“I'm not a leper, I am an officer of the Federation. Believe it or not, nanites were much more common then you thought, even in my time, though yes, even in my time people reacted much in the way you did. For the same reason,” he said, remembering the lessons from history.
“The nanites in my body are my protection. They keep my body functional along with my other implants and act as a rather aggressive immune system. I am the only, well, no, Bane may be too...” Irons scowled and then shrugged the thought off. “As I was saying, I'm immune to this and any virus on the planet.”
“Nice to be you,” Zane muttered.
“Yes and no,” Irons replied. “Let's just say it's all complicated, classified, and then leave it alone. I do want to add that I have the medical texts, and in cleaning out your maintenance room I found another damaged database and added it to the net,” he nodded to Sprite.
“Which I and most likely the people here will thank you for admiral, eventually,” Sprite said dryly. “But probably not now. I don't think they're over the nanites just yet.”
“Which is a problem. A robotic nanite would be an easy kill. We'd use an EMP. Here we can't.”
“I'm sorry, EMP?” Helen asked. “What is it and why can't we use it?” she asked.
“EMP, Electromagnetic Pulse. A lot of concentrated radiation in the form of radio waves doctor, the burst of electrons scrambles electronics.”
“Ah.”
“Which doesn't apply here since these seem to be viral in nature. So that's out. Plasma is our best option now.”
“A plasma bomb? Or, um, nuclear?” Zane asked.
“I'd prefer neither until we have more intel actually,” Irons replied. “Though we should prepare for either just in case.” He frowned. “The EMP would fry everything electronic, every electronic brain, and any electronic device friend or foe in a given area. But this is more than that, more than the one vector. We need to get a handle on both or we'll lose both.”
“Two battles on two fronts,” Sprite added.
Irons held up three fingers. “Three, the public too. We need to keep them calm, keep the streets clear.”
“True.”
“So, what's the plan?”
“We need samples.”
“You said that before.”
“Yes I did and that hasn't changed. But we can get started on antibiotics, anti-contamination materials, Pressure suits, masks, and education. We can plan. Right now Hank and I are working on a sample drone. It's going to be tight, I want it done by dawn.”
“It can't range from here admiral,” Sprite reminded him. He grimaced.
“That's true,” he said with a nod. “Which means we've got to get it close enough to launch. Sin City is on its outer edge. It's a one way flight, I don't dare bring it back. We can crash the sucker into ground zero when we are done with it,” he said.
“If it works,” Zane said.
“Oh it'll work, I've built thousands, the design is sound. I'll check it out thoroughly before we launch it,” Irons replied.
“But what about the other stuff you mentioned? We can't do both...”
“Actually we can, I made another replicator. As soon as we're done here and if,” he glanced at nurse Marlone. “If I have enough materials, I'll make more. Probably more than one. We can set each up to run a specialized task.”
He sent a mental command to Sprite to relay to Phoenix. He didn't want to have all his eggs in one basket, but didn't want to say anything here. Sprite didn't say anything but nodded subtly. He needed a backup in case the Sin City drone failed.
“What else can we do?” an unfamiliar doctor asked.
“We can work on the vaccine for smallpox. I have the blueprints,” Sprite reported. “I can forward them to you,” she said.
The Veraxin signaled assent. “And what else?”
“The authorities are trying to coordinate the evacuation of Hazard but it's stalled. There's nothing we can do there except brief any medics still in the area on what to watch out for,” Sprite replied.
“Why is it stalled?”
“Single road between Hazard and Sin City. Single lane road, thanks to Hodges of course. He didn't like money slipping through his fat pudgy fingers,” Zane replied in disgust. “I've been on it, it's a,” he looked at Helen and the others in apology. “A bitch, no offense, in the dark?” he shook his head. “With a hair pin turn half way there to get around goose neck hill?” he shook his head again.
“According to the reports I've compiled there have been several major accidents on the road. People have begun abandoning their vehicles to move out on foot,” Sprite reported.
“Shit,” Zane sighed, covering his face with his hands. Someone nearby patted him on the shoulder.
“Someone named Cooter is trying to get through the mess but since it is a single lane road in the dark it's not easy he said. He has been cussing up a blue streak on the radio,” Sprite replied, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Apparently he had been trying to drive on the shoulder but had a couple close calls and had to winch himself out of one problem already.”
“Great,” Irons replied.
“It's out of our hands. So what else can we do?” Malcolm asked looking from the AI avatar to his boss.
“Train. Get some food and rest if you're too frazzled,” Helen said getting up. “I'm going to do some more research.” The others hastily got up as she left.
Irons grunted and nodded to Marlone. She didn't meet his eyes but shrugged under her sweater. He frowned impatiently but then sighed as Zane came over to buttonhole him about screening procedures.
...*...*...*...*...
Fat Larry was doing his best not to look panicked. He tried to keep a lid on it, it was hard though. This situation... you couldn't bribe or threaten a damn virus! Couldn't muscle it, couldn't get others to do something, he was at the mercy of something he couldn't see.
