Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer) (80 page)

“Signs of life? Thermal?” he asked.

“At the 'summit site' you mean? I am not over that area... I will
be in a few minutes.”

“Report back then,” he admiral said softly, already knowing the
answer.

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

When Phoenix reported back that there were no signs of life Helen
sat back in her chair, eyes cold. Some of the team were stricken, but a few
muttered darkly about poetic justice.

“Are you keeping the quarantine up?”

“Planetary... for now.”

“Great.”

“Oh, you?” Helen asked. She smiled a tired wane smile. “You can go
admiral, you and I both know you are clear. But I'd wish you would stay. We'll
need help with the cleanup, and I really think you should be rewarded.”

“No, pass on the awards. But I'll stay to help with the cleanup
and to help you settle in as officers,” the admiral replied thoughtfully.

Helen pursed her lips in thought and then nodded. “We did open
ourselves up to that didn't we?” she asked. “Can we resign? Wait, commissions,”
her eyes darted back and forth and then she nodded. “Yes we can.”

“And if you do the keys you have are deleted,” the admiral warned.
She pursed her lips in annoyance. He waited.

“Okay, so, that's out,” she finally said, getting up from her
chair.

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

Speculation that someone had deliberately infected the government
'summit' made the rounds in the grape vines, and even in the media. Most of the
media was keeping the very idea at arm's length.

Helen remembered that last shipment from Hodges and wondered about
it. After a long moment she shrugged it off. Oman and his cronies had left
others to die while he went to safety. Having him receive a dose of what his
people had been going through... well, it bothered her that the kids got it
too, but... it was out of her hands after all.

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

As life slowly returned to normal and the economy lurched back
into motion people took stock of what had happened... and how their world and
worldview had changed. For some it was as if a door opened, new beginnings. For
others a door closed, in some cased with permanence of the dead.

The death toll was sobering. An estimated one hundred twenty five
to one hundred thirty thousand people had died. A day of mourning was called
for by the acting governor Osiris. It was greeted with some agreement, though
many didn't like the source. Helen and her medics got behind the project and it
reluctantly became a reality.

The planet was draped in black cloth, every building had black of
some sort, and everyone dressed in black or dark colors. Public speeches of
mourning were set up, though few attended, most wished to be with their
remaining families.

There were an unknown amount of animals dead, the countryside in
the affected areas were littered with entire herds that were dead and rotting.

Areas in effected zone had to be burned down to end contamination.
Farms, crops, forests were all set ablaze and burned. Irons was worried that
the virus would be kicked up into the atmosphere, but the virologists were now
certain most would die when it reached the upper atmosphere. Besides, they had
the nanite shield and the knowledge on how to use it. But to be sure they were
instituting a mandatory worldwide inoculation program.

Irons spent a great deal of time cleaning things up. An additional
month passed, but he didn't mind the extended wait. He kept busy, working with
Fox who had taken over as C.E.O. of his company and had started them on an
aggressive R&D program. They were leading the way on just about every
front, and had even begun construction of the system's first space station. It
was an ancient inflatable design, he'd helped them out by passing on the
blueprints and even using his shuttle to lift the core components into orbit.
It glittered, it's solar panels and aluminum skin making it stand out as it
orbited the planet, catching the sun.

The station would soon serve as a docking port where goods and
fuel would pass between ground shuttles and visiting ships. Everything incoming
would be quarantined, the new government was taking the 'once burned thrice
shy' approach. He couldn't really blame them, they were still counting their dead.
They may never have a finished total. For some, including him, it haunted them.

Fox's company had even constructed the first truly Epsilon built
computer network. A computer tech genius in the company figured out the 'smart
personal assistant' templates, they now had a dumb AI, in fact several of them.

The company had also built the computer network for the hospital
at cost. Sprite had initialized a dumb AI designed to be a medical research
assistant. The AI Asclepius would help Director Richards and her staff in their
medical training and Renaissance.

He'd gotten his fuel and other supplies, and he'd also gotten
additional resources to build two cargo shuttles, a passenger shuttle, and a
small automated tug to service his tiny gas giant refinery. He was leaving it
behind, he just didn't have the room on the Phoenix. Helen and Hank had
brokered deals to have the little ship stuffed to the deck heads with fuel in
exchange for the shuttles. Hodges of course had tried to charge him triple,
somehow he hadn't been surprised. He now had real fuel though, deuterium and
Helium 3, all stored in refrigerated tanks. Phoenix was cracking jokes about
being a tanker.

Helen had taken her team to the various ports once the pathogen
crisis was firmly in hand. Doctor La Plaz had whipped up a variant of the
nanites for the genie population. He reported to Helen after the inoculation of
the genie and otter population, stating he had hug bruises all over. And four
marriage proposals, one from a chunky female with the lower body of a black
octopus. She was pretty persistent, he'd had to go inland to avoid her
clutches. Helen laughed so hard nurse Marlone threatened to sedate her. Though
the old woman was smiling a bit too at that news.

When Irons heard he'd barked a laugh. He was relieved that
something had been done about Mara and her people. They deserved better.

Fox's company had taken charge of the shuttle and tug running to
the small Jovian refinery the admiral had left. He had replaced the refinery
with a new one. It was tucked up on the underside of the ship's hull in pieces.
He would need it once he got to B100omega. It had a small Jovian that would
hopefully serve to refuel a rather dry Phoenix.

Right now the ship was stuffed, she had all the fuel she could
store as well as replacement parts and materials. He'd spend the voyage putting
the interior of the ship back together. Phoenix hadn't been kidding when he'd
said he'd stripped the interior to make the final EMP bomb. Only a few things,
his industrial replicator, and the single stasis pod with the kittens inside
had been spared.

