Quaranteam: Phil's Tale Ch. 12

Chapter 12

October 26 ^th, 2020

It seemed like his raging memo had done the trick, because the last few days, all talk about strapping tracking anklets to every living man in America had come to a complete standstill, although he suspected that they were probably still continuing, just with him not on the thread anymore. But his threat to stop working on further research had been echoed by a number of his colleagues on the thread, so he suspected they were reevaluating whether it was worth the potential uprising they might get if they went through with it.

Research into a better solution hadn't turned out any solid results, but a couple of researchers on his team were making progress towards separating the serum from the vaccination, although Phil believed them about as far as he could throw them. They were junior researchers, and so they liked to over promise and under deliver. He had warned them that the people in charge of the project wouldn't be anywhere near as relaxed about it as he would, but they were young, and young people liked to throw caution to the wind until they were burned a few times first. That singeing of their wings would be educational to them.

Today, however, he was scheduled to have a lunch meeting with a man he'd been hearing a lot about but hadn't actually met - Arthur Covington the 4^th, a person he'd been hearing about for months but hadn't actually met.

Covington was reportedly the kind of person Phil had grown up hating, the sort of person who was convinced their money gave them free license to do whatever they wanted to whoever they want, and that their wealth put them completely above reproach. He'd bought his way into New Eden before the pandemic was even starting, and now that it was in full swing, he was trying to convince the powers that be that his money enabled him to make decisions for the rest of the world. He'd been one of the contributors towards getting a second wave of military on the base, which had put him somewhat at odds with General Fielder, but for some reason, the General wasn't willing to take his anger out on Covington himself.

Maybe Covington's money was that much of a shield. Maybe he really was that untouchable, even to the power of the US military. Or maybe Covington had dirt on Fielder that he was using to ensure his suggestions were always enacted without much in the way of resistance.

Regardless of how Covington had gotten his influence, he was wielding it more and more openly these days, having basically dictated that Phil meet up with him for a lunch meeting, off base, no less, which made Linda's blood boil, but there was only so far she could go in contradicting direct orders from the General.

The diner that Covington had asked them to meet up at was a place called 'Better Days,' and it was themed after the sort of 1950s nostalgia that had fueled things like the show Happy Days, although to Phil's eyes, it was mostly just a reminder of the hyperidealized fantasy that older white folks seemed to have about how the country used to be, but never really was. He practically expected to see a sign up saying "no hippies, no colored, no Irish" and was thankful when he didn't.

The place didn't have any customers in it, with the owner seemingly manning the grill and a couple of his partners working to staff the place. It was a tactic he'd seen done for a number of the businesses that had opened inside of New Eden. Most of the businesses weren't owned and run by people who'd originally been categorized as Level 5s, but the Level 5s wanted New Eden to have all the amenities they felt like they were entitled to, so a support community called Little Eden had been built next to New Eden, also within the quarantine zone.

Little Eden was an invitation-only community, and business owners had been reached out to before the pandemic had even started, but once the lockdown had happened, the invitation to come to Little Eden and serve the residents of New Eden had come with the promise of surviving the pandemic, and that was a hard thing to pass up.

Phil had been through Little Eden, and while the houses there weren't mansions by any stretch of the imagination, they were nice, sizable houses, designed to handle large households of six to ten. That had been planned so that the business owners could have children, a school even set up within New Eden that would serve both New Eden and Little Eden, but now the houses were tending to additional partners. Children would definitely be on the way, though.

The original proposals had been distressingly overwhelming Caucasian, and he'd put his foot down, insisting that there be restaurants catering to a wide variety of ethnic tastes. He had enough sway to ensure that there would be good sisig, good pho, good szechuan food, and damn good tacos, in addition to all the things that were white people staples like cheesesteaks and burgers.

And while Covington could've had their lunch meeting at any of the less Caucasian places, of course he'd chosen the throwback burgers'n'fries joint. He'd expected Covington to show up with some of his partners, so Linda had insisted Phil bring a few of his as well, so Linda, Audrey and Tamika, with Paloma providing overwatch for the building from a sniper's perch across the street.

