[The warrant on Zan Nikora drops. And all in all it ought to seem a neat resolution to this little catastrophe. (Too neat, maybe. Pretty strange that a guy who's been quietly living in military retirement on Westerley suddenly decided to spring a bioweapon a whole moon away. Even in the wake of the stunt the True Leithans pulled with the ID thefts, it's a big move for a loose cannon.) But one way or the other, tracking down the man responsible is the best place to start getting answers on the matter. And, given there's yet to be any effective permanent treatments, possibly the best place to start digging up a quicker cure before half the quad goes off its rocker.
Even for a payout, it takes a certain kind of stubborn to white knuckle through the symptoms of impending awful death to work on a solution. But there are those like Jason, durable and dogged enough to grit his teeth and push back the worst of the low-burn of infection and work through the fatigue and the pounding in his head (and the distant dissonant echoes of familiar-unfamiliar voices) to dig for signs of Nikora's movements. He's as careful as he can be, keeps his hood on when he's in the field to filter out the infection in his breath, as if the air in the quarantine zone isn't already thick with it. Cautious enough to keep his contact with people like Kara to channels that wouldn't open her up to infection, herself.
That's assuming, of course, that she's even lucky enough to be unaffected so far. The message pinging in might sound suspiciously like a check-in at first glance.]
Holding up?
[He'd be much obliged if you could remain sane, bud.]
w4d1
Even for a payout, it takes a certain kind of stubborn to white knuckle through the symptoms of impending awful death to work on a solution. But there are those like Jason, durable and dogged enough to grit his teeth and push back the worst of the low-burn of infection and work through the fatigue and the pounding in his head (and the distant dissonant echoes of familiar-unfamiliar voices) to dig for signs of Nikora's movements. He's as careful as he can be, keeps his hood on when he's in the field to filter out the infection in his breath, as if the air in the quarantine zone isn't already thick with it. Cautious enough to keep his contact with people like Kara to channels that wouldn't open her up to infection, herself.
That's assuming, of course, that she's even lucky enough to be unaffected so far. The message pinging in might sound suspiciously like a check-in at first glance.]
Holding up?
[He'd be much obliged if you could remain sane, bud.]