But now it really was time to go. He'd completed everything he'd
set out to do, the people here were once more healthy, and if not virtuous, at
least they were on their way back to a more law abiding civilization level. One
closer to what the Federation once was.

Irons noted a familiar figure lounging against the side of the
hangar. It would figure that he'd run into Ole Blue one last time on the taxi
way near his shuttle he thought. Fitting really. One last loose end, he thought.
He could make the alien out, resting against the back of the hangar in the
shade, head down with a piece of plastic sticking out where his mouth would be.
He's totally relaxed Irons thought. That was probably one of his secrets, the
casual way he killed. He didn't get worked up, after all, it was a job and he
was the best at what he did. Or so
he
thought.

“I believe it's about that time,” Ole Blue said, not looking up.

“I think so,” Irons replied, voice steady. People around him were
wide eyed. Many started backing away.

“Oh you do?” the assassin cackled, pushing his fedora up to look
at Irons. In the shadows his implants made the alien's eyes seem to glow. “Glad
you agree,” he cackled again.

“Oh I didn't say
I'd
  be the one who will meet his maker,”
Irons replied, smiling slightly.

“You need a weapon,” the assassin asked, spitting the plastic out
and putting his left respirator back on.

Irons snorted. “I'm fine,” he replied flexing his right hand.

“Suit yourself,” the alien said, straightening up and walking out
to get clear of the building. “Any last words?”

“I was wondering if you had any?” Irons asked.

“You so good at killing nanites you think you can kill my babies?”
the alien laughed. “No one can do that.”

“I think they are as good as dead actually,” Irons replied, voice
even with self-assurance.

“Actually admiral, I'm not all that certain myself,” Sprite
replied in his ear. He blinked but didn't have any other reaction. Now was not
the time for second thoughts.

The modified Veraxin cocked his head, tipping a claw to tip the
fedora slightly back. He really did buy into the whole western mannerisms. What
was that and Veraxins? Why were they so infatuated with Terran Westerns? Irons
put the thought aside as he listened. “You intrigue me Irons, you really do.
I've been at this nine hundred years and you are one of the few not afraid.
Only fools don't fear me.”

“I'm no fool,” Irons replied with a slight shrug. He realized that
the alien lived on the fear, treasured it. He was a blood sucking monster, an
alien vampire that needed to be put down for the good of all.

“We'll see,” the alien replied. He glanced slightly to the left
where a clock was embedded into the tower. It was an old fashioned clock, with
a hour and minute hand. The hour was not quite noon. “At noon?”

“Sure,” Irons replied, noting it was a minute until twelve. What
timing, he thought, right out of some grade B Western flick.

“Smoke this bastard sir,” Nohar growled.

“I intend to,” Irons replied slightly to the side. “But you better
clear out in case of ricochet,” he warned.

“Yeah,” Nohar replied, waving people back.

Nohar nodded politely to a very worried Helen. “Don't worry, Irons
has this.”

“You sure?” she asked nervously, arms crossed and leaning closer
to him to talk to him over the crowd.

“Sure I'm sure,” Nohar replied with a growl. His ears were back
though. “Irons is a survivor believe me. He didn't come all this way to fail.
He'll do what he's set out to do.”

“Right,” Helen said nodding, eyes on the impending match.

Irons felt an active sensor scan and smiled coldly. Defender put
up a false image of his implants. The assassin would only see what he
wanted
him to see.

“You have some strange implants,” the alien said, brushing his
duster aside to expose his shooters. His left hand held the duster behind him,
the right flexed near his pistol grip. Irons knew the upper hands were for
show, the real killers were the true hands the alien was keeping concealed.
That was how he's done it for so long Irons thought. Everyone watched the upper
hand. Like a good stage magician Ole Blue AKA Bane set the stage and diverted
the attention of his audience. Divert, misdirect, and division.

“I'm one of a kind Bane,” the admiral replied. He felt his shields
spinning up to full power. Proteus pooled nanites on his skin, ready to kill
anything that got through. The fingers of his right hand came together and he
started forming his plasma blaster.

“Ah, so you know my name!” the alien cackled. “I'd wondered.”

“We may not have traveled in the same circles but I've got your
dossier. Care to see it? I like the part about how good you are with nanites,
how you can make more since you somehow hacked a code key.”

“Well! Seems you're right, I might of bit off more than I can chew
this time,” the alien laughed. “I see that now,” he said. He didn't sound like
he really believed that though.

“No turning back,” Irons said, watching the countdown tick
inexorably down to zero from ten.

“No hard feelings?” the alien asked amused.

“Nah,” Irons replied as the second hand got to the fifty eight
mark. “None at all,” he said coldly, hand flashing up in a micro second,
slightly faster than the augmented alien. A blinding blue bolt leapt from the
tip of his blaster intercepting the nanite bullet on its way to him, devouring
them and then slamming into their sender. The Veraxins eyes went wide and he
screamed very briefly as his body was incinerated by the power of an angry blue
sun.

“Really, none at all,” Irons said softly, staring at where the
body of the assassin had once been. Nanites were gobbling up the remains. He
went over and used his plasma weapon to cleanse the area just to be sure. With
rogue nanites, especially gobblers there was no such thing as overkill as far
as he was concerned. He didn't even notice the cheering and clapping until he
was finished.

“Well! That was anticlimactic!” Sprite said in his ear. He smiled
and nodded to Nohar and the others.