San Francisco, November 2023

This couldn’t be right. Stunned by her discovery, Dr. Maeve Shivaun strained her eyes on the large plasma monitor of her office. On the screen, the deadly virus refused to attack the blood cells. After testing thousands, she’d just found the only subject immune to the alien plague. Herself!

Confused, Maeve looked up to gaze through the twenty-fifth floor window, oblivious to the breathtaking view. The lights came on along the Golden Gate bridge. Dusk had fallen while she worked, and riot fires glowed red in the streets below. Within the hour, the military would disperse the rioters with guns, tanks and tear gas. Quite a different Thanksgiving from last year...

But Maeve had to focus. How did she become immune? Despite sterile rooms and bio-suits, two of her aides had contracted the disease and died. Better than the alternative... Maeve shivered at the idea of becoming an alien hybrid.

The next questions in her scientific mind came quickly. Why was she immune? And how many others might there be?

Feverishly, Maeve fished her epad out of her white coat pocket and dialed the private line of General Markov, in charge of the Global Security Sector. It was much later in his part of the world, so she set the call to sound only to respect his privacy.

General Markov answered the first ring.

"Sorry to bother you at home, General, but I have great news." Maeve’s heart beat faster.

"What is it?" The general sounded condescending, as usual.

Maeve had an aversion to military types, one-track minds with no tolerance or imagination. "I found a human subject with an immunity to the virus." She had to slow down and catch her breath.

At the end of the line, General Markov remained oddly silent.

Did she have to explain? "As soon as I confirm the findings, we will be able to manufacture the vaccine, and I know exactly how to disperse the cure. Isn’t that wonderful?"

"Indeed, Dr. Shivaun. Good work." The general’s enthusiasm sounded forced. "Where are you now, Doctor? And who is that immune subject?"

Not exactly the warm reception Maeve had expected. The man’s curt inquisitive tone made her uncomfortable. Something in her gut twisted. A warning came up in her mind. Since childhood, Maeve had learned to trust her instincts about people.

She lied. "The slides are anonymous. I am back at the hotel. It’s past curfew. I’ll send you the information from the lab first thing in the morning." She’d bought herself a few hours.

"Tomorrow morning?" The general cleared his throat. "Send me a substantial sample for our headquarters on the first flight out of San Francisco."

"First flight, I promise." Maeve faked a yawn. "I’m so exhausted I’m about to pass out. Good night, General."

As she severed the call, although she couldn’t say how or why, Maeve knew that General Markov had a dark agenda. But she could never tell anyone about such suspicions without proof. And proof she didn’t have.

Maeve realized that if her blood held natural antibodies to the disease, she could become the pawn of those who wanted to appropriate the vaccine for selfish ends. Since the rumors of hybrid infiltration, she couldn’t trust the military or the many government factions. She also had to worry about terrorists, power-hungry despots, even greedy pharmaceutical corporations. In such chaotic times, they would go to extremes in order to own her and the cure.

Maeve couldn’t let that happen. She had sworn the Hippocratic oath. She would cure the sick without distinction of nationality, or social status. But for that, she needed help, and she had an idea about where to get it.

Lawson Archer, the head of Haephaeon Technologies, a private biotech lab, had managed to remain neutral, and free from government control, despite his anti-alien weapon’s research. He had a reputation of unswerving integrity. He’d know how to deal with Maeve’s dilemma. From one scientist to another, a small favor in troubled times...

She googled then dialed the number for Haephaeon Technologies on her epad. The offices had already closed in New York, and the automatic responder only offered a secure message line. What did she expect with three time zones in between? Trusting Haephaeon’s high standards of privacy, Maeve left a short statement explaining her situation. She hoped Lawson Archer would get back to her soon.

Her white lie to General Markov had only bought her one night of freedom, and she had to make the most of it. First, she had to draw blood. Steeling herself against the dreaded needle, she sat in her desk chair, pulled up the sleeve of her lab coat, adjusted the elastic band on her upper arm and pumped the pressure, making a fist.

