A scooter shot away from its storage rack on the black ship, and a crew
of black-garbed technicians piled into the _Lancet_'s entrance lock,
dressed in the special decontamination suits worn when a ship was
returning from a plague spot into uninfected territory.
"What is this?" Tiger demanded as the technicians started unloading
decontamination gear into the lock. "What are you doing with that
stuff?"
The squad leader looked at him sourly. "You're in quarantine, Doc," he
said. "Class I, all precautions, contact with unidentified pestilence.
If you don't like it, argue with the Black Doctor, I've just got a job
to do."
He started shouting orders to his men, and they scattered throughout the
ship, with blowers and disinfectants, driving antiseptic sprays into
every crack and cranny of the ship's interior, scouring the hull outside
in the rigid pattern prescribed for plague ships. They herded the
doctors into the decontamination lock, stripped them of their clothes,
scrubbed them down and tossed them special sterilized fatigues to wear
with masks and gloves.
"This is idiotic," Jack protested. "We aren't carrying any dangerous
organisms!"
The squad leader shrugged indifferently. "Tell it to the Black Doctor,
not me. All I know is that this ship is under quarantine until it's
officially released, and from what I hear, it's not going to be released
for quite some time.
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