Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (77 page)

“A bath,” Helen said shaking her head as she looked at the dusty
admiral. The crowd laughed at that.

A small fast freighter the Jeremiah arrived in orbit as things
seemed to be finally returning to normal. The ship arrived unannounced, there
was much consternation about its arrival. Governor Oman was happy to see it, it
was a sign things were returning to normal. Besides, all this brotherly love to
save the peons was expensive, and continued to be so for some time. They needed
some source of income to pay for it all.

The ship was surprisingly from Pyrax, the Cross, a yacht turned
freighter. The ship had passed through Gaston and had gotten word Irons was
headed here. on-board were members of a merc group sent out to return admiral
Irons to Pyrax.

It was a wonder anyone was alive at all, it was a mark of their
patience and team cohesion that they were. Trained killers trapped in a ship
for nearly six months had been tough, they were all eager to get on with the
mission and the big payday that awaited them in Pyrax. Some thought they were
hired to bring Irons to justice, others thought it was because of the hit on
him. Still others didn't care, they just wanted the money. They laughed about
it as the ship approached orbit.

“So, how are we going to do this? Irons is tough Hombre, or so I
heard. And we don't even know where to find him!”

“Where there's a will there is a way. We'll go to the top. I know
a fat pig here who knows everything about this planet.”

“Let me guess he'll talk?”

“For a price,” a woman scoffed, picking at her nails with a bowie
knife.

“Nah, you squeeze him just right and he'll squeal like a stuck
pig. Why do you think they call him Hodges the Hog?” The tough laughed nastily.
The others snorted and then joined in.

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

The captain negotiated the port fees. He wasn't happy, but he
agreed to front for the mercenary team leader Miss Persephone, 'queen of the
dead'. She was quiet, watching with black doll eyes. Some thought of her as a
shark. She was small, with a bit of Asian in her blood line. She had short
black hair and long nails. She tended to talk in a soft voice, occasionally
stroking someone with a claw to keep them riveted to her.

The males on-board weren't fooled by her. They broke out in a
sweat whenever she came near, and for good reason. Roberts had made an idle
pass at her at the start of their journey and she'd sunk those claws deep into
his groin. He'd pissed blood for a week and spent several days in the ship's
tiny infirmary.

Miss Persephone said with a slight cattish smile that she had her
own way of establishing her authority, it was an effective one. Even the ladies
gave her a wide berth. She dressed in flat black, she seemed empowered by the
leather outfit. To either compensate for her height or just to accent the
outfit she usually walked around with long high heeled boots. The steady tick,
tick of her walk alerted anyone around of her presence. The captain had
willingly given up his cabin to her without a word.

“Is that his ship?” The woman asked, pointing a long fingernail to
an icon in orbit. The ops officer nodded and shivered as she traced a finger
over it. “The Phoenix,” she murmured softly.

“Yes ma'am,” he said. She looked at him. He gulped when he noticed
her eyes flex like a cat briefly. Then after a moment she left, trailing those
fingers up his arm before she left.

He sucked in a breath, looking down to see his ragged sleeve and
cuts. He whimpered. The captain closed his eyes, scared too.

“We expect the credits upon arrival. Credits or materials, and be
advised, materials are two to one. Where do you wish to land?”

“Um... where do most shuttles land?” the captain asked.

“Hazard normally, but they're quarantined.”

“Um...” the captain looked at the team leader. She pursed her lips
and he jerked out of his chair. She smiled graciously and sat. She crossed her
long thin legs, wiggling her spiked stiletto heel before sitting back. “Um...”

“Oh, Hazard has just been cleared. The doctor has lifted the
restrictions on landing, so you can go there and leave, but anyone who does go
will have to be inoculated on arrival. No exceptions. Also your shuttle will
have to be decontaminated.”

“Um...” he looked at the team leader. “That's acceptable. But can
I ask why?” he asked weakly when she indicated he should continue.

“Because of a Xeno virus.”

“A what?” the ops officer demanded, pain forgotten.

“As you were,” the captain said. “Repeat that Epsilon. Did you say
Xeno virus?”

“It's dead. They finally killed it. And the admiral stopped the
planet buster before it could go off so we're safe.”

“Planet buster?”

“It's a long story.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” the captain said, glancing at the woman
in his seat. She indicated he should continue. He pursed his lips, hiding his
irritation and then turned back to the speaker.

“Well, it started a month ago. A ship paid it's port fees with a
group of sleepers that turned out to be infected...”

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

At the port they were met before they got off the dilapidated
shuttle. A nurse went through and gave them a shot. When one merc refused the
woman stood over him with the syringe. “Look, you either get this, or you get
sick and die, or we shoot you. I'm at the point where I don't give a damn.”

“Okay, I don't want a shot.”

“I don't care what you want.”

“I carry a gun.”

“Okay, I do care what you want,” she said, and the other mercs
snorted. “But, see, we've got a bigger gun. Planetary quarantine means no one
gets off this planet unless they get this shot. And well, if you don't then
they'll have to use the planetary defense network to blow you, your ships, and
your friends here into itty bitty pieces. Pity that,” she mocked.

“Um...”

“I believe they need the target practice. I'll just let them
know.”

“No, he's fine,” the woman in charge growled. “Give it to him or I
will. And I won't be so nice about it.”

“This is nice?” the tough asked and winced as she jabbed him.

When the nurse was finished he growled at her. She walked off with
a smirk. “No lollipop for you,” she said with a sniff. He got up and grabbed
his carryon bag.

