Note: The events in this story take place directly after the events in Rampage, which in turn takes place shortly after Trekkie Connection. In order to fully understand this story, it is advisable to read these stories before reading this one.

The airplane had taken off, and the flight was well under way. Daniel Cassian led his bio-crisis team to the galley area to talk to them.
"Well, I think it's about time you found out what this is all about. We are going to Connecticut. There has been a recent outbreak of smallpox in the Hartford area."
Dr. Edward Marcase broke in. "Wait a minute! Smallpox? That's impossible! Smallpox has been eradicated. The only existing virus for it is in storage at two research centers, and destruction of those is being discussed. Eradication is so definite that vaccinations stopped fifteen years ago."
"Yes, Dr. Marcase, that is correct." Cassian continued. "But, this is nonetheless, smallpox. It appears to be mutated, but there is no mistaking the diagnosis. Even so, there are differences. People who were vaccinated against smallpox have no immunity to this version. Also, the original smallpox only killed about 20 per cent of its victims, whereas the current smallpox has been killing closer to 90 per cent. Eleven people have died already."
"Is it possible one of the existing virus samples was stolen?" asked Kimberly Shiroma.
"It appears that they are intact." Cassian replied. "With Mr. Hailey's expertise on plagues, he probably knows more about smallpox than the rest of us put together. You could probably find out more about what we are up against from him than from me."
The private meeting ended. They returned to their seats and the rest of the flight was unusually silent. The airplane landed in the early hours of the morning. It was met by a government limousine. Cassian was busy on his cellular phone on the way to the hospital. He broke the connection. "Well," he said, "two more deaths during the night, but that was more than made up for by the five new cases. I don't think I have to tell that you we have our work cut out for us."
They arrived at the hospital and toured the isolation ward. Marcase and Shiroma were both struck by how much the patients resembled the textbook pictures of smallpox victims. They were seeing something no doctor had seen for over thirty years, or should ever see again. The four lingered over the bed of a young girl in the early stages of the disease. Kimberly noticed tears forming in Cassian's eyes. This tenderness was a side of their leader she had been totally unaware of.
Cassian again behaved in a surprising way. He didn't speak, but motioned to the other three to follow him out of the ward. He found an empty room, and shut the door behind them. By then, he was fully composed, but the tears were now visible on his cheeks. When he spoke, there was anger in his voice.
"I've got a gut feeling The Dawn is behind this!" He began. "I think our little crisis in Des Moines was just a diversion while the heavy artillery was being loaded here in Hartford. Smallpox is a killer, and a cure for it was never found. It was only eradicated by intensive vaccination programs."
Kimberly interrupted, "Has a vaccination program been initiated?"
Cassian continued, "We are working toward a cover story for such a program, but as I told you, this is a mutation of smallpox. It has already been determined that the standard smallpox vaccine is totally ineffective against this strain."
"So you're saying there's nothing we can do!" Marcase broke in.
"No, Dr. Marcase. I'm not saying that at all. I'm just saying that nothing we have at present works. But we are going to find something that does work. If we don't, there will be a major epidemic in this country…and, on top of that, if we don't find something soon, that little girl in there will die." As Cassian mentioned the little girl in the ward, Kimberly was sure she heard a choking sound in his voice.
They spent some time learning all about the history of smallpox from Michael Hailey. Then Cassian sent Hailey out on the streets to find any clues about the outbreak, and they studied lab specimens and patient histories. The impossible reappearance of smallpox was like a flashback to an earlier time. They finally had to call it a day, having made no progress on finding a cure, or a vaccine.
Early the next morning, Cassian received more bad news. Three cases of smallpox had been reported in San Diego, California. He called a meeting of the team to break the news to them.
"The plan of action," Cassian began, "is that Drs. Marcase and Shiroma will continue to work today as they did yesterday. Mr. Hailey and I will catch an early flight to California and enlist the help of Dr. Taft to work with the San Diego cases. That is, if I can get Dr. Taft to work for me after the way he was treated in Des Moines."
"I don't think we have to worry about that," Hailey offered. "Once he knows smallpox has resurfaced, he will be anxious to help."
