Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (41 page)

“Oh that's smart!” a doctor said in disgust. “Just hand it over to
anyone,” he said shaking his head and throwing up his hands in disgust.

“Over and done with now,” another said.

“Trust me, there's been enough hand wringing over that subject for
centuries I bet,” Irons replied. “The important thing is we use it,” he tapped
another chip. “To create antidotes and vaccines. Those too are in the plans.
They won't help right off, but if you can get people started on them now, then
when we get a sample of this we can figure out how to modify them into being
effective against these strains. But first we need samples.”

Helen sank into a chair, pale as a ghost. It was her worst fear
realized.

“Set one goal now, evacuate everyone outside the current
communicable zone of two hundred kilometers. Anyone inside was as good as dead.
That included Hazard city,” Sprite said.

“Crap,” Zane muttered.

“We also need to get materials, antibiotics, respirators, and
other preventive measures into the hands of medics and police personnel in the
line of fire as quickly as possible. The longer they can remain functional the
better. They can at least give us the data we need to work on antidotes and
vaccines,” Sprite said.

“Damn, you really are an AI to be that cold blooded about it,”
Malcolm said, green eyes flashing.

“Triage doctor,
learn
it. Live or die. We have got to do
it, no matter how it hurts. Mourn the dead later if there is time. For now, try
to save the living,” Sprite said.

“We have a lot to do and we need materials. I need materials.
Making one mask at a time is out. Unfortunately we've got an issue,” the admiral
said. Irons began to list what he needed. “The problem right now is location,
and that Hank McCoy and my shuttle are in the quarantine zone.” He could and
would make another replicator, but it would take time.

“No, I've got Hank,” Helen admitted. Irons looked at her. She
smiled a wan smile and brushed her locks back. “He told me about the
replicator, Yesterday I brought him in. He arrived last night.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently someone tried to steal the damn thing. Now I'm not
sure it's worth it.”

“Oh it is, believe me. With it we've got a slim chance of
containment. But we need to get moving, I mean now,” Irons growled, tapping the
table meaningfully. “No screw ups, no time to waste pussy footing around. Get
the quarantine set up and masks in place. Shoot on sight anyone who attempts to
break out of it. No approach to the body, burn it and run like hell. If anyone
tries to breach move the zone back another one hundred kilometers,” Irons said
firmly.

“That'll hit Sin City,” a doctor said.

“If we don't get this contained and I mean
right
now we're
all dead. Well, all of you, I'm immune,” Irons said, eying the doctors coldly.

“Can we use you for a vaccine?” Helen asked.

“No,” Irons said, turning to her. He shook his head. “Won't work.
This is an adaptive virus. A simple flu shot won't work here doc. We need
intel.”

“I...” We'll get what we can,” she said.

...*...*...*...*...

Helen called a break to the meeting and went to her office. “Call
the governor. I need to keep him in the loop. Get me Hank and his replicator,” she
said in passing to her secretary Dawn.

Within her office she paced, unsure of what to do next. Irons was
putting them on the right path, he had a plan, which was more than what she
currently had. Furthermore he had the means to combat this thing, but lacked
contacts and material support. Both she could give him to some degree. She'd
already passed orders to find Hank and get him and his precious replicator to
the annex. Her secretary leaned in and quietly informed her the governor wasn't
busy, he'd left town unexpectedly.

“Perfect,” Helen snarled, flopping down in her chair. “I should
have known,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“They are people Doctor Richards, scared people, frightened out of
their little wits,” the secretary said. She looked scared herself.

“That's the problem, even though I told them,” she snarled as she
closed her eyes, trying to keep a lid on her temper. “I
told
them not to
panic, told them what needed to be done, what I
needed
from them,” she
paused and sucked in a breath. “They
still
scurried off for whatever
hole they could find and left me and everyone else in a lurch!” Helen snarled
throwing her hands up in the air in disgust and dismay.

“So what are we going to do?” Mr. Osiris asked.

“He's still in the office?” Helen asked, opening her eyes and
removing her arm from her face.

“Yes,” the secretary replied, bobbing a nod. “He's waiting on line
three,” she said, indicating the phone on the desk.

“Well, at least it's a start,” Helen said, sitting up straight.
She shook her hair out and then took a deep breath to compose herself as she
reached for the handset. “This is Director Richards, Mr. Osiris?”

“Yes Director,” he said.

She filled him in about the admiral's arrival, his AI, and the
report they had complied. Osiris listened silently, not asking any questions.
Then she went into detail on the tentative plan Irons had laid out. When she
was finished Osiris grunted.

“And you are sure it will work?” he asked.

“I'm not sure of anything right now. But a drowning man doesn't
ask where the life preserver came from, they just grab it and be grateful.
Irons has a good plan. We just need the back up and resources to implement it.”

“He's a political hot potato doctor,” Osiris responded.

“Who cares!” she demanded, getting up. She held herself up by one
hand on the blotter of her desk as she fumed into the phone. “Aren't you
listening
to me? He's our one chance of not only containing this, but beating it! We need
him!”

“I understand that doctor, but I have to be on the lookout for all
the angles,” Osiris responded with a calm air. “You would be advised to do the
same,” he cautioned.

“Screw that. We don't have time for political games! You think
your boss is going to be in good odor with any survivors if we get through
this? And guess what? I don't give a rat's ass. We need this done now!” She
snarled.

 “Not tomorrow, today, right now! I've asked Irons to get to work,
he's agreed. I'm doing what I can, but I
need
the support if this is to
succeed.”

“You know I can't give it doctor, I'm the chief of staff. I can't
authorize it.”

