA: I don’t know.

GANAS: You’re a good and decent man, Aurel. You really, truly are. How you ended up on a wildcat colony is beyond me.

SPURLEA: You’re one to talk, Magda. Let’s go in.

GANAS: All right.

SPURLEA: And turn that off. Whatever I do, I don’t want a record of it anywhere but on my conscience.

[Transcript Ends]

EPISODE THREE

We Only Need the Heads

Hart Schmidt went to Ambassador Abumwe’s temporary office on Phoenix Station when she pinged him, but she wasn’t there. Schmidt knew that the ambassador not being in her office wasn’t a good enough excuse for him not to be in her presence when commanded, so he did a hasty PDA search on his boss. Three minutes later, he walked up to her in an observation lounge.

“Ambassador,” he said.

“Mr. Schmidt,” the ambassador said, not turning to him. Schmidt followed her gaze out the wall-sized window of the observation deck, to the heavily damaged ship hovering at a slight distance from the station itself.

“The Clarke,” Schmidt said.

“Very good, Schmidt,” Abumwe said, in a tone that informed him that, as with so many of the things he said to her in his role as a functionary on her diplomatic team, he was not telling her anything she didn’t already know.

Schmidt made an involuntary, nervous throat clearing in response. “I saw Neva Balla earlier today,” he said, naming the Clarke’s executive officer. “She tells me that it’s not looking good for the Clarke. The damage it took on our last mission is pretty extensive. Fixing it will be nearly as expensive as building a new ship. She thinks it’s likely they’ll simply scrap it.”

“And do what with the crew?” Abumwe said.

“She didn’t say,” Schmidt said. “She said the crew is being kept together, at least for the moment. There’s a chance the Colonial Union may just take a new ship and assign the Clarke’s crew to it. They might even name it the Clarke,if they’re going to scrap this one.” Schmidt motioned in the direction of the ship.

“Hmmmm,” Abumwe said, and then lapsed back into silence, staring at the Clarke.

Schmidt spent a few more uncomfortable minutes before clearing his throat again. “You pinged me, Ambassador?” he said, reminding her he was there.