<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/XsPFh1t.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Samantha Adams (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15726713#msg15726713)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Human<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Doctor<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>18th December 2174 CE, Late Evening<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>Yoga pants, sports bra and a scowl.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Cargo Bay<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>I’m trying to build a bridge here...<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Arcus | CLOSED<br/><br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>She wasn’t expecting a compliment. The pale blue of her eyes flashed as she blinked rapidly, processing the words, and almost wondered if she had projected them out of thin air. The spectre wasn’t the only one under a lot of stress; while this shit-show was a new introduction for him, it has occupied her life non-stop for the past few weeks. And, honestly, those words were the first time anyone had acknowledged her investment and dedication. The councilors only wanted miracles and instant results. They wanted the problem, at first, to be swept under the rug. Sam’s own<em>insistance</em>kept that from happening. Scream and shout loud enough and long enough, and eventually, the politicians became sincere and assigned a task force to solve the problem. All they wanted were the results they could take credit for.<br/><br/>And, if it failed… well, there was a spectre to take the fall.<br/><br/>Disarmed, a little abashed, Samantha lifted a hand and pushed it through her short hair, feathering her bangs as if they were trying to impersonate the crest on the turian’s own head. She all but shuffled and dug her toe into the floor. “I already put together the email with all the data they would require. I plan on sending that out as soon as the researchers confirm a few more things to ensure efficiency.” There was a quick, pink flash as she licked her lips, then finally returned her gaze to Arcus, leaning casually against the crates.<br/><br/>Was he always trying to look so intimidating? Or was it so ingrained into him that he just didn’t realize it? Intimidating wasn’t enough to turn her around to chase her own tail, however. “That was my written report and supporting evidence I sent you, not a data dump.”<br/><br/>Now she was rubbing the back of her neck, feeling a little sheepish as she explained<em>why</em>it was so big. “It covers everything from projections of contagious vectors with spore pathogens, taking into account the atmosphere and how chlorine may affect its infection rate and comparisons to similar known viruses on explored territories within the galactic system. I didn’t think you would have any interest in things like<em>Ophiocordyceps unilateralis</em>or the diverse families comprising ecologically, economically, medicinally, and culturally important fungi…”<br/><br/>She cleared her throat into her hand, then tucked her arm behind her back as the woman rocked back onto her heels. She didn’t think he’d be interested in the conversation she had earlier with the drell containing the various stages of asexual reproduction in plant matter and the spores that these produce. How the very thing they could be looking for could be dependant on the flora’s life cycle. That would only add more stress and frustration, and clearly, he had enough on his plate. Better to keep that one to herself, at least until she could answer with more than ‘I don’t know’.<br/><br/>At least she could reassure him by answering one of his questions. “I had a similar thought. When this mission was first being put together I had requested that no non-biotics be placed on board. But that shortened the list of candidates considerably, even with dextro-amino bodies in consideration. When we discovered that the spores have been bioengineered, however, their adjusted markers only support our theories.” What little they had to go on. “At first we considered that Salarian’s might also be immune due to the acceleration of their metabolisms; they run hot. Most viruses can’t stand high levels of heat before they break apart. Without further data, it’s not a theory I’m willing to test. But those markers we discover have the spores attaching to a chemical called interferon. It’s…”<br/><br/>Were his eyes glazing over? Was she prattling on? This was exactly why she wanted to do this in person rather than through an email. “It’s been engineered to reproduce using a chemical that normally destroys this option within the human immune system. Salarians don’t produce interferon, which is more supporting evidence that my species is the target. We don’t know for sure if Salarian’s can get sick, or if they’ll react differently. But the virus still needs to get inside the bloodstream where it can take root.”<br/><br/>And in this care, she was quite literal with the term.<br/><br/>“So long as we use proper filtration systems and decontamination protocols, the ship and crew will be safe. The virus cannot withstand living outside of a host for more than an hour."