“Shit,” Irons said, closing his eyes. “Ebola?”
“A variant,” Sprite answered.
“Proteus?”
“Yes admiral?”
“Can you kill it? Screen his blood and kill it?”
“I... I don't know admiral,” Proteus reported.
“I'm not asking for a miracle. I'm asking if you can kill it. Set up in his heart at each valve and kill it as his body pumps it. Check his lymphatic system and clear that out too.”
“And his lungs,” Sprite replied.
“Fighting chance, that's all I'm asking. Act as a nanite screen.”
“I... I can try,” Proteus said after a moment.
“Thank you. That's all I ask,” Irons said softly, standing over the boy. He put his right hand out, hesitated, then gently brushed the thin sheet he had on covering his naked body and put his hand on the hairless chest. “Do it.”
“Already working,” Proteus reported, moving into the boy.
It took a twenty minutes for all his blood to be filtered, but when the AI was finished he reported that most if not all of the virus was cleared from the boy's system. “But that won't keep him from being reinfected admiral,” Proteus reported.
“From others around him?” Irons asked. The boy sighed softly in his sleep. Irons brushed his bangs out of his eyes and gently felt his forehead. His sensors could tell him the kid's core temp, but this was old school. He wasn't sure, but he felt like his temperature was dropping.
“Yes.”
“Then we'll do something about that,” Irons said. He exited the bay and nodded to the nurse who was looking at him. He went to the next bay, pulled the sheet aside and entered. There was an entire family there.
Irons spent the evening going from one bay to the next, trying to cover multiple patients at once. “You can't save them all admiral,” Sprite warned as a man coughed blood nearby.
“No,” the admiral turned to the man who settled back wearily. “But I can do what I can. We can do what we can. Give them a bit of a fighting chance,” he said.
“And the others on the other floors?”
“One thing at a time.”
“You do realize you're taking your eyes off the bigger picture for the small one?” Sprite asked. He scowled.
“Sometimes you need to do that to see the bigger picture. To realize what we're fighting for Commander,” the admiral said. “We're done here anyway,” he said finishing with the last patient in the ward.
“Good, you have to key some more parts,” Sprite replied.
He went back to the entrance and nodded to Fat Larry. “Is he...” Larry asked.
“Proteus cleared his body of the virus. Now he needs to rest and recover from the damage. If he's anything like you, stubborn and strong, he'll pull through the night.”
“He's... he's... thanks Irons,” Fat Larry said, looking away.
“Well, the mobster does have a heart,” Sprite said for the admiral's ears alone. “Will wonders never cease.”
Fat Larry was upset, he started babbling. “I swear Irons, I'll pay you back. I'm helping boss try to cancel the hit. No one will do it, but...”
Sprite picked up that he knew about the hit on Irons. “Hit what hit?” Irons demanded turning to the mobster.
“Hit? I didn't say...”
Irons eyes narrowed. “Yes you did. And I suggest you cancel it. Fast.”
The mobster spread his hands apart. “I didn't order it. But I'll make sure those who did cancel it or I'll cancel them,” the mobster vowed.
Irons studied him. After a moment he nodded coldly. “You do that.” He turned and left without another word.
“And now you are reminded that little boys grow up to be men like him,” Sprite said.
“Commander,” Irons growled.
“Shutting up,” Sprite sighed.
...*...*...*...*...
Now that they had some semblance of control on fighting the pathogens, Helen Richards dived into the distribution of the vaccines in order to streamline and make it more efficient. It turned out some areas weren't tracking who got what, and some people go the same vaccine twice but not others. Some went from one site to another getting shots.
Some of the vaccine shipments were going astray, either being reported as broken in transit or just disappearing with everyone just shrugging when they asked about it. One shipment was switched, they found that someone had replaced the shipment with water. Rather dirty water from the look of it. One vial had pee in it. Helen had been particularly incensed about that.
