“Wouldn't they be too far distributed to reform a hive admiral?” Doctor Zane asked.
Irons cocked his head. Since when was Zane an expert on nanites? He thought. “No, you'd think that, and chances are in some cases you'd be right. But in the overall scheme of things, it would be like evolution. Groups that didn't have enough cohesion would either go inert or die off as their batteries ran down. But others that maintained cohesion would rebuild around a central core.” he used his fist to indicate a nest and then slowly opened it, implying that it would expand. “Each nest would then be independent of the others, or they could interact through radio. Sprite has detected the radio chatter.”
“You have to understand a little bit about nanotech and nanite organization. We have our own version, the Xeno's had theirs. The common ground is in the organization. Think of it as a hive. The queens are the brains, they direct the drone workers. The drones are specialized and generalist workers. They're the manual labor. Some act as a bucket chain, passing materials, others do more complicated tasks like manipulate matter.”
“Gobblers.”
“Those are a specialized class of nanites. They tear apart matter for the other workers. Yes they are feared for good reason. Right now we don't see them here, or at least not a lot of them. This nanite swarm is different.”
“All right, I'll buy that,” Zane said. “You being the expert and all.”
“Actually, Sprite is, well, Sprite and Proteus. Mostly Proteus since Proteus is a nanite hive.”
Zane's eyes went wide. “Oh.”
“Right,” the admiral nodded. “There are other specialized nanites, for instance princes. These carry information to the queens and act as mobile batteries. They store power and then pass it on to the workers.”
“Ah.”
“They can get power from various means, it all depends on how they were designed.”
“But, can they adapt?”
“It depends on the design of the nanites. Ours were never designed to work outside a regen tank or replicator. Or at least not without some form of external control. These...” The admiral shrugged. “We need more intel.”
“Makers are also feared, though they are mixed up with gobblers. Makers are Von Neumann nanites. They can make other nanites. That is all they do, a queen sits nearby or is attached to them. They take raw material, convert it into parts, then assemble the parts into a nanite that the queen wanted to have built.”
“Shit.”
“Yes we have them here, but we don't know how many. The Xeno's loved the damn things,” Sprite replied.
“So... what do we do?”
“We work on another solution. Which I am working on now. The important thing is to get the data and not go off halfcocked. I have my ship working on an EMP weapon now.”
“I thought you said they were useless?” Osiris replied testily.
“Against the viral nanotech yes to some degree. Against the robotic nanites, no, quite the contrary. Also against the central host? Most likely that is a hybrid hive, a mix of both tech. Kill one side and we throw the entire works out of balance, hopefully giving us more time to kill the rest.”
“Oh.”
“So... That's it?”
“That's all we can do. It's a race.”
“Can we use fire?”
“If we did it would kill some yes. With plasma certainly,” the admiral replied. “But none is available.”
“Oh.”
“And if we did that panic would set in with the population.”
“True.”
Zane scowled and then shrugged. “We don't have nukes anyway.”
“I can make them and no I won't so don't even ask,” Irons replied. He returned his attention to the replicator he was working on.
...*...*...*...*...
“We could try an orbital kinetic strike admiral,” Phoenix said over his link. The admiral scowled. He looked right and left to make sure the others weren't around and then shook his head. “Don't even go there. The same things applies. Same arguments. The air pushed outward would distribute the virus.”
“Unless it was a massive enough impact?”
“No,” Irons replied. “No. A thermo baric round might work to some degree, but we have to be sure. We don't need these damn nanites cropping up after we leave.”
“True,” Sprite replied.
“Get that EMP finished,” Irons said. “We'll deal with it as things go. Sprite check the results against the files you have.”
“I will admiral,” the AI responded.
“And I get to go play key master again. Joy,” he sighed, wandering off to the industrial warehouse.
...*...*...*...*...
“Admiral, this is halfhearted,” Sprite told the admiral after she analyzed the latest results. So far the organic strains had died off almost by clock work. New strains were now being discovered, these with longer transmission periods and longer incubation times, but they were also less lethal. For a product of the Xeno's that just didn't make sense.
“I suspect it's a psychological weapon,” the admiral mused. “The Xeno's were good at that. Use our own fear against ourselves.”
“How do you figure?” Helen asked.
“Well, the Xeno's liked to use fear. To get people to give up because they thought they have already lost, it's a maxim in military strategy going back to Sun Tzu. In this case the fear over the virus will cause panic. People are people, they're animals at heart. Survival instincts will force them to flee. When they do they will spread the infection like wild fire.”
“Then there's no hope?”
“I didn't say that. More importantly, YOU didn't say that,” he said, turning on her to lock eyes with her. She stared back at him. “As a doctor you know not to give in, especially not in front of the patient and staff. Morale is half the battle here, keep it together doctor, we need to set an example.”
Helen's eyes widened briefly before she straightened and nodded grimly determined to see this through.
“It's not all doom and gloom doc. Had this happened before or during the Xeno war I admit it would have been dealt with faster. But your people are doing well, and we are going to beat this thing. As long as we can keep people under control.”
