Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (69 page)

“I'm not bringing it up to the uninitiated admiral, but it is a
question. The nanites could rewrite a person. Turn them into a walking
bio-factory. Apparently in the latter stages of the war the Xeno's had gotten
desperate. They had used nanties to rewrite people into meat robots, turning
them into abominations that acted as cannon fodder or workers for various
supporting projects. They were of course all wiped out.”

Irons winced. “And you're looking for that here?”

“Yes. And I'm not finding it. I'm wondering how old this bomb is.”

“Counting our blessings?”

“I won't count any blessings until we know for sure admiral. Nor
should you. We need to plan for every contingency.”

“But not get stuck in a quagmire of planning Commander.”

“True,” Sprite replied, though she sounded nettled.

“According to my research, several worlds had been abandoned
because the nanites were hardened against EMP. Several other worlds had been
scorched by friendly forces to prevent the zombies from building whatever they
had been building. And yes, they had been up to something.”

“Wonderful.”

“Which brings me back to this thing. What is it doing? It's up to
something. Is it making something to spread itself faster? Can it adapt?”

“Without a sample we don't know. And I'm betting any samples we
get now will self-destruct.”

“True. But the zombie thing...”

“Well, that's not happening here,” Irons vowed. “Are you finished
prepping the drone?” Hank had finished the drone's construction and they'd
loaded the bomb. Now it was up to the AI to program it's fly by wire system,
taking into account the payload.

Sprite immediately checked the latest sim. “Almost done admiral.
We will be ready for a flight test soon.”

“It doesn't need to go far or survive for long Commander. Let's
get the warhead loaded and end the hive.”

“Yes sir.”

The admiral had left the creation of the missile drone to Hank,
after all, it was a simple thing, something the Neolion had built five times
before.

The admiral had helped out a bit on assembly, but he'd mainly
focused his efforts on the payload. The difficult part was the EMP weapon. It
was a canister, about a meter long with wires coming out either end of it. The
wires were tucked up into coils while the drone was in transit.

The EMP missile was launched just ahead of the storm front. Tori,
Xani, and others were there to cheer it on and see it take off. The missile did
a text book flight to Rubicon, climbing to four thousand meters and then cruising
until it got to the drop point. Phoenix reported the craft was sluggish though
the closer they got to the target. There was a brief image of a silver sand
under the drone before it started to fishtail and shalom back and forth in the
air.

Not taking any chances the AI pulled up into a climb and then
armed the bomb. He then detonated the drone over the site with the EMP bomb.
Phoenix controlled the bomb, watching as it lined up, the engine cut, then the
shields popped on as it dove. The AI could see the shields spark as it dove,
that wasn't from re-entry heat, not at those low speeds and temperatures.

The device fell, deploying the coils of wire with explosive
charges. Before the bomb went off the sensor feed showed them a sea of writhing
silver sand and glowing purple at the central site. The image however was
fleeting, a couple of frames of mostly gibberish noise. The EMP wiped whatever
was building there... hopefully.

The admiral and crew watched the feed relayed from Phoenix.

“Here we are, big screen TV, event of monumental proportions
playing out, and we are stuck in these damn suits without a beer or popcorn.
This sucks,” Jerry grumbled.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Hank said. Putting the damn drone
together had been hard in the suits, even harder with Jerry griping about it
the entire time. And he didn't even want to remember the fun of having to
change their diapers after those things filled up. Fortunately Irons had less
of a perverse sense of humor, he'd created a clean zone for people in hazmat suits
to go into and use a port-a-potty. A cloud passed over the view, cutting off
the feed, but they still saw a bright light and then nothing.

“Was that it?”

“The EMP is silent and deadly, no bright flashes or sound.”

“A lot like my mother after her chili,” Jerry quipped.

Hank snorted. “Cute. And here I was thinking Marvin Martian's
famous line. 'Where's my earth shattering kaboom!'”

“The flash was most likely the self-destruct going off. That was a
chemical fuse. I set it up so an electronic squib would light a long fuse just
before the bomb went off. The fuse would then trigger the explosives without
needing an electronic signal.”

“Clever.”

“So, is that it?”

“No, but it means we're finally hitting back. We'll find out more
when we send another drone in to check.”

“You mean we have to make another?” Jerry asked, sounding
aggrieved. Hank laughed as he clapped the chimp on the shoulder.

“Come on, let's get started,” he said fatalistically.

Jerry groaned and followed him out. “Can we at least make one that
we can recover?” Hank shook his head. “No? Why the hell not?” he demanded. Hank
said something about contamination as they got to the door. Jerry grunted. “Oh,
yeah, point.”

Irons watched them go and shook his head. “Sprite, Phoenix, good
work. I need an analysis of the drop. We need to know how effective it was.”

“Working on it admiral,” Phoenix replied.

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

Helen Richards called a press conference when the bomb's
detonation had been confirmed. She had thought about getting Osiris to do the deed,
but she didn't think the governor deserved the credit. Technically the admiral
should be doing this, but he'd handed it off to her. She didn't know whether to
thank him or not. From what Commander Sprite said, it was typical of the
admiral to hand off credit to others from time to time. Well, she'd see about
that later.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she opened her statement and then waited
patiently as the various reporters around the lectern settled. “Thank you,
ladies and gentlemen, approximately two hours ago the team in Hazard led by
Admiral Irons launched an EMP weapon to destroy or disable the Xeno weapon. It
has successfully detonated.”

“Is this the end then? Is it dead?” Lois demanded, thrusting her
microphone forward.

