CatastrophicFailure

From the uprooted stump shall he spring, His hands shall know work, and his back, the lash. He shall reach down and lift up the downtrodden, With his hand, he shall snatch the broken as they fall. Chapter 9: Pride "Mmmpf..." the blanketed form on the bed groaned, and looked over at Edgas with sleep-squinty eyes, "is... everything all right? I thought I heard scream..." "Er... um... sorry about that," he stammered, "I, uh, spilled my coffee." He held up the upturned mug. She squinted a bit more, "must have been good coffee." As if in answer, a blob of damp coffee grounds slipped free and hit the table with a plup. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, "so... was no scream?" Edgas could feel a betraying grin dawning on his face, "no, no scream." "Oh, ok." He looked at her. She squinted at him. "You know, you do not need to stay here all the time," she said at length, "I am... feeling much better." "Oh, yeah, probably not," Edgas said with that awkward grin, "I just want to have someone close by. Like, if you need anything." "No, really," she said flatly, "is getting little creepy." He felt color tint his cheeks, "oh... well... uh, I'll have to confer with Doc. Maybe we can rig up a call button, or something." "Yes, ok," she began trying to shuffle to the edge of the bed, "but, is something I must do." "I know, I know," Edgas tried to force his grin into something comforting, "we'll get it figured out, somehow. We're here to help." She eyed him, but kept shuffling, "no, I must go, now." "Go?" his eyes widened, "you can't go anywhere! This is the North Pole in the middle of an arctic storm. I mean, we don't even know if you can walk, yet!" "Is important." "I'm sure it is, but—" he rushed over to her, "you... you can't just leave!" "You do not understand." "No, I don't understand! I don't understand any of this! Where you came from, where you've been the last decade, how you're even still alive! We'll figure this out, I promise, but you have to stay!" She grunted annoyance, "no, is very important. I must go." "No, you can't go!" he put an arm on her shoulder, "it's not safe out there." "Must go. Now! You do not understand!" "Then help me," Edgas nearly shrieked, "make me understand!" "You do not— ugh!" her hands curled into claws, "must go to—" now she squeezed her eyes shut, and spoke through clenched teeth, "...little girl's room." "Oh." Edgas's face didn't just go red, it went right past red without so much as a wave, barreled through the infrared, thumbed its nose at microwaves, and wound up somewhere on the FM radio band playing easy listening in rural Loneankopa on an old Kerborola with foil on the antenna. "Sorry... sorry... sorry..," he blundered, "oh, I'm sorry... I mean, I didn't... that is... well, I was trying to... um, here, let me help—" "Get back!" she snapped at him. "Well, you still haven't been up and about, yet, and–" "I am fine, get off!" "....Wouldn't want you to fall, and—" "I kill you!" "I would like to see you try, 'cuz that would be a really huge improvement and—" "Gah!" she snarled, and something in her eyes made Edgas step back very smartly. "Ok... ok... just take it easy, now..." She went to throw the blankets off, but paused, as if still remembering what had happened the last time she had done such a thing when she woke up here. Eyes narrowing, she peeked under the blankets. Then her face snapped up with a look that made Edgas go back another step. "Ok... ok... I can explain..." he raised his hands in warding, "we didn't have any small hospital gowns— we didn't really have any small anything, most of the guys here are pretty big— and, well, the best we could come up with... y'see, that is... Lenory has this hobby of knitting, bit odd for a burly guy like that, I know, but anyways... well, he made that for his daughter, but the mail here is kinda unreliable, and anyways, well, since there's the storm and all, too, and—" "I kill you," she said, soft and with no hint of emotion, "slow, like bolf." Edgas swallowed hard, "ok... I get it... pink's not your color..." Face still blank, she threw the covers off. She was clad in a long nightgown, that was, indeed, pink. Extremely pink. Quite possibly the pinkest pink there had ever been. Surely, here was a pink by which all other pinks would be weighed, measured, and most assuredly, found wanting. It was festooned with happy little ponies. And unicorns. With murder in her eyes, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. And nearly toppled over backwards from the momentum. For a moment, she tried to brace herself on the railing with the arm in a sling, but winced and shifted away. Supported instead by her other arm, she set one tentative, stubby toe on the floor... flinched at the cold... managed a foot... Never dropping his gaze, she set the other one down. Then she rose like a phoenix, swaying just a bit, her eyes locked on him. Unbroken, unbowed, unbent; burning with raw defiance. And dropped like a stone. But in an instant, he was there. "I've got you," Edgas said softly, pulling her up. She felt like a bag of bones in his arms. "Get off me!" "Nope, sorry. Not gonna let you fall and re-break your arm," he grinned even as she struggled, "that OsteoFiber's expensive." "I am fine, let go!" "Can't do that." "Let go!" "Nope." "I kill you!" "G'on and try." "I kill—!" her struggles died away to silent, breathless sobs. "C'mon, one foot in front of the other," Edgas whispered, "little steps. I'll help you to the door, there's grab bars inside." She gave one last futile, half-hearted squirm before letting him wrap her good arm around his neck. "Easy does it," he nudged her on, "don't worry, I've got you... left foot... right foot... left foot... just one at a time... a little more..." he half-carried her across the tiny room to the door on the far side, her head never rising. "All right, here you go," he pushed the door open, "you've got it?" she gave a little nod, face still hidden behind a curtain of hair already damp with sweat. He watched an uncomfortable moment longer to make sure she really did have hold of the bars before letting the door snick shut. Edgas leaned up against the wall next to it, and let out a long breath. No sooner was he alone than a thousand and one worries tried to rampage through his mind at once. It was dangerous to have her here, he knew that, even if he didn't know why. She couldn't leave yet, that much was certain. Even if she could... where would they go? He grew ever more sure the answers to all this and more lay in that smashed computer core. He wondered if— The sound of running water drew his ear, followed a moment later by a muffled "eek!" Maybe he should have warned her that here in the arctic, 'hot water' was really a relative term. The door opened, she propped herself up against the jamb and raised a threatening fist in his face. Then flicked water on it. "Is no towel." Edgas winced. He should surely know better than that, "er... sorry. I'll be sure to get one." He offered a hand, and this time