The Demon Plagues (36 page)

“Hah. You think JT makin’ his play?”

“Not yet. But he will, just as soon as we are
on our way.”

Huff chuckled. They’d become almost buddies
since they had established their arrangement. “Gotta get us out of
the way, huh? Because we’d back the General.”

“Right. So just think about that over the
next couple of days. Might help determine which way we jump when
the time comes.”

Huff nodded, silent, as they fitted their
armor.

-45-

Markis found himself once again, as far too
often these days, in front of his teleconference equipment, talking
to the world. In fact, he found himself talking to the open
meetings of world leaders more than the Free Communities Council.
So far no one had challenged him from running things his way; even
the most pugnacious of governments seemed to be relieved to have
someone else to blame for any problems. And blame they did.

“Everyone please listen up. Ladies and
gentlemen…Ladies and gentlemen…” He held up his hands, hoping this
would help. Slowly the motion and dialed-down chatter ebbed until
Markis thought he had most of their attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is now three days
until the Demon Plague Two probe is due to release its biological
weapons. Our analyses indicate that no more than half the Earth’s
normal, non-Eden population has been given the vaccine. Some
nations are doing well, with more than eighty percent of their
people immunized and still increasing, but some of you have barely
started. Don’t you understand that anyone who had Demon Plague One
that contracts Demon Plague Two, will reduce their intelligence to
that of an animal?” Markis voice was almost shrill, and he
controlled himself with difficulty. He poked his finger at the icon
for France with relief, not trusting himself to say more.

“I would like to point out,” the French Prime
Minister said, “that the great French people is skeptical on the
whole, and also individually, about this vaccine. With no time to
test it or see what are its long term effects, many have exercised
their rights and refused the injections. I believe many in other
nations, particularly in the United States, have done the same. How
can you expect us to take this all on faith, the word of this alien
being and the word of the one who started this entire, what is the
word, this fiasco in the first place!” The Frenchman sat back and
mopped his brow, as if this outburst took all his energy.

Markis raised his voice. “If you do not
immunize, your people will turn into savages! They will act like
wild apes and worse, they will loot and rape and steal and kill. If
you do not wish to force these people to take the vaccine, then
give them the Eden Plague and then hide, stay indoors in
quarantine.”

The Frenchman shook his finger at the camera,
Markis and the rest of those watching. “Like you forced the Eden
Plague on the world? You are just doing it again, you are playing
God and no matter how much it seems good, you cannot save people by
force. It is their own decision.”

Dear God, this is how you must feel every
day, watching us squabble down here, yet still respecting our
choices to ignore You? What a pain in the ass.

Markis ground out, “Three days, ladies and
gentlemen.
Three days.
The Free Communities have used the
nanobots to immunize key Eden personnel, and everyone else has been
moved out of the infection path or will ride out the initial
plaguefall in sealed shelters. All normals in Free community
nations have been immunized, by force if necessary. I know that is
morally questionable. No one feels that more than I do, but you
know what? Out of a billion or more people in the Free Communities,
we only expect to lose a few thousand. Some of you will lose
millions, and may never recover. May God have mercy on your souls.”
Markis stabbed the mute button angrily. There was no mercy in his
heart at all right then. “Fools. Fools with power.”

“Power is a funny thing, isn’t it, Daniel?
Kind of warps your perspective.” Cassandra rubbed her thumb along
the arm of the chair, her face hidden in the waterfall of her hair.
She threw it back over her ears to reveal an angry pinch across her
nose.

“You’re mad about this too; don’t tell me
you’re not.”

“Of course I am. But I’m just angry with
you
sometimes.”

Daniel stared at her in surprise. “What, at
me? Why?”

“For the same reason everyone else in the
world is angry with you! Because you upset the applecart ten years
ago, and everything that has happened has proceeded from that like
dominos! And no matter how much the logical part of me says that
you saved millions or billions of lives, these changes have also
caused, or instigated, or whatever you call it, many more horrible
things. The road to hell is paved with good intentions!
Causality…one thing leads to another, and it’s unpredictable, but
at least back then we thought we had a handle on things.” She shook
her head as if trying to shake off her thoughts.

