“Get out.”
Buck nodded and stepped out into the hallway. He pulled the door shut and walked away without looking back.
“He’s right.” Hatcher turned and saw Vicky standing in the opposite doorway. “I mean, I don’t think you meant to sound all bitchy earlier and maybe it was the hangover, but you were barking at people.” She walked into the office and rubbed his shoulder.
“You too, Vic?”
She held her hands up in surrender. “I know that you can be the nicest guy in the world but I also know that even people who know you wouldn’t dare to cross you.” She directed him back to his chair. “You don’t have to detach yourself from people in order to lead them.”
Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t understand what you’re—”
“It’s obvious to me. You’ve stopped worrying so much, but now you are pushing people…keeping them at arm’s length.” She sat on the corner of his desk and patted his arm. “You think that if you push them away, it won’t hurt as much when you lose them.”
Hatcher raised a brow at his sister. “You Freud now?”
She shook her head. “I know you, Daniel.”
“Then you know I’m just trying to keep us all alive.”
“Do you remember Freeway?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Of course I do. He was my favorite dog.”
“Mom found him under the freeway, abandoned as a puppy.”
“That’s why I named him that.”
She nodded then lowered her voice. “And you remember when he died?”
Hatcher nodded. “Of course.”
“Then you remember Ranger?”
His face twisted in confusion. “Yeah, sorta.”
“They got him months later and you wouldn’t have nothing to do with him.”
“What’s your point?” He crossed his arms and stared at her.
“My point is, you were devastated when Freeway died. Then when they brought home Ranger. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” she reached out and took his hand, “because you were afraid to get close. You were afraid of the pain of losing another friend.”
He raised a brow at her. “I don’t know what you’re smoking, but stop.”
She gave him a tight-lipped smile and patted his hand. “I know that we’re not Freeway, but even us ‘Rangers’ need a little love.” She stood and kissed the top of his head. “Just…think about it.”
Broussard sealed the small plastic case and wrapped tape around it. “These should transport just fine. They have the instructions, oui?”
“They do.” The soldier held the case at arm’s length. “This shit ain’t radioactive or nothing, is it?”
Broussard fought back a chuckle. “It’s just a bacteria. One that can rewrite the DNA of the virus in the host.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It’s harmless, but it still needs to survive the trip to the other ships and avoid contamination.”
The soldier blew his breath out slowly and nodded. “Just checking.” He turned and walked slowly out of the laboratory.
Carol finished sealing up the next case and handed it to the courier. “Like he said, you need to stress that they handle this carefully. We can’t afford contamination.”
“Got it.” The soldier picked up the plastic case and turned for the door.
“That’s the last one.” Carol stripped her gloves and dropped them into the trash. “If they begin tonight, we could have enough to start with the West Coast in a matter of days.”
Broussard rubbed at the back of his neck. “Providing the nutrient broth is kept above eighty degrees, you are absolutely correct.” He sat down heavily and gave her a sad smile. “What do you think our odds are?”
She shook her head slowly. “Fifty-fifty.” She turned to face him. “Cross contamination could be our undoing.”
“I tried to make it as virulent as I could. Hopefully, if contamination does occur, the strep cure will overwrite the native strain.”
“That’s still a lot of ‘ifs’ to consider.”
Broussard glanced to the clock on the wall. “Speaking of, we should check our growth media.”
Carol pulled out a fresh set of gloves and held the door open for him. The pair walked down the hallway and into one of the open bays. A large stainless steel tank sat along the wall. She pulled the gloves on then reached for a sterile container. “Do you care to pour?”
Broussard reached for the small T-handle and waited until she held the container directly below the small stainless spigot. “Ready?”
She nodded and he twisted the handle, allowing a slow stream of clear fluid to fill the specimen cup. She held a hand up and he twisted the handle shut, cutting off the flow. She quickly sealed the lid and held it to the light. “Pale amber.”
“Almost ready.” He gave her a knowing smile. “Let’s check it.”
She carried the cup carefully to the lab and they slipped it inside a sealed chamber. She slid her arms into the rubber gloves attached to the front then activated the sterilizing spray. Satisfied that the exterior was now clean she opened the cup and poured a small amount of its content onto a slide. A drop of Gram’s stain followed by a slide cover.
“Ready.” She maneuvered the slide to the access port and slipped it inside the small chamber. Once the inner door was sealed, Dr. Broussard opened the outer and removed the slide. “I’ll prepare a sample for DNA profile.”
He nodded and positioned the slide under the stage clips of his microscope. He adjusted the ocular and spun the objective to the proper magnification. Once the image was focused he smiled. “It is quite prolific.” He sat back and pointed to the microscope. “Care to view our creation?”
Carol quickly set aside the sample and hovered over the microscope. “Oh my. That’s a much higher count than I would have expected.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Broussard shook his head as his smile spread. “We could have a city sized dose ready by morning at this rate.”
Carol sat back and stared