she let herself be helped back without fighting, "one thing at a time... one thing at a time." ———————————————————— "One at a time, please, one at a time!" the Chief Physician's composure wavered under the onslaught of hands, but she recovered with a thin smile, "thank you. Now, you, sir?" She pointed. "Ranwell Kerman, ma'am, Kerbin City Gazette," the reporter said, even as he flipped through his notes, "I realize you've been over this already, but given the situation I would just like to confirm... there have been no reported deaths from this mystery illness?" The thin smile bloomed into a wide grin, while across the crowded room, Haywood's frown deepened. He dropped his eyes and went back to flicking through the messages on his slim, transparent phone. "That is correct," the Chief practically beamed, "despite the severity of this illness, there have been no deaths. The patients here are receiving absolutely the best care possible, anywhere." "No deaths... that you know of..?" the reporter pried. Again, the grin cracked an imperceptible fraction, "no deaths, period, Mr. Ranwell. Since the very first case presented itself, County General Hospital has been working diligently with the Medical Center at Northern Kleptogart University, under extremely controlled, secured conditions here at this very facility, and with the approval and oversight of the Kleptogart Center for Disease Control. We are moving tirelessly towards a cure and a vaccine, and have recently entered into an agreement with the Biomedical Division of the Layland-Wutani Corporation that will place even more resources at our disposal." Heywood grunted. More hands went up. "Yes, you sir?" the Chief said. "Kartopher Kerman, mum," this one said with a distinguished Omork accent, "The Times of Kermingh'm. Now, you've just mentioned that you are pursuing a vaccine, if all the cases are here in this hospital, is a vaccine strictly necess'ry?" The grin twitched, "eradication of this illness requires not only curative therapy but also protection for the population at large. Of all the diseases that have been relegated to the history books in the last decade— duck pox, scolio, XKCD— each one came about not only through aggressive treatment of the afflicted but from elimination of the pathogen in the wild. Thanks to such strategies, these scourges of Kerbaldom now exist only in secured laboratories." Another round of hands, "Dmitri Kermanev, Kemangrad Union. With disease so contagious, is not prudent to maybe quarantine hospital and surrounding area?" "I believe that would be a bit rash. While the illness is highly contagious, it is only spread through physical, person-to-person contact. This actually makes controlling any further outbreak significantly more easy. Very simple and well established barrier protocols, similar to those used during the kebola outbreak in Ugaraya twenty years ago, have proven quite adequate." "Yet vaccine is still priority?" "This is only prudent." "Billgee Kerman, Kleptogart Today. You say that no one has yet died from the illness, but have any of your patients even shown improvement with treatment?" "This is a new kind of pathogen, and not yet fully understood. But we are working tirelessly and diligently with our partners towards an effective cure, and are learning at an ever-increasing rate. All right here, at this hospital, in an example of what proper funding can do even away from the urban centers." "Bjørksen Kjermansen, Nefcarkalandern Børknjürnl. Ja, før sure, with the Tripartite Børder only 50 kilømeters away frøm this place, and the third and føurth møst pøpuløus cities in all of beautiful Nefcarkaland ønly 50 kilømeters beyønd that, shøuld the Nefcarkalandern be at all cøncerned with the spread øf this terrible illness intø their lands, and the pøtential disruptiøn to the gløbal supply of meatballs and ready-tø-assemble furniture that wøuld cause, børk børk?" "Absolutely not," the Chief's smile remained as wide as ever. Heywood had to give her that much credit, she was holding up well. But then, bureaucrats usually had a knack for such things. A new message buzzed in on his phone, and went back to tuning her out. "There is no danger to this community," she continued, "or especially to our friends in Omork and Nefcarkaland. Every precaution is being observed." "Kim Kerman, KRBL-TV On-The-Spot News. You've stressed that the infection is only passed person-to-person, but is some other vector not outside the realm of possibility?" "We do not believe so. This is one area of study where we have gained significant ground in a very short time, despite also being stymied by it. Attempts to infect any other life form with the pathogen in order to study it in our lab, mice, rats, fruit flies, et cetera; even on a cellular level, have been completely unsuccessful. It will only infect a Kerbal host, thus transmission by any other vector is impossible. Unfortunately, this also makes it somewhat more difficult to study." "Halol Kerman, The National Inquisiton," murmurs from the gathered crowd, as if nobody had expected that, "you've been referring to this illness in very general terms, but does it have an actual name yet?" A nod from the Chief, as if she had expected that, "based on the initial symptomatic resemblance to common influenza, we've been using the working designation F9H1. Now, are there any more questions?" One more hand went up, "Frank Kerman, ma'am. Um... I work at the docks, <cough>." More ripples of murmurs spread through the crowd. Heywood forgot all about his phone. A face tilted up from beneath a wide-brimmed fedora. It looked decidedly... unwell. Slowly, a bubble of space began to grow around it. "I- <cough> I wanna know what you say to the rumors <cough> going 'round that there are mobs of sick people wandering the city, in places no one cares <cough>, spreading this thing around right under your... er, face? <coughcough>" The Chief Physician's smile drained away like a lanced boil. Glances were exchanged, and a pair of large orderlies began making their way through the gathering, pulling on rubber gloves as they did. "Patently untrue!" she nearly shrieked, "there have been no new cases reported since the initial series of of infections, not since the Hospital got involved. All the sick are here, and they are well cared for, and are working diligently, and tirelessly, to..." The tempo of the mutters began to rise. People turned to each other in hushed voices. The Chief slammed her hand down on the podium, drawing a gasp from the crowd, "no! There is no danger here! I said, the situation! (Gasp!) Is! (Gasp!) Under! (Gasp!) CONTROL!!!" She slammed her hand down one last time, the crowd silenced, all eyes now looking towards her with shock and more than a little fear. She glared back at them, another satisfied grin blooming on her face like a fever. "Now then," she began, in a calm, professional tone, "if there are no more—" A hand touched her shoulder. "Yes, what? What is it? Can't you see I'm in the middle of—?" "Whaguggle?" "Aieeeeeeeee!!!"

