Maxson tried to keep himself in fairly good shape. He ran, he swam, he took the occasional hike when his work allowed for a trip to the hills. But, like all men over forty, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the rapid decline of his physique, and the way age tended to wrinkle his skin and widen his waist.
Normally, the last thing he would want to do would be to take his shirt off in front of a group of his fellow researchers. But, in the name of science and the greater good it would provide, he had relented, although at the present time it was a decision he did not altogether enjoy.
“Decker…”
“Hold on a minute, sir. Fascinating…”
“Decker… can I put my shirt back on?”
“Huh?” Decker turned around. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He turned back to his microscope immediately. “Yes. Perfect, it’s exactly as I thought.”
”Decker, are you going to tell us…”
Decker wasn’t, at least not yet. Hands shaking with excitement, he stepped back from the table and pulled his shirt over his head.
“Uh…” Maxson wasn’t sure what to say. “Decker, do you…”
“Do you remember where I jabbed you with that needle sir?”
“Yes, Decker, it’s still bleeding.”
“Okay, I want you to jab me in the exact same spot and jab it as deep as it will go, and then draw a sample.”
With pleasure, Maxson found himself thinking, but in reality he found himself taking great care and good time to not accidentally murder the man who had supposedly found the problem with Pancea. “Okay, sample taken.”
Decker spun, grabbed the syringe, and spun back again. The shirtless scientist emptied the contents into a sterilized plastic dish. He slid the dish under the microscope, nodding. “Okay, someone bring me Pancea.”
As one of the scientists rushed to grab a fresh syringe of Pancea, Maxson regarded Decker with an inquisitive eye while Decker, unoccupied momentarily, took the opportunity to put his shirt back on. As the scientist returned with a clean batch of Pancea, Decker fussed with his hair. He was nervous… perspiring, even, knowing full well the consequences at stake. Maxson continued to stare at him, looking for signs of confidence and finding one… though the man was sweating, reddening, frowning, and occasionally shifting, he kept a straight spine. His head was high, his shoulders kept above a slump. So many allowed a hunch out of laziness or timidity, but though the pressure basked down upon him like an oven, Decker stood tall.
With a steady hand, Decker depressed the syringe, injecting the test sample of his own tissue with Pancea. He lowered his eyes to the microscope, and began to observe. Silent tension rose in the room… no one spoke, no one looked away. All eyes were locked on the young scientist, looking for any sign of hesitation, adulation, aggravation… anything that would indicate whether he was right, or wrong. No sign came, and Decker turned with a serious look on his face.
“Maxson, how long have you worked on Pancea?”
Maxson’s eyebrow instinctively raised. “Since the inception of the project, in some form or another.”
“Testing?”
”Of course.”
“Do you remember the food problem?”
“Naturally. The way Pancea was set up originally was to catalogue and remember the host DNA, from a blood sample. Then, when injected, those Pancea would recognize those as safe, and attack other strands of DNA and RNA as invaders.”
“The problem,” another scientist cut in, “was that Pancea worked too well. It went after food the victim ate, seeing it as a foreign invader and destroying it before it got to the stomach.”
“It also would have rejected and destroyed any blood or organ transplants, for similar reason,” added a third scientist. Maxson, silently, nodded his head.
“Pancea was then re-designed to mark down biological material, or technological or chemical material as well, as soon as it made aggressive action, such as infecting or damaging a single cell. Once it saw it as hostile or dangerous it jotted it down and attacked all like material before it could do any more damage.”
Decker silently nodded. Maxson, meanwhile, appraised him apprehensively. Decker already knew that… he was trying to get at something, but was doing it in a roundabout way… something none of them had time for.
”What exactly are you getting at, Decker?” Maxson asked him. Decker looked at him and slowly nodded.
“Still bleeding?”
“Yes.”
”It must,” one of the scientists blurted out, “affect coagulation, it must affect the blood…”
“No, if it affected the blood, or the circulatory system at all, the patients would be long dead…”
”It doesn’t affect the blood,” Decker stated, “and you’re right, if it affected the respiratory or circulatory system, the patients would likely not still be alive. But there is another key system in the body, and it’s one that Pancea has, and would continue to, attack.” Decker stopped, looking at Maxson who returned his cold gaze. “It was something you said. About how the Pancea made it’s way through the body after being…”
“Partially digested,” Maxson added, remembering the conversation.
”…right, partially digested by the white blood cells’ chemical bath. It made me think… an important system we can’t live without, and yet, not one that would immediately kill us if it were compromised…”
“The digestive system.”
