[ Sci-Fi ] A "Little Women" retelling.
Jo has survived an alien invasion and an HSV-11 outbreak, and must travel to Sector-4 to get her peptide approved and into production. Her sister, Beth, is infected and isn't faring well. She will suffer a fate...
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted..."
Jo wiped her brow. It was a nice day, almost hot in the direct sunlight. It was exactly what Beth would have wanted for her Sector-1 departure.
Laurie, who stood between Amy and Jo, whispered to Amy. "Who actually shot her?" He was loud enough for all the March sisters to hear. Beth probably heard him from the coffin. He was that unquiet.
Amy dabbed her pretty blue eyes with a supply of Kleenex, shook her head of golden curls, and gazed at him adoringly.
Jo had to concentrate so her eyes didn't tumble into a roll.
"Shhh!" Meg scolded from Amy's other side. With an unsettled infant in her arms, she was more touchy than usual.
"I thought it was a valid question," Laurie then said to no one in particular. "That person would need my condolences too. Was it you?" When he nudged Jo, he hit a sore spot. In different circumstances, she would have decked him in retaliation.
Jo lifted her right hand. The whole arm was broken, stitched up, plastered, swathed, and in a sling. "Does it look like I'm in any state to shoot someone?"
"It's hard to believe that would stop you. But if not you, then who?"
"Does it matter?" Meg asked him.
"It was me," Marmee answered, matter-of-factly, from her position in front of them, and it ended all conversation.
She'd saved Jo's life and didn't hesitate.
If it had been up to Jo, she probably would have let Beth eat her. They'd be mourning the loss of two March sisters right now. It was all so hard to fathom. She didn't want to die but wasn't sure she had the nerve to kill her own sister. Thanks to her mother, who loved them all, Jo was still a living, breathing resident of the Earth they hoped to get back someday, and Beth's unplanned death wasn't a moral burden Jo would have to bear.
For the rest of the ceremony, Sector-1 was uncharacteristically quiet. Gunfire was distant and infrequent. The birds were chirping. The breeze was cool and serene. So, it was both odd and eerie to hear the hum of a Tau-Cetian hovercraft.
It landed on the empty plot of grass reserved for the remaining war or virus victims. The doors glided opened. With the wind in her red hair, Dr. Frieda Bhaer emerged with a medical transport cooler in hand.
She scanned the thinning crowd for a familiar face, and when she found one, her face gleamed like a proud scientist who found the answer she was looking for.
With admirable poise and haste, she reached Jo and greeted her with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so sorry about your sister and apologize for not getting here sooner."
"No worries. Things took a turn for the worse earlier than we anticipated. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Jo said, answering the question Frieda's eyes were clearly asking.
"Again, I'm sorry. We can't bring her back, or negate what you've endured, but we can move forward. It all came down to a single disulfide bond..."
"Does that mean JM37 is stable now?"
"Yes." They embraced again, and then, hand in hand, they turned toward the Medical Ward. "Are you ready to save the world?"
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