She usually averted her eyes when she gave blood. To draw it herself, however, she really had to look. She winced at the prick of the needle but punctured the vein on the first try. Opening and closing her hand, she waited for the plastic bag to fill.

With her free hand, Maeve pulled a few energy bars out of her drawer. Good thing she kept them on hand. She would need to stay awake and work through the night.

As the bag filled slowly, she accessed the roof camera from her computer. Good, the Air Evac helicopter was still here. Pulling out the epad from her breast pocket with her free hand, she dialed the building security desk. "Could you ask the Air Evac pilot to call me?"

"Certainly, Dr. Shivaun."

Logging onto the local weather website, Maeve checked for atmospheric conditions. Cloudy, light wind, no rain. Perfect. She dialed her home in Atlanta and called softly, "Nanobot? Are you awake?"

The furry face of a young cat, a slick silvery blue Russian breed, filled the screen in the soft light. His loud purr came through the speakers. He never failed to respond to Maeve’s voice.

Pushing down the guilt of leaving the kitten alone, Maeve smiled for her pet. "Hey, Nanobot. Mommy will be home soon. This job is almost done. I promise you a tuna feast to celebrate when I get back."

Nanobot stared at Maeve through the camera, pawing the screen at his end.

The epad chimed and Maeve picked up.

The face of a young man appeared on the tiny screen. "Dr. Shivaun? I’m Peter, the helicopter pilot."

"Hi, Peter. I have a special delivery for you later on tonight."

He seemed surprised. "I’m not allowed to fly after curfew... I could lose my licence."

"Well..." Maeve felt guilty about asking, but she must. "We may have to break a few rules but I’ll take full responsibility. Is that a problem?"

Peter hesitated. "For you to you ask, it must be important."

"This very special flight could save the whole city of San Francisco from the plague." Maeve couldn’t force the man but focused on persuading him. "Millions of lives, Peter."

"You mean, you have the vaccine?" Peter shouted with enthusiasm, his grin filling the small screen. "In that case, how can I refuse?"

Maeve sighed with gratitude. "Thank you, Peter. I appreciate your loyalty. You are an angel."

"I wouldn’t go that far." Peter chuckled with embarrassment. "Just call me when you are ready."

Maeve severed the communication, grateful for the dedication of the people who worked with her, despite the fact that she’d come from Atlanta to supervise the research. She’d have to remember to recommend Peter for a promotion.

Nanobot mewed on her laptop screen.

"Sorry, Nanobot. Mommy has to go back to work. See you soon, honey." She blew the cat a kiss and severed the call.

Disconnecting the needle in her arm, she swabbed the pinprick, applied a liquid band-aid then took the bag to the elevator. She punched the first floor, where she could use the DNA replicator to make synthetic antibodies.

Good thing Maeve had requested special equipment weeks ago. The military and the politicians above her remained doubtful about this untried mode of delivery, but she had thrown her weight as head of the department to obtain the machines. Her stubborn attitude had paid off.

Now she could manufacture the vaccine and fill the tanks with the mix of water and vaccine. Even chilled and compressed, she would need at least five of the hefty bottles to cover the whole area around the bay.

The mist would spread the vaccine over the city. It would remain in suspension in the air for two or three days before dissipating. That was her plan.

* * * * *

Bennett Sevastian enjoyed the steamy shower in his luxury suite at the San Francisco Clift. Not just the hot water running down his bulging muscles, but the sweet ministrations of the two hot babes lathering his body with lavender soap.

Not exactly your daily supersoldier fare, but his boss insisted Bennett should relax and get laid, so he wouldn’t be so high-strung. And Bennett always followed orders.

His Irish mother, God bless her soul, would threaten him with hell if she could see him right now. But she’d died of the plague three months back. As for his Russian gambler of a father, he would have approved of the two silicone-enhanced blondes with a no-line tan. The girls looked like twin Barbie dolls, the perfect complement to Bennett’s GI Joe physique.

