He huddled in the corner, shock setting in. Numbness, the blessed surcease from pain that meant his nerve endings were shutting down, spread up his badly burned legs. His breathing rapid and shallow, Leo leaned his head against the wall of the ship. Oh gods, please let him stay conscious. He couldn't afford to black out. They might come back. If they came back and found him, he was as good as dead.
The numbness spread. So cold. He shivered as the world faded to gray, then black.
"Adult oculocutaneous albino human male. Age estimated to be late twenties. Height five feet seven inches, weight one hundred eighteen pounds. Retinal scan yeilded no identification, though severe astigmatism detected. Corrective brown-tinted contact lenses removed from eyes. Hair blond, skin pale, eyes purple after removal of lenses. Lower legs received third degree burns, appear to be healing without nerve damage, though this is untestable until brain function returns to normal."
The voice was dry, female, and utterly detached. It continued from somewhere in Leo's vicinity, "Found on Space Shuttle B-574 in the storage area, patient was treated for cardiac arrest, other symptoms of advanced shock, and aforementioned third degree burns. Patient was transported here for further testing, as appears to be sole survivor of Mvraidan attack."
A male voice took over, crisp and carefully enunciated. "Station B-574 had sustained damage to both shielding abilities and the hull before boarding. Electrical fire were found and maintained. Areas affected by fire were the bridge and observation deck. After boarding, it appears that viruses affecting the brain through the optic nerve were deployed. All aboard Station B-574, personel and passenger alike were found with no life signs and heavily degenerated brains. Sole to appear unaffected by the virus is the patient."
Another male voice. "And why is he the only one alive? That virus kills everyone; the contact lenses wouldn't have prevented entry into his system." An authority figure, from his voice. Middle aged, accustomed to being obeyed. Solan accent. Io colony, most likely. They had a different inflection on their ys. Military colony.
"Sir,"- the female again, with her softer accent from somewhere near Alpha Centauri. "We believe the virus was unable to infect him because of the differing optic nerve connections accompanying albinoism."
Leo attempted to process the input. It was all so surreal. So he'd survived the Mvraidan attack because he was an albino, and now these military types from the insanely liberal end of the galaxy were standing over him, coolly discussing the death of hundreds.
This really wasn't going to be his day. He groaned, stimulating a flurry of motion as a nurse was called for and someone came to stand over him. Leo tried to open his eyes. Shit. They'd taken out his contacts. Everything blurred, colors running into each other and the light like needles. He jammed his eyes closed again.
The female voice said, from just above him, "Sir, sir, please stay with us."
"My contacts," Leo grated out.
"Oh, of course, sir."
A cool hard case was put in his hand. Carefully, his eyes shut against the over-bright light, Leo tried to sit up. A hand came to support him as he felt the movement stretch agonous skin. Sucking a breath in between his teeth, Leo paused. Then, deciding that he was upright enough, if sitting up more would escalate the pain, inserted his contacts from a half-prone position. He blinked, settling them, and focused on the room.
One exit, to a hallway. No windows other than the small one in the door. No guards, though, either. Décor was in a purple-tinted grey and white. Too many chrome-and-white machines crowded around his bed. Recognizing only some, he noted a heart rate monitor, a brain-wave monitor, a retinal scanner for ID, and a blood-pressure monitor. Disliking seeing all his bodily functions on-screen, Leo detached the magnetized sensor from his chest, then his right temple.
"Uh, sir?"
Not reassuringly, but in a flat, expressionless tone, Leo replied to the female. "Don't worry. I won't slip into shock again, so these are unnecessary."
The middle-aged man spoke, and Leo looked over. He fulfilled his voice; about 5'8", with receding grey hair, the posture and uniform of career military, and stars on his epaulets. "Now that you're awake, maybe you could disclose your name and what you were doing aboard a military shuttle."
"Name is Leo. I was aboard the shuttle because it was the quickest way out of Mvraidan space. They weren't all that happy with me."
"Why not?" asked the younger man, a clean-cut blue corporal and obvious Mvrai/human halfie.
Leo kept his eyes on the officer. "Coalition or Independent?"
"Lieutenant, corporal, dismissed."
"But, sir-"
"I'll page a nurse if the patient deteriorates."
The lieutenant and the corporal left, closing the door behind them. The room fell silent, and the silence stretched awkwardly.
Leo sighed inwardly. "The tiger in the zoo craves veal."
"But the caterers won't deliver."
"And the cook is a vegetarian. Y'know, technically the one requesting information is supposed to begin."
He shrugged, then held out his hand. "Aaron Mazzone. Your information?"
"The Mvraidans didn't discover Earth by accident, and their gift of technology wasn't from the generosity of their hearts. The Mvraidans are feeding members of the Coalition drugged food. And when they're nice and addicted, the Mvraidans stop putting it in their food. They get sick, go see a medic, and are told that the drug they're addicted to costs these ridiculously high prices, and they need three daily doses of it to live. Then the Mvraidans offer to give them their doses for free if they come work for them. So Coalition members are now the ones working the jobs the Mvraidans don't want, while the Mvraidans complain about the humans taking away jobs."
Mazzone's expression didn't change. "How many addicted now?"
"Over three thousand. This isn't the first time they've done it, either. It's a holding pattern. They lure people in with a promise of a better life and more advanced technology, then scam them into taking the worst jobs. The worst is that, with all the other species this has happened to, the lifespan of those addicted to the drug is less than 15 years."
"Can they be weaned from the drug?"
Leo rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, but with a low success rate. Only about one in ten survive weaning. I learned about the drug from an old friend, a former Independent who'd followed her husband to Mvrai. She refused to take more of the drug once she found out, and was almost dead when she got to me. She died only a fw hours later.
"I'd only been there a week, so my food was still drugged. I had to stop eating until I could get all the facts. The Mvraidans plan on drugging exported food now, too."
"Shit." Mazzone looked at the ceiling. "This really isn't good. How'd they find you out?"
"I tried talking to the head of the Coalition."
Mazzone looked down at him. "Dumbass."
Leo shrugged. "Didn't know he was already drugged to his eyeballs. So, we gonna try to get the unaffected humans out?"
"Of course. Won't be able to do it diplomatically, though."
The eyes of the two men met in mutual silent understanding.
War.
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