"The plan," Cassian resumed, "is that Dr. Taft will be in charge of the California operation, whereas Dr. Marcase will be in charge of the one in Connecticut. Mr. Hailey and I will commute between the two teams, carrying specimens and lab reports. Any questions? If so, make it quick. We have a plane to catch."
Hailey's prediction proved correct. After an initial grumbling, Dr. Taft quickly became very interested in working with the sudden reappearance of smallpox. The three chartered an immediate flight to San Diego and set up operations there. The cases were identical to those in Hartford. This was exactly what Cassian expected, but it made the situation even more grim. If The Dawn was responsible, it might become necessary to increase Taft's security clearance. It seemed that he and Hailey had barely arrived in California, and now it was time to go back to Hartford.
On the return trip, Michael continually tried to engage Cassian in small talk, then finally asked him what was wrong, as he acted gloomy and uncommunicative.
"What's wrong, Mr. Hailey? I'll tell you what's wrong," Cassian responded. "Medicine is the most thankless profession there is. I could save hundreds of lives in the operating room, then lose my license to practice for the one life I can't save. I could develop a new drug that saves millions, yet be remembered as a villain for a serious side effect that shows up in less than one per cent of those taking the drug. Medicine almost cost me my marriage, but, ironically, medicine is what eventually saved it. And now, because of medicine, I haven't been home to see my family for two weeks. That little girl in Hartford caused me to think about how little I see my own daughter...how her life seems to be slipping away from me."
"I've never known you to be philosophical," Hailey commented.
"Why Mr. Hailey, perhaps I made a mistake. One of the reasons you are on this team, in addition to your obvious skills in security, is your ability to read people. You must be losing your touch. I wasn't being philosophical, I was being downright cynical."
"Well, all this sitting in airplanes is getting to me," Hailey replied. "I'm going to stretch my legs." With that, Michael got up, and walked down the aisle of the airplane. "Losing my touch, indeed," he thought. "I can still read people as good as I ever could." With that, Hailey scanned the passengers. The young blonde woman holding the baby: she had to be going to show her parents their new grandchild. The young, blushing, giggly, and scared looking young couple could only be on their honeymoon. The seedy looking man in the three-piece suit…
Hailey paused. The man was actually anything but seedy. The suit was from an expensive tailor, but it looked like he had slept in it. He obviously hadn't shaved for a couple of days, but everything else about him exuded dignity. Hailey couldn't put the notion out of his head that he had seen this man before, and recently. He walked over to where the man was sitting.
"Hi," he said. I just had to get up and stretch. I don't mean to bother you, but I am sure I've seen you before."
The man looked up. "I'm sure you have seen me," he said. "We rode the same flight together yesterday out to California. My company is in the middle of a merger, and I am commuting across country three times a week."
"That must be it," Hailey said, totally satisfied. He returned to his seat beside Cassian. In spite of the restlessness, he was exhausted. He hadn't had much sleep in the last few days. He fell asleep in minutes.
Cassian was jolted awake. He groggily surveyed his surroundings, then realized he was on an airplane, and it was landing. He looked at the seat next to him. Michael Hailey was occupying it, and he was groaning. It took a minute, but the events of the last two weeks came back to Cassian. He was exhausted, not having had any more sleep than Hailey had been getting, and for a longer time. Cassian had not had the luxury of four days in a hospital bed in Des Moines.
Hailey woke up. Cassian asked him how he felt, and had his suspicion confirmed: Hailey's wound, from a stabbing in a video game arcade in Des Moines, was bothering him. Cassian gave him an order to have it checked when they reached the hospital in Hartford.
At the hospital, Kimberly checked Michael's wound, and announced that it was healing very well, considering he had received it only nine days before. Cassian handed her and Marcase the samples and lab reports from San Diego.
"I have some news, Cassian," Marcase announced. "While you were somewhere over the Rocky Mountains, or thereabouts, Taft called us and told us this was pretty much standard smallpox, with an extra component, which was amazingly similar to some of the stuff added to the drinking water in Des Moines. We have a theory that, if we can isolate the compound well enough to detach and remove it from the smallpox virus, what's left will be ordinary smallpox, which we can deal with and immunize against. This pretty much confirms your hypothesis that the Dawn is behind this, and Des Moines was pretty much a decoy. Taft sounded awfully suspicious about what we are up against, and I didn't know how much to tell him."
