The Altian Plague
Copyright© 2026 by D M Arnold
Chapter 9: Another Plum Assignment
Nyk sat behind his desk manipulating his laptop computer. Seymor poked his head in. “Do you have another plum assignment for me?” Nyk asked.
“No — I thought we could walk down to Bronfmann’s for lunch. It’s a mild day.”
“Give me a minute.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m requesting a news feed — the main feed from Altia.”
“Why Altia?”
“My visit there with Dyppa gave me a ... a sort of fascination with the place.”
“Ah, yes. How did that go?”
“I certainly understand why no one goes there on vacation. It’s not a vacation spot, unless you care to sample the diverse wares of the cadre of whores in Altropolis. You know Dyppa was a hooker, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard.”
“She told me a bit of what that lifestyle is like. Did you ever meet a prostitute, Seymor? Have a chance to talk with one?”
Seymor stepped in and pulled the door shut. “Gads, lad. Keep your voice down.”
“What?”
“I said keep your voice down!” he hissed.
“What’s the matter?” Seymor glanced toward the closed door. “What?” He nodded his head in that direction. Nyk’s jaw dropped. “JAQUIE?” he whispered.
“Let’s talk on our way to Bronfmann’s. I’ll tell you the whole story. You are my assistant — you deserve to know, so it won’t come as a complete shock should anything happen to me.” Seymor grabbed a camel-hair overcoat. Nyk slipped into his suit jacket and followed to the street.
“I came here in ‘73,” Seymor said as they walked. “I was 40 Floran years old at the time and was an administrator in the ExoService — a bean counter. The oversight chair asked me to go down and straighten out the mess my predecessor made. He had fucked it up good. They picked me because of my management experience. It was to be a one or two year term. I was dreading it.”
“You never went back,” Nyk said.
“No ... In those days just looking at an Earth girl was enough to get you sent up. We were instructed to satisfy our needs by patronizing the local professionals.”
“Jaquie was a hooker?”
“A call girl ... an escort. Not the sort you used to see hanging around Time Square — the high-class kind you hear about from a friend of a friend. I was living in the penthouse. I didn’t buy it, Nyk — my predecessor did with mis-appropriated funds. I should’ve sold it but didn’t. I kept it because it was comfortable and convenient — and, paid for. One of the other Agents gave me a card for this escort service. They operated out of a town house in the Upper West Side — it’s gone now, but it was a nice place in a nice neighborhood. I called and they sent Jaquie. I told the doorman I was expecting a visitor. He rang me and said Jaquie was on her way up.
“The elevator doors opened, she stepped out and my jaw hit the carpet. I had never seen a woman like her. She was ... She was...”
“She was Black,” Nyk said.
“And, she was beautiful. Nyk — be honest. When you first were attracted to Sukiko, how much of it was her race?”
“Well...”
“Be honest.”
“A lot of it. I laid eyes on her and I had never seen a woman so exotic, so mysterious, so beautiful ... Even today, there’s something about the shape of her eyes that makes me melt whenever I look at them.”
“It was the same with me. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I fell for her hard — I became one of her regulars. There was chemistry between us. She told me she looked forward to her visits.”
“You know they’ll say whatever they think you want to hear,” Nyk remarked.
“I know they do, but I believed her. What happened next proved it. One day the doorman rang and said Jaquie was on her way up. We didn’t have an assignation scheduled for that night. The door opened and she stood there. She had turned white with terror. I didn’t think a Black girl could do that, but she was white and she was shaking. One of the other girls in her house had been murdered and she witnessed it. She was terrified, and she wanted out of the business. She came to me, Nyk. She had the whole City to turn to, and she came to ME for help. So, here I was — on Earth for all of three months, helping a young woman with a not unreasonable fear for her own life.”