“Right. If the digestive system was damaged, the patient would show signs of being ill, become malnourished and fatigued, but would survive for weeks… maybe even months, depending on where, how, and why. Once I recognized that, however, I was still unable to explain anything. The cells in the digestive system are similar to the cells in other systems… what was the difference?
Fortunately, you helped me there too.”
Maxson blinked. “I did?”
“Yes. I remembered the digestive system is really three separate processes to turn the food we eat into energy. The mouth is largely a physical portion, physically breaking down the large pieces and using salivary enzymes where it can. The stomach is a mixed bag, physically compressing and crushing the food while it is soaked, and further broken down, by the digestive acids. Once it passes the stomach, it enters the lower digestive track, where the physical digestion is minimal; here, the energy is extracted and the waste product created, shaped, and discharged when no useable material exists. And that was the key.”
Maxson said nothing, unsure. Another scientist chimed in, “I don’t follow.” So Decker continued.
“The third process is where the trouble lies. The samples I took from my body were from my, previously undamaged, intestinal track. When exposed to Pancea, however, those cells almost immediately came under attack.” Maxson was looking at him with an unwavering focus. The intensity of his stare told Decker he didn’t know yet, so Decker continued. “That in and alone wouldn’t have told me anything… the cells in the intestines are no different then cells anywhere else in the body, in general. And they are very similar to cells in the stomach and the mouth, but those areas hadn’t been damaged. But I kept going back to what Maxson said… partially digested… and I remember that there are some things that the body, in all its’ complexity and all of its’ ability, doesn’t have the power to digest. The problem is not with the intestines, but within the intestines.”
Maxson’s eyes lit up immediately, met Decker’s, and then sunk to the ground. He slowly shook his head. Some of the scientists were not so quick, but after a few moments, one figured it out. “You’re talking about the digestive bacteria?”
Decker nodded. “The digestive bacteria. A harmless component that actually serves in a symbiotic relationship with the body in most cases. The digestive bacteria can break up compounds that the body can’t, and when it does, the body either absorbs the product materials, the energy released, or the bacteria itself, in order to milk every last kilojoule from what you’ve eaten. Of course, therein lies the problem.”
“Pancea isn’t malfunctioning,” Maxson added, somberly realizing the error. “It’s doing exactly what we programmed it to do.”
Decker nodded, gravely. “Pancea was reprogrammed to identify bacteria insider the body, unlike genetic code, that attacks cells. Unfortunately, it went after the harmless bacteria in the digestive track and the cells that played host to them.”
“Collateral damage,” another scientist added. They were beginning to all figure it out, and Decker allowed a smile to cross his face.
“Believe it or not, but this is actually very, very good news.” Maxson quirked an eyebrow, in disbelief that this could in any way, shape, or form represent good news. “First, heretofore, we assumed that if unchecked, Pancea would eventually kill the subject. But there is point critical where the bacteria will all be destroyed… some have probably reached that now. For them, the only danger is malnutrition. We ca…”
Maxson cut him off. “Feed them, now! I want all off-duty techs and nurses, all the dismissed sick doctors down here now. Intravenous supplements, enough for three days worth for every patient. Now! I don’t care if you have to order it from Belgardi Enterprises, get those tubes in now!”
Decker stayed motionless. A few other scientists didn’t move, but generally all did as the lab suddenly became a mad scramble of activity. Maxson didn’t get angry when some scientists meandered behind; rather the contrary, if they knew the problem, it would need to be fixed, and he and Decker could not do it alone. Maxson eyed the younger scientist anxiously, and Decker continued.
“I was saying… we can procure bacteria from uninjected members of the same species… those coming back from tours, perhaps, or serving undercover. It shouldn’t take long to stimulate the growth to the point where we have enough to repopulate the organs of the injured. The organ damage was collateral in nature… it won’t be immediately life threatening, and if the damage is serious, then some minor surgery can fix it. Coalition expense?”
Maxson nodded. “Let’s make a plan. What needs to happen now?”
Decker said nothing, hoping one of the other scientists would pick up the slack. “We need to track down a person, or persons, from every species in the Coalition who hasn’t received a Pancea Injection, and procure from them samples of the bacteria that has been depleted in their species. Get it to begin multiplying as fast as we, and it, can.”
Decker nodded. “Feeding the sick is obviously a high priority as well.”
“The organs,” another scientist chipped in, “are going to need to be repaired. Schedule those with the most damage for immediate surgery, those without for booster shots of bacta and the like.”
Decker was looking directly at Maxson, and Maxson directly at Decker. They were both thinking the same thing; a dangerous thought that, apparently, none of the other scientists shared. Both waited for the other to say it, and finally, Decker sighed, and resigned himself to say it.
”We have to fix Pancea."