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

“Anything to declare?” The customs agent asked. He was trying to
pretend to be bored, but after everything that had happened, having a shuttle
arrive meant things were finally back to normal. They were washing the shuttle
with decontamination spray, he'd heard these people would be allowed to leave
once their business was finished, whatever that was.

“Just this,” the lead tough said. He held up his black battered
duffel bag. The agent looked through it and then looked up. “What's with all
the weapons?” he asked suspiciously.

“Going hunting in the mountains,” the merc replied with a straight
face.”

“Right,” the agent replied as the leader slipped him some credits.
“Sure thing.” He nodded and waved them on their way.

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

Outside the space port, the team leader caught a kid running
messages. “You know where this Irons guy is?” she asked, slipping him a credit
chit.

“You mean the admiral?” the kid asked. “He's around. He's
everywhere. You can spot him by the energy shield. It's this blue glow around
him.”

“Energy shield huh? No one said anything about that,” a tough in
the back grumbled softly. The team leader turned a glare on him. He turned away
and spat.

“He usually hangs out near the virology buildings, or in the
hospital. Just look for the crowds and cops and ask around. He moves around a
lot,” the kid said with a shrug.

“Thanks for nothing,” the tough said as the kid scampered off.

“No, he confirmed the admiral is here in town. But I think we
still need to talk to the lard ball. Let him know who's boss and make sure he
doesn't interfere,” the team leader said over her shoulder. “And next time
Mick, you open your mouth...”

“I know, spit don't say nuthin.”

“Right.”

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

The mercs tracked down and talked to Hodges. Hodges was off
balance, his family had survived but the sheriff and deputies were out
protecting his holdings. In a rare moment of coherent thought he now regretted
that, he had no coverage. Not that anyone except Fat Larry would be stupid
enough to challenge him. Larry was dead anyway, or so they said.

His holdings, his network were in disarray so he was keeping a low
profile, in the back room of his favorite restaurant. He was therefore shocked
when intruders barged in at gunpoint.

Wide eyed it didn't take Hodges long to proclaim he'd help them
and give them the location of the admiral. “One more, no make that two more
things Hodges,” the leader said turning back to him.

“Yes? Anything!”

The leader's lip curled in a half snarl of disgust. Squeal indeed.
Hodges was falling all over himself to cooperate. A little arm twisting was all
it took. “Where are the hang outs for local muscle. Someone big without a lot
of brains. People who don't ask too many questions and keep their mouths shut.”

“I'll write it down,” Hodges said, hands shaking as he pulled a
piece of paper out and a pen and started writing.

“Good. For this to work we'll need you to keep your fat mouth
shut. Don't make me come back here and kill you if I find out Irons was tipped
off.” The leader knew better than to actually kill the fat commissioner. If he
did he'd never get off the planet alive, every other commissioner would be all
over him and his crew.

“I won't say a word,” Hodges said with a slight sneer in his voice
as he smiled and handed the note over.

“Dead men say no tales, remember that Hodges,” the leader growled,
eyes locking onto the commissioner. The fat man's eyes went wide and he
clutched at his chest. Good, if the lard ball died of a heart attack all the
better. He turned and slammed the door shut on his way out.

“Why didn't we waste him?” the woman asked absently.

“You do have a lot to learn. You don't kill a county commissioner
on this planet. Not if you want to get off it alive,” he snarled as he climbed
into the passenger side of the pickup. He waved to the others to get moving.

“Oh.”

“Just shut up and drive dumb ass,” he sighed looking out the open
window as she started the truck.

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

Even though technically it was no longer required, there was no
such thing as not being too thorough where nanites were concerned. So, Irons
kept on his coup de resistance anyway.

The nanite bomb was on its way to completion. Irons and Hank
busied themselves with the delivery method, in this case another drone, but
this time they also were building observation platforms which would orbit from
a safe distance as the bomb went off.

The new nanite bomb would be programmed to kill not only any
surviving Xeno nanites, both organic and robotic, but also all the pathogens
they had on file. It was a fire versus fire method, now that they had samples
of Xeno nanites, both organic and inorganic to use, they had programmed the
killer nanites to hunt the Xeno's down and ignore any organic tissue they
encountered. The nanites would then suicide after six months.

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

“Where is that going?” Helen asked, pointing to an aircraft taking
off.

The sheriff sniffed. “Governor Oman is running out of supplies. He
ordered it,” he said.

“Is he nuts?” Helen demanded. The sheriff shrugged. “Why here?”

“Why doctor, you don't know about Hazard's whiskey? Or it's other
products?” Boss Hodges asked, coming in and rubbing his fat hands together.
“Don't you worry your pretty little head miss,” he said, shooing her along. She
looked over her shoulder a few times to them then shrugged as a rather annoyed
nurse rounded a corner, made a moue and then waved to her.

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

“Are we on a snatch and grab or a kill?” one of the mercs asked
softly, leaning over to his partner. They'd known each other for years,
assigned as partners from time to time in the guild.

She looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Ralph
was a steady sort, he knew only to talk when he needed intel. He must have been
out of the loop to have missed this though. “The first contract was redacted.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Ralph said shifting his weight to
casually look around as one hand rested on his holster. The implied threat had any
who might have been interested in their conversation keeping their distance. Of
course black haired Marcino was nearby. He was an old hand in the league, good
but not very subtle. Probably why he drew this assignment.

“The kill order has been redacted. In fact the league has a kill
order on anyone who kills Irons,” the woman warned. None knew her name, none
would ever know. She had long forgotten it. Identities came and went with each
assignment. She didn't care, nor did the others.