Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (79 page)

“Not helping,” he said shaking his head. “Night Sprite.”

On a windy day one month and one day since the crisis began, the
population of Hazard lined the fences around the Space port as Hank finished
with the missile.

Everyone was quiet, well, most everyone. Boss Hodges had his
people working the fences, either as pick pockets or selling food. It seemed
things were getting back to normal indeed.

They launched the final nanite bomb, it climbed into the sky and
waggled its wings as it soared off over the horizon and then out of sight

People turned, some hurried to their homes, others to the local
pub or gathering place to watch the bomb go off. The Phoenix controlled the
craft, the ship broadcast the video feed to the population of the world to
watch. The last, hopefully final punch in the terrible war.

Silently, the virology team watched the craft go in. Irons wasn't
the only one mentally exhausted, he could see how Paco La Plaz was leaning
against a wall, a nurse leaning against his slender frame. The young man had
aged and lost weight. As had Doctor Ivanov. The older virologist was seated,
watching with tired expectant eyes as the drone flew ever closer to its final
act.

In the hospital Helen watched and listened to Phoenix as the AI
reported over the intercom. Not everyone could watch the feed, so the AI had
set up a radio broadcast as well. Just about everyone was listening to it, she
realized, looking around to the nursing station. She sighed, turning to see Sam
stroke Robby's hand gently. She nodded to Doctor Salt as he passed her. He
rubbed her arm. She turned, rubbing where he touched, feeling it, getting what
comfort she could from the brief physical contact. She wished Jerry was here.
She made a note to talk to him again.

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

“Arming the distribution system,” the AI reported.  Tori smiled,
eyes glittering with tears. She wiped at them and her nose. Her dad rested his
arm on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled briefly, then turned back to the
monitor. She'd helped Hank set up the sprayer. “Sprayer nozzle opening. Clear.
Nanites away,” Phoenix reported. She shivered, imagining the spray of tiny
lethal robots falling through the sky, drifting ever downward to the
battlefield below. If Irons was right it would be an easy victory.

“Nanites are active. No threat detected in the core, nanites
moving outward. Search continuing,” Phoenix reported. Drone self-destruct
armed, destruct countdown... Three... Two... One... destruct.” The feed went to
snow. “Drone confirmed destroyed,” the AI reported.

“And that's that,” little Xani said. “Can we go get some ice cream
now? I'm hot,” she said, fighting to keep a whine out of her voice.

Her father and sister chuckled and nodded, moving to the door.

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

Governor Oman watched the feed with his family and then looked at
his wife. “So that's it? Its' over?” Rosanne demanded.

“I don't know.”

“Well,” she said glaring. “If you don't know you'd better find
out. I'm tired of being here. But I don't want to go back until we're sure,”
she said.

“I'll look into it,” he said, nodding dutifully. She glared at
him. He sighed. “Now,” he said, turning to find the radio.

It took a moment to get through to the network. The admiral's
changes had helped a great deal, apparently there was a new radio network
growing around the major cities. He'd have to have Osiris look into getting
credit for all the work. Irons of course wouldn't object, he was leaving soon,
and once he was gone, and sufficient time had passed he'd be forgotten.

He smiled suddenly. “Osiris? Yes, this is the governor. So, is it
over?”

“I'm not sure sir.”

“You aren't sure?” Storm clouds gathered on the governor's brow.
“What do you mean?” he demanded, voice lowering. “What am I paying you for if
you don't know?”

“I'm the chief of staff governor, I'm supposed to manage your office,
not do your job for you,” Osiris growled right back. Ever since Oman had left
him high and dry he'd started to bite back. Well, that was tough. With his and
his wife's ample size, not to mention the children's, there really hadn't been
enough room. Besides, someone had to remain behind and watch over things. “Now
don't get pissy with me you little prick, I'll...I'll have you sweeping
gutters.... I'll...”

“Sorry... sir... you're.... shhhh.... breaking up... shhhh... Have
to talk to you … later....” Osiris responded, then the line went dead. The
governor stared at it for a long time scowling.

“Well?” Rosanne demanded.

“We were cut off,” he said sheepishly, setting the microphone
down. He'd deal with it later. His wife didn’t look at all happy. He sighed.
Right now he'd gladly trade places with Osiris.

“Can we at least get some decent food?” Rosanne demanded, hands on
her hips.

“Yes dear,” he said, and then as if on cue he heard a familiar
thrum of approaching aircraft engines. “In fact, I think your last request of
pigs feet and white lightening is about to arrive dear,” he said.

“Well! It's about time!” she growled, hustling the kids out to the
porch to watch the aircraft land. “And don't think I'm distracted enough to let
you off the hook just yet!” she warned, shaking a pudgy fist his way.

“No dear,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Fat chance of that
happening,” he muttered softly.

If he wanted to stay in office and weather the storm of criticism
he was getting for abandoning the capital he'd have to figure out a way to take
credit for coordinating the crisis.

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

Osiris threw the ball of paper away. It had served its purpose,
throwing the governor off by making him think they had interference. “So, he's
going to take credit?” he asked, turning to the shadowy figures behind him.

“Of course. He's a politician,” one voice rasped.

“So what do we do about it?” Osiris demanded.

“It's already done. He pissed a lot of people off. A lot of
important people off. That was a mistake. One that we've decided to... punish
him for. Permanently,” the voice replied.

Osiris paled only slightly. “Well, I guess I should prepare for
his successor. Should I start the groundwork for an election or do you have
something else in mind?” he asked.

