Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (45 page)

He'd sent Wart to the city to get more supplies and a damn
generator. He'd thought about using some of the tools in the barn, he'd brought
his replicator, but didn't have a source of power. That sucked. They hadn't
planned on that.

Somehow, Jerry of all people had caught up with him. Apparently
he'd run into Wally Wart and had tagged along on the return trip. The little
chimp stuck to his side like glue. Together the three of them put the drone
together, trying to ignore the people who kept butting their nosy heads in to
find out what they were doing.

A few people were spooked, thinking the thing would carry the
virus back here. Hank had to explain through gritted teeth that it was going on
a one way trip, he'd crash it when they were done with it. They didn't believe
him. Jerry stepped on Hank's foot and the tired, frazzled, and bedeviled blue
Neolion roared in pain. Jerry's brown eyes were wide. The people left at a run,
awed and terrified of the angry predator.

“Ow!” Hank snarled, teeth bared.

“Damn!” Jerry replied, bristling and cringing back. “Damn near
shit myself!” he said, sniffing. He hadn't shit himself but someone had pissed
themselves. He coughed, covering his nose with a hand.

“That hurt!” Hank growled, bending over to rub his foot. He hopped
over to a folding chair and flopped into it and then lifted his foot to massage
it. “You better not of broken it or you'll be climbing a tree the hard way
banana breath!” he snarled.

Jerry looked around. The crowd was gone. He snorted. “Look on the
bright side Hanky old buddy, ole pal, ole friend, you got rid of the busy
bodies,” he said waving an arm around to show they were gone.

Hank looked around, muttering darkly as he rubbed his foot and
then snorted, good humor suddenly restored. “Fine, good riddance. Lets' triple
check this thing and then get it into the air,” he said.

He eyed the plane. It was almost done, a boxy thing, about four
meters long and eight meters wide. She was a straight bird, with bulbs all over
her nose filled with electronics. Probes stuck out of ports in the nose and
from the long straight wingtips. Two scopes were on either underside of the
body, they fed a turbine which was a part of the jet engine that powered the
thing. A thruster cone was in the rear, it was topped by a pair of rudders that
were canted in an upward V shape.

The thing was shiny and new, something most never expected to see.
Hank had to admit he'd learned a great deal in the building of the thing. Irons
had shown him a lot and he treasured that knowledge.

Jerry frowned. “It's a sweet little plane, too bad we've got to
wreck it. I don't suppose we couldn't you know, lose it and sell...” Hank
growled a low subsonic growl. Jerry darted a look his way and then sighed
theatrically, fighting to get his fur down again. At this rate he was going to
be completely frizzy, and not from the damn static electricity in the air. He
was going to be a tangled mess before sunset. “Ah, fine, my bad. My mistake,
wanting to get something out of this,” he muttered.

Hank flicked his ears. “We are. If we don't do this then the
doctors don't have the knowledge they'll need to kill this thing. In other
words if this doesn't work we're all screwed,” he said picking up a
screwdriver.

“Shit,” Jerry sighed. “You would say that,” he muttered.

“Besides, now that we know how to make one I can make more later,”
Hank said with a half-smile as he focused on the micro radar array.

Jerry looked up in surprise. “You can?” he caught the grin and
then smiled himself. “Well, alright then,” he chuffed. “Let's get this bird in
the air,” he said. Wally, on the other side of the bird, snorted but kept
working.

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

“This is strange,” Sprite said in their next meeting. Helen looked
at her with bloodshot eyes.

“Strange in what way?” Irons asked, glancing from the doctor to
the other medics. All needed rest. They were used to over nighters, but some
had been on their feet before the crisis had been reported. The stress was also
a factor.

“The virus. It doesn't make sense. If this time line is accurate
the virus is becoming
less
deadly.”

“Oh?”

“At ground zero it killed everyone in the area in seconds,
possibly minutes. Then Doctor Tormens was infected, and from all reports he
died in under an hour.”

