Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Four down, 11 to go,” Sprite reported.

  Spinning, he ducked a shot at his back from a sniper and threw a captured weapon at the shooter. The small pistol spun end over end with deadly accuracy. The shooter took it on the temple and collapsed like a rag doll, head gushing blood. That didn't matter, Irons had thrown the weapon with such force that it had snapped his neck like a twig.

  A second shooter lined up a shot but collapsed, the admiral blinked, then saluted a near naked Doctor La Plaz who had brained the would be shooter from behind. A running tally of six enemy down… he did a quick check and found that the remaining team were running in full retreat.

  The sheriff's department was finally reacting, and a shootout between the aggressors and three deputies and a half dressed sheriff Coltrain left two on either side down and Coltrain wounded before the remaining aggressors slipped off under the cover of the night.

  Unfortunately the police lacked night vision gear, so the goons got away clean. As they stood around and took stock for ten minutes, Irons was still answering questions when his sensors noted a shuttle lifting on a straight vertical path from Hazard Space port.

  “And now we know what they were really after,” Sprite said unnecessarily. “By the time the authorities react the ship will have left orbit and will be too far down range to engage.”

  The admiral watched a gurney with a blood soaked blanket covering it being wheeled out. “Right,” the admiral replied with a sigh. He turned away from the sobbing woman being held up by Deputy Rogers.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Sheriff Coltrain had been lightly wounded in the retreat and fire fight so an outside investigation was called in. Police commissioner Gordon arrived by morning. He interrogated the one surviving team member in the hospital. The man, Mitch, had little to say. Gordon confronted him with his gear, including a crumpled image of Irons with a list of alleged crimes under it. “We're bounty hunters, he's a bounty. We've got a legit warrant from Pyrax. End of story.”

  When he was sure the man wasn't going to say anything, even to save his own sorry hide, Gordon went to confront the admiral. “According to this Mitch,” Gordon said, pulling a paper pad from his brown trench coat. Irons wasn't sure why the commissioner needed to wear it when it was already stifling hot out. “According to him there's a warrant out for your arrest in Pyrax. They're bounty hunters sent to collect you and return you for trial.”

  From the sound of it Gordon had gotten an earful. Irons frowned. Gordon looked at him suspiciously

  “I don't know what you've heard Commissioner, but why don't you hear both sides before you pass judgment okay?” Irons said slowly.

  “He deserves that Jim. Give the man a chance,” Helen Richards replied from the open doorway. Gordon looked at her and then shrugged. “We, I mean none of us would be here without him.”

  “All right,” Gordon drawled. “Let's hear it. Let's hear your side. Since everything you've done here I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. But some of this stuff I've heard about...”

  The admiral wearily sighed and explained to the commissioner and a weary Helen Richards about the events in Pyrax.

  He peppered his explanation with his own recordings of the events. Skeptical at first, the Commissioner came around when he replayed the conversation between the council member and himself.

  “I see. And I thought we had it bad here,” Gordon replied. “They really wanted to get rid of you didn't they? Then why do they want you back so bad?” he asked.

  “The keys,” Sprite replied. “They thought they'd be cute and get rid of the admiral. He left. They thought they'd killed him on Destiny, it had been rigged to die in hyper, but we stopped that from happening,” the AI explained.

  “So...”

  “So what do you want to do commissioner?”

  “Well, it's not my jurisdiction. And from what you told me, they agreed to exile, then changed their minds. I don't see you getting justice in Pyrax.”

  “No, neither do I,” Helen agreed.

  “But, as long as you're here, you are a target. You and anyone else around you. So, I won't interfere with you, but I suggest as soon as this crisis is over you move on.”

  The admiral sighed and nodded. “I'm planning on doing so.”

  “Good,” Gordon replied. He ran a hand through his graying hair and then adjusted his glassed. “I'm sorry about that, about this, I really am. It's just how life works out sometimes.”

  “Yes, yes I know. I'll deal with it.”

  “I expect you will,” Helen said nodding.

  The admiral retired to a new room in a new hotel later that evening and was amused to see the alert guards watching his door. “I recall something about barn doors and such...” Sprite drawled.

  “Not helping,” he said shaking his head. “Night Sprite.”

  Chapter 24

  On a windy day one month and one day since the crisis began, the population of Hazard lined the fences around the Space port as Hank finished with the missile.

  Everyone was quiet, well, most everyone. Boss Hodges had his people working the fences, either as pick pockets or selling food. It seemed things were getting back to normal indeed.

  They launched the final nanite bomb, it climbed into the sky and waggled its wings as it soared off over the horizon and then out of sight

  People turned, some hurried to their homes, others to the local pub or gathering place to watch the bomb go off. The Phoenix controlled the craft, the ship broadcast the video feed to the population of the world to watch. The last, hopefully final punch in the terrible war.

  Silently, the virology team watched the craft go in. Irons wasn't the only one mentally exhausted, he could see how Paco La Plaz was leaning against a wall, a nurse leaning against his slender frame. The young man had aged and lost weight. As had Doctor Ivanov. The older virologist was seated, watching with tired expectant eyes as the drone flew ever closer to its final act.

