Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (67 page)

Now he was worrying about what he'd missed. They didn't have any
more doses, the doctors said it would be a while before they had another batch
for felines. That bothered him a bit. Apparently they weren't doing one offs
for small groups, he could understand that, though he didn't like his ass
hanging in the wind. He'd just have to be extra careful not to get out of his
suit.

Unfortunately the population had been under severe stress over the
past two weeks, now mobs were forming, desperate for a cure. A rush of bodies
tried to force their way through the door for treatment. In desperation to keep
his post he instinctively used his claws to grab the door jam, keeping in the
center of the door blocking it. “Listen to me!” he roared, hearing his suit
alarm go off and a strange hissing sound. He could feel wind on his hands and
winced.

Back up arrived and he balled his fists as they pushed the people
back. “Listen to me! To us! Stop this! We'll get to you but if you do this no
one is getting treated! Calm down!” The Veraxin guard said, waving his true
hands in distress. He had been inoculated against the latest wave.

“You all need to calm down,” Rajar said, and then roared when
someone stepped on his foot. That made everyone back off, suddenly terrified of
the angry predator in their midst. His claws and teeth were bared again. He
glared around, seriously furious and not caring if the stupid sheep panicked
again. “Who did that? Who?”

“See? You're hurting us, you're hurting yourselves. Calm down and
form an orderly line here!” The Veraxin ordered, waving to the people. Three
were allowed inside. They bobbed a nod and rushed in. “No need to run! Keep
calm!” he called after them.

“They can take three at a time. When three come out three go in.
That's how it works folks. So keep it together,” the deputy called waving to
them. “Just keep it together a little longer folks,” he said patiently.

Rajar sighed and looked at his hand paws. He sucked in a breath
and got the tape out of his pocket and started working on the rips.

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

“Hank, you said the admiral is on his way?” Doctor Ivanov asked
tiredly.

“Yes,” Hank said, smiling. “He's got doctor La Plaz with him.
They've got a small amount of equipment with more on the way. Once we get the
basics licked Doctor Richards is talking about packing up most of the lab
equipment and shipping it down here too.”

“Oh really? Why would she do that?”

“This is as close to ground zero as it gets,” Hank replied with a
wry ear flick. “Which is why she's coming along shortly.”

“She is? Why won't she stay in Landing?”

“Never thought of Richards as someone who stayed back and didn't
get her hands dirty,” Hank replied with a small tight lipped smile.

“Well, that's true,” the virologist replied with a tired nod. He
sat in his chair, only the back brace was keeping him more or less upright. He
sighed.

“That bad?”

“No, good, but I'm tired. Every time we think we've got the
problem licked there's a new strain, a new virus, a new bacterium. Is there
ever an end?”

“Well, according to the admiral's AI Sprite, yes. There are only
so many pathogens after all.”

“True,” the virologist replied. “We're focusing on the ones
immediately harmful. The ones for species we don't even have on this planet can
damn well wait.”

“Point,” Hank replied. He turned to look out the window and
sighed. “What is he doing here?” he demanded in exasperation.

Ivanov leaned forward enough to see the fat commissioner peering
through the window and trying to get in. He shook his head.

“I'll handle it,” Hank growled.

Hodges had recovered after a day in the clinic, and then went back
to his hover, getting in the way of doctor Ivanov until Hank chased him off. “I
want the latest news! The latest vaccines! Bring them to me, I don't care if
I'm asleep! Nothin's too good for me and my precious Lulu! You hear me!” Hodges
was upset, but the sheriff tried to sooth his ruffled feathers. “Look my little
fat buddy, you don't want to be where they are anyway, they're working with the
viruses.”

“They are?” Hodges, asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah. Sure they're working on the cures, but to get them they
have to go and get the mean old viruses, take them apart, and then send the
information to the others in Landing to make the cure.”

“They are?” Hodges asked again, still scared out of his mind.

“Yes, boss, they're working on it,” the sheriff replied. “That's
why we've got so many inoculations now,” he said waving around. He and the fat
commissioner were still in their suits, though Hodges had work crews sealing
the boss's office and turning it into a clean room. They were even working on
airlocks with ultraviolet lights to decontaminate the suits.

“So I could have died?” Hodges asked.

“Yeah, let's not think about that now my fat little buddy. Let's
focus on what we can do,” The sheriff said. “Like get people organized, and
figuring out who's going to pay for this all when it's over,” he suggested. The
fat commissioner went wide eyed and sank into a chair fanning himself and
nodding dully.

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

The admiral used his red air car to go to Hazard now that Ted Zane
and the others had everything under control in Landing. He had doctor La Plaz,
a medical replicator, a basic replicator, and the doctor's suit with him. They
didn't even bother bringing toiletries or a change of clothes, there hadn't
been room. La Plaz said it was the best sleep he had had in a while, even if
he'd been gripping the oh shit bar in the car the entire trip down. Irons
snorted.

“Something wrong with my flying?” the admiral asked.

“No, just the height, I never could get used to that,” the young
doctor replied. He too was a beta like doctor Zane, but he was younger, more
flexible. He also was less of a womanizer, he'd focused his entire mental
capacity on being the best doctor he could be. Irons respected that.

“How long will it take to get you up and running?” La Plaz asked
as Hank came over to meet them.

“You're out of a suit admiral,” Hank said, wide eyed.

“A bit late now,” Jerry snorted in his suit, then swore because
his breath clouded the mask.

“I'm immune, don't worry about me,” he said as the doctor shuffled
out of the car in his suit. “The doctor though, he's not fully immune since we
missed the last dump.”

“Admiral, there are dozens of pathogens in the air,” Proteus
reported. “I'm at ten percent capacity fighting them off. I suggest spinning
your shields up if this exposure continues,” the AI reported.