Education was the key, unfortunately people weren't thinking. They thought each inoculation was a cure all, which was a problem. Already they were having trouble with idiots selling more snake oil cures in other cities. Desperate people were going to anything for an answer, which was a problem. Fortunately none were on the main continent.
She talked to Sprite briefly. She found she liked talking to the AI, even more than talking to the admiral. The AI was on point, she could recall things almost instantly, and she didn't try to throw her weight around. Not that the admiral did, but others like the Malcolm twins tended to do so. Ted Zane was also getting a bit overbearing for her taste too, he and nurse Marlone were always chasing her to get some rest.
“You need to find a way to track each shipment. Not just on paper. A tracking device would be nice, but... reliable people is more important.”
“Yes,” Helen hissed, leaning over her desk to rub at her brow and support her aching head. All the numbers and various difficulties in the distribution logistics had given her another headache.
“What you can do is set up a fingerprint system on an electronic network as well as issue cheap plastic ID cards as a backup.”
Helen looked up. “You think that will stop this?”
“It's a start. The thieves will think twice about having to give their fingerprints and sign off on something. Some of the more brazen ones no, but the more tentative ones...”
“Will think twice like you said, yes,” Helen said. “But getting that all... ugh!” she growled, sitting back in her chair.
“Cards are easy, we can make card makers and readers. You don't need the admiral for that.”
“We don't?”
“No. Finger print tech yes. That's an issue. I can get him to do that on this end. I suggest you start the cards in a new place first as a test case, then learn from any mistakes made.”
“All right,” Helen said, seeing the logic in that. She nodded in approval.
“It's still a major headache sorting out who got what in the past though,” she said. “We may never get it straight. Some people will undoubtedly slip through the cracks.”
“Most likely. I put the odds at greater than eighty nine percent.”
“Gee thanks,” the director growled.
“Sorry, it's just the way the numbers fall doctor, I have no emotional ties to them. I would like to see them lower too though.”
“Any ideas?”
“No, not at this time. Let me talk to the admiral and get back to you,” the AI said.
“Okay, thanks,” Helen replied, closing the instant message link.
Sprite briefed the admiral on her conversation.
“I think you covered the basics Commander,” Irons said. “I'd suggest some sort of pilot program here,” he said with a shrug. Irons was glad he wasn't involved in that mess.
“Well, from the sound of it the doctor is still considering moving her operational headquarters here,” Sprite said. “If only to be closer to the action,” she said.
“She'd be smarter to move to... no, you're right,” the admiral sighed.
“I am?”
“I meant she is,” the admiral said waving a dismissive hand. “She's right, coming here where there's an airport is understandable. I'd still prefer she stay out of the line of fire, it's actually protocol, but since we've gotten the edge on this...”
“I wouldn't count the Xeno thing out yet admiral,” Spr
ite said.
“Oh? Something I don't know about?”
“Well, remember what I said about how nice and easy this thing is?” he nodded “Well, I for one don't trust it when everything goes our way so easily.”
“Damn it...” Irons sighed. “You call this all going our way?” he demanded. He turned to see a crew loading bodies onto the back of a flatbed truck. They were transporting them to a pit to be burned.
“No,” Sprite replied, “I'd count my blessings... but something tells me this isn't over. It's too easy.”
'I hope you are wrong,” Irons growled.
“Me too.”
...*...*...*...*...
Word of what the admiral had done in the ward, if not how he had done it ran through the population of Hazard. Those who were sick or thought they were sick started to congregate where ever he was. They asked him to touch them, to heal them or their children.
“Now see what you've done?” Sprite demanded. “Started a whole religious movement. What's next? Raise the dead?” she asked.
He closed his eyes briefly. She was right, it was a dangerous game he was playing. He had acted with his heart, impulsively. But he didn't regret it, not even now. “Commander...” he said wearily.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, not helping,” she sighed.
...*...*...*...*...
