Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (58 page)

UV lights were supposed to be on in the hangars, but someone had
turned them off. “Bobby, the throttle is still a little sticky. And I had a
couple coughs up there,” she said as the engine wound down. Her brother came
over to her. He had his mask around his neck. She scowled, not taking hers off.
She'd listened to the briefings.

“Put your mask on!” she snarled.

“Eh?” he teased, not understanding. He cupped a hand to his ear as
he came closer. She waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I heard it,” he said pointing
to the engine. He went over and looked.

Tori popped the canopy and swore, everything was all wet. Her
father was there, arguing with someone. She snorted.

“Owe!” Bobby said, and then coughed. She felt her hear wrench at
that. “Bobby!” she squealed.

“What?”

“You're supposed to wait!” she snarled, climbing out of the
aircraft in her haste to stop him.

“I am?” he asked, cursing as he got the latches to turn so he
could pop the door open. He used the prop wire to prop the door open and then
took a look, bare hands on the rag he had covering the still hot cowling. “I
don't see anything wrong,” he said as his sister slipped off the wing and then
limped around the wing to get to him.

“You idiot!” she snarled. “You, we, we were all told to clean the
birds and not approach them without a mask and gloves on!” she snarled, waving
to other crew members servicing the other aircraft.

“We were?” Bobbi asked. He coughed. “Dang dust,” he mumbled. “So?
Nothing's wrong,” he said and then coughed again. This time he couldn't stop,
and started wheezing.

“Damn it!” Tori turned in place and waved frantically to her dad
and a medic nearby. Her father waved back. The medic frowned. She pointed to
her brother urgently just as he crumpled. She turned, hearing his wet thump hit
the concrete. “Bobby!” she screamed.

That got the attention of her father and other adults. Some came
running, others hesitated. He was infected she realized, cradling him in her
arms. “Bobby you idiot,” she mumbled. His eyes were closed. He was barely
breathing. She could see red spots and splotches breaking out all over his face
and hands. She looked up as she heard the approach of many feet to see medics
rush to the scene.

The medics did a quick assessment, rubbing his hand with a swab
and then putting it into a test kit. A drop of some clear chemical and the
sample turned red. The medic swore.

“That's bad right? You, that's bad?” Tori asked in tears, fogging
her mask. She wanted to tear it off but a medic in a blue suit and black gloves
stopped her. He held her, rubbing her bicep in sympathy as two other medics
took her brother's body onto a stretcher and then strapped him down. He was
carried away shaking, already his body was feverish.

“Can you do anything doctor?” Tori asked, looking over her
shoulder to Doctor Ivanov.

“We will do all we can do,” he said, surprised the girl was here.
“Did he get any of the shots?” he asked.

“The pilots did. Ground crew were supposed to but they ran out half
way through,” she said as she started to cry.

“Get her decontaminated. The plane as well. All the planes, inside
and out. Pressure wash with soap if you have to,” the doctor said. Her father
came to them but the doctor put a hand up stopping him at as distance. “Sir,
are you their father?” he asked.

“Yes. What happened to my son?”

“Something unfortunate,” the doctor sighed. “Please do not
approach until we've been disinfected. Young lady, come with me,” the doctor
said. Tori sniffled and walked with him under his arm to the decontamination
area.

Xani and her father met her a few minutes later. She nodded
quietly to them. Xani's eyes were red, a sure sign she had been crying. “Come
on,” their father said. “Let's go check on him,” he said.

At the hospital they were stopped at the door. Dozens of people
were there outside, some sick, others worried about loved ones. The buildings
around them had people coming in and out. One had a pile of bodies in bags.
Tori turned away, grabbing little Xani and making her turn away as well.

Bobby never woke up. He died in less than an hour. Tori and Xani
were devastated. Their father turned, and for the first time went to support
his family instead of finding solace in a bottle. ”I’m sorry, I'm so sorry,” he
whispered, hugging them fiercely.

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

Sprite listened to the virology report with one part of her
consciousness as she turned within. She opened a link to Proteus, something she
hadn't done in a while. Ever since the Draco incident she'd been tentative about
establishing links to other AI's. Now there was no choice.

She laid out her plan and together they consulted the regs and the
blueprints of a basic implant job. Ruthlessly they pared down the design to the
bare minimum. “The question is, can you do it?” Sprite asked.

“I'm not sure. On one level it's an element of engineering.
Running wire, creating electronics, tapping systems. It's the weave to the
patient's neural net that's the tricky part. That I am not at all sure about.”

“Can you sim it?” Sprite asked.

“I... If I had the power. Right now my nanites are down to ninety
percent.”

“That low?” Sprite asked, now surprised and a little dismayed.

“I've been doing a lot of work lately,” Proteus replied. “With
little time to recharge or rebuild. In fact no time actually.”

“I'll see what I can do on that score. The admiral is in need of a
break, no matter what he thinks. But, okay, send me part of what you have and
I'll run it on my processing power and the net we've got.”

“Sprite, that's dangerous. You do not have enough as it is for
both you and the software.”

“I can handle it,” Sprite said firmly. “Look, I can put some of my
deep memory in inactive storage. I know I need downtime too, but we don't have
time. Let's do it.”

“I'll send you part of the file,” Proteus said.

The news wasn't good, logging camps and small villages one hundred
kilometers out from Rubicon were no longer responding. Some went off the air
after confirming they were infected. Hazard was barely holding on. Only those
people in a hazmat suit were immune, but they couldn't spend the rest of their
lives in them. A better solution had to be found soon.