“Mom…that’s not really fair.” Rick looked
back and forth from his mother to Markis.

“I know it’s not fair, I’m just venting. I’m
frustrated. I’m afraid for Elise and Shawna and the team, out there
playing doctor and trying to sell the vaccine to people that don’t
know which way to jump. I’m also afraid of the next unknown
unknown.”

“You mean the Demon Plague Two?”

“No,” she answered. “Raphaela is pretty sure
about that one and what its structure will be. In fact, we are
ahead of the game for a vaccine – if the people will accept the
first one. This is just shadows and echoes of the vaccine scares of
the twentieth century – people thinking they caused autism, or
refusing to be treated for AIDS in Africa, or the Taliban
forbidding polio vaccines – madness. No, I’m actually more afraid
of the Black Swan.”

All the people in the room stared at
Cassandra – Rick and Daniel and Millicent and several techs and
staff members. “Black Swan?”

“Yes, what that old SecDef called the
‘unknown unknowns.’ It was one of the few things he got right –
what mathematician Nassim Nicholas Taleb called the ‘Black Swans.’
Events so unpredictable that we can’t even conceive of their
existence, much less figure how to calculate them into our risk
models. Eden Plague. Demon Plagues. Aliens showing up. Nuclear War.
Vesuvius and Pompeii, Krakatoa, Tsunguska – whatever.”

A moment of silence passed. “Wow, mom, that’s
kind of depressing,” Millicent said.

Cassandra shrugged. “What it means, I’m
sorry, but what I think it means is that we just have to realize
that nothing will turn out as well as we hope, and we better be
ready for more bad news. Daniel, that means you. You’re the glue
that’s keeping things together right now. Without your leadership –
symbolic or real – it will get a lot worse.”

“It’s going to get a lot worse,” Daniel
sighed. “I’ve been preaching hope but the numbers don’t lie. Half
the Russians are going to be turned into mad dogs because their
government won’t take any sort of leap of faith. Ditto with smaller
pockets around the world. And what happens then? A lot of them are
going to be gunned down by people defending themselves. If they’re
lucky they will be rounded up like ‘Planet of the Apes’, voiceless
animalistic humans in cages. If they are really lucky we will be
able to cure them of they combined Demon Plagues, and re-teach them
how to be people again.”

The conference room fell silent, all grim
with their own thoughts.

Markis sighed. “Come on, people. Plug me back
in again, Rick. Someone bring me some strong coffee, and
let’s…let’s do what we can.”

“No. Go to bed, Daniel,” Cassandra ordered.
“You’re about to fall over.”

“How can I sleep while millions more
are…devolving, and dying.”

“You just lay down, close your eyes, and
count sheep, that’s how.” She led him by the elbow to his office
and his sofa. Guiding him down, she threw a jacket over him. “Come
on, sleep. You’re useless right now.”

-46-

Newly-minted Major JT Tyler and the nine men
of Fortress Team One stared at the imposing presence of the B2
Spirit stealth bomber, its bay doors open and rotary launcher
lowered, ready to receive its deadly cargo.

“Listen up, men. Your mission orders just
came through, so take a look at these packets, study them, then get
ready. All your gear is here, you got one hour then you’re being
loaded.”

Skull opened his mouth to speak but Huff beat
him to the punch. “Uh, Major, sir, oh, congrats on your promotion,
sir, but uh, didn’t you say General Tyler was going to brief us on
our mission?”

Cutting with sarcasm JT replied, “Sorry,
Chief Master Sergeant Huff – congrats on your promotion too, by the
way – the General had some more pressing business and he couldn’t
make it, so he delegated the task to me. Now you’ve practiced with
the drop pods and all the gear, now you’re going to have a chance
to put it all to use on behalf of your country.” Major Tyler turned
on his heel, cutting off further protests.

The nine commandos looked at each other, then
turned as one toward the corner of the hangar where the
intelligence people had their systems set up. A few minutes later
they gathered in the locker room, Miller on lookout to ensure they
were not disturbed or overheard.

“What the hell kind of mission is this?”
asked Huff, for once lacking his usual bravado. “There’s no
extraction plan!”