Irons worked on the replicators, trying to find ways to not only streamline making the vaccines, but find ways to find methods to treat those already infected. Unfortunately it looked like the only method was his hands on one with Proteus, but he couldn't go through the city and cure everyone one at a time. There were thousands infected, the hospital was overrun with casualties.
And that left the question of what would happen to them once he cured them. Some of the people he had 'cured' had died anyway, he knew that, even with the virus dead their bodies were still to damaged to pick up where they had been and recover. Some had just given up the will to live. He sighed, frustrated.
“Problem admiral?”
“The usual,” The admiral replied, looking over his shoulder to the chimp. Jerry shrugged as he pulled a parts tray from a replicator. “Deep thoughts. Sometimes it feels like we're not moving fast enough.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jerry said. “Any ideas on when we can get out of these damn suits?” he asked.
“No idea. If you're caught up on your shots you might be able to get out now. It all depends on the doctors and if they found any more new viruses.”
“I haven't heard anything. I hate shots,” Jerry said.
The admiral looked at him. “You mean you haven't had any?”
“None of us in suits have admiral. Catch um... Twenty-Three? I think Hank said.
“Twenty-Two?” the admiral asked.
“Yeah,” the simian replied, bobbing a nod. His suit crinkled and made hushing noises as the fabric rubbed against itself. “I'm getting used to wearing this damn thing but I still want to itch bad. And my diaper is full up.”
“Didn't you go into the clean room and get sorted out?” Irons asked.
Jerry sniffed. “Some of the medics are using it as a bedroom. They lock themselves in, get out of the suits, shit and shower, then take a nap.” Pure envy dripped from his voice.
“And you're just jealous because you didn't think of it first,” Hank teased, coming up behind him.
Jerry turned. “Too right,” he growled. “Damn, fracken VIP's get the good shit.”
“Yeah well, we'll see,” Irons said looking thoughtful.
“I know that look,” Hank said, eying the admiral. He exchanged glances with Jerry. “That usually means more work for us.”
Jerry nodded ruefully. “Yeah, it does. What?” he asked fatalistically.
“Well, I was wondering about those emitters. If we reconfigured them into a sphere we could make a portable dome. An energy shield.”
“And what pray tell would we do with that?”
“Well, filter the air and clean the surfaces inside and then you could go inside and undress and get cleaned up.”
“Interesting,” Hank replied. “Wouldn't it be easier and safer to make a real dome? You know, just in case the shields fail?”
“Point,” the admiral replied. “Are we done with this replicator?” he asked, pointing to one that looked like an oven. It was designed to make flat parts for the drones. It was about ten centimeters wide, but over a meter square.
“Sure, for now. We don't have any drone parts if that's what you're asking,” Hank replied. “Go ahead and use it. Not that you of all people need my permission,” he said with a snort and ear flick.
“Okay,” the admiral pulled up simple designs before he found a basic structure. He thought about it then changed from the dome he had in mind to a transhab. He turned, looking around for the textile replicator.
“What now?”
“I changed my mind. Textile replicator,” the admiral said. Hank silently pointed to another machine in the right corner. Irons nodded and sent a signal to it. It was no longer hooked up, now that the virus was here no one needed hazmat suits. Those that were out of them were already infected with something.
“I'm going to set this thing up to make a transhab. Can you two feed it and pull the loads? All you have to do is make sure it's got the right materials and pull them and then hit enter when the tray is clear.”
“Feed it, walk it, the usual,” Jerry quipped. “What may I ask are we making? Or is this a secret?”
“Transhab. A really big tent. Pressurized tent. Big enough for two or three people to get inside, take their suits off and get cleaned up in.”
Jerry suddenly smiled. Then his smile fell. “I'll do it, but only if I get first dibs on using the damn thing,” he growled sternly.
The admiral laughed softly. “That's why I wanted to make it. Make it and a couple more like it.”
“Yeah well, I so need to eat. Bad. Tired of this protein shake and water,” the chimp growled.
“You needed to lose weight anyway,” Hank teased.
