Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  While he was at it, he overhauled the air conditioner system, replacing the missing gases and using his nanites to repair the corroded wiring. For the first time in centuries the air conditioner came on. The ducts blew dust for some time before they were cleared.

  At first the staff were exasperated by the contamination, but when the sun hit noon and the summer heat kicked in they were grudgingly grateful for the cool interior.

  The admiral however wasn't finished. He had a class with him, he taught them how to make and install the filtration system and how to make basic repairs to the heating and air conditioning system. He set them up with tools and parts and sent them to Hazard and Sin City with orders to do what they could for the other facilities. He noted some materials were skimmed off to go to rich people or other important people.

  “If they think that's it to preventing the virus they are dead wrong,” Sprite commented.

  “Their problem. Ignorance knows no bounds. They don't care about anyone but themselves and right now I could give a rat’s ass about them. Next problem,” he growled.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Helen set up additional barracks and even tents for the staff to sleep in. Some brought their families. She was not happy about that, they were an additional burden of resources on the hospital. Landing was sending food and other materials, but sometimes getting materials was like pulling teeth, even under these circumstances. She knew that after the crisis there would be an accounting... but they had to live through it first.

  But many of the kids and family members made themselves useful by working with their parents or helping keep the place clean. All wore masks and gloves. She frowned, not happy but letting the matter slide for now. Her eyes roved the group.

  A little girl was terrified, she clung to her mother's skirt. “She stays with me or we both leave doctor. Take it or leave it. I'm not abandoning my daughter.” Her mother defiantly told Helen. “I'll deal with it,” she said coldly, eyes flashing. Helen was reminded of a mother bear protecting her cubs.

  Helen relented and nodded her assent without a word. “You realize you're putting her at risk though? With the additional exposure here?” she asked. The mother nodded and moved on about her duties.

  Eventually she set up a daycare with a couple of the parents who were not medics to keep the younger kids occupied and entertained. Irons dropped in and gave them plastic items and a small food replicator. At first she thought it was a distraction, but then she found out from one of the impromptu teachers that they were items to assemble for kits for medics. The food replicator made the parts, the kids just had to put them together in the packs. She was amused by the admiral's act.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Eight supply flights a day were sent to Hazard by two aircraft and the two air buses. Each were tested before they left. The aircraft were refueling on each end, and the crews weren't getting much rest. They had to take advantage of the precious time before the virus hit Hazard though. “Were getting flak from Sin City,” Doctor Zane reported.

  “We are?” Helen asked.

  “Yes. They have double the population now.”

  Helen's eyes flashed. “Tell them to piss off,” she said almost sweetly. Zane blinked at her in shock and surprise. “They didn't want to help, they threw every road block they could when we tried to set up there. As far as I'm concerned they can damn well wait. We fight the fire on the front line now, we're set up for it and there's no going back now. Besides, you don't have a runway anyway!” she said.

  She was careful this time after she heard about the losses from the first flight. Hank was sent an inventory each time before the aircraft landed. He made it clear to all he was checking it. Jerry helped.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Hank called in with a request for specific parts and materials. Sprite handled it. When she heard about his reluctant helper he asked her if there was some sort of reward or incentive program.

  “I'd like to go into business with the ape if I don't strangle him,” Hank said, giving the chimp the evil eye. Jerry flipped him the bird.

  “Or the virus kills him and you first?”

  “Yeah, about that...”

  “We're working on it,” Sprite said caustically.

  “I know, and we are too on this end.”

  “I tell you what,” Sprite said. “Jerry, I am a commander in the Federation Navy. On my word, and on my honor you will be compensated for your time and efforts. How does your own replicator and vaccination shots sound?” she asked.

  His eyes had gone wide at the replicator, but then narrowed when the last bit registered. He wrinkled his nose. “I hate shots,” he growled.

  “You'll love these. These will keep you alive,” Sprite replied sweetly.

  “Oh.” Jerry blinked. “Yeah, okay,” he grimaced though. “You know I like rough, take charge girls, can I ask you out on a date when this is over?” he asked. Hank snorted. Jerry turned to him. “Hey man, don't knock it until you've tried it, frisky is fun,” he grinned. Hank snorted again.

  “Thanks, but I don't date organics,” Sprite replied dryly.

  “Oh,” Jerry said and then blinked. “Oooh!” he said, eyes wide, catching on to who he had been talking to finally.

  “Now, you said you needed to find the links to some equipment? Specifically medical equipment? The search engine is having trouble?”

  “Are you kidding? It's got thousands of entries. Picking the right one in the right size... I don't want to waste time and materials replicating the wrong stuff,” Hank replied.

  “All right. I'm sending your computer an e-mail and attachment. It will have bookmarks and item numbers for you to use. These are items we're currently using here or are putting into production now. You do realize you can't produce much right?” she asked.

  “Every little bit helps right?” Hank asked.

  “Right. Thank you Doctor McCoy,” Sprite replied.

