Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (49 page)

“I know it's a sacrifice, but I'm willing to make it if it saves
lives. The greater good and all,” the governor said. “If the vaccine works we
can take samples from those people and give it to others and so on.”

“Sir, I'm not sure it'll work. And the admiral has been extraordinarily
helpful. Even before the present crisis.”

“Which he may very well have caused, him being from outer space
and all,” the governor growled. Osiris blinked. “No, I want you to arrange it.
Have the blood air lifted to me immediately.”

“Sir I um...”

“Do it Osiris, or I'll find another man for the job,” the governor
growled. “That's an order. Do you understand? Oh and send along some more
chocolates and a side of ribs for my wife. She's rather upset about the food
here. You understand.”

“Sir,” Osiris rubbed his brow.

“Get it done Osiris, that's why I left you in charge,” the
governor said and then clicked off.

“Yes sir,” Osiris said to a now dead line. He grimaced as he got
up. He had some calls to make. “Yes sir indeed.” he muttered.

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

“Admiral...”

“Not now Sprite,” Irons growled. He was concentrating on the
replicator. He'd heard they were running low on food so he started a new
project. A food replicator wouldn't take much to make and it would be on a
different part of the grid. It would both supply food, and it could supply
plastics and other bits when not fulfilling its primary function.

Getting the pieces of the barrels together was a chore. He should
have ordered some, but like an idiot he'd replicated them in pieces and then tried
to put the plastic things together. You'd think it would be easy, he grumbled
mentally, slot A into tab B, but something was catching somewhere. Or he was
just tired and overlooking something stupid but important.

“Admiral...”

“I said not now commander,” he growled.

“Very well. But you may want to tell that to the people coming to
kill you,” Sprite informed him. Defender immediately blinked onto his HUD and
his shields started to spin up.

The admiral looked up in surprise at that tart rejoinder just in
time for the door to the maintenance room to burst open. He turned, glaring at
the six police officers entering the room. They were followed by the Malcolm
twins, so called because they had the same first name and similar looks. They'd
gone to school together too. A female guard commander and three more thugs, all
armed with batons were behind the doctors.

“Something I can help you with gentlemen?” he asked mildly.
“Ma'am?” he said nodding to the woman. The guard posted at his door was looking
rather helpless. One of the thugs in the back had a baton pressed against his
chest, keeping him pinned to the hallway. Medical staff were looking at the
taboo from down the hall, already starting to talk.

“I'm afraid you'll have to come with us,” the woman said grimly.

“Where are we going?” Irons asked. “I'm rather busy you know,”
Irons said, pushing the barrel aside. “As you can see, we've got a bit of a
crisis going on?”

“We're here to extract a vaccine from you. Please don't put up a
fight, every drop of your blood is precious,” Doctor Innes said, holding up his
hands.

“Ah, and you thought of this all by yourselves?” Irons asked, eyes
turning from one doctor to the other. “Of course you don't understand why I'm
immune...”

“Please. We can figure it out. Once we have your blood we can
separate out the plasma and then inject what we need into those who need it the
most,” O'Reilly said with a distasteful sniff.

“And you think there is enough blood from one sample to save the
world doctor?” Irons asked as Helen Richards and additional security came
running up. The rear guard held up a paper.

“By order of the governor, this man is hereby sentenced to death
to save this world,” the guard said, sounding smug. “His blood will be used to
cure us.”

“Really, death,” Irons said. He looked at the two doctors. “So
much for the Hippocratic oath,” he said mildly.

Innes, the one with the long curly black hair and goatee flushed
angrily. O'Reilly looked away, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Gentlemen before I kill all of you, and I assure you, I can,”
Irons said, hand shifting into a plasma weapon. They stared at it. “And you
can't touch me,” he said, making his shields shift so it would sparkle and
therefore be visible. “I think a demonstration is in order.” He got up and went
over to a microscope he had finished making earlier that morning. It was
supposed to go to another virology lab, but he was still making other
components. Instead he plugged it in and then cut his finger. He smeared the
sample onto a glass slide and then put it in the microscope. He stepped back
and indicated the scope.

“You can see it on the monitor or on your screens,” he said,
feeling Sprite link all the tablets and other viewing devices in the area to
the Wi-Fi node attached to the scope. They watched  the scope as his nanites
destroyed everything in his blood and then themselves. Shaken they looked to
him.

“What the hell are you?” Innes asked aghast.

“The future. A Federation Fleet admiral, which by the way is a
couple jumps in rank
above
a planetary governor. I outrank him, and for
this little peccadillo I could order his arrest but I think I'll let bygones be
bygones
if
you back off.”

“If, I mean... How...” O'Reilly stuttered.

“Nanites,” Irons said, smiling as O'Reilly stopped stuttering
stupidity and hastily stepped back. Some of the guards were already backing off
down the hall. “Nanotech is a part of being a flag officer, we have to protect
our DNA after the changelings that infiltrated the chain of command. So, my
nanites leave no trace of me or themselves behind. They also serve as a rather
protective immune system. One
nothing
can get through. Fight fire with
fire in my case. As I explained to your boss and others, there is no way my
body can help you.”

“There are no easy answers here. If we're going to do this, and I
damn well am going to do this with or without your help we need to come to an
understanding. Cut the crap.”

“You can go,” a guard commander told her entourage over her
shoulder.