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

“Admiral, we've exhausted all other options,” Sprite said when
Doctor Ivanov reported in. The virologist had confirmed that they had killed a
lot of the pathogens, but dozens more remained. The spray was cutting a swath,
but it wasn't enough. The aircraft had been covered in pathogens, some new and
unrecognized. The boy Bobby had died from one, a virulent form of hemorrhagic fever
they had yet to identify. All their attempts at killing it had been in vain.

Nor were the inoculations doing well, they just weren't as
effective as hoped. They had less than a twenty percent success rate... and
those that did prove immune to one virus were testing positive for another.
Within hours they were becoming sick. Things were dire, growing more dire by
the moment.

“There isn't any more choice here,” she repeated, Irons still
didn't respond. “Admiral, we've got to get implants going, and we need navy
medics on the scene.”

“Sprite, I'm not sure...”

“I am admiral, it's our only option. We'll have to make it work.”

“Do we have time?”

“If we cut it down, yes sir. Just the ident implants and basics.
Ident implants at first, those you can manage yourself. But the others are a
problem.”

“And the solution is?”

“I've been thinking about it,” Sprite admitted. “I've discussed
this with Proteus. It's a risk, but we can inject nanites into others through
personal contact. Your nanites. Proteus can make basic repairs, following a
guide we can make rough implants.”

“Without killing anyone Sprite? Proteus is an engineering AI, not
a medical AI,” Irons said, deeply concerned.

“I believe we have to take the risk admiral,” Proteus replied. “As
the lieutenant Commander pointed out, we are running out of options,” it said.

Run it by me again,” Irons said. He listened to the pitch once
more and then nodded. “The question is, will it work?”

“It's worth a shot admiral. Right now we need a faster means to
kill this thing and only a doctor can authorize it,” the AI replied.

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

Irons entered the director's office and softly closed the door
behind him. “What is it this time?” she asked tiredly, scrubbing her face with
her hands before she looked up. “Admiral!” she said in surprise.

“We have something to discuss. It's a long shot,” the admiral
replied. He sat down across from her and set a portable holo generator on her
desk. Sprite's avatar immediately coalesced into being. She smiled to the
doctor.

“What is it?” the doctor asked. She was now used to conversing
with the AI.

“The commander has an idea. I've signed off on it, but I'm not
thrilled about the risks. But we need to discuss it with you. It is extremely
dangerous,” the admiral said.

“Oh.”

Irons and Sprite broached the reserve idea to Helen. “With this
you can have medical keys. Which means you would be able to build medical
nanites and tech I currently can't.”

“You can't but you can give me the ability?”

Irons smiled. “It's not that simple doctor. I'm,” he sighed.
“Let's just say it's complicated. I don't have a medical degree and you do.”

“Oh.”

“Which makes you and others like you uniquely qualified for this.
But it isn't all peaches and cream doctor, there's risk involved.” They
patiently explained the steps involved, and the time it would take. Helen was
desperate, but they had to explain it all. She was impatient, ready to try it,
thousands were falling ill by the hour, and any salvation was worth the cost.
Sprite warned her that there was a time period for recovery, one that they
couldn't fool with. “Doctor if you try to use your implants before they're
integrated and the swelling has dropped to acceptable levels you could do
yourself permanent damage. Usually implants are locked down for that period to
prevent that. I can't in good consciousness bypass that.”

“We don't have time.”

“Some things have to be done right if we expect them to succeed
doctor.”

“Wait,” Helen said, thinking fast. “We can inject an
anti-inflammatory medication like a glucocorticoid to prevent rejections and to
lower swelling. They work by bonding to glucocorticoid receptors. Once we're
clear we can then back off the dosages.”

“The problem is doctor, the anti-rejection drugs are autoimmune
suppressants. With what's going on now with this virus...”

Helen frowned. “We'll have to chance it. We don't have any other
choice. We'll have to stay quarantined until we're clear.”

“Normally I'd say using quick-heal and a dunk in a regen tank, but
neither are currently available,” Irons mused. “Sprite and I have talked about
it, due to the crisis we'd have to go with the bare minimum implants. Ident
implants and control implants. We can work on anti-geriatrics, super strength,
vision and other sensory enhancements, and other treatments later.”

“I...” Helen blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

“It's all part of the package of being in the military doctor,”
Sprite replied with a smile. She showed the doctor a list of other treatments.
Helen whistled softly as she scanned them.

“Quite an incentive I assure you! Anti-geriatrics, treatments.. I
can understand the vaccines now. Hmmm..”

“The other problem is that some of the medications like the
glucocorticoid steroids suppress the long term integration of the implants.
Some are dangerous to the patient.”

“At your current tech level we need Non-steroidal
anti-inflammatory drugs such as ibuprofen or naproxen they prevent the
Cyclooxygenase enzyme. The COX enzyme synthesizes prostaglandins which creates
inflammation.  With the proper NSAID we can suppress the swelling better and
accelerate healing. They aren't good for long term use though, they can erode
the stomach lining and cause all sorts of other problems.”

“True,” Helen replied.

“IMSAID's or Immunity Selective Anti-inflammatory Derivatives are
what I'd like to see. They're a class of Peptides that work by altering the
migration of inflammatory cells. It's the Immune cells that are doing the
damage, they're responsible for amplifying the inflammatory response. But what
I'd really love to do is to stick each of you in a regen tank as I said
before.”

“Can we do that?”

The admiral sighed. “Yes and no. I can make the regen tank, well
most of it. But again the risks and the time factor...”

“Do we have a choice?” Helen asked. “The anti-swelling
treatments...”

“We do that as a matter of course doctor. Quick heal has its own
series of anti-inflammatory medications. We're looking into acquiring the
materials now. Or should I say I am,” Sprite said. “I stand corrected, non in
the electronic inventory so I'm passing the request to a pharmacy nurse to look
into.”