Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Telemetry lost. Accessing visual feed. I see an explosion on the ground. Self-destruct has activated,” Phoenix reported.

  “So what did we get?” Helen asked.

  Sprite frowned. “Some, but not as much as we would have liked. But it's a start.”

  “Oh?” Helen asked.

  “And you are not going to like it,” Sprite replied.

  “Oh.” Helen said, sounding subdued.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “We've got forty distinct pathogens here, just in the four sample passes from the Phoenix probe,” Sprite reported a few minutes later. The assembled doctors groaned at that news. “I haven't been able to identify any of them to a specific strain yet. The virology lab isn't up yet either so we're still waiting on them to get sorted out before they can begin processing the data,” Sprite said.

  “Why aren't they up yet?” Irons asked.

  “Lack of power and support at their chosen landing site on the outskirts of Sin City,” Helen replied. “I'm still arguing with people, or should I say I'm on hold to argue with people there,” she growled. “The city's hospital was set up to administer aid to both people who lived there and to tourists. But it has a rich upper crust edge so some of the doctors there do not like to serve common folk,” she growled.

  “Sore point,” a doctor near the admiral murmured, leaning towards another. The admiral's enhanced hearing picked it up easily.

  “She just doesn't like it that they do a lot of plastic surgery there. Elective stuff,” another said.

  “Lost a couple good surgeons,” the first said with a nod.

  “But not you?” the second teased. The other leaned over and snorted.

  “I was tempted...” a hand cracking onto the tabletop got their attention. They turned to Helen.

  “As I was saying,” Helen growled, “I'm still having problems there. I am also not certain Sin City is the place to do the work. Not with all the refugees in the area.”

  “How are we on treating and vaccinating all those people?” Doctor Zane asked.

  “Not well. Again, resistance. I'm dealing with it, even if I have to damn well go there and crack heads and fire people myself,” Helen growled.

  “Great,” Sprite sighed. The woman's angry eyes cut to her avatar on the big screen. The AI shrugged. “Hey, don't look at me that way, I didn't do it. You organics can't get your shit organized. What's the pithy marine saying? Can't lead a platoon to a brothel?” she asked looking at Irons.

  “Not appropriate Commander,” Irons sighed. “Not helping,” he sub-vocalized.

  “No, she's right, and yes, Sin City is mostly casinos, hotels, and brothels,” the doctor said. “No, they made up their mind for me, we'll send the virology team to Hazard.

  “Hazard?” Zane asked, sitting up straight. Others began to murmur. He waved for them to be silent. “You can't be serious! It'll be a death zone in...” he looked at the clock.

  “If the infection continues to spread at its present rate in under eighteen hours,” Sprite responded helpfully.

  “Which doesn't matter since they have suits,” Helen reminded them.

  “That they don't know how to use,” Zane countered.

  She looked at him with a slight edge of pity in her expression. “All the incentive to learn and do it right the first time right? After all, more than their lives are riding on their efforts,” she said. “Hazard has all the supplies they need to get the job done too,” she said looking at Irons.

  “Your call doctor, I'm support,” he said as other eyes turned to him.

  She nodded, adjusting her jacket firmly. “Fine. That's settled then. Tell Hank to have them use the tablets to do what they can. Keep the air buses there. After Hank's drone launches he and his crew can go with them as tech support. Someone needs to keep the machinery running right?” she asked, looking at the admiral.

  Irons winced. He hadn't sent many suits along, and wasn't sure they had enough for the ground crew. He could fix that however with a follow up flight. Or Hank could make his own. He nodded after a moment.

  “Fine, I'll cut the orders. What's next?” she asked.

  “You need to call a press conference,” Irons said.

  “And say what?” Helen demanded, slapping the tablet in front of her. “The people will freak!”

  “They need to see leadership. They need to see someone is working on the problem,” Sprite interjected, trying to sooth the director. “That the medics are aware of the situation and are taking steps. Explain the steps to those who missed it the first time. And you can lay out what we're doing to try to alleviate panic,” she said.