“Whoops, spoke too soon,” Irons grumbled as his shields came up
and sparked.

“What's that?” Hank asked.

“My shields,” the admiral replied. “The sparks are the pathogens.”

“Shields? Wish I had some. Where do we get them?” Jerry asked.

“You get a lot of implants like me.”

“You said spoke too soon?” Hank asked, ignoring Jerry.

The admiral nodded. “Yes, It seems I'm not as invulnerable as I
thought.” The others looked at him in concern. “No, no, not infected, but it's
taxing my systems. Time to get inside gentlemen,” he said waving them on to the
lab and warehouses. He could see the blue lights over the doors and windows.
People without suits were taking turns pressing themselves up against the lit
building in the light for brief periods before moving on.

“Lovely,” he sighed. “All this and melanoma cancers to boot. Hank,
I've got a couple of replicators that need plugging in, then I need material. A
lot of material,” he said.

“Coming right up,” Hank said, indicating the loader and dump truck
filled with material from the Hazard Dump. “All you can use and more,” he said
with an ear flick.

“Great,” Irons sighed. “Remind me to make a molecular furnace.
Several of them,” he sighed, getting to work.

Hank looked around. “We can win this. We're starting to turn it
around.”

Irons turned back to him. “Whatever you do, don't jinx it.”

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

Irons spent a great deal of time directing the logistics with
Hank. Hank seemed a little put out, he'd been doing rather well. Irons ignored
it, they had more important things to do than stroke egos.

With the admiral on hand he spent a lot of time first replicating
his replicator, then replicating other machinery Hank had overlooked. He also
had his first replicator making medical replicators. When each was finished he
had Jerry carry it to the virology lab for doctor La Plaz to initialize.

The admiral spent a lot of the rest of his time keyed in to the
replicators with the doctor, making medical equipment that Hank couldn't make.

“What do you have there?” Hank asked, as Irons started another
project. The admiral moved to one side so the Neolion could see the drone.
“Drone?”

“An EMP cruise missile actually,” the admiral replied. “I've got
Phoenix making one as well but that one is a larger yield. In the two hundred
kilometer range. This is less than ten kilometers.”

“Is it... Will it work?” Hank asked as Deputy Rogers and Boss
Hodges entered the building.

“Will what work?” Hodges asked.

“EMP,” Hank replied absently then froze, wincing.

“And just what, may I ask, is an E. M. P?” the boss asked.

Hank mouthed a sorry as the admiral turned. “An EMP is an Electro
Magnetic Pulse. It will shut down the nanites operating in Rubicon. Or at least
half of them.”

“Half of them. Half measures?”

“Cute. Yes and no,” the admiral said. “See, the EMP is designed to
scramble electronics. Half the nanites are organic, half are mechanical. By
using the EMP to kill the electronic versions, the other organic half will be
thrown out of balance and has to either adapt, or...” he pretended to pour the
contents of one hand into the other. “Or they have to remake their missing
mechanical brethren giving us time to kill them.”

“Oh.”

“Isn't that, like dangerous though? Won't it kill everything in
the town?” Rogers asked.

“It will kill anything electronic or electrical in the town
certainly. And when the missile's self-destruct goes off, I wouldn't want to be
anywhere near it. But it's a dead town anyway.”

“Says, you, there are a lot of goods in that town,” Hodges said.

“Which are infected with nanites,” Irons replied patiently.
“Nanites that are designed to kill people. Do you honestly want me to believe
that people will want to be anywhere near those same goods? Or in the same
place where the nanites are?” he demanded. “Rubicon is a dead city, a ghost
city. It's best to bury the dead. Give them a proper burial and make sure these
things stop spreading.”

Rogers turned to the boss. “He's got a point boss.”

“He's got a point boss,” the boss mocked, “Well, I've got one to
make too you know, who's paying for all this... this stuff?” he demanded.

“Power is coming from the grid. Water from the water supply,
through we're filtering it. Materials are mostly coming from the Hazard Dump,”
Hank replied. The labor,” he shrugged, one hand up to indicate a helpless
gesture. “We'll sort that out later boss. The important thing to do is to kill
these things like the admiral said.”

“When will this thing be ready?” Hodges demanded.

“In a couple of hours,” the admiral replied. “If I'm not
disturbed. I've got to test it afterward. Hank and Jerry can help with that
since they've got experience with drones. I just need to initialize the
components they can't make.”

“Oh.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hank replied dryly. The admiral spread his hands.

“Sorry Hank, they're key locked. I'm talking about the weapon.”

“Oh.”

“Well, who's going to pay for the damages?”

“I don't understand,” Irons said, turning to the boss. “It's not
my problem, I'm just doing my best to save your world.”

“Yes but how do you know it'll work? And does it need to be so
big?”

“Yes.”

“Well, see that it does, but anything more than what is needed
will come out of your hide. Understood?” Hodges said, looking like a bulldog as
he waved a fist at the admiral. Irons snorted.

“Rogers here will keep an eye on things and make sure no one comes
in and messes with this stuff,” Hodges said, looking around with barely
concealed greed. Irons sighed.

“Two gets you one he's going to charge you anyway. Either your
ship's account or seize stuff as compensation. If you fight it he'll give you a
headache and a pound of junk as replacement.” Hank murmured to the admiral.

“I don't care right now, the only thing that matters now is
killing this. Now that you and the others have gotten some lead time on the
pathogens this thing is going to figure something else out to try to kill
people. Which means we need to kill it. Soon.”

“Do it,” Hodges growled. “ But don't damage any of my city, my
county, or my buildings,” he growled, jaw set. He waddled out. Irons shook his
head as he left.