The marble shower stall, spacious enough for three, had gold plumbing and a comfortable bench for the girls to sit while they stroked his engorged gun. One stood up and applied her naked body to his back, fondling him between the thighs. Bennett tensed and shivered under the caress despite the steamy heat.

He felt the hard breasts of the girl sitting in front of him, then, on impulse, he took her head in both hands and coaxed her into taking him into her mouth. She was a pro and she took him deep. Her nimble tongue teased his member until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He shuddered when a hot wave overcame him then he let go with a tremulous roar.

The naked girl at his back came to the fore and lay on the bench with her legs wide open. She was totally shaved. "What about me, big guy?"

Immediately aroused again, Bennett took one girl over his shoulder, the other under one arm, and walked out of the marble bathroom, dripping onto the white carpet on his way to the luxurious bed and its mirrored headboard.

He threw one girl onto the red satin sheets, swept away a pile of graphic novels then deposited the other girl on the bed as well. "I’ll be glad to oblige both of you." Nothing like California life to ease the stress of bot warfare.

Bots. Most officials didn’t approve of his derogatory nickname for the Anaz-voohri. Who wanted to be politically correct when it came to a deadly enemy? Not Bennett. Demeaning them by calling them machines suited him just fine.

But right now, he had two girls to satisfy. On his third gratification, or was it the fourth? the chime of his epad caught him in the throes of heavenly bliss.

"Shit!" He’d recognized Archer’s ring. Immediately, Bennett sat up on the bed, cooled off with one deep breath then picked up the call.

"Aries? This is Zeus." Archer always used code names.

One girl ran her fingers up Bennett’s inner thigh and giggled as he hardened. Bennett motioned both to remain silent. "This is Aries. What’s up?"

"Dr. Maeve Shivaun, the charge I sent you to investigate, just called. She is manufacturing the vaccine for the plague as we speak, and she needs protection tonight."

"Now?" Bennett frowned at the two girls in his bed. "Where?"

"She plans to spread the vaccine over San Francisco Bay from a helicopter."

"During the curfew? Has she lost her mind?"

Archer chuckled. "What can I say, she is one of those creative scientists. She doesn’t abide by military rules."

"Bloody hell! I’m on it." Bennett closed the epad then leapt off the bed, searching for his boxers under the puzzled stare of his two playmates. As he pulled up his drawers, he attempted an apologetic smile. "I’d love to stay, ladies, but my R&R is over. Duty calls. Since it’s curfew, enjoy the room until morning while I’m out."

They both frowned with a disappointed sigh. Furrowing into the pockets of his pants left on a chair, Bennett pulled out a handful of folded bills, eliciting wide smiles.

"It’s been a pleasure. Order room service on me." He closed the bedroom door on his way out.

Going to the closet, Bennett retrieved his night combat equipment and geared up, all the while thinking of a stratagem to distract the sentinels at the hotel door.

* * * * *

Maeve exhaled a sigh of relief as she changed from her lab scrubs to her civilian clothes and white coat. Scrubs and sneakers never left the clean room. She’d replicated enough antibodies and prepared samples for all the major labs she could think of, whether private, government owned, or military. Now, the machines filled the large tanks under pressure. Maeve had manually filled a dozen small aerosol containers as well and packed them into a metal crate.

Now she wheeled crate and samples toward the mail room. Once there, she addressed the shipment to General Markov at the GSS headquarters in Toronto with an urgent delivery sticker and her signature. She attached a note to dispatch the crate on the first morning flight. The early mail shift would hate her for the extra work.

Maeve called Peter on her epad. "I have five large tanks ready, but I’ll need some help to get them to the roof."

"How big?"

"Six feet long, one foot in diameter. They probably weigh five hundred pounds each, but they have wheels."

"Five of them? That’s kind of heavy and highly illegal." Peter raked his dark hair. "Do they have to stay upright?"

"No. It’s mainly water."

"Good. That makes it easier." He waved. "I’ll be right there."