"What did you tell him?" Cassian shot back.
"Nothing, I acted dumb."
"Good, but if we don't solve this soon, he may have to know as much as we do." Cassian turned to Kimberly. "How's the girl?"
"She's holding her own," Kimberly replied.
Cassian began pacing the lab, pounding the fist formed by one hand into the palm of the other hand. "We're running out of time!" he shouted. "People are dying. That little girl in there is dying. If we don't stop The Dawn here, they might win with this one!" Then, the fist pounding stopped, and he began muttering, "I'm supposed to be having a reconciliation, but I saw my family more while we were separated."
Kimberly reached out and took hold of his arm. "Daniel," she said.
Cassian quit pacing. He seemed to come out of his mood. He looked at Marcase and Hailey. "Uh-oh, this must be some kind of woman thing she's about to say. She called me Daniel."
Kimberly continued. "Daniel, when you were sick in Omaha, and I called your wife, we got to know each other pretty well. She knows you love her, but she also knows you love your work. She will be there when we solve this. How much sleep have you had the last few days?"
Cassian thought for a few seconds. "Maybe three hours a day for the last four or five days."
Marcase broke into the conversation. "You are definitely not yourself. Go get a few hours sleep while we analyze the stuff you brought from California, and work with Taft's findings about the compound."
Cassian didn't argue. They woke him up in time for the flight back to California, and gave him their findings for the day, to take to Taft.
Cassian and Hailey boarded the plane for the flight. Hailey noticed the businessman who was going through the merger, and grinned at him. The other man gave a weak smile, and raised his hand in a wave. They settled down for an uneventful flight, which was followed by another uneventful visit with Dr. Taft. It was a day full of head scratching and hair pulling.
Late that night, suffering from severe jet lag and laden with specimens and lab reports from the San Diego cases, they boarded the plane. Hailey burst out laughing when he saw the man in the business suit.
Cassian turned to Hailey with a confused, almost irritated look on his face. "Well, Mr. Hailey, I'm glad you can find something to laugh about in the midst of this crisis! Would you mind filling me in on what's so funny?"
Hailey turned sober in record time. "It's not funny- funny, it's peculiar-funny. "That man in the rumpled suit is traveling with us on every flight, commuting coast to coast to complete a merger."
"Don't you think it's strange that he has been with us on every flight, when there are so many cross country flights each day?" Cassian asked.
"Now that you mention it, that is strange." Hailey replied. "I must be slipping. I should have thought about that the second time I noticed him."
"We're both slipping, Mr. Hailey. It's not us, actually. We've been missing too much sleep and jumping too many time zones lately." The plane began to take off as Cassian said this.
Hailey continued. "The first time I saw him, I thought he looked familiar, but that was because I had seen him on the flight the day before. Still, there's something…" Hailey paused for almost a full minute. He was having a flashback to a previous encounter with the man. "That's it!" He exclaimed, grabbing Cassian by the shoulder.
Cassian jerked forward with surprise. "What's "it", Mr. Hailey?"
"I know why the man looked so familiar the first time I saw him. I have seen him before. He must be with The Dawn."
"Be very careful, Mr. Hailey. That is a very serious accusation," Cassian warned.
"I'm sure about this. Every time I have seen him on the plane, I have tried to think where I saw him before. I'm absolutely positive about this. He was in the video arcade watching the reaction of the kids to the drinking water the night I got stabbed."
"It was dark in there, Mr. Hailey, and you weren't in there all that long before you got stabbed. It would be hard to make a positive ID."
There was fire blazing in Hailey's eyes. "What's the matter? Don't you believe me? I made eye contact with this guy as I was going down after I got stabbed! I'm a hundred per cent sure on this!"
"Yes, Mr. Hailey, I believed you from the start on this. But, I have to answer to some people higher up if I call out federal agents to be waiting when we land and then it turns out to be a false alarm. Sit tight for a bit, I'm going up front and persuade the pilots to let me use their communications equipment." With that, Cassian reached inside into the inside lapel pocket of his jacket and took out the instrument of persuasion: the wallet with the badge identifying him as a special agent of the White House. He left the seat and casually walked forward toward the cockpit.