  “Call me Hank, everyone does,” Hank said with a smile.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  With sufficient suits Hank held a school on how to use them. Hodges couldn't fit into one, so he was given a respirator. He was desperate to get a suit for himself and his precious Lulu. Hank had to promise to make a custom suit to get the nagging fat man off his back. Hank showed Sheriff Coltrain and his deputies as well as the volunteers how to put the suits on and keep them functional. All winced when they lined up and were given booster shots to help combat the pathogens.

  Nohar however refused a suit. “First I'm partially immune,” he said.

  “But...” Hank held up the red suit.

  “Second there's this and this,” Nohar replied, pointing to his artificial right arm, and leg. He'd lost the leg from just below the knee and it still gave him problems. Mainly because he didn't have a proper prosthetic, he'd only lost it a short time ago.

  “Okay, so what do I do with this?” Hank asked, looking guiltily to the tiger's leg.

  “Find someone who can use it. Rajar for one.”

  “I'll find him,” Hank replied with a serious nod.

  “Thanks Hank,” Nohar said gruffly, slapping him on the shoulder. “We'd be in a heap of trouble without you,” he said.

  Hank looked at him in amusement. “I thought we already were in enough trouble?” he asked.

  “Yeah, and think of how much worse it would be for the rest of us without you and that replicator,” Nohar said. “The right tools and people in the right place, at the right time. That's how battles are won,” he said.

  “We'll see,” Hank said. “Not much of a battle though,” he said tucking the suit under his arm.

  “Biggest one of your life,” Nohar replied, shaking his head. “Of all our lives,” he murmured as the blue Neolion left.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Doctor La Plaz realized that some people were immune or were more resistant because they were descendants of genies or descendant of people who had been given anti-virus treatments during the latter s
tages of the war. Some of these treatments were written into their genetic code, improving their immune system and providing them with a series of antibodies that their bodies had faithfully made over the centuries as they passed it down from one generation to the next.

  However these were hard to harvest, and even harder to reproduce in the lab. They were almost useless to pass on to others. He got into a discussion with Sprite over that, who pointed out that their ancestors may have been inoculated centuries ago, but that immunity may not have been passed on to their children. If the pathogens are hardened against vaccines and antibiotics they could still be effected.

  Nohar had overheard their discussion and remembered the blood drive to look for people who were immune. He winced slightly. He hated needles.

  “Doctors,” he said. Doctor La Plaz’s image frowned on the screen.

  “I'm sorry to interrupt but...” He took a deep breath and then launched a little into his history. He admitted to doctor Ivanov that he had been given inoculations against most bio-weapons. “But I only received the last boosters a year and a half before I went into cryo so I'm not sure how effective they will be.”

  “Whatever,” the nurse said, getting a blood draw kit ready. “By the time we're done with you, you are going to be white as a sheet.”

  “Yes, but remember, I'm only immune to feline and Neo pathogens, not to any of the others.”

  “It's a start.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Phoenix updated the feed over the continent The weather report stated that winds would pick up as the high pressure zone which had kept the winds almost nonexistent would move north. The low coming in behind it had a lot of wind and clouds. They projected the viruses would hit by mid-morning. All hands were told to suit up and institute protocols.

  The suits hampered the vital work the virologist were doing. Ivanov constantly complained about it, but his lead nurse threatened to brain him if he so much as thought about taking the suit off. Reluctantly he agreed to keep it on.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Just after 12 noon, Ivanov reported the pathogens had been detected in the outskirts of Hazard, but so far in low levels. The viruses had changed, going from an immediate kill to a longer incubation and infection period. Another point to Sprite that there was some sort of driving program behind the infection. The expected protean element wasn't detected in the water through, at least not with airborne viruses. “They're too specialized,” Helen theorized. “I'm still getting the hang of all this information, but if I'm reading this right, in order to keep the virus viable for the length of time it has been, they had to sacrifice something.”

  “In this case what? It's adaptability?”

  “Yes,” Helen said, still scanning the screen. “I'm not sure, we'll need to test it to be sure. But if this is correct, once we kill one strain off it should stay dead.”

  “Which will be fun to do. First we have to kill it.”

  “Well, the good news is, that even though they made it hardy, meaning able to stay alive longer, it's not perfect. It needs some source host to breed in. It's actually too perfect, it kills the host before it can replicate and spread.”

  “So we're looking at a possible endemic? Localized?”

  “As long as we can keep it contained. Right now...” she shook her head. “And that's just the strains we can see.”

  “Right, that's what I thought.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “Wagon shipment is in, you better keep an eye on it, we've had some reports of shifty people making off with small items,” the sheriff said, ordering Bullet off. Bullet frowned a bit, but nodded and flicked his ears in agreement. People were going nuts, hoarding and looting. It was smart covering the supplies.

  “Let me know if there is a problem,” the sheriff said.

  The Neodog snorted. “If there is a problem I'll howl,” he said, leaving the sheriff's station. He made his way to the warehouse district, annoyed at having to do this. He was a keen tracker, not a damn glorified security guard. Everyone was on edge about this damn mystery plague too. Many were stocking up and heading into the back country. He could understand why the sheriff was nervous, some who were desperate and short on funds might take what they could get without paying for it.

