Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (12 page)

Hodges was typical of the movers and shakers of her world's
government, something she resented but had grown fatalistically used to over
time. Her cynicism wasn't as deep as Nurse Marlone's, but it was getting there,
she thought wryly as she checked to make sure her reading glasses were still in
her breast pocket.

Ah yes, good, she thought, and then turned to adjust her silvering
brown hair. Marlone and a few others may cling to the old uniforms but she much
preferred the modern white smock of her profession. She was glad she had
resurrected it. She brushed an errant hair off her lapel and then turned to the
door.

Irons had better not have pulled a fast one with that shipment, she
thought, pushing her way through the swinging door and out into the brightly
lit hall. She turned, orienting towards her office but then reluctantly towards
a knot of doctors who were talking quietly but vehemently about some subject.
It looked like she had to do some arbitration before she started lighting a
fire under some asses to get that shipment she thought with a pang.

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

As the admiral prepared his shuttle Sprite entertained herself by
checking the various systems she'd managed to gain access to on the planet.
There really wasn't much else to do. Watching the organics was the equivalent
of watching television, sometimes there really wasn't anything decent on worth
watching.

Sprite flipped through the various databases before she switched
to the camera feeds. She watched one of the few cameras in the city of Hazard.
A two meter tall and very slim Terran in a black outfit was cackling and
rubbing his bony hands together right in the center of town. He had a top hat
and cape on, and of all things a handlebar mustache that he kept fingering. He
really seemed involved in his gloating, muttering something about we've got her
now, over and over. Another guy was with him, some henchman he called Homer.
She turned up the audio as she spotted the sheriff coming into frame. Out of
idle curiosity Sprite lip read their discussion.

“Snidely! You best not of tied that girl up to the tracks again!
Nell's mom called, she didn't show up for work this morning! Boss is fit to be
tied... err, you know what I mean!”

The tall man flinched as the sheriff came over. He turned slowly
and then shrugged, trying hard not to hunch his back and shoulders. Coltrain
brandished a fist. “Now look here, you want to play your perverted games that's
your business. You and Nell, but we've got a train coming in around five as
usual so you just trot your scrawny ass on over to wherever you tied that poor
girl up and let her loose and apologize. You hear me?”

Snidely hung his head and toed the ground in an obvious 'ah shucks
do I have to' gesture. His partner did too. “Yes, Sheriff,” they finally said,
from the look of them they seemed to be pouting.

“Now get before I really get mad. I mean it!” The Sheriff warned.
“Oh! Oh! Oh! You just get on out of here,” he growled as the two villains left
hastily as he pretended to send a kick there way. “And I want to see Nell when
she's free. If it's not consensual I'll throw you both in the slammer!” he
yelled. He made some inarticulate sounds and seemed to strut for a bit and then
walked off frame.

“Organics. I can never figure them out,' the AI said.

“Oh?” Proteus asked. She showed him the compressed video. The AI
blob just bobbed. “I do not understand.”

“Never mind. You were never programmed to handle human
interactions on this level anyway,” Sprite replied with a sigh. “Sometimes I
envy you that.”

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

Helen, Director Richards to her subordinates and Doctor Richards
from her patients swore softly as she looked at the latest budget. Things were
getting there, she judged they had managed to get mainstream medicine in the
major cities up to somewhere close to what Terrans had in the early twentieth
century or so. Still it was slow, sometimes maddeningly slow. Part of it was
right here, the budget. Many of the patients didn't have funds, her clinics
were open to all, rich or poor. She had a small line in the budget from the
government... she flipped the paper up and swore again... that was getting
smaller every year. Damn them! The only time they threw her a bone was when someone
wanted a miracle or there was a major crisis! Didn't they know prior
planning... getting the resources and training the people to the right skills
was as important in such situations?

No, of course not. All they thought about was reducing their tax burden
to line their own pockets. Screw the little guy. She hated that.

Then again there were some of the people... she sighed and put the
paper down and closed her eyes. She couldn't blame them for being at the
bottom... well yes and no. Some... they had just been kicked so often that's
what they expected. She lost patience with them as much as she did with the
ones who wanted a hand out... expected it. That was exasperating. You'd think
after a while they'd
want
to pick themselves up and move on with their
lives! Did they like living in squalor sick all the time? Didn't they know they
had to make an effort to help themselves? She ran a frustrated hand through her
hair and then sighed. She checked the clock and then sighed again. She had a
few minutes before she had to make her rounds.

Really, some did want to at least try to compensate the staff for
their troubles. That was good. She had long since learned practicality, she
took all forms of exchange even services in exchange for service. Like the
doctors of old she didn't turn away any who were sick or hurt, for they may be
the key to the future.

Should she have another drive? Another party? She hated them, they
were great for publicity but they only barely broke even. Donations were what
really paid for her clinics in the most down trodden areas and in the most
remote regions of the planet. But relying on the generosity of others,
expecting it... that was tantamount to trouble. When it disappeared... she
shivered. It was entirely too much like the downtrodden people she was trying
to help. The parallel disturbed her.

Doctor Tompkins was doing wonders in Gotham. The older lady had a
clinic in the most desperate section of the city and seemed to be doing well.
She'd have to talk with her to see how she was managing and how she did it.

“Trisha...” she pushed the button as she said the name. She heard
a squeal and winced.

“Yes mum?”

“Can you get a progress report from Gotham?”

“Of course mum. Will that be all?”

“Yes.”

“Don't forget you have rounds soon. And that... person McCoy has
been calling again.”

Helen frowned. Trisha was a good secretary but a bit biased
against McCoy. “Is he on the phone now?” she asked.

