The Passage
Jul. 9th, 2010 09:30 pmSomething's gone wrong on the food processing ships.
Eighty-three sickened civilians turn up in the span of four hours; seven officers are yanked from duty when they begin showing the same symptoms. Tests uncover a bacterial strain that made it through initial quality checks: not usually deadly, but not something that can be irradiated or ignored. Adama gives the immediate order for Galactica to switch to packaged rations.
The same order goes out to the whole fleet when more traces of contamination turn up in the previously stored food.
They quarantine what they can of the fresh food. It isn't enough. Meals drop to one a day, then half of one a day. Lightheadedness and a hollow gut become a way of life; a few officers wind up in sickbay, but most simply push through, ignoring the worst, scanning the stars for anything that might yield up something edible.
Gaeta joins in, but scans for a door to Milliways besides.
I don't think I could put an entire civilization's medical bills on my tab, he said to Simon nearly a year ago, and the same holds true now. What's holding just as strongly: the compulsion to try.
Two or three at a time, he thinks. Enough that they could have conceivably come from his own ration kit; not enough to raise suspicions. (Things have approached a slow equilibrium over the past few months, and where he's still not particularly liked by those who lived on New Caprica, he's at least tolerated. Gods know he doesn't need any accusations of hoarding to frak that up.)
When he goes to Milliways that night, he only stays for the five minutes it takes to pick up a few protein bars. Gaeta breaks one in half and keeps the slightly smaller piece for himself. The rest, along with the two whole bars, he sets aside.
He studies them for a few moments before heading over to Louis' rack, where he taps the side of his bed with one knuckle.
Eighty-three sickened civilians turn up in the span of four hours; seven officers are yanked from duty when they begin showing the same symptoms. Tests uncover a bacterial strain that made it through initial quality checks: not usually deadly, but not something that can be irradiated or ignored. Adama gives the immediate order for Galactica to switch to packaged rations.
The same order goes out to the whole fleet when more traces of contamination turn up in the previously stored food.
They quarantine what they can of the fresh food. It isn't enough. Meals drop to one a day, then half of one a day. Lightheadedness and a hollow gut become a way of life; a few officers wind up in sickbay, but most simply push through, ignoring the worst, scanning the stars for anything that might yield up something edible.
Gaeta joins in, but scans for a door to Milliways besides.
I don't think I could put an entire civilization's medical bills on my tab, he said to Simon nearly a year ago, and the same holds true now. What's holding just as strongly: the compulsion to try.
Two or three at a time, he thinks. Enough that they could have conceivably come from his own ration kit; not enough to raise suspicions. (Things have approached a slow equilibrium over the past few months, and where he's still not particularly liked by those who lived on New Caprica, he's at least tolerated. Gods know he doesn't need any accusations of hoarding to frak that up.)
When he goes to Milliways that night, he only stays for the five minutes it takes to pick up a few protein bars. Gaeta breaks one in half and keeps the slightly smaller piece for himself. The rest, along with the two whole bars, he sets aside.
He studies them for a few moments before heading over to Louis' rack, where he taps the side of his bed with one knuckle.
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