Maeve felt a little silly. She had people to do the menial tasks of handling heavy loads and never learned to use the loading robot. Thank God for Peter’s expertise, or all her efforts might have been for nothing.

When Peter activated the robot, she watched him closely, so next time, she could do it herself. One by one, Peter loaded the heavy bottles and placed them horizontally on a pallet, then he lashed them together and lifted the pallet with the small robotic forklift. As he eased the machine into the freight elevator, Maeve walked in behind the vehicle and rode with Peter to the rooftop.

As she emerged in the chilly November night, she regretted not taking a jacket. With her white designer dress under the lab coat and high-heel sandals showing her manicured toes, she felt a little overdressed for the task, but she didn’t have a change of clothes. Not that she owned any casual clothing. Lucky enough to be tall and slim, Maeve always dressed like a fashion model.

"Will the breeze be a problem?" Peter drove the forklift toward the helicopter parked on the painted logo marking the center of the flat roof.

Excitement made Maeve’s heart beat faster as she hurried beside him. "The breeze is fine, it actually helps. As long as it doesn’t rain." Could it be that simple to eradicate a deadly plague? For so many weeks she’d felt discouraged. Now she could almost taste victory.

A superstitious person would cross her fingers, but Maeve didn’t believe in bad luck. She made her own destiny, and tonight, with Peter’s help, she would save San Francisco, then the rest of the world, one city at a time.

Peter rolled the long, unwieldy containers and set them across the helicopter’s open platform, in the space usually reserved for gurneys. Maeve noticed that he secured the tanks in place with the nozzle sticking out the edge of the door. Good thinking.

Peter jumped off the helicopter. "We’ll just have to leave that door open."

Sometimes, Maeve wished she knew a little more about practical matters. But these days, she only had time for research, nothing else, not even a personal life. 2023 had been a nightmare in the biological warfare department.

Peter backed up the forklift to the side of the elevator, dismounted and returned at a run. Pulling a map out of the cockpit, he showed it to Maeve. "What route should we take? And how high?"

"Higher altitude allows for wider dissemination." Maeve stared at the map of the bay area and pointed at the city. "A wide circle over San Francisco first, then south around the bay and hopefully we’ll have enough to spray the whole periphery, east and north as well."

"Got it." Peter folded the map. "Climb in. I’ll start the engine."

Maeve had to lift her dress, too narrow to step onto the helicopter flat floor. At least, her sandals had tight ankle straps and would not slip off her feet. "To open the gas, I just turn the wheel clockwise, right?" She hadn’t done that since her days as a medical student. It seemed like an eternity ago.

"Right. You may want to strap yourself. I’d don’t want you to fall to your death through that open door."

The rotors began to move, slowly at first, shaking the whole chopper. Maeve found a harness at the end of a short line sliding on a high horizontal bar. She secured the harness around her waist then knelt on the floor, ready to open the valve of the first tank.

"Hold on," Peter yelled over the engine noise. "Here we go."

The helicopter lifted then banked between tall buildings. Maeve suddenly remembered with dread her fear of heights. But she couldn’t fail now. Struggling to keep her balance, even on her knees, she avoided looking down through the gaping door. Eyes to the floor, she reached for the closest tank and opened the valve completely. The goal wasn’t to save the vaccine, but to disperse it as far and wide as possible in the shortest amount of time.

It took less than five minutes to empty the first tank. Great satisfaction flooded Maeve. She almost forgot her fears. As she opened the second tank, however, she noticed a military helicopter flying alongside.

"Return to base immediately," the military pilot yelled through its crowd control speakers. "This flight wasn’t authorized. No medical bird is allowed in the air during curfew. This is a warning. Desist immediately."

Maeve could see Peter sweating despite the chill. He managed to remain on course and pushed a button on his helmet to transmit back. "This is an emergency rescue mission for the Center for Disease Control, authorized by Dr. Maeve Shivaun. The Department Head is personally on board."