  “I'll...” Helen sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I'll see what I can do,” she finally admitted. “You know the world hasn't stopped since this crisis started? We're getting swamped with people. Not just the hypochondriacs that think they already have the disease and are on death's door, but also the idiots out there rioting, traffic accidents, fights...” she sighed, clearly frustrated.

  “And we're getting thieves now,” Nurse Marlone interjected. Helen threw her hands up in despair at that news. “Someone got past security and cleaned out the supply closets in the ER here and in Gotham. Hazard too. A lot of it has nothing to do with the virus, but we need it to treat people who were injured in the riots and other altercations,” the nurse said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Lovely,” Irons replied. “I've got a couple people watching the maintenance rooms now. But one group I didn't ask. They seem sort of shifty. I'd ask security to do something but they're all busy.”

  “I'll find someone,” Helen replied. “We can't afford to lose you or those replicators,” she said.

  “Oh you won't lose me,” Irons replied. “I'm tougher than that. But I posted a couple of micro cameras. I can give you a few too. But I suggest you give the police a call and ask for additional support.”

  “I'll...” Helen sighed shaking her head. “I'll see what I can do. I tried it before, explaining it to Commissioner 'I know what I'm doing, don't tell me my job' won't be easy.”

  “Tell him you aren't telling him how to do his job, you're asking him to do his job. Big difference. And remind him we need this stuff to stop the damn plague. Plagues plural,” Nurse Marlone said tartly. “Or better yet, let me handle ole pickle puss. He's an ass, but I know him and his wife. His wife Audrey is my bridge partner on Thursdays.”

  “Okay,” Helen laughed. “You can try it,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Any ideas on what I should say at this press conference?” she asked, turning first to the admiral, and then to Sprite.

  “I can come up with some bullet points,” Sprite offered. Helen nodded.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Still having trouble Richards called a press conference and laid out the situation and practically begged the people to help. Jerry Richards, Lois, and Clark were there. They were supportive with constructive questions. She was thankful for that. She nodded slightly to Jerry who nodded back. She felt comforted, seeing her ex-husband there.

  The commissioner of Gotham offered to help immediately. She gratefully thanked him. He also passed on word that several companies in his city were building medical supplies on a crash priority basis. His officers and Doctor Tompkins had received two dozen respirators, three full hazmat suits, and quarantine decontamination equipment from one of the pharmaceutical companies, along with anti-viral supplies.

  “Good,” she said. “Every little bit helps,” she said. She told him which viruses to work on. He told her he'd pass it on before he disconnected.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Hank's drone took off from the dirt road just after four thirty pm. It picked up some gravel hits to her underside, damaging her underside and her engine intake a bit. She was slower than planned. The drone climbed to its intended altitude of three thousand meters and then called Phoenix.

  The ship AI logged into the drone and did a quick POST check. It had already done several before, but the
Foreign Object Debris Damage was a concern. The AI queered the admiral for instructions.

  Irons however wasn't as much concerned about that as the time involved. An abort and turn around would just bring the craft right back to the makeshift runway where it would pick up more damage... and then get even more dinged up in a second take off. He overruled the AI and ordered it to stay on mission.

  Two hours later the drone came to the edge of the known infected zone. Infrared scanners told the story as the sun set on the horizon, nothing was alive below. Phoenix noted it and passed that datum on to the base.

  The admiral grunted when he heard the news. The pathogen swarm was over half way to Hazard City. It had already decimated small villages and farms on its way. None had been spared by the relentless micro-predator swarm. He ordered the AI to get samples.

  The little drone waggled its wings as it received the order a minute later and then dipped. Phoenix crested the horizon, losing line of sight contact with the drone. However it bounced a signal through a satellite. The additional lag wasn't something they could help.

