Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (50 page)

“Nanite screens are the most effective, but they're beyond the
current tech level. I'm working on something now, but I'm limited on what I can
do in that regard,” the admiral warned.

 Helen set aside her annoyance by being woke up and not warned
about the briefing, but drank coffee, grateful for the caffeine boost and
listened with the others. When the meeting concluded after forty five minutes
Irons had a group of staffers hand out basic materials along with additional smart
cell phones and tablets with more in depth information.

Helen was shocked by that, she hadn't expected it. She worked her
way through the crowd, not towards the distribution but to where Irons was
answering questions. She started to pick up on something, the note of despair
some had allowed to creep into their voices and manners were gone. People were
curious about the devices, but also for the first time hopeful. It was like the
light of the end of a very long tunnel had been seen, she realized, like they
really could beat this thing. She felt a few hands pat her on the shoulder and
nodded politely as she moved through the crowd, murmuring encouragement as she
went.

She smiled as the admiral finished up his side discussion and then
patted Ted Zane on the shoulder. Ted bobbed a nod, turned and nodded to Helen
and then left.

“Problem doc?” Irons asked, ancient eyes seeming to bore into her.
She felt a shiver of awe in that gaze. He really did think they could beat
this, not just think it, he
knew
. It was humbling to think about his
dedication, his optimism. Even in this, the most dangerous of situations he
didn't even consider giving up and leaving.

“I would have liked some warning you know, it is my staff,” she
said. He shrugged.

“You were asleep doc, I'm not going to wake you up for that.”

“When do you sleep?”

“I don't need to for a long time. Now? I don't know. I think I'm
going to have enough nightmares,” he sighed. She nodded in sympathy.

“The phones?” she asked.

He nodded, getting off that topic. “Cell phones. We've got a tower
up on the roof,” he pointed to the roof. “And more going up around the city and
surrounding area.”

“Ah.”

He handed her a cell phone and a tablet. “Both are
interchangeable. The tablet is just easier to read. The same guts in those
minicomputers are in both,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said taking the devices.

“The cell towers are linked to your primitive phone network, so
you can in theory call someone that has a land line. But for now it'd be better
if you stuck to cell to cell or me.”

“Okay, and how do I call you? Do you have one?”

“I've got implants. And I'm in your address book,” he said. He
leaned over and explained it to her. Some who had a cell phone came over and
listened as he explained how it worked.

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

“Admiral, we've got a couple companies that want to help,” Helen
said after fielding a group of rather anxious visitors. She was fairly certain
they would take a cut of the suits for the black market, but right now she
didn't care. Some extra suits were better in any hands right now. The right
hands were even better she thought.

“Can they do it?” Irons asked.

“Sweat shops admiral. The question isn't if they can do it, nor
the quantity, it's the quality of the end product,” Sprite said. “I suggest
give them a try and run every suit they produce through a quality control test.
Inflate them in water I think the manual says.”

“Good point,” Irons said looking at Helen. She nodded
thoughtfully. She turned to her rather anxious visitors.

“Will any material do?” the Asian woman asked. Irons shook her
head. Her face fell.

“But I can give you a fabric extruder. Several if you give me the
materials to make them. Then you can make as much plastic material as you
need,” he said.

“What about the masks and other things?” a Veraxin chittered.

“I can supply some of that, or if someone is into plastics, I can
give them the specs and molds for some of the parts. Same for the electronics.”

“A replicator?” another woman, this one wearing a gaudy set outfit
of scarves asked.

“A possibility,” Irons said thoughtfully. He didn't want to shoot
them down, but he didn't want to lose a replicator to the black market either.
“We need them all producing for this, not for rich people. You understand that
right? The priority is the medics and then the other people on the front line.
Someone with more money than sense...” Helen rested a hand on his arm. He
stopped.

“We understand,” the Asian woman said, bowing slightly. Irons
nodded.

“I'm serious,” he said.

“We know the situation,” Helen said turning to him. “But we need
to trust,” she said.

“Which I will do, but I will track the equipment,” Irons said. “If
it's not used for its intended purpose expect a visit,” he growled. The textile
people looked amongst themselves. The Asian woman finally nodded. Suit design
and making handed over to sweat shops.

“Give me ten minutes,” the admiral said turning to the various
machinery.

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

Surprisingly, by evening the first load of finished suits and
other materials arrived in a series of trucks. Apparently each of the various
clothing manufacturers had gone all out in a competition. A little healthy
competition is nice, but Irons immediately questioned it.

He had a couple of his helpers run a random test on the suits in a
pool outside. He turned as they ran the first batch, disgusted because none
were passing. On the street a group of people were walking by with colored
suits on. He blinked, eyes narrowing as he zoomed in. He swore softly as he
noted the look. One of the people had a scarf tied around her waist.

“Sir we're going to have to implement quality control,” Andrew
said looking up in disgust.

“Can they be fixed?” Irons asked.

Andrew looked at the suits and then shrugged.

Irons scowled and put a hand on the suit. He felt Proteus send his
nanites out to find and repair the holes. After a moment Proteus signaled he
was finished with a green light. “Test this one again, it may be fixed,” Irons
said.

“Are you sure?” Andrew asked.

“Yes. Long story. Just test it,” Irons said. He went through the
stacks, repairing each. He turned to see Andrew had finished the test and gave
him a thumbs up. Irons nodded.

Helen came over, crossing her arms and looking tired. “So, do they
work?” she asked.

“They do now. I fixed them. Apparently their quality control
sucks.”