Skull laughed, humorless. “Sure there is.
Fight our way to the coast and a sub will pick us up.”

Huff spat, “With no signal annex, no codes,
no radios compatible with Navy comms, hundreds of miles of enemy
territory to cross, and if we do what they want us to do, the best
we can expect is to get caught and put in solitary confinement for
eternity plus one. Does this seem right to you?”

“Nope.” Skull drew his lips back and hissed,
a momentary rictus.

“It’s a setup!” Banson hissed. “A suicide
mission! I knew we were expendable!”

“Damn right it’s a setup,” Skull said firmly.
“But if everyone sticks together we can work out a plan. Let me and
Chief Huff talk it over, then in a few minutes we’ll tell you what
we come up with. I don’t intend to die for whatever Tyler Junior’s
got going. Miller, you keep watch on that door.”

“Why don’t we just bust out right now?”
Marquez growled.

“Wouldn’t you rather disobey orders a long,
long way from HQ than right here at home?” responded Skull. “Just
wait, we’ll figure something out.”

He and Huff retired to a corner to argue.
Fifteen minutes later they had a plan. Thirty minutes later
Fortress Team agreed. Fifty minutes later they loaded aboard the
aircraft.

Just before they did, Skull secretly handed
an envelope to one of the B2’s maintenance technicians and
whispered a word in her ear. She nodded, slipping the paper into
her pocket.

***

Plaguefall.

Demon Plague Probe Two took the same orbit,
inserting itself far outside of any interception, sending in its
dispersal packages careening along paths similar to the first
set.

The Russians sent up a barrage of missiles,
nuclear warheads among them. The dispersal package dodged them all,
moving far too fast to intercept. All they succeeded in doing was
spreading some more radiation and expending more expensive
weapons.

The other five overflew their paths without
incident, spreading their phages, then dropped to Earth just as the
last ones had, into the waiting arms of exploitation teams.

-47-

The B2 crossed into South Africa about the
same time the Demon Plague Two probe entered Earth orbit. This was
intentional; all eyes, such as Earth had, would be straining
skyward toward the approaching danger, not looking for one solitary
long-range aircraft sneaking through the empty atmosphere of a
battered Earth.

Fortress Team One, hurriedly encased in their
bomb-shaped drop pods, woke within a few minutes of each other from
precisely metered drugged sleep by even more precisely metered
stimulants. Recorded messages whispered in their ears, reminding
them not to panic or struggle, that they would soon be released
into the air above their target, there to parachute to Earth and
accomplish their assigned mission.

In his casing, Skull wondered whether his
final message to Commander Forman had gotten through. He figured
there was about half a chance. Half a chance he had signed his own
death warrant, his own personal Kobayshi Maru scenario, if he
couldn’t somehow change the rules.

He wondered why he did it. It wasn’t like
him, to risk himself for – for what? Or maybe not for, but just
against
something one more time,
against
another
opportunistic slimy son of a bitch trying to seize power for
himself, just another petty Fuhrer. Maybe that was why Skull
favored Markis in spite of everything – he hadn’t seized power for
its own sake. He’d been thrust into it, and was just trying to do
the best he could.

Eight miles above Carletonville, over the
Free Communities’ consolidated biological laboratory, the internal
bay doors opened and the rotary launcher powered up.

Nine nano-infused casings wrapped nine
nano-infused men. The treatment on the casings were to ensure there
was no evidence after the drop; every bit of the pods would be
disassembled to dust by the tiny machines.

The mechanism spun on its axis, flinging the
nine men Earthward in a tight vertical stream, a ladderlike stack
of cylinders with stubby fins ensuring their orientations. Halfway
down, at an altitude containing enough oxygen, casings
disintegrated, flaking off in chunks and pieces that became bits
and then dust, eventually to fall inside raindrops or drift as
particulates across the landscape. Thus revealed and set free,
drogue chutes deployed, small stabilizers that slowed and guided
the armored Nanos until they could assume their hard arches and
their body-flight positions, to loose the tiny puffing bits of
nylon and dacron and silk until they linked up in formation, guided
merely by the glow of their chem-lights.