  The admiral frowned, he could take command of the drone but Phoenix was doing a good job so he left the AI in charge. He knew how to delegate, despite what Sprite said. He did watch the raw feed though, as the drone scooped the air in dips it rose above three thousand meters for a few minutes to process it's intake.

  “It reminds me of a Terran Basking Shark,” Irons murmured.

  “More like a bat scooping insects,” Sprite commented. “Which reminds me, they have swamps all over this place, a breeding ground for mosquitoes. But no bats in the area. Why not?”

  “Habitat?” Irons asked, only slightly annoyed by the distraction. He knew what Sprite was doing, just passing the time, but was still annoying. He took a tray of parts out and dumped it on a cart nearby, then turned to his left and fed more raw material into the replicator.

  “You know a trained monkey could do what you are doing right?” Sprite asked.

  “Know of one around we can trust?” Irons asked absently, watching the feed. Dozens of microscopic creatures were logged, it would take time to process the results and weed out the natural ones from the pathogens.

  “Cute,” Sprite replied. “I've cross matched the Small Pox virus. Black pox I should say.” An image of the virus was put up on his HUD. It rotated in three dimensions for a moment, and then another sample was added next to it. The two overlapped and then blinked, confirming a perfect match.

  “This would be easier if we could delegate it,” Sprite commented. “I'm not designed to do this sort of work,” she said, sounding caustic. She hated pattern and shape matching.

  “We each contribute in any way we can. Besides, you've identified one pathogen faster than a normal organic could.”

  “True, but that's not my point. Damn politics,” Sprite sighed. They still didn't have the first Virology lab up.

  “Its' everywhere Sprite. You yourself told me we have to live with it,” Irons replied, smiling slightly. “It is amusing to hear you sound like me though,” he said.

  Sprite snorted at that. “Second pathogen detected. Veraxin Hemorrhagic fever. Eighty eight percent match from the files,” she said, replacing the Pox image with another, this a series of squiggles that were knotted on one end.

  “Reminds me of a Terran Octopus,” Irons murmured.

  “Sample completed, flushing compartment. Sterilization commencing. Data download complete. We are at marker twenty k. Commencing dip,” Phoenix reported.

  Irons watched as the image of the virus disappeared in favor of the telemetry feed. The little craft wobbled and then dove. After a few minutes it returned to three thousand meters with another sample and then went into a long orbit over the marker as its tiny science package went to work once more analyzing the captured air.

  “We're going to need water samples as well,” Sprite reminded him. She apparently had set up a filter, she immediately spotted the first to viruses and then focused on others. Algae were shown briefly, all dead. “Naga Measles?” Sprite asked. An image of a virus briefly appeared and then another overlaid it. It didn't quite match though. Both images disappeared after a moment.

  Irons sat back, closing his eyes and rubbing his brow. A replicator dinged completed but for the time being he ignored it as he rubbed at his eyes. “Data dump is eighty percent complete,” Phoenix reported. “How are you going on processing?” the AI asked.

  “Not well. I don't have the processing power or the native ability,” Sprite replied. “It's in some ways pattern and shape recognition, but this is out of my element. The orientation isn't as much of a factor as noting what to look for and what to ignore... and how things can change or be different.”

  “Understood. Data dump complete. Flushing the chamber and sterilizing now. Aircraft systems are within eighty percent. I wish you had put solar panels on the wings though admiral. We could have kept this ship up orbiting the area for a more prolonged period,” Phoenix said over the link.

  The admiral grunted. “Ask me for anything but time. We'll make do. I can make another if needed. Sitrep?” he asked, opening his eyes. He slapped at the door for the idle replicator, pulled the door open and then pulled the tray of respirator masks out. He tossed them onto the pile and then started stuffing more material in.

  “Admiral, the replicator can't support that much material,” Proteus said, stopping him. He carefully took a breath and then pulled a couple pieces out and then closed the door and hit the key to restart the sequence. He could see the raw material breaking down inside the machine as the nanites immediately went to work.

