Brenner spoke quickly. “Well, yes and no. The implants do provide an inventory control—I mean, tracking apparatus, which is vitally important. But, since the human genome is so diverse, we found that each therapy needs to be customized a bit, tweaked.”
Kate nodded her head. It was extremely cutting-edge—an implanted biotech device delivering a genomically tailored therapy to every person. It was decades ahead of anything in use. It was a shame that it had taken the Immari threat and the plague to reach such a breakthrough.
“Yes, but if the implant delivers the true therapy, then why still give everyone Orchid?” Dr. Janus asked.
“Three reasons. In some early trials, we found that the implants couldn’t build a viable therapy for everyone. The implants build antivirals from the enzymes and proteins in the host’s body—it essentially does a complicated bit of snipping to create the therapy it needs. But the process with an implant alone only worked for about eighty percent of hosts. So we give the implants a sort of viral stock—a proverbial block of viral clay it can carve a therapy out of. That’s what’s in the Orchid pills—viral stock.”
“Very interesting…” Janus seemed lost in thought.
“The other reasons?” Kate asked.
“Oh, yes,” Brenner said. “I get lost in the science. The second reason was speed. We knew we would need to deploy a new therapy quickly: manufacturing a new drug was out of the question, and of course this is a variable solution. We knew we could be looking at a base therapy with possibly thousands of small tweaks by the implants to make it work worldwide.”
“And the last reason?”
“Hope. People taking Orchid everyday… we felt we needed to give them something they could see and hold, something tangible, something they knew: a drug for a disease. And now, I hope, you’ve given us the missing piece—the formula we need to pass to the implants. Symphony is processing your data now. Assuming it finds a corrective therapy, we can deploy it globally across the Orchid Alliance within hours.”
Around the small saloon, the scientists nodded. David and Shaw eyed each other, like two gunfighters in a bar in the Old West, each waiting for the other to draw.
Dr. Brenner interrupted the tension. “There’s something I haven’t told you, Dr. Warner.”
“What?” Kate asked through the speakerphone, not bothering to make the call private.
“The Orchid leadership has ordered us to execute Euthanasia Protocol.”
“I don’t—”
“We had standing orders,” Brenner went on. “If either Orchid failed or the Immari ever became a viable threat, our orders were to issue cancellation commands to the implants—to let the dying die quickly. That would leave a world of Orchid survivors, a base to save the Alliance. So far, we have simply ignored those orders. We’ve focused on our research and hoped the leadership wouldn’t actually go through with the plan. But we’ve heard rumors. If we don’t execute Euthanasia Protocol, Allied troops may take control of Continuity and do it for us.”
Kate sat back against the white couch.
No one said a word.
“Can you slow down Euthanasia Protocol?” Kate asked.
“We can try. But… let’s hope your therapy works.”
Downstairs, in their stateroom, David almost screamed at Kate, “You mean you had an open line to a global consortium this whole time?”
“Yes. What?”
“Call them back. Here’s what you say…”
Kate called the Continuity number. Dr. Brenner?—No, everything is fine. I need a favor. I need you to contact British Intelligence and ask them if they have an officer named Adam Shaw. Also, could you inquire with the World Health Organization about someone named Dr. Arthur Janus?—Yes, that would be very helpful.—Fine. Call me back as soon as you know. It’s very important.
Dr. Paul Brenner hung up the phone and glanced at the names. Shaw and Janus. What was happening on board that boat? Was Kate in danger?
He had actually grown quite attached to her. Seeing her in the videos for weeks, then talking with her in person. It was almost as though she were some “dream girl” come to life.
He hoped she would be all right. He picked up the phone and dialed his contacts at the WHO and British Intelligence. Each promised they would call back as soon as they had answers.
Paul had one more call to make—he hoped—but it would have to wait on Symphony, on the results.
He exited his office and walked down the hall of the CDC office building. The mood was dismal; everyone was overworked and burned out. Spirits were low, and for good reason: they had made no progress on a cure for the plague and had no prospects—not until the call from Kate nearly half an hour ago.