“The terror factor is a major problem. But the virus is a host, several virus bundles all working as one. That's the only way it can hit so many different species. It's also the only reason it hasn't died off yet. If it had a one hundred percent instant kill method it would burn itself out quickly,” Sprite said.
“Viruses, at least natural ones can exist on surfaces for up to eight hours,” Helen said looking at the AI. “Since this is artificial and has lasted this long...”
“Right. We don't know how long it can last. We also don't know if this is the first wave or not. So, I'm going to rig an EMP to be delivered to ground zero to see if that will kill off anything building there. How are we doing with getting the equipment out?”
Helen blinked. “Now that you've educated us on some of the basic steps I've got some people working on quarantine equipment for the staff. It's simple stuff really.”
“Which is why you can replicate it now,” Sprite said. Irons nodded. He was glad he didn't have to be involved to replicate that sort of thing. Using key codes to replicate basic medical clothing and equipment was silly in his eyes.
“The first shipments are going out now. We've got a meeting on setting up the road blocks and refugee centers.”
“Great.”
Chapter 19
Tori got control of herself after another shipment of vaccines arrived. She watched as the medics were first injected, then the people helping, then the pilots.
Several of the people demanded to know why they were last. Quietly Tori listened as Doctor Ivanov patiently explained that if he was sick there would be no one to treat the others. This didn't go over well with some of the people, but Tori grudgingly accepted it at face value.
The blue Neolion Hank had a
chemical works going, some people who knew moon-shining had pitched in to help. They were now making half the soap and air spray chemicals on site, though they were running out of some of the raw materials.
They were making an impact, according to the doctors the pathogens had slowed down, the ratio of infected people had dropped. The vaccines were wide spread, but the doctors had to repeatedly explain that the vaccines were not a cure, they weren't a one shot fit all either. There were multiple pathogens at work here.
They were gaining ground, though just on this front. Right now Tori didn't care, all that mattered was here and her family. Protecting her family, making sure this damn thing died.
Her father took over as her mechanic, he didn't argue when she took the plane up with their improvised squadron again. He did escort her to decontamination and after each time he hugged her and made sure she ate and rested.
Xani silently helped her dad after Tori bedded down on a stack of crates in the hangar. She'd occasionally open an eye if they woke her with a clatter of a dropped tool. Her father would apologize but she'd brush it off, roll over, and close her eyes once more, fighting the tears of grief.
She kept looking for Bobby every time she landed. It hurt, not seeing his smiling face there. She was fighting back, fighting the thing in the only way she could, the only way she knew how.
...*...*...*...*...
Boss Hodges paused as he saw the hoagie. He shifted about, looking around. He licked his cracked lips, desperate for sustenance. He hadn't known he'd starve in the damn suit once he'd put it on! Now here he was starving, thirsty, and someone had left food out on a plate.
He couldn’t help it. Before he could stop himself, before he could think rationally he was unzipping the suit and wiggling his fingers in pure greed as he approached the hoagie with big eyes. He chuckled in glee, taking it in his hands, eyes wide as he saw the thing ooze mustard and bits of onion and pork.
“Come to baby!” he said, taking a big bite as he sat on the nearby stool. He took a second, devouring it, then a mighty third, barely taking the time to chew and swallow. He looked around, there was a half mug of rather stale beer nearby. He didn't care, he grabbed it, took a swig and then wiped his face with the back of his hand and sat back with an ah of contentment. He took another bite just as the doors slammed behind him.
“Boss, you know boss, um... Boss!”
“Rosco what is it now?” the fat commissionaire demanded, turning around to look over his shoulder. The sheriff was pointing at him.
“Shh shhhould you be doin that boss? Out of your suit and all? You know you're getting infected right?” the sheriff stuttered as he pointed at the boss.
“A man's got to eat Rosco!” the boss said with his mouth full, wiping at his mouth with a checkerboard napkin.
“Yeah but boss!”
“I don't feel good,” Boss said, setting the sandwich down. “Ohhh... must have been the mustard. Or the mayo. Been out in this heat too long.”
“No, boss you've been out of your suit too long,” the sheriff said, coming over to feel his fat friend’s forehead. Hodges batted his hand away in annoyance, making tisk sounds.
“Boss, you're running a fever. We need you to get checked out.”
“Nonsense!” Hodges replied, growling as he picked the hoagie up. After a moment of looking at it he put it back down and got up. “Nonsense.”
“Boss, seriously now, this is serious. Let's get you checked out by the ole doc here,” the sheriff said, trying to get the suit buttoned back up.
“Rosco!” Hodges growled, and then wailed as he nearly fell off his bar stool. Rosco managed to get the top piece back on, but backward. Hodges turned it, then started panting.
“My it's hot,” he said.
“No boss, that's the fever talking. Now, let's get you checked out or Lulu will have my hide.”
“What little there is of it.”
“Yeah well, I'm a busy man boss, I can't sit around and eat like... like some people,” he said waving to the abandoned restaurant. “Come on now, I'm serious,” he rocked the fat lard ball out of his stool and then caught him before he fell over.
“Rosco, Suddenly I don't feel so good,” the boss said in a strangled voice. “I think you're right,” he said, sounding awed and fearful. “Oh my,” he said closing his eyes. “Am I going to die?”
