Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (46 page)

When the probe dropped to the first altitude mark it did a fast pass
over Rubicon at thirty thousand meters, then a wide S turn to burn off more
speed. It's computers and equipment dispassionately analyzed the air sample,
but didn’t find any sign of a pathogen. It dropped to six thousand meters,
still picked up nothing so it dropped to under that.

“At least we know it needs oxygen,” Irons said as the probe
dropped to three thousand meters. The telemetry shook as turbulence buffeted
the craft.

“There is...the probe has found something there,” Phoenix
reported.

“Just collect and record the data, interpret later,” the admiral
ordered, watching the feed.

“We're having technical difficulties. The craft is having trouble.
Turbulence and mechanical failure,” Phoenix reported as the probe dropped below
a thousand meters. It did another buzz over the area, then a long circle
outward. “Running a diagnostic...”

“I can't find anything wrong with the avionics admiral,” Phoenix
reported after ordering a checkup by the little craft's computers.

“And it's not turbulence either. Wind shear is minimal. No ridge
lines or any other terrain obstructions either. The thunderstorm has moved on,”
Sprite reported.

“Agreed,” Phoenix replied.

“Drop to five hundred meters. Go low and slow. Keep it above stall
but get as much as we can before we have to dump her,” Irons ordered.

“So ordered,” the ship AI responded.  As the little craft made a
wide bank it seemed to lurch in the air. Irons scowled at the feed. The AI were
correct, there shouldn't be any problems. It could be mechanical, but that
didn't make sense.

“The hull of the probe is ablating,” Phoenix reported a moment
later.

“It is?” Irons asked in surprise. That was bonded carbon carbon,
it didn't just peel off like badly applied paint. Phoenix opened a window on
his HUD to show a rear view. He could just see the skin of the craft, it was
indeed ablating.

“What could have caused this? Manufacturing defect?” Irons asked.
He couldn't see how, he'd directed the construction of the probe himself.
“Materials?” he asked. They'd had to scavenge the ship for the materials
required, so that might be the problem.

“Could plasma from reentry have gotten in under the skin somehow?”
Sprite asked.

“All possible, but unlikely,” Phoenix replied. “We would have
detected a breach. Besides the sensors are working...”

“But no longer detecting anything,” Sprite said as the sensor feed
went down all at once. The little craft wobbled and then pitched down. They had
a brief view of the ground as it augured into the ground.

“Telemetry lost. Accessing visual feed. I see an explosion on the
ground. Self-destruct has activated,” Phoenix reported.

“So what did we get?” Helen asked.

Sprite frowned. “Some, but not as much as we would have liked. But
it's a start.”

“Oh?” Helen asked.

“And you are not going to like it,” Sprite replied.

“Oh.” Helen said, sounding subdued.

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

“We've got forty distinct pathogens here, just in the four sample
passes from the Phoenix probe,” Sprite reported a few minutes later. The
assembled doctors groaned at that news. “I haven't been able to identify any of
them to a specific strain yet. The virology lab isn't up yet either so we're
still waiting on them to get sorted out before they can begin processing the
data,” Sprite said.

“Why aren't they up yet?” Irons asked.

“Lack of power and support at their chosen landing site on the
outskirts of Sin City,” Helen replied. “I'm still arguing with people, or
should I say I'm on
hold
to argue with people there,” she growled. “The
city's hospital was set up to administer aid to both people who lived there and
to tourists. But it has a rich upper crust edge so some of the doctors there do
not like to serve common folk,” she growled.

“Sore point,” a doctor near the admiral murmured, leaning towards
another. The admiral's enhanced hearing picked it up easily.

“She just doesn't like it that they do a lot of plastic surgery
there. Elective stuff,” another said.

“Lost a couple good surgeons,” the first said with a nod.

“But not you?” the second teased. The other leaned over and
snorted.

“I was tempted...” a hand cracking onto the tabletop got their
attention. They turned to Helen.

“As I was saying,” Helen growled, “I'm still having problems
there. I am also not certain Sin City is the place to do the work. Not with all
the refugees in the area.”

“How are we on treating and vaccinating all those people?” Doctor
Zane asked.

“Not well. Again, resistance. I'm dealing with it, even if I have
to damn well go there and crack heads and fire people myself,” Helen growled.

“Great,” Sprite sighed. The woman's angry eyes cut to her avatar
on the big screen. The AI shrugged. “Hey, don't look at me that way, I didn't
do it. You organics can't get your shit organized. What's the pithy marine
saying? Can't lead a platoon to a brothel?” she asked looking at Irons.

“Not appropriate Commander,” Irons sighed. “Not helping,” he
sub-vocalized.

“No, she's right, and yes, Sin City is mostly casinos, hotels, and
brothels,” the doctor said. “No, they made up their mind for me, we'll send the
virology team to Hazard.

“Hazard?” Zane asked, sitting up straight. Others began to murmur.
He waved for them to be silent. “You can't be serious! It'll be a death zone
in...” he looked at the clock.

“If the infection continues to spread at its present rate in under
eighteen hours,” Sprite responded helpfully.

“Which doesn't matter since they have suits,” Helen reminded them.

“That they don't know how to
use
,” Zane countered.

She looked at him with a slight edge of pity in her expression.
“All the incentive to
learn
and do it right the first time right? After
all, more than their lives are riding on their efforts,” she said. “Hazard has
all the supplies they need to get the job done too,” she said looking at Irons.

“Your call doctor, I'm support,” he said as other eyes turned to
him.

She nodded, adjusting her jacket firmly. “Fine. That's settled
then. Tell Hank to have them use the tablets to do what they can. Keep the air
buses there. After Hank's drone launches he and his crew can go with them as
tech support. Someone needs to keep the machinery running right?” she asked,
looking at the admiral.

