When Johnny passed away, Jason felt a profound sense of loss.
He remembered the man; they had briefly crossed paths at the Lunar Base. Jason came from a military background and had seen his fair share of death, but this time, Johnny's passing left a heavy lump in his throat.
Johnny's life had been utterly ordinary.
He came from a common background, had a decent education, and went through the typical phases of teenage rebellion and youthful daydreaming, just like anyone else. Overall, his life had been unremarkable. Aside from earning good grades, he hadn't done anything earth-shattering.
But without a doubt, he was a genuinely good person.
He was highly intelligent, otherwise, he would never have gained admission to a top-tier international university. However, his quiet and unassuming nature often made people think he was simple-minded and easy to push around.
Some took advantage of his honesty, exploited his hard work, and then cast him aside. Others sympathized with him, couldn't bear to see him mistreated, and quietly looked out for him. The world was full of both kinds of people.
Human nature is infinitely complex. But Johnny had suffered too many injustices, a symptom of a flawed societal system where the deceitful often found it easier to thrive than the honest.
Honest people shouldn't be bullied; they should be rewarded. That was Johnny's final, dying wish.
He hoped that the good, honest people remaining on The Noah could live happy, fulfilling lives.
Naturally, Jason shared this vision; it aligned perfectly with his own goals. There were only 50,000 people left on The Noah, which drastically simplified the web of human interests. Jason firmly believed that those who were honest, driven, and kind deserved a better life.
As for the cunning, selfish, and malicious individuals? Well, they were out of luck. If he didn't root them out, he wouldn't be Jason.
Deep in his subconscious, Jason could feel his mind clearing. The heavy sluggishness was fading; his enhanced immune system was finally fighting back.
But a moment later, his relief turned to dread. Two more stars in his mental landscape blinked out of existence.
Two more patients had succumbed to the Martian virus.
Humanity's population was already critically low; every single loss was a devastating blow. How could he not be anxious? Jason knew that as the symptoms worsened, the high-temperature therapy would no longer be enough to protect them. If they didn't find a cure soon, the death toll would skyrocket.
Wake up! he urged himself frantically. Wake up! Despite his desperation, he had no physical form in this dark space. He couldn't force his eyes open. But he knew that waking up meant his antibodies had matured. With those antibodies, he could save his people!
Even without knowing how to control this psychic space, Jason fought madly to break free.
Mars Base, Biology Laboratory
"Status report! How is the Captain holding up?" Dr. Aidan, the lead researcher for Jason's ward, asked anxiously.
He worried that they had been too reckless. Injecting the Captain with such a massive viral load was incredibly dangerous. If something went wrong, the consequences would be catastrophic!
Dr. Aidan was a renowned biologist. He was already running a fever and showing early signs of infection, but he refused to leave his post. He desperately wanted to finish this crucial phase of the research before he, too, slipped into a coma.
He wanted to see the dawn of victory.
"Almost... almost there! It's incredible! We're detecting massive quantities of an unknown protein compound. It has to be the specific antibody... Yes! They are antibodies!" a young researcher yelled, his voice trembling with fanatical excitement.
"I've been sampling his blood every ten minutes, and the viral load is plummeting. It's almost entirely gone! Only residual toxins remain. It's truly incredible..."
The researcher paused, looking at a monitor. "The Captain's brainwaves are also highly erratic, almost like he's having a severe nightmare... The specific cause is unclear."
Hearing the first half of the report, Dr. Aidan waved off the rest. "Never mind his brainwaves for now! Have you analyzed the protein components? Have we isolated the specific white blood cells?"
The young researcher spoke rapidly. "...Not yet. The mechanism is incredibly complex. It appears to be a coordinated response from several different immune cells, which we can't fully map right now. To figure this out, we need a large extraction of fresh blood to culture the cells and isolate the serum containing these antibodies. This serum should be an effective treatment!"
"This protein structure is far too complex," the researcher continued, completely discarding professional decorum in his excitement. "Even if we map its molecular formula, we don't have the technology to synthesize something this intricate artificially..."
Dr. Aidan's eyes widened with hope. "Then what are you waiting for? Hurry! Draw 300 milliliters... no, make it 400 milliliters of blood! We're already losing people in the ward! Move!"
The researcher hesitated for a fraction of a second, holding the syringe. "But..."
"No buts!" Dr. Aidan snapped, instantly knowing what the young man was worried about. "Do you think the Captain would blame us for drawing too much? He's not that kind of man. If we don't do this, he'll blame us! Human lives are at stake!"
"Every minute we waste is another life lost! Hurry!" Dr. Aidan roared.
"Yes, Doctor!" The researcher immediately inserted the needle into Jason's arm. Bright red blood flowed into the collection bag, the literal lifeblood of their survival.
Taking 400 milliliters wasn't an unreasonable amount; it was roughly equivalent to a standard blood donation. However, Jason had already undergone numerous blood draws over the past few hours, pushing his body to the limit. He would likely feel incredibly weak when he finally woke up.
"Once the blood is drawn, isolate the therapeutic serum and initiate serum therapy for the critical patients immediately!" Dr. Aidan ordered decisively as he prepped the lab for the next phase.
Serum therapy is a medical procedure where blood serum from a cured individual is injected into a patient with a compatible blood type, transferring the vital antibodies to help fight off the disease. Fortunately, Jason's blood type was O-negative, making him a universal donor. His serum could be safely administered to almost anyone.
Since 1890, when scientists Emil von Behring and Kitasato Shibasaburo discovered that diphtheria antitoxin serum had therapeutic effects, serum therapy has been a foundational pillar in treating infectious diseases. Now, humanity's greatest scientific minds placed all their hopes on Jason's serum.
"Make sure to reserve a portion of the blood for cell culturing so we can map its exact mechanisms... We can't just keep draining the Captain's blood forever," Dr. Aidan continued, leaning heavily against a table.
"Use the first batch of extracted serum on the most critical patients. And the gene sequencing must continue. It absolutely cannot stop. Do you understand?"
After all, serum therapy was only a temporary treatment, not a permanent cure. If they ran out of serum before the patients recovered, they would be right back where they started. A synthesized cure via gene sequencing was still their only long-term hope.
Dr. Aidan continued to issue instructions, but he could feel his consciousness slipping away. The Martian neurotoxin was finally overriding his system.
As his vision went dark, a faint smile touched his lips.
"Humanity... is finally going to win."
He collapsed to the floor.