Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (66 page)

“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.”

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.