Irons winced. He hadn't sent many suits along, and wasn't sure
they had enough for the ground crew. He could fix that however with a follow up
flight. Or Hank could make his own. He nodded after a moment.

“Fine, I'll cut the orders. What's next?” she asked.

“You need to call a press conference,” Irons said.

“And say what?” Helen demanded, slapping the tablet in front of
her. “The people will freak!”

“They need to see leadership. They need to see someone is working
on the problem,” Sprite interjected, trying to sooth the director. “That the
medics are aware of the situation and are taking steps. Explain the steps to
those who missed it the first time. And you can lay out what we're doing to try
to alleviate panic,” she said.

“I'll...” Helen sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I'll see
what I can do,” she finally admitted. “You know the world hasn't stopped since
this crisis started? We're getting swamped with people. Not just the
hypochondriacs that think they already have the disease and are on death's
door, but also the idiots out there rioting, traffic accidents, fights...” she
sighed, clearly frustrated.

“And we're getting thieves now,” Nurse Marlone interjected. Helen
threw her hands up in despair at that news. “Someone got past security and
cleaned out the supply closets in the ER here and in Gotham. Hazard too. A lot
of it has nothing to do with the virus, but we need it to treat people who were
injured in the riots and other altercations,” the nurse said, wrinkling her
nose.

“Lovely,” Irons replied. “I've got a couple people watching the
maintenance rooms now. But one group I didn't ask. They seem sort of shifty.
I'd ask security to do something but they're all busy.”

“I'll find someone,” Helen replied. “We can't afford to lose you
or those replicators,” she said.

“Oh you won't lose me,” Irons replied. “I'm tougher than that. But
I posted a couple of micro cameras. I can give you a few too. But I suggest you
give the police a call and ask for additional support.”

“I'll...” Helen sighed shaking her head. “I'll see what I can do.
I tried it before, explaining it to Commissioner 'I know what I'm doing, don't
tell me my job' won't be easy.”

“Tell him you aren't telling him how to do his job, you're asking
him to
do
his job. Big difference. And remind him we need this stuff to
stop the damn plague. Plagues plural,” Nurse Marlone said tartly. “Or better
yet, let
me
handle ole pickle puss. He's an ass, but I know him and his
wife. His wife Audrey is my bridge partner on Thursdays.”

“Okay,” Helen laughed. “You can try it,” she said, clasping her
hands together. “Any ideas on what I should say at this press conference?” she
asked, turning first to the admiral, and then to Sprite.

“I can come up with some bullet points,” Sprite offered. Helen
nodded.

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

Still having trouble Richards called a press conference and laid
out the situation and practically begged the people to help. Jerry Richards,
Lois, and Clark were there. They were supportive with constructive questions.
She was thankful for that. She nodded slightly to Jerry who nodded back. She
felt comforted, seeing her ex-husband there.

The commissioner of Gotham offered to help immediately. She
gratefully thanked him. He also passed on word that several companies in his
city were building medical supplies on a crash priority basis. His officers and
Doctor Tompkins had received two dozen respirators, three full hazmat suits,
and quarantine decontamination equipment from one of the pharmaceutical companies,
along with anti-viral supplies.

“Good,” she said. “Every little bit helps,” she said. She told him
which viruses to work on. He told her he'd pass it on before he disconnected.

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

Hank's drone took off from the dirt road just after four thirty
pm. It picked up some gravel hits to her underside, damaging her underside and
her engine intake a bit. She was slower than planned. The drone climbed to its
intended altitude of three thousand meters and then called Phoenix.

The ship AI logged into the drone and did a quick POST check. It
had already done several before, but the Foreign Object Debris Damage was a
concern. The AI queered the admiral for instructions.

Irons however wasn't as much concerned about that as the time
involved. An abort and turn around would just bring the craft right back to the
makeshift runway where it would pick up more damage... and then get even more
dinged up in a second take off. He overruled the AI and ordered it to stay on
mission.

Two hours later the drone came to the edge of the known infected
zone. Infrared scanners told the story as the sun set on the horizon, nothing
was alive below. Phoenix noted it and passed that datum on to the base.

The admiral grunted when he heard the news. The pathogen swarm was
over half way to Hazard City. It had already decimated small villages and farms
on its way. None had been spared by the relentless micro-predator swarm. He
ordered the AI to get samples.

The little drone waggled its wings as it received the order a
minute later and then dipped. Phoenix crested the horizon, losing line of sight
contact with the drone. However it bounced a signal through a satellite. The
additional lag wasn't something they could help.

The admiral frowned, he could take command of the drone but
Phoenix was doing a good job so he left the AI in charge. He knew how to
delegate, despite what Sprite said. He did watch the raw feed though, as the
drone scooped the air in dips it rose above three thousand meters for a few
minutes to process it's intake.

“It reminds me of a Terran Basking Shark,” Irons murmured.

“More like a bat scooping insects,” Sprite commented. “Which
reminds me, they have swamps all over this place, a breeding ground for
mosquitoes. But no bats in the area. Why not?”

“Habitat?” Irons asked, only slightly annoyed by the distraction.
He knew what Sprite was doing, just passing the time, but was still annoying.
He took a tray of parts out and dumped it on a cart nearby, then turned to his
left and fed more raw material into the replicator.

“You know a trained monkey could do what you are doing right?”
Sprite asked.

“Know of one around we can trust?” Irons asked absently, watching
the feed. Dozens of microscopic creatures were logged, it would take time to
process the results and weed out the natural ones from the pathogens.