It has been over a week since the possible cure for the curse has been discovered. No information leaks have been detected as of yet, the only person outside of those I authorized to know of the cure is the high brass back home. I had spent hours encrypting the binary message that was sent through the entangled channel. It was sent with the highest classification I am able to put on a report. Only the upper admirals in the navy, and at least 3-star generals in other branches are able to access this report, at least on the military side. I am sure the intelligence spooks have already gotten their grubby hands on it. I only got a short response within the hour of the full data transfer being sent and probably decrypted.,

"Continue research. Keep secret until it is fully known. Report all major findings in the same manner as before..."

There is no signature which means someone with at least 4 stars sent the message, or someone with the title of "director". Looks like I'm popular.

Since it has been a week I head down to the medical room and find Phllia looking absolutely drained, the medical officers tired, and Josef absolutely buzzing with energy with his signature mad-scientist smile. I greet them all happily and I am given largely dismissive looks. Josef greets me happily and drags Phillia over to a chamber. I ask,

"What's that Josef?"

He happily responds,

"Ms.Phillia here explained she cannot endlessly produce her magic so she needs to recharge from ambient mana. This chamber allows the background mana radiation to flow into it which helps charge her up. It is a modified version of the decontamination chamber, so after she is properly charged we then decontaminate her which unfortunately reduces her internal reserves. This is why she looks so... drained."

I nod and say,

"Just don't break her."

I am about to leave when the Chief Medical officer grabs me by the sleeve and begs me,

"Please Commodore... tell him to stop. While his research is great, he hasn't stopped to eat or sleep for this entire week it feels like. I've gotten less than 2 hours a night."

I nod and shout at Josef,

"Call it for the day, remember not everyone can survive off of their energy stores like you."

The much thinner Josef turns to me with a sheepish look and he apologizes to the group. I leave alongside the rest.

Josef's lineage was initially designed for long-term space exploration prior to FTL. Basically his body stores fat and nutrients and this allows him to last for a long time without eating and little sleep, he also can literally hibernate like a bear if needed as well. At the start of this week, he was easily 270 lbs, but now I'd say he weighs about 200. That means he has been active all week, if he were to lounge around he could probably go nearly a month without a meal when he was 270.

I return to the bridge with that settled before realizing that I had forgotten to ask how the research was going. I sigh and send a message to Josef who immediately sends me a huge document that has all his findings typed up in his normal frantic and nearly schizophrenic style. These are just his notes rather than a real scientific report like I asked for, but since the research is still going on that means that won't be done for some time. So while doing my normal command tasks, I am sorting through the huge document and summarizing it into easily digestible bits so I can send anything major to the unknown important figure.

The gist of the research is this:

The mana is absolutely destructive to the prion, just like it is to the person it resides within. This is because of known biological structures becoming destroyed and damaged by alien radiation. This means there is now an effective way to destroy prions within a body or just in general. Basically a form of radiation that can absolutely destroy the prion, converting it to new molecules utilizing the reversed pole particles. Thus the prion no longer exists.

The problems being found right now are two things, first is the need for targeting as blasting a person with the necessary amount of mana radiation to cure them would also turn them into a pile of cancer and burned flesh. Second, the resulting product formed out of the prion has to be removed or else it will most likely create blood or brain cancer, which is tricky even with modern cancer removal technologies.

So the two problems are targeting and extraction of products. This is unfortunate because with our technology we can't really bend beams of radiation and they don't usually work like science fiction tractor beams. So unfortunately this means a mage or wizard or whatever is required to utilize the radiation as a cure. That or something that can intricately move and flow mana through a system, dodging cells and most important things, destroying and extracting the raw molecules left behind from the destruction of a prion.

Unfortunately, the conclusion Joesf gives is that as of the current moment, the only way known to cure the curse inside of a human is a sufficiently potent and capable mage. He then lists the names, ranks, and ID numbers of all those so far who have been cured, which basically is all of the medical crew and Josef. It also details the cancers and burns that resulted from being cured and the refining of the process to remove and heal the damaged skin. There is a medical AI report stating that the chance for cancer later in life after this treatment is most likely marginally larger, but with current capabilities and medications, most cancers can either be cured or cut out.

With this information, I take the summary, encrypt it, and send it to my unknown contact back home. I put in my operational advice to potentially begin sending the resupply fleet as it will take a long time to get here. I recommend that a full medical research vessel come here to help Josef. While I completely believe Josef to be the best for the job, he isn't a medical scientist, he is simply a biologist and technically focused specifically on mycology, or at least his thesis was over it. He has expanded his horizons through his six decades of life and has great knowledge of the human body and with his wife's abiotic research, he can probably figure out how this all works. It's just we need actual medical researchers if we want to know how viable this treatment will be. Plus the medical staff aboard the Catfish have a grand total of eight years of university between 12 people, they aren't doctors, just corpsmen and medical officers.