The prick entered the building like he owned it, looking around the place before his eyes settled on Phil and his partners. He was dressed in an all-white suit, escorted by a large brute of a woman that he didn't recognize on one side, and one of the researchers from the base, Dr. Rachel DeMarco, whom he sort of knew from her work with the program, although she had come in with the second wave and didn't report in to him. There were so many people on the base these days that he was glad that he even recognized her, but after McCallister, he'd made a point to learn as much as he could about anyone who had access to his research. And while the man hadn't even said a word to him yet, Phil already wanted to punch him in the fucking face.

"Ah, you must be Mister Marcos," Covington said, walking over towards him, his gait slow and deliberate, as if he was enjoying wasting Phil's time.

"It's Doctor Marcos, Mister Covington, and you'll do well to remember that if you want this conversation to progress much further," Phil shot back. "I'm only here because General Fielder made it sound like I needed to give you half an hour of my time, but that's the exact amount I've had dictated to me that I have to give you, so if you think I'm going to talk with you any longer than that, especially if you can't remember my well-earned title, you will be sorely disappointed."

"My most sincerest apologies, Doctor Marcos," Covington said, as Rachel moved to sit down first, then Covington himself, the giantess preferring to stand, her eyes moving to keep watch on the door, having obviously decided that Phil and his family weren't real threats. "I did not mean to offend. I knew that many of the people working on the Quaranteam serum weren't doctors, so I took a guess and guessed poorly. I should have asked Rachel, but she and I are having a bit of a spat currently, so she's not talking to me. I'll find some way to make it up to her, I'm certain. But since it's clear you're very important over at The Garden-"

"The what?"

"Oh, Rachel calls your base The Garden, what with the town being called New Eden."

"Does that make the serum the Apple?"

"Don't go thinking you're God, Doctor Marcos," Covington warned. "You've made a very powerful tool that is saving the life of all the men of the world fortunate enough to get it, but remember

all of those whom never got a chance to take your little miracle drug."

"I'm well aware how the thing I helped make is only saving as many people as it can get to, and that that number isn't anywhere near as high I'd like it to be. And you reminding me of that doesn't raise your estimation in my eyes. If anything, it lowers it. I know who I am and what it is I'm doing, far better than you do, I imagine. So, again, I repeat... what do you want? Why am I here?"

"You're here, Doctor Marcos, so I can get a look at you, first and foremost. You're a very important person in terms of the research going on right now, and so I think it's essential I know a bit more about you, and the directions you're currently pressing on your research."

"I'm working to try and find a way to inoculate gay men and gay women, but I haven't had any luck with that. So far. It's been very high on my priority list."

"And you think that's important, do you?" Covington said, with a sort of odd detachment.

"You don't? I think it's vitally important," Phil responded. "I think the solution we have is currently serving a large collection of people, but we're letting down those for whom the solution doesn't work, and it's my obligation to get a solution for those people as soon as I possibly can."

"Mmm," Covington replied. "I suppose, but I don't think they're worth consuming all of your time, do you?"

"I didn't say it was all of my time, but it's a lot of my time. I do think they're worth it, though. If anything, they're more important than anyone else right now, because we don't have anything for them. Why, is there something else you think I should be working on?"

"I think you should be working on ensuring that the next generation is going to be taken care of. I understand that we're looking at fatalities in many of our children?"

"Yes and no," Phil said, trying to gauge exactly what it was the man was looking to learn from him with this line of questioning. "Kids up until the age of about 11 or 12 will catch DuoHalo, get very sick but almost always make a full recovery. Something like 98-99% survival rate."

"And the teenagers?"

He sighed, giving a little shrug. "It's already too late, I think. Basically anyone between the ages of 13 and 17, even pushing up to some 18 year olds, for whatever reason they're extremely vulnerable to DuoHalo, and I think they're nearly completely dead, across the globe. They were hit early, and there's nothing we can really do for them."

"Aren't we due to have that problem with all the children under the age of 11 as they age up into that age range?" Covington asked, clearly not having anywhere near as much access to the data as Phil had thought that he had.