“No, I told him you're occupied,” Trisha replied with a sniff of
disdain.

“Well, the next time he calls put him through. If I'm not in the
office page me.”

“Yes, mum,” Trisha replied with only a slight hint of disapproval
in her voice.

“He may have something interesting,” Helen replied and then took
her finger off the button. Education that was her next big project...

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

“Tori, we... what do we do?” Bobby whined, clutching her arm.

She shook his arm off with difficulty, her brother was getting
bigger every month. She sighed. “What we always do, I'll take the bird up.” She
looked at their life blood, a Piper Pawnee clone her family had kept going for
nearly a century. She wasn't much to look like now, patched with duct tape and
wire, but she could still fly rings around anyone else, if she was empty. Now
she regretted her barn storming stunt she'd done earlier in the week. Oh well,
over and done with now.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, seeing Mr. Doherty near the front of the hangar
waving his wilted cabbage. He had a bug problem and her dad had been contracted
to take care of  it. Which he wasn't doing, he'd taken most of the front money
and blown it getting wasted on moonshine. Now he was sleeping it off. He was
going to have the mother of all hangovers when he woke.
If
he woke.
Sometimes she hated working in Hazard, it was the capital of quality moonshine.
New Chicago couldn't hold a candle to the corn whiskey and potato vodka they
had here. At least he hadn't quite blown all of it, she'd gotten enough to pay
for the pest killer. They had a quarter of a tank of fuel though, which was a
problem.

“How are you going to fly? On a wing and a prayer?” her brother
demanded, shaking her arm. He waved  to the plane. “It takes a full tank to get
to Sin City remember?  A full tank there and back I mean.  How...”

“Got any more of that rotgut dad was drinking last night?” the
girl asked mildly, smiling slightly.

He frowned. “Yeah. You want me to trade it for fuel? Are you
nuts?”

“I was thinking about it. Can it mix with the hydrogen?”

“I... I don't know sis, that's nuts. I mean, I think I could rig
it in a separate fuel system to feed into the carburetor, but we're talking
mixing hydrogen with alcohol. What will that do to the engine?” There were
stories of people who rigged hydrogen engines to run moonshine. So far they had
yet to of actually seen one up close.

“I don't know. I do know we need the fuel and we don't have much
of a choice. Let me see what else we can come up with. That fuel truck around?”

The kid scowled. “No, Hodges sent it out of town because that
Irons guy is chasing them around for the fuel he paid for.”

“Oh lovely,” she sighed and then bit her lip. “Can you um...
scavenge some? I mean...”

“If I get caught we're screwed Tori,” he said. “You know
Coltrain.”

Tori winced. She did indeed know of the sheriff. He had a very
final way of dealing with troublemakers. “Yeah, I know. But get your siphon kit
anyway. A little here and a little there won't hurt anyone. Just do it quick
and don't make a scene out of it. Get sis to help. Have her play look out
again.”

“I'll do my best,” her brother muttered. “It's smarter than the
damn alcohol anyway,” he said shaking his head as he moved off.

“Mr. Doherty?” she said, coming over to the still fuming farmer.
The old man turned, scowling. Then they both turned to see a shuttle landing.
They both shaded their eyes to watch. It flared out in a perfect landing.

“Show off,” Doherty grumbled. “What is it girl,” he growled,
turning to her.

“I'm getting the fuel now. That's the hold up, the fuel truck is
out and about and Hodges is playing games again,” she said, shrugging.

“Him again,” Doherty snarled, mouth working. Everyone within a
thousand kilometers knew of Hodges and his scams and schemes. “Yeah. No excuse
though. Your Pa said he'd handle it.”

The girl nodded dutifully. “He's trying sir. My brother is working
on it too. As soon as we get the fuel I'll take off,” she said, smiling
brightly.

“You?” he said, turning to the girl aghast. She nodded, now dead
serious.

“I've been doing it for a couple of years now sir. I'm lighter
than dad so we can make the fuel last longer,” she said. “Get in more trips and
go further.”

“Well, all right then,” Doherty said, hooking a thumb in his
suspenders. He had a farmer's tan to go with his grizzled five o’clock shadow
and straw hat. “Get err done,” he said waving.

“We'll do that,” Tori said, turning to see the offworlder get out
of his shuttle. He turned, saw them and waved politely in their direction. Tori
raised a hand in a casual hi and then let it drop. She sighed. She'd love to
fly a shuttle someday. It was her dream, to fly in space. Sometimes she loved
to climb as high as the piper's engine could go and see the curve of the
horizon... Instead she turned and went back to the run down hangar.

Her brother came trotting in a moment later. She turned, still
checking the systems. She'd shaved as much weight as she could out of the
cockpit. Her buttocks were going to be sore, she'd even pulled the seat
cushions again. Her brother dragged in a fuel tank on a wagon.

“You got some?”

“Yeah, but you won't like where. I had to hit a couple sources
close by cause if people see me hauling this around they'll get suspicious.”

“Where?” She asked darting a look at him.

He shrugged, looking out the open hangar doors to the farmer who
was now headed to his truck around back. His sister followed his eyes and then
her mouth worked. “Oh no you didn't!” she whispered fiercely.

He shrugged helplessly.

“Come on, let's get out of here before he notices,” she growled.

“I left him the rot gut as trade,” her brother said as he hooked
the fuel line up and started turning the hand crank to the pump. That was
something they'd learned from their mom before she'd died, to leave something
in trade or to make up for it later.

“Whatever, damn you're insane. You complain about me,” the girl
said softly, shaking her head as she put her flight gear on.

“No I'm not! You are,” he said, whispering back and he cranked the
handle on the pump.