He returned a few minutes later, as casually as he had left, and sat down next to Hailey. He leaned toward Michael and spoke softly to him. "We have been given full authority for search, seizure, and arrest, if necessary. You don't think the man suspects you have recognized him?" Hailey didn't think so. They conferred quietly for a few minutes about how to proceed. After they had reached a decision, Hailey got up and walked casually back to where the man was sitting.
"Say," Hailey began, "it's a long flight, and you must be feeling as cooped up and bored as we are. Why don't you come over and join us? We'll have few drinks and get to know one another." The man shook his head, and moved slightly away from Hailey.
"Why not, man? We're practically friends after sharing so many flights together." Hailey leaned forward and reached out, putting his hand firmly on the other man's shoulder. The Dawn agent shifted further toward the window, clutching his briefcase to his chest with both hands.
Cassian had followed a few seconds behind Hailey. He lunged forward and grabbed the briefcase, the speed and element of surprise enabling him to snatch it from the other man. The man cried out in protest. Cassian again produced his badge, and informed the man that he had full authority to seize and search the man's belongings, advising him to file charges after the plane landed if he had any objections. Leaving Hailey to guard the man, Cassian took the briefcase the galley to examine the contents. He returned about five minutes later.
"There were some very interesting things in that case, Mr. Corporate Executive," Cassian began, holding up two hypodermic syringes. One held a clear liquid, the other amber. "Strange that you would need this stuff to complete a business merger. I wonder what is in these. Shall we find out?" Cassian leaned forward, poking the clear colored syringe close to the man's neck.
The man shrugged his shoulders, and let out a shallow laugh. "There's nothing of any significance in those vials I had in my case," he said. Cassian then switched syringes, and moved the amber colored one close to the man's neck, while Hailey restrained him. The man began shaking, and his breath became raspy.
"Well," Cassian actually smiled. "I think this man just told us something. The amber liquid contains the modified virus, whereas the clear liquid just might have a specific antiviral agent for the modified virus. If there were a vaccine, this man would have been vaccinated, and have no reason to fear the amber syringe. I'll just bet he has been tailing us specifically keep tabs on our work in the target areas." He looked at the man. "When the plane lands, federal agents will be waiting to take you into custody. In the mean time, I suggest you follow Mr. Hailey's advice and sit with us." Hailey produced some handcuffs, and motioned for the man to accompany them to where they were sitting. Instead, the man stuck something in his mouth and bit down on it. He collapsed in seconds, dead.
"He was a dead man the moment you recognized him," Cassian remarked.
The rest of the flight was remarkably normal, in spite of the disturbance the events had caused among the other passengers. Upon landing, Cassian and Hailey were taken to the hospital by government limousine. Once there, Cassian handed the clear vial to Marcase. "Examine this immediately," he said, "but first, give me a syringe full of it. I want to be able to use it the instant you confirm it's what I think it is."
"What about the full syringe you already have?" Hailey asked.
"Oh, that?" Cassian replied, "I threw that away on the plane. One syringe contained vodka, the other whiskey. Do you think I would risk losing a drop what's in either of these vials?"
Under Cassian's direction, Marcase quickly determined that the clear liquid did indeed render the virus harmless. Cassian turned to Kimberly and handed her the syringe. "Quick! Go inject the little girl with this!" He turned back to Marcase. "Find out how to make this, and start mass producing it as quickly as you can."
A few days later, things were under control, and Cassian and Hailey were caught up on their sleep. No more patients had died, and those under treatment were recovering. Cassian and the team were getting ready to go home.
"We could have learned so much from that agent, had he not committed suicide," Cassian reflected. Still, we can be thankful it turned out the way it did. The Dawn might have succeeded with this one. Now, I have one unpleasant chore left."
The other three looked puzzled. Finally Marcase asked, "What would that be?"
Cassian tried unsuccessfully to keep from smiling. "I have to call Taft, and thank him for helping us. Then I have to be firm in refusing to tell him who the enemy really was in the last two cases. I'll pull it off by demanding his results on the compounds in the drinking water in Des Moines NOW, sooner if possible."
They all four laughed.