"No, that's one of the few places we got really lucky. Kids that age after they have DuoHalo seem to have a natural immunity that prevents the disease from affecting them a second time around, even if they're carrying it. That's both good and bad, because it means they're keeping the virus around and spreading it to other people, but they aren't going to have to worry about taking the Quaranteam serum, or about the virus causing more problems for them further down the line."

"Unless it mutates again," Rachel interjected.

"Yes, well, if it mutates again, it's anybody's game what it's going to do, and we'll all be scrambling to keep ourselves ahead of whatever the problem is," Phil replied. "You should know that by now, Dr. DeMarco. Whenever we get a curveball thrown at us, we all just do what we can to keep on swinging."

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "I just don't want Arthur getting the idea that we don't have new priorities being thrust on us each and every day. Because he seems to think we all have the luxury of just living in our own little crystal palaces and can ignore the rest of the world. The world is very unpredictable, and you and I are spending most of our days just trying to keep our heads above water."

"I understand that, my dear, but what I'm trying to get a handle on is how Doctor Marcos thinks we're going to come through all of this, and that's something that many of your medical friends have gone to great lengths to keep private."

"And I'm trying to discern what it is you really want to ask me, Mister Covington," Phil shot back. "If you're trying to determine if I'm subtly shaping the direction of the country, I assure you, sir, I am trying to save every living soul I'm capable of, regardless of race, gender, orientation or financial status. I do not make exceptions for anyone."

"Yes. Well. Since you wish to be blunt, what I'm truly trying to learn about you, Doctor Marcos, is if you are the kind of man who would engage in the exchange of favors, mostly just keeping me abreast of what sort of developments you're having over there at The Garden, so I'm not caught like a child with his trousers down when chaos breaks out, especially if I could have simply gotten a heads up in advance. Like with this McCallister fellow. If I had known there was someone we weren't supposed to be letting out of the country, I could've spoken to my people and put the word out and perhaps we could've apprehended this fellow before he was able to flee to our enemies abroad."

Phil's eyes turned to look at Rachel, as he frowned at her. "That's classified information you're bandying about rather casually there, Mister Covington, and I would caution you about discussing such things in public," he said in a low, insistent tone. "I'm obligated to notify the General about this conversation as soon as I get back to the base, in fact. Because this entire conversation constitutes a potential security leak."

Covington waved a hand at him dismissively. "I have all the clearance I need, Doctor Marcos. And you failed to answer my question. Would you be interested in a quid pro quo, where you provided me with up-to-date information in a real time fashion about what threats we are currently facing, in exchange for which I would provide financial and social easement for you and your family?"

"No, Mister Covington, I think you can safely assume that I am not," Phil said, shaking his head a little. "Not only is it in violation of both the contracts I signed with Boeing and the Air Force, the very thought of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, one that I can't say I'd be eager to have as a permanent fixture. You have nothing to offer me that I am not entirely capable of getting myself."

"Don't be too certain of that, Doctor Marcos," Covington said as he and Rachel moved to get up from the table. At least Phil had been able to convey to him how much his presence wasn't welcome. The man hadn't even had time to order lunch, but then again, neither had Phil. He suspected the wait staff had seen the very tense conversation and had chosen to remain distant until it had cooled off a little, at which point they would approach. "You might find yourself in need of my assistance sooner than you think. I am a man of quite immense and powerful resources."

"You very well might be, Mister Covington, but it doesn't mean shit to me, so why don't you fuck off, before we have to test who's security team is more eager for a fight," Phil said. "My money's on Linda, but then again, she's pulled my ass out of two firefights so far, and outmaneuvered a drone trying to drop bombs on me." He grinned maliciously at the older man, staring him down. "So what do you think, hm?"

"Not today, Doctor Marcos. But soon, perhaps. Perhaps even sooner than you might expect. Be seeing you," he said as he and his two partners moved to exit the diner, Phil exhaling a deep breath of tension when they did.

"Jesus, what a fucking prick," Phil muttered to himself once the man was gone. "I've never had to look up 'white privilege' in the dictionary, but I'm pretty certain if you did, you'd have a spot on description of that asshole in graphic detail in the example section."

