Infection

By Phiip E. High

In a Venus mining colony, Tacklin, Marty, and O'Brien prepare for a routine mission when O'Brien falls ill with suspected Venderin fever. As cases surge, corporate giant Marcus Rhinehart and Dr. Fielding clash over treatment priorities. Tyson, O'Brien's unstable replacement, joins the miners on a treacherous descent, battling geological hazards and Tyson's deteriorating mental state. Rhinehart, now afflicted, takes a morally questionable risk to find a cure, forcing a confrontation with Dr. Fielding over the consequences of human consumption and the potential cosmic repercussions of their choices. This gripping tale blurs the line between ingenuity and hubris, questioning humanity's role in the universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildside Press
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9781667619996

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COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

Copyright © 1959 by Philip E. High; copyright © 2024 by the Estate of Philip E. High

Originally published in Nebula Science Fiction #39, Feb. 1959.

Reprinted by permission of the author’s estate and the Cosmos Literary Agency.

Published by Wildside Press LLC.

wildsidepress.com

INFECTION,

by Philip E. High

The three men walked unhurriedly down the lighted corridor, passed through a door marked Authorised Personnel Only and. entered the launching shed. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the floor and the whispering melancholy sound of the rain was clearly audible as it fell on roofs and walls.

Looks like being a wet ride. Tacklin always made the same joke with almost reflex monotony as soon as he heard the rain. He didn’t expect anyone to laugh and no one did.

Yeah, yeah. Marty was squinting at the borer as if seeing it for the first time. Somehow it never failed to impress him, the immense rounded shoulders of the thing, the blunt bronze-coloured nose unit… With the four broad treads running over and round the vehicle, each flange scooped and gleaming, it made one think of a prehistoric monster with four wide collars of armoured spines.

O’Brien, as usual, walked with his head down, hands thrust deep in his pockets, showing the bald patch on the top of his head. He was chewing steadily and, at, the same time, trying to whistle through his teeth.

He paused at the entrance of the borer and said: You feel something? He staggered a little. Could have sworn the ground moved—quake? He clutched at the metal door, shook his head worriedly like a dog shaking off water, and held his stomach. I don’t feel so good, Marty, I don’t feel so good.

Marty caught him as the legs buckled and the weakening fingers slipped from the door.

Tacklin pressed the Sick Alarm and ran over. He all right?

I’m damned if he is. Completely out.

Sudden, wasn’t it?

Too sudden, looks like Venderin to me. He pulled back the unconscious man’s eyelids, frowning.

Tacklin, peering over his shoulder, nodded quickly and said: "Have to call the top, all cases of Venderin