  “Chamber flushed. Moving to the ten k marker,” Phoenix replied.

  Irons sat through that sample and then got up and paced. He wasn't impatient, he just needed to stretch. When the AI directed the drone to ground zero he tensed though, stopping his pacing to lean over the table, hands on the edge as he focused on the telemetry feed.

  “Drone is at twenty point one percent power. Turbulence is minimal. Beginning dive,” Phoenix reported. Immediately the drone wobbled. Irons winced, feeling a little queasy as the feed supplanted his vision totally. It bucked and jerked all over the place.

  “What's going on?” he asked.

  “Error,” Phoenix reported. “I'm getting all sorts of faults here admiral, the craft is coming apart. I can't pull up,” he replied.

  “Get what you can!” Sprite said. “Sample!”

  “Chamber is full, closing door.... beginning analysis,” Phoenix said as the altimeter wound down. They weren't going to get much, Irons realized as the dark, almost black ground rushed up at his eyes. His vision went white and he twisted in vain as it went to snow and then his normal vision returned.

  “What the hell happened?” Irons asked.

  “I'm not sure,” Phoenix replied. “A possible engine or control fault. Unfortunately I cut the telemetry feed in favor of the visual and data feed from the science package. The data feed needed the most bandwidth.”

  “We didn't get much,” Sprite replied. “Or should I say, much I can understand let alone interpret. I'll need time to process this. Time and processing power,” she said.

  “I'll make you a couple more motherboards,” Irons sighed.

  “Thank you,” Sprite said.

  “I too can help,” Phoenix offered. “I'm not designed to analyze shapes but I always liked a challenge,” he said.

  “Glad you can help son,” Sprite joked, pointing to a packet from the feed to process. “Start there, I'll start here. That is until...”

  “I'm working on it commander,” Irons ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Sorry,” Sprite replied sheepishly.

  “In the meantime, send what you have to the others. The virologists and doctors I mean. Send it to any tablet or other piece of equipment they have online with your notes and a request to begin processing,” Irons said.

  “On it,” Sprite said. “Though I think Phoenix, since you've also got
a copy of the data you could just send it direct to Sin City?”

  “The transceivers may get it, I don't know. I can try,” Phoenix replied.

  The admiral sighed and keyed up more motherboards in his construction list.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The experts compared the data from both probes. Doctor Ivanov and his assistants were hampered by their organic nature as well as in having to use tablets to visualize the various samples.

  Fortunately the AI had the visual recognition software Sprite wrote on the fly to aid them. Doctor Ivanov quickly eliminated some of the samples as common airborne microorganisms. They noted that below a thousand meters there were no such microorganisms present at all. The pathogens were apparently very thorough.

  When they realized this they focused on the samples from the lower altitude. There wasn't much to go on from the last probe run, but enough from the previous runs to start on.

  Together, Doctor Ivanov, Phoenix, and Sprite worked until midnight until they had tentatively identified each pathogen and came up with a list of suspected pathogens for the others to begin working on. The AI weren't certain of some of the diagnoses, but Ivanov signed off on each of them. They were close enough for him to see common elements. Those are listed at the end of the list with a probability score, others that fell below fifty percent were highlighted for later review. Doctor La Plaz, a colleague of Doctor Ivanov would be landing in Landing sometime soon. His fresh young eyes would hopefully pick things out quickly.

  Still the list was frightening. Most of the pathogens were hemorrhagic fevers like Ebola, extremely virulent and all fatal. Each sapient species had at least one hemorrhagic fever.

  Some of the others were less of an immediate danger. Veraxin MS would attack the neural motor skills of a Veraxin, eventually cutting off their autonomic functions such as breathing and their hearts. Others like Naga Measles were a problem, but more of a long term one.

  There were two strains of Small Pox, the already identified Black Pox and a more lingering version that was designed for zoology. Most likely designed to attack Neo's, Sprite judged. The Doctor agreed.