"I don’t care if you have the president of the freaking United States on Board. This flight is not authorized." The military voice sounded louder. "Return to base immediately or we have orders to shoot you down."

"Listen, man, we have the vaccine to the virus, and we are saving your necks out here, so don’t interfere, okay?" Peter sounded very convincing. "Millions of lives are at stakes, and we can’t wait until morning, so let us do our job."

Maeve could see the pilot of the other chopper calling on his radio. He nodded. "Negative, my orders are to stand firm."

Peter shut off his communication and yelled to Maeve, "No sense talking to these guys. Hang on. It’s going to get bumpy."

"Would he try to lose them?" Maeve didn’t get a chance to protest. The helicopter banked and dipped, and she held on to the bulkhead in a white knuckle grip. She couldn’t believe these soldiers wouldn’t let her save the city. What was wrong with humanity?

But Peter seemed just as determined to complete this humanitarian mission. He even appeared to enjoy the chase. Shots exploded and orange streaks zipped through the night around the chopper. How dare the stupid soldiers shoot at them? Since Peter seemed confident he could evade them, Maeve checked the gage of the second tank. Almost empty. She loosened the wheel on the third bottle, listening to the hiss of escaping mist.

Peter struggled to stay on course, plunging, rising and banking in odd patterns to avoid the line of fire of the other bird. According to the map, Maeve should have enough vaccine to cover the whole bay area, if only the military would let them finish the job.

When a second army helicopter joined the first, Maeve yelled to Peter, "Are you sure you want to continue?"

Peter gave her a thumbs up and nodded. Maeve could swear he was smiling, even though she could only see the back of his helmet. He definitely enjoyed the dangerous game. Men!

The thought that they might be shot down, even killed, crossed Maeve’s mind, but she had a mission to complete. In the morning, she would probably have to flee to a safe place, and this was her only chance to save San Francisco and remain a free women. As the only one with antibodies in her blood, she had responsibilities. As soon as others found out about her, she’d become a fugitive, a prized target for the rich and the powerful.

Hanging on for balance, Maeve opened the last tank. The chopper flew erratically but she felt a sudden change. Had the military given up the chase? They seemed to be shooting at something else. What?

As she rose, holding on to a ceiling strap, Maeve looked up and shivered. Piercing the clouds above, strange orange lights shimmered. Something shot from the bay electrified the sky and revealed a dozen golden vessels with strange markings that had dropped unseen through the cloud cover. Alien ships?

Lightning surged from these vessels, as if aimed at the choppers. Suddenly the sky exploded with the roar of many fighting jets attacking the vessels like bees stinging with explosive darts. So that was the elusive Anaz-voohri? The alien race that wanted to annihilate humanity?

Soon artillery from the military ships in the harbor showered the alien vessels with missiles, but an invisible cocoon seemed to envelop the alien craft. The military projectiles exploded harmlessly against it.

The alien vessels responded with sizzling lightning strikes, illuminating the night sky. Fighter planes burst into flames and fell. Then an orange flare, shot from down below and spread across the sky like the northern lights. The cocoon around the Anaz-voohri vessels dissolved. The top gun shots now hit their hulls.

The helicopter shook, sending Maeve flying through the open door at the end of her tether. As she heaved herself onto the landing blades, a thick cloud of smoke surged from the helicopter tail.

"May Day! May Day!" Peter yelled. "We’re hit." Peter extracted himself from his seat. "We have to jump while the helo is still moving forward. Or when it goes down, the blades will get us."

Jump? Maeve realized she was strapped to the crippled helicopter. Peter joined her on the landing blade and, maintaining a precarious balance, helped her unfasten the harness.

Paralyzed by her fear of heights, Maeve clung desperately to the landing blades. "I can’t do this... I can’t!"

As she hesitated, Peter pushed her off the chopper.

Plummeting toward the dark waters of the San Francisco Bay, Maeve screamed. Peter hadn’t asked whether or not she could swim.

She couldn’t.