  The jingle of the animals in their harness alerted them that they were coming. He turned, noting the ox team in the lead didn't look at all happy. Nor did some of the other animals. It was probably because they'd been worked hard. Harry was a bastard when it came to his animals, making them trot the trails from sun up to sundown. He didn't stop at regular stops like some people did, preferring to press on.

  The wagons pulled up to the tall warehouse buildings and stopped in a cloud of dust. Bullet waved the dust away. The warehouses were up about a meter higher than most buildings that made them about level to the wagon doors. That way people could unload or load goods straight from the dock to the warehouses. He could see the wagon team getting off, many were a bit sore and slow. Again normal, they had been on the road for days.

  Bullet heard the coughing and turned. Probably travel dust he thought, the wagon team would most likely head out to the nearest bar the moment they had their animals penned. But something in the cough... a wet sound just didn't sound right. He turned, tracing the source. The wagon master down the street didn't look right. The Neodog sniffed the air. Come to think of it, he didn't smell right either. The guy waved it off, saying he must have caught a summer cold.

  The crowd of people around were wary though, jumpy. Suddenly people weren't so eager to get their goods or to work unloading the wagon train. The supervisor cursed as his men shook their heads and melted away.

  The wagon master started to curse about running late, started coughing and then collapsed. Bullet didn't wait, he lifted his muzzle and howled a warning cry.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  News that Crater City had been infected and that people were dropping like flies there hit the morning media like a firestorm. Finally the threat was made flesh for all to see in large enough numbers to alarm the population. Helen now had a war on another front and had to cope with it and the media backlash that she wasn't getting enough done. Some of the conservatives demanded her head, saying she wasn't the right person to the job.

  “How bad is it?” Irons asked.

  She frowned pacing. Some of the attacks stung, and some were getting entirely too personal.

  “Director, focus. Screw the crap they are saying, we need to keep focused.”

  “Bastards,” she muttered and flopped down into her chair. “What?”

  “Crater City,” Irons replied.

  She let out a long soft sigh. “It's bad. I don't know how bad, when the wagon master died it spread mass panic in the population. The people scattered from the area and headed to their homes. That's both good and bad.”

  “Good in what way?” Irons asked, trying to think of a reason.

  “Some went to their homes, locked the doors, and hid.”

  “Self-quarantine,” Sprite commented.

  “Correct. But in doing so they infected every surface in their homes, in between there and the warehouses, and anyone they came into contact with.”

  “What I'm wondering about is, if the wagon master was infected... how? He was what? North west? Weren't the prevailing winds North east?” Ted Zane asked. Sprite put up a helpful map to help illustrate his point.

  “Exactly,” Sprite said, turning expectant eyes on the director.

  “From what I've gathered, the wagon master is a regular. He runs, or should I say ran a cargo convoy circuit. He took low priority goods from Rubicon to and from Crater city.”

  “Why not just use the train? Doesn't the western link go from Hazard through Crater City?” Doctor Zane asked.

  “It does,” Irons replied.

  “But Rubicon is a transshipping port for the farms and logging in its area. They were bypassed by the railroad, though there has been some talk with governor
Oman's office to put a rail head in,” Helen replied, running a hand through her hair. “Rubicon was doing business with Hazard until a certain not to be named person took charge there. He charged so much in fees they decided to go to Crater City and hang the extra transport costs.”

  “Ah.”

  “The good news is it looks like the convoy picked it up in Rubicon and brought it straight to Crater City. They didn't stop along the way. Apparently the wagon master was a real tyrant in that regard, he disdained stops.”

  “Yeah, I'd say he was the last of a dying breed,” Zane replied with a grimace. “The infection rate has me confused...”

  “Well, I've been trying to get a time-line of events. Apparently the convoy picked up their goods and were in the process of leaving just before or slightly after the initial release,” Doctor Richards replied, outlining the outbreak. “What gets me is that they survived. So somehow they weren't killed right off by the pathogens, but were carriers. Carriers of a lesser strain of Small pox and something that killed the oxen.”

  “Right.”

  “So they're all dead?”

  “And quite a few of the dock workers. We've been talking to the staff in Crater City for some time now. They are doing what they can but that city really didn't have much in the way of modern medicine,” Doctor Richards admitted. “They never had the budget, and the people there refused to invest more into medicine.”

  “Which is biting them in the ass now I imagine,” Sprite replied.

  “Can't be strong everywhere Sprite,” Irons replied. “Quarantine in effect?”

  Helen sighed. “They're doing their best.”

  “I can try to send more supplies there way,” Irons offered.

  “I don't know. The important thing is containment. Identify it, contain, and then treat. But a lot of people are going to panic and head for the hills. I can't blame them, they just want to save themselves and their families...”

  “But they're harming the greater good,” the admiral replied, frowning. “A case of self-interest verses the population as a whole.”