With more hours of my life spent sending an encrypted message halfway across the galaxy...

Later on, I'm in my room, listening to music all the way up as I have just finished showering. I sing along poorly to the high-energy music. On the wall a movie is playing, some modern action flick that I can't remember the name of. I begin polishing my right hand, despite it being made of an alloy that won't rust unless a really acidic mixture is put on it, It does lose its shiny and new look after repeated showers, so I make sure to keep it nice and shiny, even if I always wear gloves.

As I shuffle around enjoying my free time, I find out I forgot to lock my door. As it slides open as someone barges in without knocking my music immediately mutes and the movie turns off so I can give the person my full attention, being an old cranky guy I turn around with a rather stern look on my face.

Shariahs POV

I can't believe it. The Commodore would hide something so important from me! It would've gone completely over my head if it wasn't for one of the corpsmen talking to me about it. From his expression when I expressed confusion when he asked a question about, "The Cure for the Curse" the Commodore really wanted this under wraps. I am the head diplomatic officer on this mission, this type of information is important so I can do my job. So I can create a fair exchange with our alien friends. This is the proper way to do things, and he has gone around me.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

I storm through the halls of the warship, I will give him a piece of my mind!"

The bridge crew tells me that he has gone back to his room as he is off for the next seven hours. I storm toward his room and when I arrive I find the door isn't sealed. I press the exterior button and the door opens with a hiss. Light fills the dark room from the hallway as I go inside and freeze immediately as my blood runs cold.

A pair of reflective blue eyes stare back at me. The eyes of a predator, whose den had just been intruded on. The light coming from the hall barely illuminates the room, but I can see him. He is shirtless and at one point I had thought would've been a nice sight, instead a feeling of disgust fills me, his body is a depiction of unimaginable abuse.

Large swathes of skin look melted and shredded, pieced together with long snaking scars where the grafts meet. Metal implants stick from seemingly random parts of his body, some just the external parts of artificial internal organs. There is a jagged and shredded edge of flesh slowly fuzing with steel where his robotic arm is attached. Even while facing him partially head-on I can see where ports for connecting cables end on the sides of his neck, and I assume they run down his spine. Scars of various sizes and shapes cover him, all of them surgical and from internal implants or skeletal reinforcements that I cannot see from the outside of his body. He speaks sternly but not angrily his voice level and without the normal humor behind it,

"How may I help you Diplo-Colonel?"

I stammer out, forgetting the reason I came,

"Y-You're more machine than man... you... are barely human..."

Back to Commodore Hollander's POV"

I furrow my brow in confusion at the question. It kinda hurt yes, but I find myself confused. I mean we literally have machine cultists in engineering. How is it strange? Then I remember that I have the lights off because it doesn't affect my vision. The dim light of the TV was enough to illuminate the room for me as if it were midday, and by my nature, my pupils adjust to light near-instantly so I never noticed the difference in light between the two areas. I cuss and with a thought, the lights turn back on and Shariah gets a better look at my pretty awful state. I sigh and pull my shirt on, even though I was planning to get some sleep soon.

I sit on my bed while shaking my head. I say to her,

"Come on in, what was it that you needed? I was just heading to bed."

Poor girl, I probably scared the shit outta her. When you grew up with your entire family and many of your friends having tapetum lucidum it doesn't bother you. There are only 3 lineages that have a tapetum lucidum: mine, the marines who have nearly full internal night vision, and one lineage that comes from an orbitally locked planet that keeps one side always night, and the twilight area was the only habitable zone a long time ago while technology wasn't as good.

Shariah fully enters the room now that it is lit and she quickly regains composure after light illuminates the horrorshow of my body. I rub the bridge of my nose wishing I had a drink right now. I ask her,

"What can I do for ya Diplo-Colonel."

She shakes off her initial shock it seems and responds in an accusatory tone,

"What is it you haven't been telling me? I know Dr.Mengel is working on something but he is hiding it from me. What is it? As your second I need to know."

I mutter under my breath about Josef leaking even a little before I tell her,

"Okay, but you better not tell anyone. This is a matter of operation professionalism. I don't want the crew getting a false hope or something like that, if things turn out negative.

Basically, we may have found a cure for humanity's curse."