They arrived at the deli and stood in line. Nyk ordered a pastrami sandwich and sat at a table. Seymor joined him. “I’ll never forget that night,” Seymor continued. “I told her I really didn’t know what I could do to help, but that I had a vacant guest room and she was welcome to use it. I told her she was safe in the penthouse — as safe, at least, as anywhere in the City. It took several hours for her to get over the shakes. I didn’t have any brandy or wine — hell, I didn’t even have a beer to offer her. I suggested she take a warm bath, and I tipped the doorman to send up some hot chocolate. Finally I got her calmed down enough to go to bed.
“She had said she wanted out of the business and I respected that. I told her there was no quid-pro-quo, that I was helping a friend out of a jam. I made up the guest room with fresh linens, tucked her in, kissed her forehead and switched off the light. I told her I was going to take a shower and go to bed.
“I stepped out of the shower and into the master bedroom. There was Jaquie in my bed. She was afraid of the dark, she said. I climbed in, held her and we professed our undying love for each other.”
“And then,” Nyk added, “you had the best sex you’d ever had in your life.”
Seymor stared at his soda. “No ... Neither of us were in much of a mood that night...” He sipped his drink. “However,” he said with a smile, “the next night...” Nyk stifled a chuckle. “She never spent a single night in that guest room.”
“I know she’s not living in the penthouse now,” Nyk replied. “How long did that go on?”
“About three years.”
“Why did she move out?”
“Our relationship changed ... evolved. She wanted respectability and independence. She did not want to be a kept woman. I told her I couldn’t marry her. She didn’t want that, either. I suggested she work for me as a receptionist, only until she got on her feet. She never left. Don’t think we keep her on because of me — us. She’s a damned good secretary.”
“She’s more than that,” Nyk replied.
“I’ll say. Nyk — if you’re my right hand, Jaquie’s my left.”
“You still love her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, and she loves me. We visit each other fairly regularly, but we both enjoy our freedom. It’s worked for us.” Nyk gazed at him as he chewed. “What’s that look for?”
“Why, you old codger — it’s no wonder you were so accepting of my situation with Suki.”
“You’ll learn, lad, that Florans sign up for Agency tours for a myriad of reasons: Adventure, curiosity, sense of duty ... But we invariably stay for one reason.”
Nyk nodded. “The love of a woman.” He picked up a handful of potato chips. “Does Jaquie know?” Seymor looked down. “Seymor — does she know about us — our mission?”
“Yes.”
Nyk let out a low whistle. “She does a good job of hiding it.”
“In those days if word got home, not only would I have been sent up but drawn and quartered, too. She keeps it from everyone — even other Agents. She’s discreet — it’s one trait that makes her a good assistant. She knows and she protects us. Don’t let on you know this, Nyk.”
“Oh, I won’t. So she and Dyppa have something in common.”
“I told Jaquie a bit of young Dyppa. She was the one who convinced me to let you take your chances with her — as I took my chances with her.”
“I’ll tell you, Seymor — from the first time I set foot in our office, I’ve enjoyed Jaquie. I think she’s an attractive, classy woman.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.” Seymor took a swig from a cup of cola. “Speaking of Dyppa — how went her interrogation?”
“She had the worst reaction coming out of the drug. Thankfully, she doesn’t remember any of it. On Floran they only use enough drug to get you into truth trance. On Altia they always use the maximum dose.”
“Did they learn anything?”
“She’s back in Wisconsin, isn’t she?” He sipped his soda. “Of course not. She had nothing to do with that bunch.”
“I’m relieved. I was a bit worried.”
“Needlessly.”
“Well,” Seymor said, “it looks like that so-called Tulsa virus has settled down.”
“You know — I’ve been on so many plum assignments I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Earth news.”
“It stopped after thirty four cases — thirty four fatalities.”
“Thirty-five if you count Marxo.”
Seymor nodded. “It’s seventy-two hours and no new cases. It disappeared as quietly as it surfaced.”
“That reminds me — I must make a vidphone call when I get back to the office.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Seymor...”
“Yes, lad?”
“I can’t shake this bad feeling about the virus. I’m haunted by Marxo’s face — delirious, covered with those blotches. It was a nightmare.”