“Okay,” Irons nodded as Helen leaned back and stirred her cup with
a silver spoon. The spoon was rattling against the mug's ceramic walls in an
annoying and distracting fashion. He tried to ignore it. “Go on,” he
encouraged.

“Well, that's just it.” Sprite plotted each point of contact out
from ground zero. “When we get here,” she pointed to the farm. “The doctor
reported a nine hour smallpox outbreak. That breaks with the other two.”

“Is it becoming less virulent? Still fatal but less virulent?”
Zane asked tiredly. There was a thread of hope in his voice.

“You'd think that. Smallpox usually has a twelve to sixteen day
life cycle. This has obviously been sped up, but what's the point? If it was a
timed effort  you'd want a longer incubation so it would spread and then go off
in a timed manner. But it's not happening that way,” Sprite doggedly said.

“Unless the other deaths weren't from Smallpox. They could be from
other pathogens,” Irons reminded her. “Some of the people might have been
immune to others.” Helen flinched and then nodded.

“True,” Sprite sighed. “I hate working without data. And I'm not
too fond of this situation.”

“You never were one for mysteries,” Irons replied. Deductive
reasoning only went so far in AI. They liked straight forward Logic. Very
Vulcan was the usual tease. “We'll get the data in,” he checked his time piece.
“In two hours. Then we'll know more about what we're dealing with,” he said. He
turned to Helen. “Until then I suggest you all get some rest. two hours in your
barracks or an empty room or on a couch or hell, even on the floor. Any
downtime you can. Things are going to be heating up even faster soon,” he said.

“A good idea,” Sprite reinforced with a nod.

“I agree,” Helen ground out, getting to her feet. She swayed a
bit. She'd been under stress now for nearly twenty four hours, and she'd been
up for twelve hours prior to finding out about the crisis. Forty hours was her
limit. She wasn't sure if she could sleep, her stomach felt like it was full of
acid, too much coffee, but she'd at least try. Just closing her eyes for a
while would help a bit.

“Try an analgesic for the headache doc, and something relaxing,”
Irons encouraged.

“Playing doctor now Admiral? Not your stripe,” Helen said with a
wan smile. She poked Zane who had nodded off. He grunted. “Ah hell, leave him,”
she muttered. “Going to have a crick in his neck when he wakes though,” she
said. Malcolm, who had leaned forward to rest his head in his arms only
grunted.

“Fine, we're going to crash. What about you?” she asked.

Irons shrugged. “Implants. I'm good. I'm going to run around and
try to get the headless chickens under control. We'll see what we can whip up.”

“Just keep the noise down to a dull roar,” Malcolm said without looking
up. Zane snored. Irons looked at both men and then snorted softly.

“Will do. Rest gentlemen,” he said, motioning for the others to
proceed him out. He nodded to Sprite who wasn't paying attention. He looked
back as Helen looked over her shoulder. He shooed her on her way and then
turned for the maintenance area. He had more work to do.

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

“Now what?” Hank demanded, turning as someone opened the barn
doors. The farmer's daughter was there with a picnic basket. Wally looked up
with a grin. The girl played coy, but Hank really didn't have the time or
patience for such crap right now. More important things were a foot. Speaking
of foot, his still hurt. He reminded himself to kick Jerry with it when it felt
better. He limped a bit, moving around the craft doing a final check.

“What happened to your foot?” the human girl asked. He glanced her
way. She was sixteen, freckled, with her hair in braids. She was a bit of a
looker, with her blue farm dress on and broad chest.

“Ask the chimp. I'm going to turn him into bedroom slippers if
it's broke,” the Neo lion growled.

The girl snickered, free hand over her mouth. “You're funny,” she
said.

“That a fact,” Hank drawled, looking at the tablet. The readings
were in the green, though some just barely. A few of the systems had been
banged up a bit, the right aileron didn't have its full range of movement. He
wasn't sure why. The left rudder squeaked when it moved.

“Mama sent me out with sandwiches,” the girl said, hefting the
basket.

