Typhus, Cholera, Influenza, Tuberculosis, Malaria, Leprosy, Yellow Fever, Bubonic and pneumonic plague, an airborne version of HIV, Prions like mad cow disease, the list went on and on. Dozens for Terran species alone. Some were of strains that looked similar, they weren't certain if they were modified to be vaccine and antibiotic resistant or if they had been re-engineered to attack other species. Some may have been designed to jump across species, something that truly was a terrifying thought.
Unfortunately they didn't have much more than a possible identity, neither probe had had the time to gather information about how long they could live outside a host, how long they took to infect or kill a host... there were so many unanswered questions. Despair however wasn't an option.
They ran through the list, scoring each virus or pathogen in terms of danger. Doctor Ivanov didn't understand some of them of course, but each of the AI had access to the medical records so they could process data about each and pass that same data on to the doctor. Near one am the doctor signed off, mumbling about reading the various documentation while dealing with his lab set up.
Sprite immediately passed on the list of identified pathogens to the immunologist doctors and pharmacists who had been waiting for such material. They couldn't do much to make vaccines but they could work out diagnostic symptom charts and find treatment options.
To kill the viruses, however many, would require artificial gene sequencing to form vaccines. That was a problem, the medical equipment lock outs prevented such actions.
...*...*...*...*...
“So, um, we haven't been introduced,” a short brown haired young Hispanic male said, holding a hand out to Irons as an orderly wheeled the latest cart load of materials out. Other people were crowding the door trying to get materials in. A few of the people were lookie loos, craning their necks to see what was going on inside. Irons grunted as the little medic stepped hastily around the orderlies and held his hand out once more.
“You are Fleet Admiral Irons?” the young man asked. Irons noted the white medical jacket and stethoscope. La Plaz was embroidered on his left lapel above his pocket protector.
“Yes doctor Paco La Plaz?” he asked.
The young man's eyes widened slightly as they shook hands. “You've heard of me? I just got in,” he said turning as they disengaged the handshake. “I haven't even checked in with Doctor Richards yet. Wherever she is,” he said frowning.
“She's in the main conference room,” Sprite said from the speaker on the admiral's arm. She immediately put the bio of the twenty four year old prodigy up on the admiral's HUD. There was little there, his name, Paco La Plaz, and the fact that he was one of the best doctors on the planet, also one of the few virologists on the planet.
“Say... um...” the doctor blinked, momentarily taken aback.
“That was one of my AI's, Lieutenant Commander Sprite. And I have heard of you, Doctor Richards gave us a brief about her virologists a while back,” the admiral explained.
“Well, not just a virologist really,” La Plaz admitted, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish display. “I'm, well, I guess you could say a child prodigy, or at least I was. I have five doctorates, Neurology, micro surgery, Endocrinology, Virology, Immunology, and I've got several others I'm working on,” he said sounding smug.
“Busy boy,” Sprite replied with a slight smile in her voice.
“I try,” Paco replied, shrugging. “Helen doesn't have many surgeons, so I started that field too.”
“Good to know,” the admiral replied with a nod as he indicated the young man should come in. He closed the door behind the young doctor.
Doctor La Plaz looked around, staring at all the devices. “Quite a lot you've got here,” he said. “Is that a computer farm?” he asked, indicating the cluster of motherboards in one corner of the room.
The admiral looked at the cluster and nodded. “Yes, we need it to help process the samples. Right now we're doing visual sample recognition since you weren't available and Doctor Ivanov is busy,” Irons replied.
“Ah,” the young man said nodding. “Not going to ask me my age?” he asked, smiling.
“Not if you don't ask mine,” Irons growled, sitting and looking up at the young man. Ports on his right hand opened as Proteus jacked into the nearest replicator.
“My... wow...” Paco said, eyes wide as he watched the admiral's right arm change. “Is... I mean... does it hurt?” he asked weakly, voice rising near the end.
“No,” Irons said, looking at his arm.
