Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (56 page)

 Irons had finally come to terms that Phoenix and Sprite were on
to something with the Xeno code. He wasn't so sure what it was, they needed
additional samples to confirm it. A third sample probe was in the process of
being replicated, it would take time to transport it to Hazard and get it
rigged. Hank and his chimp friend Jerry were helping with the work, they were
using Hank's small replicator to replicate small components.

Unfortunately he didn't have the resources on Phoenix, or
actually, he needed to reserve those resources in case of future need. The ship
AI had already stripped quite a bit of his spares and other material to make
the last probe, any further and he wouldn't be able to make another probe or
other device without taking down and tearing apart essential ship systems.
Irons wasn't prepared to go that far just yet.

But that meant doing the effort on the ground, which meant getting
the resources required and making the parts, transporting them to Hazard, then
assembling them, testing, and so on. A lengthy process. Again Clausewitz's line
about time ran through his head. Time he was wasting here for instance.

His annoyance and woolgathering came to a stop as Osiris finally
reacted, stopping to stare at him. “That's not what I heard,” Osiris replied
stubbornly. He glanced at the red Neolion. This idea had come from him after
all.

“Well, as to that I happen to be the only expert on the subject,
I'd love to kick your sources ass. But I don't have the time for such little
things. Take my word for it, an EMP would kill any electronics, but wouldn't
affect anything organic. So the Prions, bacteria, and the viruses this thing
has released as pathogens wouldn't even notice it. They'd just keep breeding
and spreading like wildfire.”

“Doctor Richards, is this true?”

“I'll have to defer to the admiral on the EMP, I'm not at all sure
what it is. But something that would kill electronics but leave people alone
would be totally ineffective Mr. Osiris, he is completely correct on that
score. After all, we too are organic, just like these pathogens.”

“Before we get too involved, let me explain. An EMP, or
Electromagnetic Pulse is a massive dose of radiation in the form of radio
waves. The electron burst fries any electronics turned on in its attack zone.
If they are shut off and the power disconnected they have a good chance of
survival. But if they are online they are toast,” Irons explained, looking at
the doctor. “You could be standing next to the thing when it went off. There is
no light, no heat or sound, just the buzz of electricity as electronics fry. No
fireworks, and little effect on anyone.” Well, most anyone he admitted in the
privacy of his own mind. He and Nohar and those who had implants were a
different story. He didn't want to complicate the already difficult
conversation.

She slowly nodded. “Then I have to agree with the admiral, they
would be completely ineffective against this threat,” she said.

“Damn it!” Osiris cursed and hung up.

“I guess he didn't like hearing that,” Zane said.

“Tough,” Irons replied.

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

Things were still rough, and Doctor Richards still insisted on
meetings for the staff every shift. It was a pain for the admiral to get to
each meeting as she insisted. He made most of them, but when he didn't his
absence was immediately noted and questioned. A caustic comment about how some
people had better things to do than to spend them shining a chair going over
the same thing for an hour that they had talked about seven hours ago got a
quelling look from Doctor Richards and a comment about how he wasn't being
constructive.

He'd settled down, but still resented the meetings. At least this
one was taking place after their last meeting with the governor's
representatives. It was stupid, but again, necessary. Possibly for morale, but
also to keep everyone on the same page. Without electronic implants that was
necessary. The cell phones were receiving updates from Sprite, but the users
tended to forget checking them, or they didn't understand them.

No, the meetings allowed face time, and for now that was the only
way for the slow organic minds to absorb information. For the most part they
were updates on the progression of the spread of the virus and the progress in
fighting it. But near the end was a brain storming session, usually a last
grasp at any straw that seemed might work.

“You know, some of the canneries have started using steam to kill
bacteria. Could that help here?” Doctor Zane asked.

“No,” Sprite replied. “Well, yes and no. It would be effective for
cleaning surfaces and in some disinfection, but you need super-hot steam. Two
hundred ten degrees C will kill most microorganisms. The surface tension of the
water traps the virus, then the heat will kill it.”

“Ah,” the doctor replied, puzzling over her description.

 “But anything
under
one forty five will just make it
grow
.”

“Body temperature.”

“Right.”

“Then of course you have the problem of keeping the steam hot. It
hits the air and it'll cool.”

“So that's out.”

“Some of the viruses are dying due to the UV. The natural UV is
killing some of the viruses. I emphasize some. Not all though. We've installed
UV light emitters around Hazard and they are cropping up all over the major
cities.”

“So, how do we get this in large enough quantities over what? Two
hundred square kilometers?

“Crop dusters,” Sprite answered.

“Crop dusters? Not firefighting aircraft?”

“Firefighting aircraft are designed to drop their loads all on one
target. Crop dusters distribute the liquid in a mist over large areas. Besides,
there aren't any firefighting aircraft,” Sprite replied humorously.

Irons rubbed his brow, and then sat back into his chair. “Point,”
he finally said. “It's just crop dusters are small, and they don't fly high.
They buzz the ground.  This pathogen goes up to three thousand meters.

“True,” Sprite replied. “It's a band aid on the problem.”

“But you think it's effective anyway?”

Sprite spread her virtual hands. “At this point something is
better than nothing admiral.”

“All right, but not steam.”

The AI shook her head. “No admiral, it's too difficult to work
with. We'd have to find a way to flash boil the water on the plane, most likely
with some sort of super heater. Possible, but difficult and dangerous. No, I
had another substance in mind. Granted it's not very green, but we can fix it
later.”

“Green. What?”