Settings menu, gotcha. Shoulda checked there first. I'm using an old version for 1.2.2, so don't waste any time hunting a bug that's probably not there on my account. Love the mod, by the way. Even works in alternate planet packs with a bit of save file tweaking.

Department of Redundancy Department. @eddiew y'know you can get that "flying low" EVA report by just jumping, right?

Fridge logic kicks in... ZOMG! THOMPBERRY IS THE SECRET VILLAIN OF THE LAST JEDI! MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW! I'd always thought Benedict Cumberbatch myself...

Flarp it. oh, hey, embedding tweets works on mobile now.

You are a sick, sick puppy.

Disregard, actually was answered a couple pages back...

I would "itshappening.gif" but I've already giffed recently so... I predict the day of the static fire there'll be more nerd-drunk hoots, hollars, and likes flinging around here than any full launch... especially if it goes well.

Do NOT jinx it this close to Falcon Heavy! I wanna see that thing at least rise on the pad before the heat death of the universe!

That's Mission Controller Extended. Exactly what I got. The text isn't an error, it's there to help plan your flyby, but can be quite redundant if you've got other flight info mods like KER or MechJeb. Dunno there's much that can be done with it since @malkuth is just tapping into the stock game message system for that.

Yup, that sounds like it. I've got the same thing and it's driving me nuts.

You've got a contract for a satellite or maybe a flyby causing that. Once you complete the contract it should go away. Annoying, I know.

We really need to find some poor sucker willing volunteer modder to go over your log...

That is... odd...

@Vanamonde ..well?? Or do this... we do not speak of?

That still 6.4x?

What happened to the little "reactions" widget? Looks like it's back to just "likes," now. That one had potential. Also, yes, new emoticons sorely needed.

Somebody get this man to Netflix, stat!

Ok, I am TOTALLY stealing that!

I think one way or the other I may just come down with a sudden, severe, yet short-lived illness that day. Darn 24-hour flus. They're terrible around the end of the year.

Apparently we have more than just "likes" now, too. Wonder if the 25/day limit is still there.

*coughcough* Chrome *cough*

At the moment, SSTU. It's my Frank's Red Hot of Kerbaldom, I put that stuff on everything. er... more accurately, I put everything on that stuff...

If you haven't already, look into a fuel mod like SMURFF or RealFuels (caution: learning curve) that rebalances stuff. Stock engines/fuel tanks are ridiculously heavy for their size. Works ok in a vanilla game, but not beyond 3x scale.

Just do what I do and leave your tabs open. All of them. Always. ಠ_ಠ