“Not if we can help it boss, now let's go see the doc, come on now,” the sheriff said, guiding him to the door. Hodges had one hand on his chest, walking as if he was a condemned man. “A last meal of a hoagie? Outrageous! Pigs feet! That's what it should be. Rosco,” he turned an imploring look on the sheriff. “Make sure if I'm a goner to get me some pickled pig's feet before I go?”
Rosco nodded dutifully. “You'll be surprise what the docs have been cooking up boss, they can fix your right up. Let's just mosey on over there now,” he urged, holding the door open.
...*...*...*...*...
Boss Hodges was infected, as were a lot of the population of Hazard. His wife Lulu frantically called the medics in when she found Rosco escorting a stiff Hodges out of his favorite restaurant. He was diagnosed with measles. Fortunately he had been treated for them as a child, he had a mild dose, though there was no telling him or Lulu that. Both of them were near hysterics, hugging each other in their suits.
He was given treatment and was expected to recover if he had a strong enough immune system.
“Hodges? Are you kidding? That fat sow? He's too ornery to die,” an old timer said, shaking his head. Another snorted and nodded in agreement.
...*...*...*...*...
Rajar worked as a guard, he admitted it was the only work he was really qualified for. When the second wave of pathogens hit he was deployed to protect doctor Ivanov and the vital team.
They'd offered him a vaccine, said it was for felines, but he'd turned it down in favor of letting a mother and her kits have it instead. He thought of it as a brave thing, but the pitying look on Hank's face had made him think twice about it. He had been thinking with the wrong head he thought. Hank had patted him on the arm and then moved on.
Now he was worrying about what he'd missed. They didn't have any more doses, the doctors said it would be a while before they had another batch for felines. That bothered him a bit. Apparently they weren't doing one offs for small groups, he could understand that, though he didn't like his ass hanging in the wind. He'd just have to be extra careful not to get out of his suit.
Unfortunately the population had been under severe stress over the past two weeks, now mobs were forming, desperate for a cure. A rush of bodies tried to force their way through the door for treatment. In desperation to keep his post he instinctively used his claws to grab the door jam, keeping in the center of the door blocking it. “Listen to me!” he roared, hearing his suit alarm go off and a strange hissing sound. He could feel wind on his hands and winced.
Back up arrived and he balled his fists as they pushed the people back. “Listen to me! To us! Stop this! We'll get to you but if you do this no one is getting treated! Calm down!” The Veraxin guard said, waving his true hands in distress. He had been inoculated against the latest wave.
“You all need to calm down,” Rajar said, and then roared when someone stepped on his foot. That made everyone back off, suddenly terrified of the angry predator in their midst. His claws and teeth were bared again. He glared around, seriously furious and not caring if the stupid sheep panicked again. “Who did that? Who?”
“See? You're hurting us, you're hurting yourselves. Calm down and form an orderly line here!” The Veraxin ordered, waving to the people. Three were allowed inside. They bobbed a nod and rushed in. “No need to run! Keep calm!” he called after them.
“They can take three at a time. When three come out three go in. That's how it works folks. So keep it together,” the deputy called waving to them. “Just keep it together a little longer folks,” he said patiently.
Rajar sighed and looked at his hand paws. He
sucked in a breath and got the tape out of his pocket and started working on the rips.
...*...*...*...*...
“Hank, you said the admiral is on his way?” Doctor Ivanov asked tiredly.
“Yes,” Hank said, smiling. “He's got doctor La Plaz with him. They've got a small amount of equipment with more on the way. Once we get the basics licked Doctor Richards is talking about packing up most of the lab equipment and shipping it down here too.”
“Oh really? Why would she do that?”
“This is as close to ground zero as it gets,” Hank replied with a wry ear flick. “Which is why she's coming along shortly.”
“She is? Why won't she stay in Landing?”
“Never thought of Richards as someone who stayed back and didn't get her hands dirty,” Hank replied with a small tight lipped smile.
“Well, that's true,” the virologist replied with a tired nod. He sat in his chair, only the back brace was keeping him more or less upright. He sighed.
“That bad?”
“No, good, but I'm tired. Every time we think we've got the problem licked there's a new strain, a new virus, a new bacterium. Is there ever an end?”
“Well, according to the admiral's AI Sprite, yes. There are only so many pathogens after all.”
“True,” the virologist replied. “We're focusing on the ones immediately harmful. The ones for species we don't even have on this planet can damn well wait.”
“Point,” Hank replied. He turned to look out the window and sighed. “What is he doing here?” he demanded in exasperation.
Ivanov leaned forward enough to see the fat commissioner peering through the window and trying to get in. He shook his head.
“I'll handle it,” Hank growled.
Hodges had recovered after a day in the clinic, and then went back to his hover, getting in the way of doctor Ivanov until Hank chased him off. “I want the latest news! The latest vaccines! Bring them to me, I don't care if I'm asleep! Nothin's too good for me and my precious Lulu! You hear me!” Hodges was upset, but the sheriff tried to sooth his ruffled feathers. “Look my little fat buddy, you don't want to be where they are anyway, they're working with the viruses.”
Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) Page 47