“Ever hear of Ebola?” Nyk shook his head. “It’s a virus from Africa. The mortality rate is nearly as high — and the deaths nearly as unpleasant. Your organs burst and you start vomiting blood...”
Nyk looked down at the remainder of his sandwich. “Thanks a lot.” He wrapped it in its paper and tossed it into the trash barrel.
“Sorry, lad,” Seymor said. “Come on — you said you have a vidphone call to make.” Nyk stood and headed back toward the office.
He closed his door behind him and sat at the laptop. He flipped it open and started a vidphone session. Soon he saw Senta’s image. “Senta,” he said. “Any progress?”
“On what?”
“My virus.”
“Oh ... Nykkyo, I’m sorry but I’m afraid Kovina botched the analysis. I guess that’s what happens when you delegate — sometimes you have to put up with lower quality work than you can do yourself.”
“What do you mean, botched?”
“She thought you wanted the six sequences compared against each other. When I saw what she had done, I told her it was worthless.”
“I never thought of sequencing them against each other,” Nyk replied. “Why worthless?”
Senta made a petulant sigh. “Because — they’re all the same virus. A graduate student would’ve recognized it.”
“You mean virus I through VI are all the same?”
“Basically, yes. There are modifications between them, but the main genome is definitely the same for all six.”
“So — what we have is a virus that, once it gets inside the body, mutates so it can fan out and destroy?”
“I wouldn’t use the word mutate,” Senta replied. “Mutation implies random changes. The differences between I and VI are hardly random.”
“Can you send me a copy of Kovina’s report anyway?”
“Certainly.”
“Senta?”
“Yes, Nyk.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d take a close look at the sequences and verify Kovina’s results.”
She sighed. “All right, Nyk. I’ll do that, too.” The vidphone session went dark.
Nyk poked his head into Seymor’s office. “Well — the Tulsa virus? Did you know that actually six viruses are involved?”
“I had read that.”
“Did you also know that each of the six is a ... a mutant, a modification of the other five?”
“I believe the researchers at the CDC are thinking along the same line.” Seymor looked up. “Do we need to have another talk about domains of responsibility?”
“No — I just thought I had something.” He headed back to his office and sat behind his desk. Something on the screen caught his eye. “Seymor!” he yelled. “Come here!”
Seymor stepped into the office and Nyk gestured him behind the desk. “Look!”
The Altian news feed scrolled breaking news. The Seven had issued a new communique, one containing an ultimatum. Their list of demands was to be met before the Standard Floran date of 6639.101APF or else the hegemony would feel the consequences.
“That’s a gutsy ultimatum,” Seymor remarked. “Feel the consequences. What the hell does that mean?”
Nyk shook his head. “I don’t know. Like I said, the situation on Altia grows more fascinating by the day.”
“Remember your domain of responsibility,” Seymor replied. “Ask yourself if Altia falls within or outside it.”
Nyk slipped his house key into the lock and opened the door to the house in Queens. “It’s me, Yasuko,” he called toward the back of the house. On a chair near the front door he spotted a stack of folded plastic sheets and several rolls of duct tape.
Yasuko stepped from the kitchen. “Dinner’s nearly ready, if you’d like to bring Nicky.”
He saw Nicky standing and holding onto a chair. “Hey, Nick!” Nicky dropped to all fours and crawled to him. Nyk picked up the boy, sat him on his knee and held out his palm. Nicky gave it a slap. “Are you hungry, buddy? Let’s get some chow.”
He carried Nicky to the kitchen, set him in his high chair and began feeding him his dinner. “I see you’ve bought plastic and tape,” he said.
“Yes — do you have any idea how difficult it was to locate? It seems everyone has the same idea.”
“What do you intend to do with it?”
“We can make a safe area. Nick — do you think upstairs or down would be a better location?”
“Yasuko — I don’t think it’s necessary at all. If something IS in the air — you can’t seal yourself off forever.”
“What about that woman downtown who caught anthrax out of the air?”
