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Bakamono · (This post was last modified: 01-22-2011, 09:11 AM by Bakamono.)

A senior logistics distribution manager turned to who he assumed was Tiberius, pad in hand: 'Sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, I'm Jacob, nice to meet you. We have people in place for the 'dirty-work': as for patient treatment; here's the inventory of what we have boxed up, I guess that Mr Whitesun wants us to put the bulk of this in the Hospital area. We had been briefed that the medics would be handling distribution, and that this agent had caused zero casualties, the case seems to have changed. Would you like us to help you with distribution? Would you prefer to handle the first autopsy? Of course if you have all the hands you need there are other concerns we could be attending to: the medical security here doesn't seem as up to date as the Shetland for instance'¦but I personally would be keen to observe how your staff handle triage and so forth whilst the rest tinker away?'

***

Sophie had not imagined a year ago when she started working for Cryer, that she would end up face down in a seemingly endless vent that was surely only small enough to admit two rats abreast. The quarter kilometre that she had crawled this last hour had felt like a thousand, her whole body felt as if she'd been vac-wrapped, packed, and compressed; but the filter control was in sight just a few feet away. Sophie wriggled on in the manner of a demented caterpillar, her arms outstretched, pushing her tiny kit ahead. A deadpan voice squawked through her earpiece
'Alright technician, here's the reason you're there instead of some stupid droid: these 'self-maintaining' filters have sent many good people down tight chutes - so let's make sure this one doesn't ruin anyone more days. First you're going to need to isolate the trigger circuit, sort out that mess with the extraneous relays they threw in there. Then interface, actualise, and re-calibrate that netch to within a 0.0000001 tolerance. Don't forget your going to need to unroll that micro-mesh in case the weave there is damaged - which I imagine it is.' Similar units were enacting the same claustrophobic procedure at several points inside the vast network of systems spanning the Hawaii, routinely transmitting their findings and progress to the shared database for review.

***

Outside the fevered atmosphere of the liner, passing patrols were routinely questioned and scanned by auxiliary medical craft: who were keen in their pursuit of cleanliness. Large sentinel like transports crawled through the system, metre by metre, as they analysed each particle in their laboriously sluggish sweep. As expected, no space bourn infectious agents were detected, but the law was clear and so the crews continued their thankless task, periodically voicing their acknowledgement and progress to the co-ordinators team, who would in turn, inform the other medical personnel.

***

A nervous looking intern dodged awkwardly through the crowd and approached Co-ordinator Cabulb. Ignoring his assistant, the man leaned and peered past her waving a datapad 'Sir! As requested: a list of the fittings so far that have been found to be infected or below established safety thresholds'¦Sixteen bio-neural processing units, Three atmospheric processing filters controls, Five atmospheric processing filters, Two hundred and fifty metres of atmospheric ventilation and distribution conduit, One 'back-massager' containing infected Bio-gel, Three natural fibre garments, And a barrel of the Pinot Grigio eight hundred sir!'
The blue-eyed set of curves that was Ashley briefly pouted before replying 'And are those copies for the Medics and Exogeni teams, Intern' her sultry stress of the word quickly brought the mans eyes back up as he stammered 'um..yes mistress! Um..Maam!?' 'You'd better move fast then'¦Daryl' the intern yelped and scurried quickly from sight, his face flushed.

***

Secreted in a janitorial storage compartment, Julian (tertiary facilitation and implementation co-ordinator) ranted into his comm. '...that's just it co-ordinator! They've been running over capacity! For god knows how long!?' his tone lowered becoming apologetic 'Yes Co-ordinator, Yes sir, Sorry Sir: no I don't want to leave them with sub-standard safety equipment either sir. What?! Triple this output!? But that will take'¦.no sir, sorry sir...' And so the Cryer staff, dispersed like ants, enacted the familiar routine with the usual precision of rote procedure; giving the other medical units a wide berth.

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