“Oh.”
“Can I help you with something Doctor?” Irons asked.
“I'm well, I want in on things and I was told I could get one of those electronic devices from you. I've got a lot to catch up on and we don't have a lot of time,” he admitted.
“Where have you been?” Sprite asked. “I have you on file but not a location,” she said as the admiral handed the doctor a tablet and cell phone.
Paco looked around and then shrugged, waving the tablet slightly. The phone he slipped into his right pocket. “Here and there. I was field man, running to one outbreak of influenza or some other virus all over the globe. Two days ago I was in a little Yukon village up north. I finished up just as the mail plane came in. I got the call half way here,” he said.
“Ah,” Irons said, nodding.
“I was visiting family,” Paco admitted. “Though mixing business with pleasure, there was a minor outbreak of chicken pox too,” he said shrugging. “So um, the drones. I heard they crashed? What happened?”
“We're not sure. Both crashed, but in different circumstances so they may not be related,” Irons replied.
“Fast work making them,” Paco said. “Or did you have them on hand already?” he asked, with a slight hint of suspicion in his voice.
The admiral snorted. “No, made them here,” he said, waving a hand. “Well, the last one Hank McCoy launched from Sin City. The other was built on my ship and dropped.”
“Oh. Hank you said? He around?” Paco asked, looking over his shoulder. “I figured he'd be neck deep in this. He's a techy at heart. He got into medicine but it was a sideline.”
“I see,” Irons said, taking a tray out of a replicator and then rapidly assembling the parts into a group of other parts of another larger replicator. When he was finished he plugged the power cable into the waiting empty port he'd set up earlier. His infrared vision told him they were taxing the power grid too much. He frowned. He didn't want or need an electrical fire. He'd have to figure something out before using this machine. He could however have it run a POST check.
“So, um, they crashed. Pity they didn't have shields or something,” Paco said, still trying to understand everything he was seeing around him. The admiral's display of rapid assembly had him a little dazed. He didn't know people could move that fast. He shrugged. “Silly me, I guess you can't make them.”
“Oh I can make them, but we're on a time crunch. Besides, why make shields for something we're going to destroy anyway? It's a waste of time and resources. Both we have in short supply,” Irons replied, and then turned to the doctor.
The doctor stared at him. “What?” the admiral asked after a moment, taking the tablet from the man's hands. “I'm serious, adding shields would have added about six hours to the build time for each. It would also force me to build bigger air frames, a power supply for the shields... do you want a fusion reactor crashing into the countryside?” he asked. The doctor shook his head, still staring in shock.
“I told you, I'm a Federation Engineering admiral. I can do a lot of things with the time and materials. Get over it. We've got work to do,” Irons said, waving a hand. He downloaded the contents of the tablet in a second and then handed it back. “I've got this. I just downloaded it. Doctor you need to get a staff member to deal with stuff like this and focus on simulators and learning the skills you'll need.”
“I... yes. But there was no time and I thought...” Doctor Paco La Plaz said.
&n
bsp; “Here,” Irons showed him how to open an e-mail and send it. He pointed out his e-mail address which auto filled in after a few letters. “You can use voice address to convert voice to text, or a laser keyboard, or plug this into a physical keyboard. Any of the three work,” he explained and handed it back. “Please show your fellows and staff that.” He turned and sent a signal to a replicator to initiate another tray of parts.
“I'll um, leave you alone then,” Dr. La Plaz said, feeling numb and dazed. He wandered out after a moment.
...*...*...*...*...
When the virology lab location debate didn't stop Hank called Helen in. She was tired, but after he explained that they were getting one excuse after another from the locals why this site or that site was unsuitable she sighed in exasperation.
“Look Helen, what do you want us to do? Right now Sin City is a bus. Bust I mean, bust,” he said, looking away from the buses and people milling about helplessly. “Do you want us to come back? Go to Gotham maybe?”
“No, I need you there. Right there.”