"Yeah, well, you've done your due diligence now and don't have to worry about his sorry ass again."

"Somehow I'm certain I haven't heard the last from that asshole, Linda."

"Old white crackers gonna crack on," Tamika said, not looking up from her phone. Phil was sort of amazed that she hadn't looked up from it the entire time, holding some insanely long conversation with one of her friends via text. Phil had never quite understood how people could type that much for that long with their thumbs, but during the time they'd been sitting in the diner, he was certain the girl had written a small chunk of 'War & Peace' into her Galaxy. His hands hurt just thinking about it. Phantom thumb pain.

"She's got a point," Audrey said with a smile, pretending to lightly punch the girl in the shoulder, which made Tamika look up and grin at.

"Well, we're here," Linda said. "Might as well have lunch."

Just as she'd said that, Phil's phone beeped, and he chuckled. "Looks like we'll have company. Hopefully Covington's stink isn't still in the air. That was Andy. They're just coming into downtown to see the town square of New Eden and wanted to know if we wanted to meet up at the diner. I told him we're already here."

"It was luck, then," Linda said.

"Or fate," Phil replied.

"Theirs or ours?"

"It could hardly be one without the other."

"Fate," Linda said once more, with a note of resigned acceptance, and Andy and his family walked in through the door.

As they approached the table, Phil wondered how Linda and Niko were going to play it, since as far as he knew, Niko hadn't indicated that she knew any of Phil's partners before now, even though she'd been working on the base. He wondered if she'd simply chosen to dodge the question, or wave it off as him not having full clearance to hear about what she did when she was on base.

"Hey Phil," Andy said to him as he approached the table, clearly looking happy to be out of the house. "Audrey. You already know both Lauren and Aisling, but this is Niko. I know Niko's met Phil before, but I don't believe we've met your other two companions."

"I've met one of them," Niko said, as she slid into the booth, offering half a salute to the blonde. Clearly Niko intended to play it off as casual coworkers, not 'hey I'm sitting with my boss' vibes, hoping Linda would dismiss the otherwise inappropriate casualness. "Captain."

Linda seemed to be taking her cues from Niko, although Phil had no doubt the two of them had discussed some level of backstory in advance of this moment. Linda was far too much a planner to let that sort of thing just slide by. "Lieutenant. Hi Andy, I'm Linda, and this is Tamika," Linda told them. "2^nd Lieutenant Red Wolf and I are stationed together, although I suppose we're both stationed here now." Tamika seemed mostly interested in her cellphone, not even looking up to say hello.

"Yeah, if you don't mind me asking, Captain, what are we going to do?" Niko said, scooting until she was right next to the captain. From Phil's vantage point, he could see Niko slip Linda a small thumbdrive, which Linda immediately pocketed before anyone noticed it. With her having been quarantined in the new Rook Manor for the past three weeks, she hadn't had a whole lot to do, so Linda had told him Niko had a few thoughts on their protocols moving forward, which she'd put into file she wanted to hand off in person. Phil almost wondered if Linda and Niko had coordinated this meeting on their own without his or Andy's knowledge. He wouldn't put it past Linda, not that he minded.

"They're moving all our work within the walls," Linda said, playing it off like both of them had ever been doing work outside of the base within New Eden. "So I guess we'll have a tiny base on site before month's end."

"Roger that."

"How you holding up, Phil?" Andy said, sliding in next to Niko, Aisling sliding in after him, Lauren moving in last. "I know you weren't originally planning on having multiple partners."

'Oh Andy, you sweet sweet naive boy,' Phil thought to himself. The gulf between what Phil knew and what Andy thought Phil knew was wider than the Suez Canal. While he'd had as many partners as Andy had, if not more, since the whole thing had started, he'd always sort of projected to Andy that he was keeping a small household. Sooner or later, he was going to have to let Andy in on everything, but he had to wait until the paperwork came through granting his friend officially top-secret clearance, at least in regards to the Quaranteam serum and the DuoHalo epidemic.