Nyk set Nicky’s empty bowl on the table and set before him another filled with oat cereal rings. Nicky picked up an oat ring and threw it onto the floor. “No, no,” Nyk said, “none of that!” The boy picked up another and put it in his mouth. “That’s better ... That was isolated, Yasuko — and, unfortunate.” She set a pair of bowls on the table and Nyk sat. “I suppose it depends if whatever it is happens to be heavier or lighter than air.”
“Maybe on the ground floor, then. I’ll set something up in the guest room.”
“If it helps you sleep at night, Yasuko.”
“I don’t care so much about myself, but for...” She looked toward Nicky. “Nick — are you home for a while, now?”
He sipped broth from his bowl and swirled his chopsticks in it to pick up some noodles. “I certainly hope so. The fact I’m on the road doesn’t keep the paperwork from piling up.”
“I’m pleased. George used to say the same ... I’m sorry, Nick. I really have no claim on you. You go ahead and do what you must.”
“Yasuko ... When I married Suki, I joined your family, for better or worse. I lost both my parents as a teen. You’re my mom, now — and this is my home.”
Nyk descended the stairs from the apartment. “Nicky’s down and asleep,” he called out. “I read him a story. Do you need anything, Yasuko?”
“No, I’m all right. Having you here makes all the difference.”
“I’m going to do some work upstairs and turn in.”
“Fine, Nick. Good night.”
He unpacked his laptop, switched it on and plugged it into the high- speed data circuit. In his inbox was a telemessage from Senta asking him to please call at his earliest convenience. He opened the vidphone window, punched in Senta’s locator code and saw her image. She had answered from her lab.
“I have Kovina’s report here,” she said, “which is good as far as it goes. You’re right, Nyk — there’s more to this virus than meets the eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s going on inside it. I’d be willing to bet there are more than six viruses. I’d guess hundreds — maybe thousands.”
“Thousands?”
“Yes — they fall into six broad categories. Instead of virus I through VI, I’d prefer to call them categories I through VI. I haven’t been able quite to make it out. I think I’d like to bounce this off Dr Hanri.”
“Your old advisor?”
“Yes — You were wrong, Nyk. HE’s the finest mind in the field.”
“Then you’re the second finest.”
Senta smiled. “Thanks, Nyk. I appreciate that.”
“Senta — I’d prefer if you don’t get anyone else involved. I want to keep this work as private as possible.”
“I trust Dr Hanri.”
“Nonetheless — see if you can dope it out yourself, first.”
“All right, Nyk.” The vidphone went dark.
He punched in another locator code and the call connected. “Hi,” he said.
“Howdy, stranger,” Suki replied.
“I’m back from Altia.”
“How did that go?”
“Imagine having to walk through the roughest section of the South Bronx in order to reach a subway station and you’ll have some idea how it went.”
“I’m happy to see you in one piece, then.”
“I was never in any danger — I had Dyppa with me. The kid has street smarts — like a New York girl I know.” Suki smiled.
“I learned that homeworld visitors aren’t welcome there,” Nyk continued. “The hegemony can’t thrive without what the colonies like Altia, Gamma-5 and T-Delta produce. The wealth from that production doesn’t stay on the colonies. The major industry on Floran is governing. Most of the Altians believe they’re being oppressed. I’m beginning to understand that they have a case.”
“It is an old story, Nykkyo. Is slavery practiced on any of the colonies?”
“Slavery is expressly prohibited by the Floran charter. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are those living in conditions close to it, though. I think homeworld officials ought to visit Altia and see the conditions there.”
“Mark Twain wrote that travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness.”
“It certainly is,” Nyk replied. “How has this Altian threat been received on the homeworld?”
“To be honest, Nykkyo, I’m not familiar enough with the players to comprehend it. As far as I can tell, the people here seem unconcerned.”
“Altia is breeding ground for the same terrorist mentality as we see on Earth. From what I saw there, I understand why.”
“Do you think Altians are capable of carrying out a Trade Center style attack?”
“Capable? No doubt. Do they have the means? I don’t know.”
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