A Desperate Cure

I thank you for your continued support, and for your REVIEWS:


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SARAH BRIDGET
-claps- Ah, absolutley lovely! (Your reply, m'dear, I'll talk about the story in a short bit. ^_~) It's so wonderful to see you have some spite...even if it is 'mannered'. What should I call it...malice with style? Or just a mild touch of cynicism added to your overall accepting and friendly behaviour? Whatever you want to call it, I'm quite glad you don't take everything I say to the point of gloom and doom, hm? Seven point font? Good gracious you do type small. I usually type at a ten. (Twelve is just a bit big, isn't it?) Ah, but enough of that. Onto your story.

Nice to know Dr. Gasteyer has a purpose...along with Jake I'm assuming? I actually enjoy Jake. He seems very...real...to me, acting much as the men I know tend to. He has a very...mm...typical? Male mind set-up. Quite nice. I'm seeing Delia's tendancy to pick up all these brilliant, widely spread and completely unknown young scientists from various backgrounds...and putting them all to work on meaningless, tedious tasks? I look forward to see where you lead it off to.

Martin continues to bring a smile (or at least part of one) to my face. His trick with the keys was well done, showed how well Alina truly knows him. (And another small tid-bit on the delivery boy, hm?) The thing that really intrigues me about Martin though, is not his playful attitude per say (though that part is enjoyable), but the fact that when it comes to actual relationships (besides Alina), he's so much more inclined to hide than come out. Very curious. I look forward to learning more about him.

Your tastefully biting reply, along with a very enjoyable update, I believe has certainly earned you praise. Your writing has improved dramatically since I first started reading your work, and there was honestly not a single part I felt even remotely tempted to skip over. (But don't think I won't tell you if there is one in the future.) I'm perfectly honest with you, and I appreciate that you had the gall to return the favor. Feel free to tell me when my comments annoy you; I'm not easily offended. (If you hadn't already guessed.)

In sum up, good chapter, I actually preferred the last one (even if my review came out less friendly). Both were well done, but the last had a greater number of those rare moments that make me want to laugh. I appreciate that in a piece of writing. (Oh, here's something I plan never to do again. Only for you, savor it for all time.) My ridiculously mainstream comment: Keep up the good work! ^_~

~Sarah

Sarah… What a perfect description of Delia! Thank you for putting into words what hovered in my mind for weeks. Jake will be around, I promise. Delia has big plans for him. As I have for Martin, in fact! And you’re absolutely right. One ‘keep up the good work’ from you is all I could stand. Your style of review (though misleading in its griping) is much more honest. But thank you, it is good to hear it (once)! And yes, my mother often complains about her ‘spirited’ daughter—I’m the one that makes her cringe. But I’ll not watch my tongue: you can take it! See you next installment. ^_^

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MOONSTAR

:gonk: So sorry it took so long! My computer is going all bonkers on me. T_T Squee for the chapter though! ^_^ Less of Martin...but your continual add of new characters keeps me thinking. All these young scientists...all this talent...it must go SOMEWHERE...right? ^^; Jake is so the typical guy. -_-' xP ^^; Very well done with him. *nod nod* The mind set was perfect.

No one seems to recognize Alina till they see the wolf...or Martin. Does no one know her? Or am I just interpreting that the wrong way? ^^; Your continued detail on the workings of a gaint office building/workplace/thingamabob still amazes me. I so totally cannot do that. I just don't see places like that...but you make it all work! o_o

Good job. I know this is a really sucky, illiterate review...but I'm trying to get it down while my internet's still up. ^^; (It's crashing so often...making me go nutty. T_T Oh well. Not the place to complain about it.) More! xD I look forward to the next bit! ^_^

-Moonstar

You’re right. It is a wonder how much talent goes unnoticed and (albeit unintentionally) disrespected in this world. However in that one… I’ll let you continue to wonder, because I know what happens and you don’t (sing-song voice). Seeing buildings is just like seeing land. I see the conversation or the events that go on, and then I press pause in my mind and go back to the beginning. And on the second playthrough, i pay more attention to what’s going on behind them. Sometimes I don’t have to go through twice, because I know it’s important to me. Of course, when I write it down, I have to remember not to include TOO much detail. ^-^ And as for sucky reviews? No such thing, unless you start lying to me.

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VII.

Gerad’s nails made clicking sounds against the wooden steps; the old wood creaked under the combined weight of Alina and Martin and the bags. The wolf scampered down the stairs like a puppy, sixteen flights of stairs in a blinding flash of silver fur. Alina took her bag back from Martin at the eighth floor. She took Martin’s own leather bag on the fourth floor. By the lobby, Martin’s heavy breathing began to concern Alina, and she jogged back up a flight to check on him. “It’s three more flights. You’ve done this a dozen times. What’s wrong?”

Martin was busy gasping for air, the constriction in his chest sinking his sternum back against his spine, compressing his lungs. Alina dropped the bags immediately, maneuvered Martin’s body against the concrete wall of the shaft, and laid her hand on his chest. She inhaled, pulling her consciousness from all over her body and focused it in her palm on the exhale.