“Soap admiral,” Sprite replied, sounding amused. “Specifically
anti-bacterial, and anti-pathogen soap used by medical personnel. The stuff has
micro material that's a lot like activated charcoal. It's porous, with
thousands of tiny holes in it. The material has enough surface area to cover a
football field in each grain.”

“Okay...”

“The bubbles will have surface tension that will bond with the
pathogen. They'll be filtered out by the detergents and killed or wrapped in
the buckey material and fall to the ground like yellow snow.”

“Don't eat the yellow snow,” Irons muttered, now tired.

“Cute,” Sprite answered. “Yes it's not green, anyone who goes into
the area will stir it up, and when it enters the hydrosphere it will kill fish
and other animals that eat it, but that is happening as we speak anyway,”
Sprite said.

“Okay, get on that.”

“The good news is the soap isn't a medical lock out, far from it.
The medics wanted everyone to have it to soap up daily to prevent the passing
of germs and other pathogens.”

“Okay...”

“But, the problem is the dusters, the ones in the area of the
attack are all in Hazard. Or were, I checked, they aren't there now. I believe
the pilots moved them out of the area.”

“Any idea where?”

“Dirt roads, bush strips... I don't know admiral,” Sprite replied
as the admiral scowled. “They have no radios either. They are short ranged,
possibly out of fuel.”

“Find them commander. Get with director Richards, get her to sign
off on this. Get the media and authorities in the area involved. Find me those
pilots and planes!”

“Aye aye admiral.”

The current plan was to use aerosols to spray anti-viruses and
antibacterial agents with low flying aircraft. Pilots would be in pressurized
aircraft where ever possible, otherwise they would be in full hazmat suits.
Each pilot and crew would wear respirator masks.. Their aircraft would be hosed
down with pathogen killing agents and run under UV lights to kill any surface
pathogens. Hopefully that would keep the viruses from getting back to the base
and infecting the ground crew.

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

Solaximara, Neocat leader of the Neo's on the planet somehow got
himself assigned as their liaison. At first he was obstructionist in attitude,
trying to get something out of them. Irons wasn't amused, nor was director
Richards or any of the other members of the staff. Fortunately the admiral
called Nohar who got involved and briefed them.

“He's a pain in the ass Nohar, I'm not sure what he wants,” Irons
said. He had heard the Neolion had 'inspected' the new plasma cutter the
admiral had finished and put to use. It was busy cutting parts for various
machinery they needed. Of course the red Neo had wanted a demonstration... and
when it had finished he hadn't complimented them on the precision device, no,
he'd given Irons a dirty look because the person selected to operate the
machine was Veraxin.

“Could that be his problem? He doesn't like humans?” Sprite asked.
They were using their implants to communicate, bouncing the signal through
Phoenix, the most secure way of doing so. Defender had noted new faces hanging
around a lot, most of them pretending to do something while they listened to
conversations of the staff. When security had confronted them they had waved
identification supposedly issued by the governor's office and then left.

“Solaximara is a politician admiral, he's someone who would gladly
sell you out if it gave him a leg up. He'd sell his own kid if it got him some
brownie points with the public or the powers that be.”

“And of course he doesn't see the long term detractions of such a
plan?” Irons asked. Short sighted, he thought, making a mental X mark on the
red lion.

“He's a bastard, but so far he's done okay as our rep. That's the
only thing he's got going for him really, he's made a lot of enemies with the
other species. They'd never let him get any higher than he is no matter what he
thinks.”

“Right.”

“How are things going there?”

“Oh, I'm as pale as a ghost,” Nohar sighed. “Doctor Ivanov has me
on saline and drinking fruit juice.”

“What for?” Irons asked.

“We forgot I was injected with vaccines,” Nohar replied dryly. “We
meaning mainly me. I knew I was partially immune, it seems so far that's
holding true. So we're sampling my blood and finding the vaccines and then
trying to get them to replicate. Which by the way doesn't work well.”

“That's because the vaccines in your body are a product of modern
medicine Sergeant,” Sprite interjected. “They're casid protein structures,
basically the hollowed out shell of the actual pathogen. The makers created a
close approximation, a dummy to trick your body into creating resistant factors
to it.”

“I see,” Nohar replied.

“I see you're quite the crap cutter,” Sprite said, changing the
subject.

“Well, I never did like red tape,” the lion chuffed.

“The admiral is of the same mind,” Sprite replied dryly.

“We've got security up, the ultraviolet lights and gear you sent
has really helped a lot. We've still got some security issues, some five finger
discounts and some smuggling, but remarkably not much.”

“Who would want to smuggle into a death trap?”

“Not many people,” Nohar said. “But there's always some idiot
somewhere...” The tiger sighed. “Caught one guy in a bio-hazard suit. He
apparently got it from someone in Landing.”

“Great,” Irons said in disgust.

“What was he selling?” Sprite asked, curious.

“Food, at huge prices, mostly just that. Food.”

“Typical.”

“Man's got to eat. Man, Neo, whatever. We're taking losses. Some
from that idiot snake oil sales group that came wandering through just before
the damn virus hit.”

“Bad?”

“Yes and no. You'd be surprised by what people believed. How
stubborn they cling to it even when you rub their faces into it to prove that
they're wrong.”

“That's actually not very surprising really,” Irons replied with a
sigh. “I wish it was. Triage Sergeant, focus on keeping those who will listen
alive. That's all you can do.”

“I know sir. We're doing our best.”

“We're going to be doing some more air drops, but we've got to get
a handle on this damn virus.”

“Some of the vaccines are working. Or at least slowing the
progression of the symptoms,” Nohar replied. “Though the ultraviolet lights and
other things may also be having some effect too.”