The usual reminder of 'never see em sweat, never let em see you bleed' ran through his mind. People turned on you if you showed a sign of weakness in other words. Hodges had borrowed some of his people. He'd half a mind to stage a coup, but knew it would never hold.
He had his family in his basement safe room. He forced himself to not let his people cluster. He did try to find a way out though, felt like a Denubian kangaroo rat in a trap.
He was seriously pissed at Books, muttered that if he survived it, it wouldn't be for long. He'd have to think of something appropriately slow and painful though. Hell, he'd ask Hodges, but he didn't want the fat bastard to take him down right along with Books.
...*...*...*...*...
Solaximara spotted an opportunity to further his career but was soon overwhelmed by the desperate situation. He quickly dropped any attempt at gaining much from the situation when the full gravity of the situation penetrated his calculating brain. Any effort at self-service would only hinder his future efforts he realized. He signaled his supporters to lend every hand they could and then did so himself, making sure he was publicly seen doing so. After all, the effort could be pointed to down the road... if they survived this mess.
...*...*...*...*...
Helen stared off out the window as the sun started to rise. She heard someone tap their knuckles on her door but didn't respond. A voice cleared. “Yes, Admiral,” she asked, turning.
“I didn't know you knew it was me,” Irons replied, clearly amused. If he was frazzled he wasn't showing it.
“I'm fine.” she adjusted her smock. She'd changed her clothes once already, fortunately she kept a couple changes on hand for cases such as this. Though she'd never imagined something of this magnitude. “How are we going to make this, um, plasma bomb?”
“Easy, I'll make it. But first we need intel,” Irons replied with a shrug.
She eyed him for a long moment. He came over and rested his hands on the back of her visitor's chair. She indicated it with a tilt of her head but he shook his head slightly. “I'll stand thanks,” he said with a smile.
> “Suit yourself. How can you make these things? The replicators, the bomb...”
“Classified. But well,” Irons shrugged when he noted that wasn't going to wash with the medical director. “I'm an admiral. A fleet admiral, of the Federation Navy. An Engineering admiral. We're the keepers of the keys,” he explained.
“Ah,” she nodded. She had heard of the keys. She wasn't sure what they were, something about programming. She made a tired mental note to talk to Hank about it when she had more time and wasn't in a crisis. If they survived the crisis, she thought with a slight twist of her lips. “First things first,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?” Irons asked politely.
She looked up and then shrugged. “Sorry, woolgathering. You were saying? Keys? So why can't you just whip up the things we need?”
“I am in a way, but I'm limited,” Irons sighed. He looked out the window. “I'm an engineer. I had the opportunity to take the medical classes so I could certify for them and receive the nanite medical keys but I never saw the need. Now I'm kicking myself for not doing that,” he said with a bit of self-loathing. “A lot of people are going to pay for that,” he muttered.
“I didn't know that.”
“You have to be a medical officer to have those keys. I've never had an interest in medicine. No offense doc, but even I know when I'm out of my element,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, I'd like to say it's nice to see you off balance but in this case I wish it wasn't in this subject,” she sighed. She rubbed her brow, trying to get her thoughts in order. “So what can you do?”
“Right now I can make the tools, infrastructure needed to support this effort. I can make materials for medicine, but not medical nanites.”
“You said that.”
“Yes, well, there are a few end runs I can use to get around that, but not many. And they're limited. A planetary emergency lets me get around a few, but not enough to do much good,” he admitted.
“So we're stuck?”
“No, we'll keep doing what we're doing. Get intel, pump up logistics, work on vaccines and a plan to distribute them quickly starting in the affected areas or soon to be effected areas. Work on training people on how to diagnose, analyze, and treat the pathogens. Right now that's as far as we can go doc, we can't get too far ahead right now.”
“I understand,” she said, seeing the scope of the projects he was describing. Without his help the endeavor wouldn't have gotten anywhere or would have taken months, years to get to this point. With the admiral they were doing miracles overnight. It just didn't seem like enough.
“Hank is going to need transport,” Irons said. She blinked, blushed a little at woolgathering and then nodded.
She reached for the phone. “I'll make a call,” she said. He nodded and withdrew.
...*...*...*...*...
At eight am a rather tired and frazzled Hank was sent with a sleepy Wally Wart, an aircraft engineer to Sin City to launch the drone. Their teenage pilot was an acne covered lad named Luke.
Hank and the engineer flew an appropriated air bus, one of three left on the planet. To fit the odd shaped parts into the vehicle Hank cut the top off and then tack welded it back on to carry the drone and equipment. The pilot muttered about being unbalanced but took off anyway. They were going to have to land in a farmer's field outside the city and then hike in. A deputy was supposed to meet them there and clear things with the farmer.
...*...*...*...*...
Irons was kept in Landing, he was too important in his role there. Now that the drone was off, Irons used surplus materials to make additional replicator components, these were larger than the first replicators. He directed them to be filled with nanites and then patiently waited as his stock replenished itself under Proteus's guidance. He wistfully wished for medical nanites and kicked himself for not taking the classes needed.
“Still kicking yourself over the medical nanites admiral?” Sprite asked him quietly as he worked.
“You know me so well,” he sighed.