“Well, here isn't doing us any good, where we are at now has no electricity or running water. It's also got an angry farmer who's rather eager for us to get off his crop of grain,” he said, waggling his ears. The Doherty girl was sitting on a pile of hay bales, listening to the two boys Luke and Wally brag about big city living. He snorted.
“What was that?” Helen asked.
“Sorry, nothing. Tired,” Hank replied. He was still getting used to the radio the admiral had given him. “So um...” He turned as a scowling Doctor Ivanov turned away from the deputy and stormed over to him. “Uh oh, here comes Ivan and he's not in a good mood,” he murmured.
“He's not the only one,” Helen replied tartly a moment later. “Put him on.”
“Here,” Hank said, handing the microphone to Doctor Ivanov when he stopped in front of the Neolion. The normally laid back virologist was rather red in the face and it wasn't just from sunburn from being outside standing around Hank could see. It was cooling off, but still muggy. Sweat covered the overweight doctor, staining his clothes. He'd gotten rid of his tie and jacket hours ago.
“This damn suit,” Ivanov complained, turning.
“We're not in the infection zone yet doctor,” Hank said.
“Eh?” Ivanov said and then shrugged. He keyed the transmit button. “May I speak with Director Richards please?” he said carefully.
“This is Helen, Ivan what do you have?” she asked.
Ivan blinked at Hank who shrugged and flicked his ears. The big man grunted in irritation for a moment and then cleared his throat. “The run around madam director. I've gotten more exercise standing in place here than in decades of sitting in front of a microscope,” he said.
“I'm guessing it's still a no?” she asked tiredly.
“In a word, yes. I mean um...”
“I know what you mean doctor,” Helen replied, sounding strident again. “Don't they understand... You know what? Never mind. Pull up stakes and head to Hazard City. Set up there.”
“Hazard?” Hank asked.
“Its' close, it's on the front line, and it should have all you need. And since they're desperate and that fat commissioner has been calling me hourly for additional support, he won't mind you setting up. He's already promised me everything except the kitchen sink.” She sounded amused by the usual greedy commissioner being so altruistic.
“We'll do it,” Ivanov replied, grunting. He looked at Hank. Hank sighed.
“My old stomping grounds. Ask her where she wants me to be?”
“Doctor McCoy asks where you would like him to be,” Ivanov said into the microphone.
“Eh? With you of course. He still has his box right?”
Hank thought about that as Ivanov's brows knit. He got it after a second and nodded, flicking his ears and swishing his tail. “He's nodding yes,” Ivanov said slowly. “Box?” he asked Hank.
“Later,” Hank waved a dismissive hand.
“Tell him to get power and supplies and make whatever you need as well whatever he can. Respirators, full suits, whatever.”
“Understood,” Hank replied. He was already thinking ahead. He'd need Nohar for security, maybe Kong...
He turned to Jerry who was nearby, squatting behind a bush. Hank wrinkled his nose, he'd of thought the chimp would have used the outhouse but apparently the farmer had nailed it shut an hour ago. He shook his head. He wasn't sure if Jerry would go with them.
He turned away as Ivanov signed off and handed him the radio. “Mount up!” the virologist growled, waving a meaty hand and then slapping his hands together. The clop of the plastic cloth hitting each other made some of the people turn in his direction.
“You say we don't need to wear this now?” Ivanov asked, turning. Hank shook his head no.
“All right then,” the man said, switching his respirator off and then unzipping the seal and popping his hood off. “I said,” he said turning. Sweat covered his brow. “Mount up. We're headed to Hazard! Get your things and get on the buses!” he said pointing to the vehicles.
Wally and Luke scowled, but then turned to the girl. She was a bit forlorn, but she waved to them as they started towards the vehicles. Both boys turned to wave back. Wally tripped on a rock but recovered. The girl giggled a little at that sight.