“Admiral, Boss Hodges has put a call in for you, can you go to the city hall? Right away,” the messenger said, darting in. Irons looked up and nodded. The kid spun in place and ran back out.
Hank snorted. “Like to see him move that fast in a suit,” he grumbled.
“Yeah well, once you are in this, I want you and anyone else to get caught up on shots,” the admiral ordered. Jerry made a face. He rounded on the chimp. “I mean it. Unless you want to live the rest of your life in a bubble and hazmat suit?” he demanded, hooking up the power line.
“Not on my worst day,” Jerry muttered. “How do we get this thing going again?”
“One step at a time. We have to make it in pieces, sew them together, disinfect them inside and out, then set the airlock up. I'll upload you the directions when I am on my way to see what the boss wants.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Jerry sighed. “Better you than me. At least you've got energy shields.”
“Yeah well, everything has a drawback. I think I'll just fly there,” the admiral replied, checking the video feed from the outside camera. There was still quite a crowd outside.
“You can fly?”
Irons smiled and turned. He keyed his force emitters and lifted off.
“Fracken show off,” Jerry muttered, watching him go. He turned. “Come on, give me a hand with this thing. I so want a beer in the worst way.”
“Right,” Hank replied.
“This would have been nice if Wally was still around,” Jerry said.
“What happened to him?” Hank asked.
“Died a couple of days ago,” Jerry said.
“Oh.”
“Luke managed to get out in time.”
“Good for him,” Hank said.
“I heard Dewey Keeper went to Gotham. Something about a job with a tech company. The one Fox is in.”
“Oh. Good,” Hank said. He liked the little old inventor. They used to stay up and shoot
the shit, get all excited about this and that until the sun rose.
“Yeah, come on, let's get this thing done.”
“Right.”
“We'll probably have to make another. Hell, I wonder if we can make one big enough to cover the planet?” Jerry asked.
Hank snorted. “Don't tell the admiral that, he'd stick us with the job.” Jerry chuffed a laugh then grimaced. “You know, he just might.” He shook himself with a snort then got back to work.
...*...*...*...*...
The admiral landed on the steps of city hall, avoiding a few people there. They stared at him in shock as he double timed it up the stairs and into the building.
Sheriff Coltrain was there, he waved frantically to the admiral. “You know, I swear he does it on purpose,” the sheriff said, sounding worried and disgusted.
“Who?”
“Huey, that's who! He got himself sick then yanked the bosses’ suit open while putting on a fuss. Boss is beside himself. Can you do something?” the sheriff asked as he led the admiral into the office. Irons noticed the blue lights all around the room. Some were real ultraviolet lights, others were fake. He snorted. Someone was scamming boss.
Huey, a slimmed down younger version of boss was whimpering about dying. Boss was too, fanning himself and moaning about not how he wanted to go. Of course both men had glasses of white lightening in their hands. That still didn't stop them from carrying on.
“Did you two get your latest round of shots,” the admiral asked. For the most part, Boss Hodges was a blessing, working with the population and for once not trying to take advantage of the situation.
“Some of them,” Hodges said weakly, then opened his eyes to see the admiral. He was all smile suddenly. Irons snorted softly.
“My friend!” Hodges said, seemingly ready to kiss the admiral. “Please Mr. Admiral, can you see to an old man and his stupid nephew?” he asked, “I'm too young to die?” he said with enough theatrics in his manner and voice to make even Irons chuckle.
Irons turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff have you had your shots?” The sheriff winced and rubbed his arm. “You and your deputies should be updated daily.”
“You know, shots hurt, and...”
The admiral sighed. “You know, I don't care. Dying hurts more. A shots a prick and it's over. Sure there are a lot of them, but the doctors are combining some of the vaccines into single injections. So, be a pal to the Hodges here and go round up a medic with all the necessary shots for them, you and your deputies. If you are caught up you may not even need the suit anymore,” Irons said.
Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) Page 50