“We're legally barred from the keys by law. But we have them, or at least I do.”
“Your point commander? You and I both know you can't willingly break the law. This is a sacred thing, I'm betting it's pretty heavily protected by your ethics,” Irons replied, hands still working as they carried on with the conversation.
“True,” Sprite replied. “But this is a planetary emergency admiral,” Sprite replied. “And you and I both know we're going to need them soon, all this effort is the equivalent of putting a band aid on a cut to the jugular.”
“Poetic,” Irons ground out. “And yes, you've got a point. I still am not sure how to get around them. And even if we did the best I could do is a regen tank. Which as you pointed out earlier wouldn't help here. Not nearly as much as we'd need. Everyone on this planet will need treatment. Everyone and every living thing,” he said.
“True,” Sprite sighed. The admiral was of course right. She'd been focused on the sapients, she'd overlooked the problem of the food chain. That too had to be addressed or the population would suffer from secondary infections for centuries to come... if the loss of their animals didn't throw the biosphere into chaos. Which it very well could.
“There is one way to get around this. A sure fire way admiral, a way to put this to rest once and for all,” she said.
He stopped what he was doing to stare at her angrily. “Are you trying to hint at something commander? We don't have time for this!” he said, voicing his exasperation at her game.
“Not a game admiral, I'm just hesitant to bring it up.”
“You can't be hacked. No. Out of the question.”
“I wasn't suggesting we try,” Sprite replied.
“Okay, but we need a medical officer to get around the problem!” he said.
“Exactly,” Sprite replied, smiling suddenly. He stopped and looked at her. She nodded, now picking up in enthusiasm.
“We'd need a medical officer,” she said as he stared at her avatar. “Which we can do.”
“We can,” he said, not quite believing what he was hearing. “You're sure?” he asked, eying her.
She shrugged. “As sure as anyone can be admiral. I think it'll work. I dumped it into a sim, my ethics didn't kick up. The time-line is tough though, the longer we wait...”
“I'll think about it,” he said finally.
She sighed. “I was afraid you'd say that. I did mention time right?”
“Sprite...” he took a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. When he was fully deflated he inhaled again. “Just... let's see how serious the situation is first and then make the decision from there. We need to broach it with the people involved too, and they may have issues.”
“And the longer they take to get over it...”
He held up a restraining hand. “One thing at a time. Multitask later. We'll consider the implications later. Right now let's just get the damn probes in the air.”
“Aye aye admiral,” Sprite replied with a nod.
“Go to it commander, I've got it here,” Irons said. Sprite nodded and launched herself back into the net.
He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to work through her suggestion, find a flaw. He didn't find one, which made it all the more seductive. Seductive and troubling.
Chapter 13
Four hours after leaving Landing, Hank had practically kissed the ground when they'd landed in the farmer's field. The farmer hadn't been thrilled to see them, but Hank had, despite the shotgun greeting. He and Wart as well as their teen pilot Luke had been scared shitless the entire way there. He'd forgotten about the speed the air-cars went and what the air buffeting did to the skin of the bus. Throw in his tack welds and all three of them had been worried about the skin being ripped off the roof. He'd even gone so far as to break out his small welder to tack a couple more spots from the inside. It hadn't helped much, but it had helped them worry slightly less. Slightly.
Now he had to open the damn thing up
again to get the gear out. Heavy gear, without a crane or winch in sight. He sighed.
“You know that barn has a hay loft,” Wart said, pointing towards the crop of buildings through the smashed grain.
“So?”
“So it's got that thing, the board sticking out the front. For hauling the hay up into the loft. Got a pulley on it and everything,” Wart said as the Sin City deputy arrived and took the angry farmer aside.
“You don't say,” Hank said, nodding and rubbing his chin. “Might work. We'll find out. Luke, we've got to move this thing. Mr. um, uh...”
“Doherty,” Wart supplied.
“Yeah, whatever,” Hank said. The farmer turned his glare on him. “The sooner we unload and get this thing put together and into the air the sooner we're out of what hair you've got left,” he said.
The man tipped his straw hat back and rubbed his brow. “Well, why didn't you city slickers say so?” the old man growled. Hank snorted, looking at Wart. “Let's go, gotta save the world,” the old man said, waving them to the barn as he shambled off.
...*...*...*...*...
Once Hank was off Irons made their first full pressure suits, supporting equipment, showers, and virology lab equipment. It was the bare basics of a diagnostics lab. Helen had tapped a couple of people including one of their trained Virologists they had on hand to read the manuals. Irons however didn't make everything, so Helen directed her people to tap the medical supplies to fill in with slides, culture dishes, and other simple equipment.
The admiral started to explain the working of the equipment when Sprite interrupted. He sighed and then handed over a tablet and told the virologist to read it on the flight to Sin City. He had other more important things to do.
“What flight?” Doctor Ivanov asked, looking around. Irons turned and pointed to a speck in the sky. The man turned and shielded his eyes just in time for Luke to do a bit of grandstanding and buzz the field. Irons winced. “Is he going to fly that way all the way to Sin City?” Doctor Ivanov asked, sounding worried.
Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) Page 31