“Still it was fast for them, I didn't expect anything for another
day,” Helen replied. “Though I should've, if I recall fashion last year, I
think someone came out with a new clutch bag and copies of it hit the streets
by the end of the day,” she said.

“Cute. But a shoddy product that doesn't do the intended purpose
is worse than useless. It gives someone a false sense of security. In this case
that's deadly. You can't scrimp on something like this.”

“True,” Helen nodded. “Which means we've got to be thorough on our
end with our own quality control” she said and nodded.

“Did you see that?” he asked indicating the family in P suits.
People were milling around them asking them about them.

Helen turned and noted the suits. She sighed. “Diverting them or
black market I wonder?” she shrugged. “It doesn't matter.”

 The admiral's jaw set hard. “What the hell do they think they're
doing?” He growled.

“For some it's how they make their living,” Helen replied with a
shrug. She was used to it, no matter how much of a pain in the ass it was, it
was normal for Epsilon.

“If they want to live they damn well better knock that shit off,”
Irons growled. “We're running out of time here!”

“Yes, I know. But these are ready to go?” Helen asked. Andrew gave
her another thumbs up. She smiled.

“Fine then. I'll ship them to Hazard. Well, some of them,” she
said with a shrug. “Any ideas on when we'll get more?” she asked. ”Did they
tell you? Do you know?”

Irons shrugged. Andrew looked up. “The driver said they are
working twenty four seven. But we're getting half of the suits.”

“Half?” the doctor asked, now angry. “Half did you say?”

“And now you're mad?” Irons asked, now smiling bitterly.

“Half?” Helen asked. She turned. “I've got some calls to make,”
she snarled, storming off in a huff.

“And now she's mad,” Irons repeated, shaking his head. “Okay,
let's get these on a plane to Hazard. One way flight so we'll send them
everything we can,” he said.

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

Several of the older medics like nurse Marlone had trouble under
the heavy strain. They were going all out, working twenty plus hours a day in
an extremely stressful reaction. An old cardiologist had a heart attack.
“should have listened to his own orders about reducing stress, and eating heart
healthy,” Ted Zane commented.

Fortunately the incident happened on duty so he was immediately
treated. There was some minor panic though when it happened, some of the
cardiac nursing staff professed profound relief that it was a false alarm. “I
mean, I... um, that is not that is was good that Doctor Hoins... um...”

“We know.”

Helen arrived on the scene, and after getting a blow by blow of
what happened, realized it was only going to get worse. She immediately ordered
food, fluids, and at least two hours of bed rest for everyone every twenty four
hours.

“Speaking of listening to someone's own orders...” Marlone crossed
her arms, drummed fingers on bicep.

“I'm going,” Helen replied. She pointed to the rather frazzled
looking older nurse.

Marlone nodded, brushing wrinkles and stains in her dress uniform.
“I'm getting too old for this,” she sighed. Leaning heavily against a nearby
counter.

“Barracks,” Zane said. “We can put any fires out for the next four
hours. You two crash somewhere. The barracks or the couch in your office chief,
where ever,” he said waving a dismissive hand.

“I'm fine,” Helen said, straightening. “I've had some down time. I
do need to eat, low blood sugar.”

“Right,” Zane said, studying her. He shrugged and turned to
Marlone. She snorted.

“Sonny, you are way too young to be pushing me around,” she said.
He snorted. “But I'll take a break,” she turned with a slight tilt of her
lifting chin, and walked out.

“Pee break most likely,” Zane murmured. “Good luck getting her to
go down willingly. Think we can trank her?”

“You'd need a trank gun. And there's no guarantee it would work
before she got within striking range,” Helen replied with a half-smile as she
played along with the joke. “And of course when she woke up...” she left that
thought hanging.

Zane shivered. That made Helen's half smile turn into a full but
tired smile. “Yeah, no, I'll pass,” he said. Helen patted him on the shoulder
as she made her exit.

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

Several women were rushed in, some with miscarriages, other in
premature labor. A Veraxin gave birth, but the eggs were stillborn. The
gynecologist patted her shoulder in sympathy. Helen reported to Irons that this
and injuries from rioting and accidents were happening all over the globe as
panic set in. People were reacting to the stress. Some people were using the
virus as an excuse to settle old scores or to loot and hoard goods. The bonds
of civilization were growing ever thinner. It was only a matter of time before
they broke all together.

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

“Admiral, this is a catch 22. This planet is perfect for this
virus, we're in a position where we have the knowledge, you and I, I mean, but
we don't have the means to implement it. Nor do the medics. They have the will,
but lack the resources and skills. You couldn't ask for a better screwed up
situation.”

“Ask me for anything but time,” Irons responded softly,
replicating another replicator. “I know,” he said.

“And do you understand that people are going to die while we get
up to speed?”

“I know Commander,” he said, eyes closed. His right hand pulled
the tray and set it down on the table and started assembling the box. His left
hand stuffed materials into the tiny replicator and then closed the lid.

“Triage commander, save what we can. That's why we've drawn the
line. Here and no further. We don't have a choice.”

“I understand it, you understand it, but do you think you can live
with it?” Sprite asked. His eyes opened. He stared at her HUD image for a long
moment.

“You and I both know I'm going to have problems, nightmares down
the road. I've learned to live with it  commander, I've seen worlds die before.
I've seen ships die before. I know the drill, I'm sending people off to die in
order to further an objective. Feeding them to the furnace as some like to say.
Acceptable.”