“I'll get to that in a minute,” Helen replied, frowning.

“Are we winning the war?”

“The war was long over. We're fighting a different war, one with
unfortunately heavy casualties on our side. But we aren't giving up, and yes we
are finally making headway. This EMP weapon was our first offensive weapon in
this battle, and most likely not our last.”

“When can we get into Hazard to report on conditions there?” Clark
asked nervously.

Helen smiled. “I'll be heading to Hazard City within a few days.
No, it isn't safe unless you've been properly inoculated and even then it's
safest in a hazmat suit. A pressure suit. For those of you who wish to chance
it, you can come, but I will remind you, once you're there you'll not be
leaving the area until the quarantine is lifted. For some it may very well be a
one way trip.”

The reporters shuffled around and murmured at that. She nodded
firmly. “Now, the virology team has just reported an immediate decrease in new
viruses, and they are cautiously optimistic that the EMP may have interrupted
the Xeno nanite's production of the pathogens, if not forever then for the time
being at least.”

“So it's over?” Lois asked.

“I didn't say that. We won't know for certain until we get eyes on
ground zero and check.”

“Oh. So... It's not over,” Lois said frowning.

Helen shook her head. “No, I'm saying we're getting there. We
are... hopeful. That's all for now folks,” she said smiling a tired smile
before she turned and went into the building abandoning the lectern and the
reporters suddenly left shouting questions.

 Irons watched the press conference, he wasn't so sure it was
over.

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

Defender spotted a pair of toughs bracketing a familiar fat man
standing outside the virology lab. The admiral noted the time, it was after
dark. He had a feeling about the group, not a good one. He felt that they were
a snatch team, waiting for a doctor to come out. He didn't have any evidence to
back it up, but the hunch was there, nagging at him.

He was tempted to call the sheriff but that would just delay the
problem, not solve it. No, he'd have to handle it. He went to check, certain
that if he didn't the trio would eventually come in and cause a disruption.

“Something wrong Mr. Lazarrian?” the admiral asked politely.

Larry nodded glum. “Yeah, it's my kid.” The two toughs looked at
each other grimly. “Larry junior.”

“What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What's wrong? What do you think?” Larry asked
contemptuously. “The kid caught something. I told him to stay inside with his
mother. He went out to get food and well...” he shrugged helplessly.

“At least he didn't go back and infect the others boss,” one of
the hoods said. Fat Larry glared at him. The hood gulped. He knew his boss was
on the ragged edge.

“Okay...” the admiral drawled. “Is he with the medics? In the
hospital?”

“Yeah. But they don't have a vaccine for him.”

“If he's been infected there isn't a vaccine to cure him. Once
you've got something you're body has to fight it off. They can give him some
stuff to help but the vaccine is useless at that point.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah it sucks,” the admiral sighed. “So you came by hoping
someone here had a better answer?” Irons asked. “Unfortunately they're focused
on finding the pathogens, the viruses, and finding ways to make vaccines.”

“But not treating them.”

“No,” the admiral admitted. “That's up to the doctors.”

“But here you are. Word is you're immune.”

“Yes. I've... let's just say I'm immune,” the admiral said. His
shields sparked in the night.

“What the hell is that?” Larry demanded, stepping back and licking
his lips.

“My energy shields. The sparks are the pathogens getting zapped.”

“Like a bug zapper. Cool. Wish I had one,” the shorter hood said,
then hunched his shoulders when his boss turned a low voltage glare on him. He
stroked the front of his fedora, turned his head and spat, then went back to
watching the area on his side of his boss. Irons realized the two hoods were
doubling as bodyguards. They probably were body guards.

“Look Irons, I know you don't owe me nothing. But... I'm desperate
here. I'm looking to call in a favor. Name your price...” Fat Larry said.

Irons heard the note of desperation in the voice. It wasn't from a
hood, it was from a father for his son. He felt the man's pain, empathized with
him. For once he set aside the politics aside and nodded. “Show him to me,” he
said simply.

“You?”

“I'm the best you've got,” the admiral replied grimly, starting
off to the hospital down the street.

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

 The hospital was a nightmare, inside and out. The lights were
holding the darkness at bay, but only barely. They flickered from time to time.
There were ultraviolet lights around every door and window, giving the building
a bluish glow.

People standing around outside took turns sunbathing under the
lamps. Irons grimaced. They were killing surface pathogens, but most were
airborne. They were doing damage to their skin and eyes, complicating the
problem of their health care.

They made their way up the brick and cement stairs, the two hoods
were in front and behind. People stepped aside as if by magic, even in a crisis
a hood with a barely concealed gun and bad rep could part a crowd.

They went up to the third floor where they found a ward packed
with the sick and dying. A nurse was cleaning materials and instruments under
an ultraviolet light, using foul smelling alcohol and bleach. Irons could hear
retching and winced.

This is the Hemorrhagic fever ward. Everyone here is highly
contagious,” a nurse said trying to stop them. The two hoods winced, looking at
their boss.

“I've been vaccinated,” Larry said, showing his arm.

“For this?”

“I was told so, better be.”

“Stay here,” Irons said.

“Sir,” the nurse put a hand up to stop him but then snapped it
back when she was zapped by static electricity. “What was that?” she asked,
blue eyes wide over her surgical mask.

“Energy shield. I'm also immune,” the admiral said. “Ebola?” Irons
asked.

“I don't know, I just came on shift. We're sort of just putting
everyone with the same group together,” the nurse said, looking around to the
walls of sheets lining the bays.