The godfathers looked at each other, wheezing slightly. Finally
one waved a hand briefly. The others nodded. “We'll leave it up to the people,”
their spokesman said. “If they vote someone in that we can't deal with... well,
there are ways of dealing with that too,” he said.

“Yes sir,” Osiris replied, nodding dutifully. The men chuckled as
their guards and nurses helped them out of the room. When they were gone Osiris
slowly let out a deep breath.

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

An exhausted Helen Richards worked with her staff to refine the
nanite shield. It wasn't perfect, she knew that, and now they had time to get
it right.

Irons was right though, it was incredibly seductive to go and use
the nanites to tweak a few things. She could see the logic, fix a defect here,
kill a virus there. But it was indeed a slippery slope, one she'd have to
carefully navigate. The newest version had already been alpha and beta tested,
then replicated. Most of the nanites would just need a software update, these
were more.... refined nanites. She reserved them for her medical personnel.

Over a hundred thousand people had died from the various
pathogens. She didn't have an exact number, there were too many people in small
farms that had yet to be accounted for. Irons was right, now that they had
control of the situation they had to stamp on a rush to distribute the new
version until it had been properly vetted. She didn't want a repeat of Robby
Daniels.

She closed her eyes. What a terrible, horrible price to pay, she
thought. To not only lose your child, but to become barren. She'd have to look
into doing something about that later. She wasn't sure if anything could be
done for Robby, but she could and would try.

Unfortunately over the past week Robby had been hammered even
harder by the nanites. Pathogens were still in the air, they would be for some
time to come. Each time one hit her the woman lost a bit more of herself. The
newest generation of nanites had been injected in her in an attempt to keep her
alive.

No, Irons was right, with Robby's horrible example in front of
them there was no point releasing something that would do more harm than
good... or that would do nothing at all.

Doctor La Plaz had been upset by their seeming timidity, until
Helen forced him to sit and talk to Robby and see for himself what haste
brought. Only the new nanites were keeping her alive, and even then she was a
mess. It would be a wonder if she lived through the next several days, and if
she did keep going it would take years to put her broken body back together.
But the woman had the stubborn iron will, so it was certainly possible. Sam was
right there with her, her rock, her whole world right now. Quietly Paco nodded,
he agreed with the team, they needed to make damn sure of each step before they
released it to the public.

The team continued to refine the nanites and work on a full
treatment for infected people. Unfortunately the spread of the virus in anyone
infected was too much for a shot gun approach, the medical nanites did as much
damage to the host as the virus did. So they had to find a work around... which
was where the latest generation of nanites came in. Paco had hit upon the idea
of adapting regen tank nanites into the latest version. Proteus and Sprite had
reluctantly helped program the nanites for the task, Sprite had copied the
regen nanites coding into the new model. It wasn't perfect, they were debugging
it even now. Robby Daniels was their test subject.

The countryside was littered with rotting infected bodies. Aware
of the possibility of secondary infections the government was urged to form
clean up details to burn the bodies. Osiris stated that he would bring the
suggestion to the governor and then signed off without further comment.

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

A panicked call from the government “summit” site was received.
“We're sick! Someone help us!” the governor said weakly over the radio.

“Phoenix? Where?” Irons asked.

“It's Governor Oman. He's sick. Apparently the virus somehow
infected him.”

“How?” Irons asked. “He's on an isolated island in the southern
gulf!”

“Apparently he was infected anyway. I've checked, there is no way
the winds could have brought him the virus.”

“Which means another vector,” Helen replied. She sat at the radio
station, fluffed her hair, and then took the radio transmitter. “Can you describe
the symptoms?”

“I woke and found my son dead! Please!” the governor coughed.
“Help us,” he said, voice strangling. He retched and coughed some more.

“Can you give me a little more to go on,” Helen said patiently.
“I'm assuming airborne, coughing...”

“We're coughing blood. My wife... Rosanne, she's collapsed.”

“Is she still breathing?” Helen asked.

“I.... oh god, no, no!” The governor wailed. Helen closed her
eyes.

“I'm sorry, we can't help them. Or you. From the sound of it you
have hemorrhagic fever. By the time we get to you ….” she sighed. “By the time
we get to you it will be over governor.”

“I....” they could hear coughing. “Do something! I order you!”

“And if I go there,  what? I can't treat you governor, the
treatment will kill you... if you're alive by the time I get there. And if you
attempt to leave we will have to shoot you down. You're quarantined.” She said
it as the death sentence they all knew it was.

When the governor hysterically insisted that the people needed him
she angrily told him off with sarcastic comments about how much of a help he
was in his hole while the crisis tore apart their civilization. “You went and
hid in your hole while the rest of us suffered. All of you said you were
suffering along with us while you were safe and secure in your fortress. We
bled and died while you and your cronies partied and ignored us. You can now
experience it for yourself! Quarantine is in effect!”

The medical nanites had halted the spread of the virus in the past
week, but the threat of a mutated virus being released was still severe. She
informed the governor that their self-contained biosphere would concentrate the
virus, and the emergency provisions prevented her from allowing them to leave.

“This is commissioner Gordon, I confirm that order. All police
units are to shoot down and avoid any aircraft attempting to leave the summit
site,” he said in a cold gruff voice. “We cannot afford to spread another
infection.”

“Gordon! You bastard!” the governor growled, then gasped a wet
gasp. He coughed again. “I'll... I'll...” They heard a thunk and then static.

The admiral could picture it, the fat governor most likely
collapsed over the desk. “Phoenix?” he asked.

“Yes admiral?”