“No. I want them as guards here,” Irons replied. The woman turned
to look at him. “We need to keep people from panicking and destroying the cures
the doctors are working on... or interrupting the people trying to make them,”
he said as the guards looked at each other. “So all of you just volunteered.
Thanks,” he said smiling a not quite polite smile. Helen Richards snorted.
She'd been trying to get extra guards. Irons was done with asking, he was now
drafting help.

“This is your planet's one and only chance at getting it right.
Don't screw it up any more than you have,” the admiral growled. “You and your
families depend on it. And since you're here, you and they are first, well,
second,” he smiled politely to the medics. “Second in line to get all the
vaccines. As long as you're here and protecting them,” he said, indicating the
medics again.

Grimly the guards looked at the doctors and staff and then each
other. Slowly they turned to him and nodded.

Irons turned to the miscreant doctors. “This place is not ground
zero and it's the best tech area around. I've spent the past day or so trying
to make it so. Don't screw it up or screw with me again. Got it?”

Innes and O'Reilly nodded, eyes downcast. Both men retreated,
shuffling past the guards who made a hole so they could leave.

“I know you folks were just doing your jobs. I'm trying to do
mine. Don't get in my way again,” Irons growled.

The female guard commander looked at her men and then nodded once
more. She took a deep breath. “Where do you need us,” she asked.

“Ask Doctor Richards here,” Irons indicated the doctor behind her.
The guards turned to the director. “She can best post you, but I think Mat here
could use a break. And I know the hospital is having trouble with the
supplies.”

“Guarding supply closets?” one guy muttered.

“They're getting cleaned out. Which means when we need them we
don't have those supplies. Which makes it all the more harder to
treat
people,” Richards said, voicing her disapproval of his reaction.

The big male held up his hands. “Sorry doc. We'll go where you
want us,” he said.

“You'd better Toni,” the guard commander said.

“Thanks,” Irons said with a nod. He reached over and handed each a
respirator mask and a cell phone. The guards immediately broke into smiles at
that.

“Now, let's get back to work shall we?” Irons asked.

When the admiral had enough supplies he had his helpers set them
up in the MPR. The multi-purpose room was full, most of the people there were
staff, but a few patients and others had snuck in as well. He briefed them on
what he wanted and then he had Sprite use the intercom to call a staff meeting.
After the tired staff assembled he took the makeshift stage and used his
implants to link to the sound system he'd set up so he could explain how the
respirators and P suits worked.

The P suits or pressure suits worked by creating a sterile
environment by pressurizing the contents of the suit. Should there be a breech
air would escape and deflate the suit. The air rushing out would alert the
wearer and would hopefully keep contaminated air from leaking in, theoretically
letting the wearer have enough time to patch the suit and observe
decontamination protocols. He explained the color code system to them. Yellow,
Orange, Red, Blue... It was rather intuitive, so they grasped it and nodded.
“We've recently added red for the police officers and guards,” he said
indicating the man standing next to him. When the audience nodded he then moved
on.

Irons had one of the guards demonstrate how to put a red suit on
and how to check its' integrity. He also had the guard demonstrate how to patch
a leak. He taught them about how to use the P suit while working with the virus
samples. “It would be better to work with them in a micro lab using waldos, but
we don't have the time for that.”

“Waldo? Who's waldo?” Zane asked, leaning over to Helen. She
shushed him. “Where in the world is doctor Waldo?” Zane asked. Helen turned a
glare on him.

Irons had stopped talking. When Zane turned he blushed a bit just
as Helen stepped on his foot. He moved his foot away and held up his hands in
surrender. Irons nodded.

“And moving on, here's a respirator mask. You wear one in the
suit, and they can be issued to those without a suit. It isn't as effective as
a full suit, but you will note the full face mask. That's to protect the eyes
and nasal passages. This is only effective against airborne pathogens that
infect the victim through breathing it in. It isn't protection against those
viruses that can attack through skin contact or through say, the ear.”

Helen winced at that. She'd hoped it would protect from everything.
At least now they knew. She nodded, cold sober.

He warned them once they were in, don't get out. “Everything from
the air you breath, to the water you drink is recycled for seventy two hours.
The suit has enough power to run a radio, and a small unit to cool the air in
the suit. However any extended physical activity will over heat the user, so be
careful.”

“Great,” Helen murmured softly. Another thing to watch out for.
And in this summer heat? Down south it was even worse, what with the humidity.
She'd have to set up a buddy system or regular checks. How can they drink or
eat in the suits? She thought.

 “The suit is like a space suit, but designed to work here on a
planet. The outside will be contaminated with exposure, it will have the virus
on it, only a special cleaning will kill them off,” Irons warned. “I'm working
on a scrub system, but it wasn't a priority. I have since passed it on to
others who can make it. I don't know how long it will take them though,” he
said frowning.

“A good plumber?” Zane quipped. “Depends on the union,” he said.
Helen poked him with her elbow. “Shutting up now,” he said.

She sighed softly. Now that the medics were aware of the danger
they nodded thoughtfully. “I'm teaching you this because one, you need to be
aware of it for your own safety, and two I want you to teach what you have
learned to others. I can't teach you all, nor do I intend to do so. I have
other things I need to do.”

Helen nodded at this point. “This information, videos and other
materials are on a website Commander Sprite has set up. I suggest you take a
few moments to look it over when we're done here,” The admiral urged.

“Unfortunately the suits are made with cheap materials, they're
the best I can do in quantity in such short notice. Self-healing suits take
three times longer to make and occasionally they have issues with the seams and
in folding them. When they are folded and stored in summer temperatures such as
we're experiencing outside, the fabric sometimes glues itself together into a
mess that had to be recycled or thrown out.”