“Then find someone who can!” she snarled, pulling at her hair. She
clenched her hand. “You know what, do it or I'll call a press conference and do
it myself!” she slammed the receiver down and then flopped once more into her chair
with a sigh.

“Shit,” she sighed, wanting to cry. “Damn, damn, damn,” she
muttered. She turned looking out the window. Fleeing was perfectly natural, she
could see the stream of people, animals, and machinery clogging the streets. No
wonder they were having trouble getting in and out. People were people, they
fell to their basic instincts in such situations. Their response though... she
sighed.

...*...*...*...*...

After the meeting Helen met with him in her office briefly and
asked him quietly if they had a chance. He grimaced.

“Doc, you know the drill, never let them see you sweat, they need
the boost in confidence.”

She grimaced. “That bad?”

“We'll know more when we can get some damned intel. Until then
we'll plan for the worst. I need access, security, and material. And
volunteers,” he said. “But most of all I need access to my ship, my shuttle,
and Hank McCoy.”

She looked at him for a long moment, wondering if he was going to
run. Finally she nodded. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Keep your chin up doc, remember that. It's going to be hard, but
we need to keep morale up. If people see us break down it will cause all sorts
of problems and make our jobs all that more harder.”

“I know,” Helen replied with a nod, moving off.

Word of the crisis had the normally relaxed commissioner Hodges in
near panic mode. It was apparent right off that as word spread so did the
lawlessness. Coltrain had discharged a shotgun and his pistol twice into the
air to disperse crowds from the city administration center, and once more to
stop the looters from ransacking the Hodges electronics store down the street.
He'd ordered his bank shut down to keep the panicked people from running and
stripping it clean.

He paced, fretting over what to do, where to send his people. Many
people didn't stand around and dither, some were already heading east out of
town. The road was clogging up as people tried to get past each other.

Cletus had radioed in that a wreck ten kilometers up the road at
the hair pin turn had stopped traffic all together. Now he regretted not
blowing the cell of rock and widening the road to a two lane road.

He hadn't because people were heading to Sin City to gamble
instead of spending their money here were it belonged, in his back room
casino's and in the gambling rackets he or Fat Larry controlled. Now people
were piling out of their vehicles, abandoning them and their goods in their
haste to get away. It was a nightmare and the night was just starting.

He looked up to the clouds. They'd gotten a report in that the
spread of the virus had slowed, but it was indeed headed for Hazard. He'd asked
his fat jujube bean to leave but she'd flat out refused.

People were breaking out masks and gloves. Surgical masks and
bandanas were now spreading as people put them on. Coltrain and his fool
deputies were spending more and more time breaking up groups than they were
protecting his holdings! Unbelievable! And now word had come through to get out
of Hazard... and they couldn't!

“Where is that fool!” Hodges snarled, looking at his nephew. His
nephew was as much of a crook as he was, a slimmed down version. Well he had
been, now he was stuffing every pocket with valuables.

“I don't know uncle boss, I heard something about the doctor lady
said to set up a barricade on the north western roads and keep people out of
the city. Them's that are most likely infected,” he said. He yipped as his
uncle slapped his hand as he tried to stuff more money into his satchel.

“You leave that there alone. Go and check on my southern assets.
Make sure no one's robbing me blind there,” Hodges growled, handing his nephew
a shot gun.

“Me?”  Huey demanded, eyes wide.

“Yes you,” Hodges scowled. “I can't spare anyone else. And who
better to trust than kin?” he asked sarcastically. His nephew took the shotgun
and then nodded and headed for the door.

“And nephew, make sure it's all there,” Hodges growled, headed for
the telescope again. He picked up the radio. “And leave my money and my pocket
watch where you found it,” he growled.

“Yes uncle boss,” the young man said, pulling the watch out
sheepishly before he looked it over, and then set it down on a table by the
door.

“Get with Fat Larry, take two of his crew for muscle. Get,” Hodges
said, bringing the radio to his lips. He watched his nephew slam the door and
then winced. “This is Boss... Oh! Never mind that, Rosco! You hear me you nit
wit!”

Nohar's ears flicked as he heard the radio call. Coltrain was away
from his car, down strutting as he inspected the improvised barricade. A steam
shovel was busy ripping the dirt road up and piling the dirt on their side to
form a better barricade. Right now all they had were a crowd of people and some
fencing.

“Coltrain!” he yelled, turning and fixing on the sheriff. The
sheriff stopped as if he'd been hit with a hot poker. He looked up and pointed
to his chest. “Yes, you, radio!” Nohar growled, pointing to the car and open
door.

“Oh, oh! That's probably boss,” the sheriff said, flapping his
elbows as he moved quickly for the car. Nohar shook his head in disgust. The
sheriff reminded him of a raven sometimes, a raven or a chicken.

“This is Sheriff Rosco Coltrain, to whom am I talking to?” The
sheriff drawled into the mike as he turned.

“Well, it's about time sheriff,” Hodges's voice cut through
Rosco's self-importance like a knife. “Now, if you want to stay sheriff and not
be a street sweeper come dawn you'll get over to my Northern holdings and check
on them!”

“But boss...” Coltrain said desperately.

“Don't you butt boss me!” Hodges snarled.

“Boss, shouldn't we do like the doctor lady said?”

“You work for me not her! Now get!” Hodges snarled.

“Oh, oh, I'm gone!” the sheriff replied, wincing. He went to put
the microphone back but he'd wrapped it around himself. He untangled it in a
huff and then hung it up.

Nohar shook his head in despair. “I've got to go check on some
things, you lot mind your p's and q's. I'll be back, um...”

“Soon?” a rather shaky security guard asked.