The Jupiter Plague

“It’s Dr. McKay.” She looked worried — as well as tired, like everyone else in the giant hospital. “He’s been overworking, you know — it was so sudden, a coronary thrombosis they think, he just collapsed.”

Sam pushed through the crowd at the door and Nita followed him. There were fewer people inside and the secretary was gone. The door to McKay’s private office was partly open and Sam could see Eddie Perkins inside, talking on the phone. He knocked quietly and Eddie glanced up and waved them in, signaling them to shut the door at the same time.

“Yes, of course,” Perkins said into the phone, “we’ll keep going here and I’ll keep you informed of Dr. McKay’s condition. Right then, good-by.” He disconnected and scratched a cigarette out of the open package on the desk before him. “It’s a mess, Sam. Everyone acts like it is the end of the world with McKay out of the battle; they think he is going to lick Rand’s disease all by himself and the team is just sort of a Greek chorus to cheer him on.” The phone whirred and he gave it a distasteful look and put his cigarette out. It was the governor of New York State and Eddie gave him three minutes of solid reassurance before pleading the rush of business and hanging up.

“Do you see what I mean?” he asked, relighting the bent cigarette.

“You can’t blame them,” Sam said. “After all McKay did find the answer to Topholm’s pachyacria and they expect him to pull another cat out of the same bag. Who is going to take over for him?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve been his acting assistant the last few days, so I’m holding on to the strings until something is decided. Chabel and the team heads will be here for a meeting in an hour.”

“Well, until they decide something you’re top man, Eddie.”

“Yes,” Perkins said thoughtfully, a double stream of smoke coming slowly from his nose, “I imagine I am. In which case — what can I do for you?”

Nita opened the file and passed the sheets across the desk, outlining briefly what she had discovered. Perkins flipped through them while she talked, looking up sharply when she mentioned the dog that had been affected.

“You make it sound pretty bad, Nita.” He closed the file and pushed it away from him. “In the morning I’ll let one of the pathologists have a look at this, see what they think. Meantime, thanks for the homework, we’ll see if we can put it to some use.”

“Eddie, you don’t seem to get the importance of this,” Sam said, smiling to take the edge off his words. “If Rand’s disease can be passed on to dogs we’re in for some bad trouble. Birds as vectors are bad enough—”

“I told you I’d take care of it, Sam, now relax.” There was an edge to Perkins’s voice now.

“There’s nothing to relax about; dogs are going to get this disease and if they are then now is the time to take measures.”

“Like starting to kill all the dogs around — birds aren’t bad enough? Do you know the trouble we’ve been running in to with that?”

“The trouble isn’t important. If we have to kill the dogs we’ll kill them — better now than after they’ve been infected.”

“Dr. Bertolli, let’s not forget one thing,” Perkins’s voice was empty of tone, his long face cold and drawn. “You are an intern in this hospital and not one who makes decisions. This will be taken care of—”

“Come off it, Eddie, when we were both students—”

“That will be enough!” Perkins crashed his hand down on the desk.

Sam took a long breath and let it out slowly, keeping his temper in check, then climbed to his feet. “Let’s go, Nita,” he said.

“Just a minute,” Perkins said. He was also standing now and leaning forward on his arms, his fists planted squarely on his desk. “You don’t know everything that is going on. There are two factors that you happen to be ignorant of: firstly, we have had some success today with a vaccine that may have rested some early cases of Rand’s; secondly, we are not going to allow this disease seven passages through different hosts as Dr. Mendel has done. That’s a lab exercise and we’re working with the real world. We’re controlling the spread of the disease and wiping out the vectors. If things keep going as they are — and even if all the cases we now have die — we’ll still lick it by wiping out the reservoirs of infection. So don’t rock the boat.”

“Is that all, Dr. Perkins?” Sam asked, no signs of his anger showing.

“That’s all. You stick to your job and I’ll stick to mine.” The phone whirred and he sat down to answer it. They left.

They said nothing until they had gone down the hall and were waiting for the elevator. Nita looked worriedly at his tightly clenched jaw and could feel the knotted muscles in the forearm when she touched it.

“Sam — please, don’t let it bother you so. The others will see…”

“The others will see nothing if he doesn’t show the report to them! He’s playing politics again, don’t you realize that? Don’t rock the damned boat — what a wonderful way to practice medicine!”