  In the hospital Helen watched and listened to Phoenix as the AI reported over the intercom. Not everyone could watch the feed, so the AI had set up a radio broadcast as well. Just about everyone was listening to it, she realized, looking around to the nursing station. She sighed, turning to see Sam stroke Robby's hand gently. She nodded to Doctor Salt as he passed her. He rubbed her arm. She turned, rubbing where he touched, feeling it, getting what comfort she could from the brief physical contact. She wished Jerry was here. She made a note to talk to him again.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “Arming the distribution system,” the AI reported. Tori smiled, eyes glittering with tears. She wiped at them and her nose. Her dad rested his arm on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled briefly, then turned back to the monitor. She'd helped Hank set up the sprayer. “Sprayer nozzle opening. Clear. Nanites away,” Phoenix reported. She shivered, imagining the spray of tiny lethal robots falling through the sky, drifting ever downward to the battlefield below. If Irons was right it would be an easy victory.

  “Nanites are active. No threat detected in the core, nanites moving outward. Search continuing,” Phoenix reported. Drone self-destruct armed, destruct countdown... Three... Two... One... destruct.” The feed went to snow. “Drone confirmed destroyed,” the AI reported.

  “And that's that,” little Xani said. “Can we go get some ice cream now? I'm hot,” she said, fighting to keep a whine out of her voice.

  Her father and sister chuckled and nodded, moving to the door.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Governor Oman watched the feed with his family and then looked at his wife. “So that's it? Its' over?” Rosanne demanded.

  “I don't know.”

  “Well,” she said glaring. “If you don't know you'd better find out. I'm tired of being here. But I don't want to go back until we're sure,” she said.

  “I'll look into it,” he said, nodding dutifully. She glared at him. He sighed. “Now,” he said, turning to find the radio.

  It took a moment to
get through to the network. The admiral's changes had helped a great deal, apparently there was a new radio network growing around the major cities. He'd have to have Osiris look into getting credit for all the work. Irons of course wouldn't object, he was leaving soon, and once he was gone, and sufficient time had passed he'd be forgotten.

  He smiled suddenly. “Osiris? Yes, this is the governor. So, is it over?”

  “I'm not sure sir.”

  “You aren't sure?” Storm clouds gathered on the governor's brow. “What do you mean?” he demanded, voice lowering. “What am I paying you for if you don't know?”

  “I'm the chief of staff governor, I'm supposed to manage your office, not do your job for you,” Osiris growled right back. Ever since Oman had left him high and dry he'd started to bite back. Well, that was tough. With his and his wife's ample size, not to mention the children's, there really hadn't been enough room. Besides, someone had to remain behind and watch over things. “Now don't get pissy with me you little prick, I'll...I'll have you sweeping gutters.... I'll...”

  “Sorry... sir... you're.... shhhh.... breaking up... shhhh... Have to talk to you … later....” Osiris responded, then the line went dead. The governor stared at it for a long time scowling.

  “Well?” Rosanne demanded.

  “We were cut off,” he said sheepishly, setting the microphone down. He'd deal with it later. His wife didn’t look at all happy. He sighed. Right now he'd gladly trade places with Osiris.

  “Can we at least get some decent food?” Rosanne demanded, hands on her hips.

  “Yes dear,” he said, and then as if on cue he heard a familiar thrum of approaching aircraft engines. “In fact, I think your last request of pigs feet and white lightening is about to arrive dear,” he said.

  “Well! It's about time!” she growled, hustling the kids out to the porch to watch the aircraft land. “And don't think I'm distracted enough to let you off the hook just yet!” she warned, shaking a pudgy fist his way.

  “No dear,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Fat chance of that happening,” he muttered softly.

  If he wanted to stay in office and weather the storm of criticism he was getting for abandoning the capital he'd have to figure out a way to take credit for coordinating the crisis.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Osiris threw the ball of paper away. It had served its purpose, throwing the governor off by making him think they had interference. “So, he's going to take credit?” he asked, turning to the shadowy figures behind him.

  “Of course. He's a politician,” one voice rasped.

  “So what do we do about it?” Osiris demanded.

  “It's already done. He pissed a lot of people off. A lot of important people off. That was a mistake. One that we've decided to... punish him for. Permanently,” the voice replied.

  Osiris paled only slightly. “Well, I guess I should prepare for his successor. Should I start the groundwork for an election or do you have something else in mind?” he asked.

  The godfathers looked at each other, wheezing slightly. Finally one waved a hand briefly. The others nodded. “We'll leave it up to the people,” their spokesman said. “If they vote someone in that we can't deal with... well, there are ways of dealing with that too,” he said.

  “Yes sir,” Osiris replied, nodding dutifully. The men chuckled as their guards and nurses helped them out of the room. When they were gone Osiris slowly let out a deep breath.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  An exhausted Helen Richards worked with her staff to refine the nanite shield. It wasn't perfect, she knew that, and now they had time to get it right.