Pressing her palm gently into Martin’s chest, she inhaled deeply, purposefully, pulling up the rhythm of his breathing and pulling his pain into her own chest. Immediately she felt the waves of panic, pulling her toward unconsciousness. Martin watched helplessly as her mouth gaped open, seeking air though her lungs were not accepting.

Suddenly realizing that his desperate panic was making it impossible for her to help him, he fought back the insanity. Struggling to get air, he found a spot of clarity, focused his mind on that one crystalline bit of solace in her eyes. She was focused, she was in control, she was going to make it all right. She was his angel, she was his salvation, she was capable of miracles.

She was unconscious.

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Gerad’s tail swept happily from side to side. He reached the stairwell door at the third subbasement and sniffed delicately at the scent-marking on the wall. After the first three times he had marked the doorframe, Delia had gotten upset with Alina for allowing the wolf in the building. Alina had cried unfair, finagled a salary for the telempathic quadruped, and Delia had been powerless to keep the wolf out of the labs.

Not that Delia didn’t like Gerad. On the contrary, she was quite enamored of the playful animal. Gerad was loving and strong, beautiful and extremely clean. Still, he was an animal. What place did an animal have in the lab? Alina’s need for the animal cancelled out Delia’s intense desire for purity. She enforced extremely strict rules within certain environments within the lab, but in general, the wolf had free rein.

Delia had put one of her assistants on the job, and a small square of adhesive material appeared at the base of the doorframes of every area Gerad was permitted in. It took a few tries to get the scent just right, including one particularly hairy episode involving several howls and a few molested lab-hamsters, but in the end Davey Cranston had been the first member of the lab to submit paperwork for a patent.

Gerad pawed at the kickplate of the door, tripping the pressure sensor and alerting Dr. Caldwell to his presence. Gerad was about to put his nose against the kickplate to whine for entry when he felt Alina stop running and start focusing her consciousness on Martin. He stood up, his eyes alert and his body tensed.

Sudden panic flooded his mind, and he veritably flew up the stairs. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the stairwell as he bounded up the three flights. He arrived just as Alina lost consciousness, and his body cushioned her fall as she slid to the landing.

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Dr. Caldwell looked up at the panel above the archway on the bulkhead wall. Gerad was here. Trudeau and Martin would undoubtedly be only a few seconds behind. She took off her tinted goggles and hunched her shoulders hard, releasing both her muscles and her tension in an extended exhale.

Gerad’s symbol, a paw-print, was lit up to the left, and the panel flashed repeatedly. The alternating darkness and red glare reminded her of the bridge of Captain Kirk’s Enterprise, and she smiled, thinking of Molly’s fanaticism for all things Trek. She slapped the desk control, the pressure of her hand restoring the fluorescent glare of the lab.

Her assistant emerged from behind her mountain of paperwork with a grin. The elfin girl came around to Delia’s desk, took the goggles, and sat down to continue Dr. Caldwell’s notes. Delia, herself, left Molly to the examination, stripping off her vinyl gloves and removing her lab coat.

Waiting for the airlock to cycle through seemed to take forever, and Delia began to wonder at how long it was taking for her team to assemble. The ready room encompassed locker room, conference room, and a small infirmary all in one. Delia took a seat at the conference table, flipping through her notes in preparation for their meeting. Alina and Martin would need to be at the top of their game; this disease was moving rapidly and immunity was an issue, even for the wolf.

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“Stephen!”

Christa McKellar dropped a seedling, running out of the hydroponics lab with a beaker of saline solution in her hand. She was halfway out the door when she realized what she was doing, and turned to the nearest table to shuck both supplies and lab coat.

Her gloves were deposited in the medical waste box inside the door of Gasteyer’s lab. She ran skidding through the rows of plants, finding her beloved Stephen unconscious in a heap on the floor, a spreading pool of viscous fluid beneath his arm. Christa checked his pulse: thready; then his breathing, and found it nearly non-existent.

She fumbled her cell phone from her pocket, and managed to dial the infirmary’s extension on the third try. “This is McKellar in Gasteyer’s lab. Level II, Section 4. He’s collapsed; I saw him fall through the window in hydroponics. He’s breathing, but only a little. There’s a fluid spill spreading, but I don’t know what he was working on—“

A calm voice interrupted her hysteria. “All right, Christa, I’ve already sent a team to fetch him. Do not touch his work. I don’t know what it was, either, but there’s a flag coming up on my screen… If you can sit him upright without touching the substance, do so. Otherwise, just wait until the medics arrive.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She dropped the cell phone to the nearest level surface, not even bothering to disconnect the call. Dropping to her knees, she muttered soft words to the fallen bioengineer, who continued to breathe shallowly.

The medical team arrived in a fluster of squeaky gurney wheels and shouted statistics. Dr. Gasteyer’s body was maneuvered into position and carted away by two of the medics, who wheeled him down the hall as a third rode on the gurney, providing oxygen for the barely-breathing patient.

A second set of personnel escorted Christa to an airlock, where she stripped out of her clothes and was given a thorough sonic shower and anti-radiation rinse. Clad in a government-issue jumpsuit, she was led to the infirmary for a full physical.

It was two hours later when Christa returned to Gasteyer’s cleansed lab to recover her cell phone. She never noticed the droplet of clear, viscous fluid near the microphone.

(A/N: Chapter 8 slated for sunday 5feb2006)