Her face is stoic for a second before suddenly realization hits her. I frown knowing why. Since she is a paradise worlder the original virus that resulted in the misfolding of proteins in nearly all humans, does not affect her or her kind. This means the curse on her home planet was most likely seen as a historical anecdote, rather than something very pressing and traumatizing that defines life for most people. I guess since no one talks about it really until someone succumbs to it, most likely it rarely crosses her mind. I forgive her mentally as she harshly asks,

"I am the head of diplomacy. Why shouldn't I know other than for panic? Do you not trust me?"

I simply nod and respond,

"Yes. I do not trust you not to spill the beans."

She seems frustrated for a second before she sighs and asks,

"Encrypted contact from command?"

I nod and she rubs the bridge of her nose. The mutual understanding between officers here is that when someone of at least four stars or is of the intelligence department sends a message they want to be classified or otherwise obscured they send it without contact details or signatures, any lower officer is supposed to act as if they never received the message. Across branches, the statement, "I do not trust you not to spill the beans" means one received a message like this.

We sit in silence for a bit before she states,

"As the head diplomatic officer, it is important for me to know things like this because it is something we may want out of our new alien friends. So please, when the findings are at a more complete state, let me know what you are allowed to do."

I nod and she then asks,

"How is it that all of you can have something like that on the top of your mind? Why would a potential cure cause such a negative reaction that it must be classified?"

I frown and from her expression, it's clear my expression darkened more than I wanted to show. I explain,

"It's hard to explain if you never grew up with the curse. Consider yourself lucky. Everyone, I mean everyone on this ship either knows someone close who fell or watched someone fall to the curse. It's traumatizing, at best they just fall over braindead or something, worst case they go berserk. Incapable of feeling pain and without self-preservation, they don't know their family or friends, they are scared and angry, and like cornered animals, they lash out. Maybe they hallucinate the nearest person as a scary monster they try to kill or a nearby baby as a bucket of chicken and they are starving.

It's traumatic, and everyone knows that it's inside of them. Every little bit of Deja Vu is horrifying causing someone to ask if they are falling or if it's their minds playing tricks on them. Every mental slip-up is as scary as a car wreck because a moment of dizziness could be low iron, or that your brain is turning to swiss cheese. Everything like that is a reminder, and trust me, everyone is desperate. Not a panicking type of desperation, but a quiet and fragile one that everyone lives with. Any mention of a proper treatment or cure can shatter that fragility.

I've seen when that fragility shatters, we don't want to see it."

She sits in stunned silence as if this all was news to her, and it might be. I let her drink it all in before she stands up. She salutes me and with a determined expression says,

"I will keep this to myself, sir. All I request is that you let me know what you can when I can utilize the information."

I nod and motion for her to leave which she does. As she stops at the door she glances back at me with an expression I cannot read. Then she steps into the hall and the door slides shut. With that done I lock it with a thought, strip once more, and try to get some sleep...

The next morning I stand on the bridge with a cup of coffee in my hand. Normally I can operate without the bitter liquid, but I guess my sleep wasn't that good last night. It happens, some days are worse than others. Sipping along and reading through the various reports is thankfully boring as usual. Boring means nothing bad happened, the worst was some sailors got in a brawl over a dessert. They were punished correctly and nothing more had come of it so far. Then a high-priority message enters the corner of my vision. I find it is through the FTL communication array and is deeply encrypted. I already know it is from my unknown contact in response to my report. It reads

"Commodore Hollander, after deliberation among the highest military and intelligence authorities your request for a relief fleet has been granted and will contain medical research vessels as well as infrastructure construction vessels. Your mission has now been elevated to Alaska-level Priority. At the request of the Selective Intelligence Committee in Congress, current findings will remain classified until infrastructure is developed or more information has been known.

The President and their closest advisors with high authority have been notified. Continue with your current action, stand-by for further orders."

I swallow nervously staring at the Alaska-level priority. This priority is the second highest category, and I've only seen it once before and that was when the UNCA remnants invaded. This priority basically means maximum resource allocation to the mission or situation. The next step higher is the Omega level, a non-state named level meaning all resources, regardless of legality or constitutionality are to be used, basically reserved for a MAD or similar scenario where nothing matters anymore. If this mission is now considered Alaska that means the relief fleet will not only contain the medical vessel and resupply vessels but will probably contain other research vessels and more potent warships than the ones already here in alien space. They also mentioned infrastructure vessels which could mean a lot of things when something is designated Alaska. It could be ships coming to build orbital stations, planetary rings, Dyson constructs, or something else incredible.

I don't know their full plans, but with more people back at home knowing about the current situation it makes me more comfortable about the whole situation. More brains will be thinking about this, and more resources can be allocated if needed.