Hank sighed, looking over to the chimp that was busy hitching his britches back up. He was muttering something Hank couldn't quite catch. From his look though he was none too pleased with this change of events. Jerry however didn't want to be anywhere near the damn virus lab. “I just came from Hazard!” he exclaimed in disgust.
“So stay here,” Hank said. “I'll make a suit as soon as possible. In fact it's the first damn thing on my list,” he said firmly.
“A suit?” Jerry asked, looking up with interest. Hank pointed to the yellow, orange, and blue P suits the staff were checking out and trying on or taking off. “Yellow suits are for support staff like orderlies and nurses. Orange is for paramedics and those in constant exposure. Blue were for the doctors. It's so we can recognize who is who by sight,” Hank explained.
“So what about you and me? And what about Wally?” he asked pointing to the lad.
“I'll make a polka dot one just for you,” Hank replied with a grin.
“Gee thanks,” Jerry sighed and then shrugged. “What the hell, what are friends for right? Let's get a move on,” he said heading to the bus.
...*...*...*...*...
Director and Chief of staff didn't really begin to describe all the duties Mr. Deli Osiris did. But one of the simplest ones was to be his bosses eyes and ears. He might not be happy that the Oman had bailed and left him holding the bag, but he was too much of a professional even under this much duress to let it show. He reported to the governor and then frowned. “Currently they have identified the first wave of viruses and are working on finding ways to treat them.”
“Treat not kill?”
“Currently they don't have an option for that unfortunately.”
“Fire? Won't fire kill it?”
“In this instance, I asked my contact Dr. Innes. He assured me that it would kill the surface viruses, but it would kick the airborne ones up into the atmosphere in the smoke. They would then spread all over the world.”
“Shit,” the governor replied, voice shaky. “So that's out.”
“For now it is, unless we can find another option, a way to make it work. I'm not sure how, but we're talking with others governor.”
“So there's no way to, I don't know, be protected? What about those suits they're making? I want one! So does Rosanne! I'll have a tailor get measurements... no I left him behind, um...”
“Sir, the suits offer only limited protection. And when you're inside you can't eat or drink. You'd be trapped with three days of air and no way to go to the bathroom or anything. They are primitive space suits,” Osiris explained patiently, sounding as if he was explaining it to a child. His patience with his bos
s and the situation was growing ever thinner.
“Oh.”
“There's another report, Doctor Innes mentioned to me, and I remember Doctor Richards also mentioned that this admiral fellow is immune.”
“Immune you say? Why the nerve of that guy! How can he be immune?”
“He has vaccines I think Doctor Innes said. I'm not certain of the technical details, it's not my field after all.”
“Quite right, quite right. Go on,” the governor said.
The chief of staff cleared his throat and fought a sigh. It was patronizing times like this that he wanted to quit, or at least find a way to make his boss look like the ass he was. He fought the temptation down again before he continued. “Doctor Innes and Doctor O'Reilly said that this Irons fellow may be our only hope of developing a vaccine.”
“Really,” the governor said. “Let me talk to Doctor Yung, my personal physician,” he said. There was a click as the governor put him on hold.
Mr. Osiris frowned ferociously at that little tidbit. He brought along a doctor but not his own chief of staff? He probably tucked Emily his current mistress too! That was, if Rosanne didn't notice, and she might of. He could check, but decided not to bother. He took a sip of water and tried to relax, going through his notes as he waited patiently.
“I'm back,” the governor said a few minutes later. “Hello? Osiris? I said I'm back. You still there?” Oman demanded.
“Yes sir,” Osiris responded, not looking up from his report.
“Doctor Yung informed me that if we strip this man's blood, we could form enough vaccine for about twenty people. More if we stretched it, though the less the blood the less the vaccine potency. That's correct right doctor?” he said, sounding as if he had turned away from the microphone to ask.
“Sir um...”
“I know it's a sacrifice, but I'm willing to make it if it saves lives. The greater good and all,” the governor said. “If the vaccine works we can take samples from those people and give it to others and so on.”
Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) Page 34