“Thank you miss Doherty,” Wally said, wiping his hands on a rag.
The girl twisted back and forth a bit, both hands on the basket in front of
her. Hank tried hard to roll his eyes and close his sinuses. He could smell the
hormones and pheromones dripping from both humans.

“We're almost finished up here,” he said just as more noise in the
field outside got everyone's attention. Mr. Doherty came out onto the porch of
his house, cussing and waving a fist as not one but two air buses landed.

“I think Pa wants to turn this place into an airport and start
charging landing fees,” the girl said shaking her head, smiling slightly. “Is
it bad as they say it is?” she asked, blue eyes wide in concern.

“We're doing our best to see ma'am,” Wally said with a polite
smile.

Hank looked over his shoulder to see the blue and white bus spill
doctors and nurses. Luke was in the yellow bus with more stuff it seemed. He
was looking around. After a moment he spotted Hank and came over dusting his
gloves and pulling his goggles up.

The girl spotted him and instantly brightened. Wally caught the
look and scowled. Hank felt despair, he didn't need this crap now. “Why me?” he
muttered.

“Someone wanna come unload? I just signed on as pilot,” Luke said,
jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the bus.

“I'm a freaking mechanic,” Wally growled, glaring.

“We're about done here. Where is all that going anyway?” Hank
asked.

Luke looked back at the bus and then to the girl. “I dunno, they
just said to get it here,” he said.

“Great,” Hank sighed. “What is it? Another drone?” He turned to
see a familiar fat human climb out of the blue and white bus. Ivanov? Here? He
thought.

“Virology lab. Supposed to process the stuff when it comes in,”
the pilot said, still smiling at the girl. She bit her lip coy, blushing a bit.

Hank looked from the girl to the boys and then gruffly hobbled
between them. “Luke, go find out from doctor Ivanov over there where you're
supposed to go.” He took the human by the shoulders and physically turned him
away from the girl and to the fat virologist Hank had recognized a moment ago.
“Wally, you and Jerry finish up. I'm going to survey the road. We'll need to
make sure it's clear of rocks and straight enough to use. Miss?” he said
turning to the girl. The girl blinked at him.

“Leave the basket miss, I think we'll eat in a bit. Can you ask
your Pa if he wouldn't mind a free health checkup? Since the doctors and nurses
are here they might as well do a house call while they wait,” he suggested.

“Well, Pa has been a bit off his game,” the girl said. She nodded.
“And Ma's going through the change,” she said in disgust. “Whatever that is,”
she said, wrinkling her nose. “I'll um, go check on them.”

“Yes, and please tell them you and your family are in line for
vaccines to protect them from the viruses. It's the least we can do for letting
us be here,” Hank said.

The girl's eyes widened at that reminder. She dropped the basket
and then nodded, looking a little pale. After a moment she turned and trotted
off. She looked over her shoulder to Hank and then picked up speed a little.

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

An hour and a half later Phoenix opened the shuttle bay and the
probe the AI had built deployed. It spent a minute running a last minute final
check before the ship's tractors pushed it gently down and away.

The probe was a simple vehicle, a delta shaped flying wing coated
in a layer of carbon, carbon to protect it from reentry. Sprite had argued for
multiple drop probes, but the admiral had decided to go with a craft that they
could pilot to maximize as much data collection as possible.

The probe dropped, aimed by the AI for a reentry window below it.
It pitched up, for a precise thirty  degree reentry into the atmosphere.
Anything less or more of that pitch and the probe would burn up or go out of
control and skip off the atmosphere like a flat stone in a pond.

After a tense two minute of black out during reentry it came down,
doing a series of S turns to burn off speed and altitude. Telemetry was
reacquired as the plasma burned off.  “Temperatures have dropped, popping
sensor doors,” Phoenix reported. Small explosive bolts blew the cover plates
over the sensors and air scoops. The little panels fluttered in the wake of the
craft, dropping away rapidly.