  Irons was right though, it was incredibly seductive to go and use the nanites to tweak a few things. She could see the logic, fix a defect here, kill a virus there. But it was indeed a slippery slope, one she'd have to carefully navigate. The newest version had already been alpha and beta tested, then replicated. Most of the nanites would just need a software update, these were more.... refined nanites. She reserved them for her medical personnel.

  Over a hundred thousand people had died from the various pathogens. She didn't have an exact number, there were too many people in small farms that had yet to be accounted for. Irons was right, now that they had control of the situation they had to stamp on a rush to distribute the new version until it had been properly vetted. She didn't want a repeat of Robby Daniels.

  She closed her eyes. What a terrible, horrible price to pay, she thought. To not only lose your child, but to become barren. She'd have to look into doing something about that later. She wasn't sure if anything could be done for Robby, but she could and would try.

  Unfortunately over the past week Robby had been hammered even harder by the nanites. Pathogens were still in the air, they would be for some time to come. Each time one hit her the woman lost a bit more of herself. The newest generation of nanites had been injected in her in an attempt to keep her alive.

  No, Irons was right, with Robby's horrible example in front of them there was no point releasing something that would do more harm than good... or that would do nothing at all.

  Doctor La Plaz had been upset by their seeming timidity, until Helen forced him to sit and talk to Robby and see for himself what haste brought. Only the new nanites were keeping her alive, and even then she was a mess. It would be a wonder if she lived through the next several days, and if she did keep going it would take years to put her broken body back together. But the woman had the stubborn iron will, so it was certainly possible. Sam was right there with her, her rock, her whole world right now. Quietly Paco nodded, he agreed with the team, they needed to make damn sure of each step before they released it to the public.

  The team continued to refine the nanites and work on a full treatment for infected people. Unfortunately the spread of the virus in anyone infected was too much for a shot gun approach, the medical nanites did as much damage to the host as the virus did. So they had to find a work around... which was where the latest generation of nanites came in. Paco had hit upon the idea of adapting regen tank nanites into the latest version. Proteus and Sprite had reluctantly helped program the nanites for the task, Sprite had copied the regen nanites coding into the new model. It wasn't perfect, they were debugging it even now. Robby Daniels was their test subject.

  The countryside was littered with rotting infected bodies. Aware of the possibility of secondary infections the government was urged to form clean up details to burn the bodies. Osiris stated that he would bring the suggestion to the governor and then signed off without further comment.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  A panicked call from the government “summit” site was received. “We're sick! Someone help us!” the governor said weakly over the radio.

  “Phoenix? Where?” Irons asked.

  “It's Governor Oman. He's sick. Apparently the virus somehow infected him.”

  “How?” Irons asked. “He's on an isolated island in the southern gulf!”

  “Apparently he was infected anyway. I've checked, there is no way the winds could have brought him the virus.”

  “Which means another vector,” Helen replied. She sat at the radio station, fluffed her hair, and then took the radio transmitter. “Can you describe the symptoms?”

  “I woke and found my son dead! Please!” the governor coughed. “Help us,” he said, voice strangling. He retched and coughed some more.

  “Can you give me a little more to go on,” Helen said patiently. “I'm assuming airborne, coughing...”

  “We're coughing blood. My wife... Rosanne, she's collapsed.”

  “Is she still breathing?” Helen asked.

  “I.... oh god, no, no!” The governor wailed. Helen closed her eyes.

  “I'm sorry, we can't help them. Or you. From the sound of it you have hemorrhagic fever. By the time we get to you ….” she sighed. “By the time we get to you it will be over governor.”

  “I....” they could hear coughing. “Do something! I order yo
u!”

  “And if I go there, what? I can't treat you governor, the treatment will kill you... if you're alive by the time I get there. And if you attempt to leave we will have to shoot you down. You're quarantined.” She said it as the death sentence they all knew it was.

  When the governor hysterically insisted that the people needed him she angrily told him off with sarcastic comments about how much of a help he was in his hole while the crisis tore apart their civilization. “You went and hid in your hole while the rest of us suffered. All of you said you were suffering along with us while you were safe and secure in your fortress. We bled and died while you and your cronies partied and ignored us. You can now experience it for yourself! Quarantine is in effect!”

  The medical nanites had halted the spread of the virus in the past week, but the threat of a mutated virus being released was still severe. She informed the governor that their self-contained biosphere would concentrate the virus, and the emergency provisions prevented her from allowing them to leave.

  “This is commissioner Gordon, I confirm that order. All police units are to shoot down and avoid any aircraft attempting to leave the summit site,” he said in a cold gruff voice. “We cannot afford to spread another infection.”

  “Gordon! You bastard!” the governor growled, then gasped a wet gasp. He coughed again. “I'll... I'll...” They heard a thunk and then static.

  The admiral could picture it, the fat governor most likely collapsed over the desk. “Phoenix?” he asked.

  “Yes admiral?”

  “Signs of life? Thermal?” he asked.

  “At the 'summit site' you mean? I am not over that area... I will be in a few minutes.”