Destiny's Choice (The Wandering Engineer) (34 page)

“Easy
there Doc, it's just a theory right now. A blood test will confirm or deny it.
But I'm curious...”

“What's
the common vector?” Bryan said, looking up. “Sorry, Admiral, sorry. Didn't mean
to interrupt, but how are they getting this? It's spread across several areas,
thousands of square kilometers! Can it be airborne? Did the pirates sow this?”

“Most
likely they got it from drinking the water,” Irons sighed, sitting back. Bryan
frowned. “Untreated water has contaminants in it. Things like bacteria and
pathogens. That's why people are taught to boil it before drinking it.”

“Um...”

“With
the rudimentary situation down there, I'm not surprised now that something like
this is happening. I am pissed at myself that I missed it,” Irons growled,
fists clenching. Nara looked up and then got off his lap, reacting to his
distress.

“You're
only human Admiral!” Bryan said in dismay, hand on his arm.

“Mister
Kelley is correct Admiral, you can't think of everything, we are all far from
perfect. Stop beating yourself up over this and focus on what needs to be done
now. Mister Kelley, the diagnostic tests are rather simple. A rudimentary check
for inflammation markers should be a positive indicator if my hypothesis bears
out,” Sprite said.

“Right,
right, blood count, C-reactive proteins, and cultures.”

“To
positively rule out Meningitis we need a sample of lumbar fluid from someone
who is afflicted. With that you can check for the specific type of pathogen or
bacteria and come up with a treatment method.”

“Right,
I'll get on it. Right away.”

“However,
you can suggest to your colleagues on the ground that they overhaul the water
treatment and waste treatment methods. Sometimes you organics foul your own
drinking water which leads to situations like this.”

“I...
I'm from a station ma'am, so I don't know. We recycle everything.”

“Ah,
yes. Well, according to the literature a broad spectrum antibiotic should help
treat the people infected. If they are in the early stages it should kill it
quickly. Others will require more intensive treatment.”

“Thank
you. I'll get the tests running now and then call my colleagues on the ground
and have them start right away. Right away!” Bryan said getting up and rushing
the samples to his small lab.

“I
should have seen it,” Irons said getting up.

“Quite
possibly you did but then focused on the bigger picture,” Sprite said as he
blindly left the sickbay. “You're being too hard on yourself. You can't do
everything and be everywhere at once Admiral. They do have to learn to stand on
their own feet.”

“I
can give them a push can't I?!” he demanded. A passing crewman gave him a
bewildered look and then moved on fast. He caught the look and sighed.

“Admiral...”

“You're
right, I need to put this into perspective. I'm going to double check my notes.
See what else I missed,” he growled. “Check everything against survival
guidelines, which we should have done in the first place,” he snarled.

“I'm
not perfect either. You know what, I can't talk to you like this. When you're
tired and cranky. Admiral, you're exhausted. You're getting yourself worked up
over something you have no control over. My suggestion is to get some downtime.
Rest and then look at it with fresh eyes. I'll do the comparison. In fact, I've
already started and I'll be finished momentarily.”

“And
then?”

“And
then I'll copy the things we missed to your inbox and then I'll order the
replicators to fill in the blanks.”

“Fine,”
he sighed.

Irons
frowned at the captain the next morning. “Are you ordering me off your ship
captain?”

“No,
not that, I'm just, well, I'm encouraging you to get some down time Admiral.”
He'd thought Bailey would have got the Admiral to go down. He wasn't sure why
the Admiral wasn't going. Perhaps it was because he was a born spacer. Perhaps
not. Perhaps he was worried he'd lose his ride. Ferguson had decided to not
allow that.

When
Bailey had told him that Irons hadn't taken the bite he'd called the Admiral
in, first thing in the ship's morning, right after his breakfast.

“I
can do that in my room if you want.”

“I'm
saying...” he sighed, paused, and then adjusted his cufflinks. After a moment
he looked up. “I'm trying to say get some down time. Go check out the planet.
We've pushed back the departure time again since we've got a shuttle down.”

“Anything
I can do to help?” Irons asked. He clearly was tired though.

Ferguson
shook his head, amused. Did the man ever take a break? Did he ever think of
himself? Apparently not. He knew thought that giving so much of himself away
wasn't good. Irons needed some downtime. “No, we've got it covered. Look, I
give you my word, we'll be here when you get back. Bailey wont let us budge
anyway,” he said amused.

“I
take it Bailey put you up to this?”

“Among
other people,” the captain said with a snort of amusement.

“Okay,
that sounds a bit ominous,” Irons said looking at him.

The
captain spread his hands apart in a disarming motion. “No ill intent. Most of
it is from people who know you best and are concerned you're burning yourself
out. Which you are. A little rest and recuperation is in order. Bryan is
threatening to make it an order if he must.”

“Okay,
I'll go check out the planet.”

“That's
all we ask.”

“Joy.”

The
captain shook his head. “Don't be such a downer. The ship will be fine and it
will be here when you get back. Go see the sights. Go talk to the people. They
want to see you too. Custard has been a little put out that you haven't come
down.”

“Okay
okay,” Irons said shaking his head, hands raised in surrender. “I'm going, I'm
going.”

Admiral
Irons visited the planet a week before they left. He had to, not just to give
in to the good natured bullying of his so called friends and subordinates but
also for diplomatic reasons, and really for his own peace of mind.

He'd
planned on going down at some point, but the needs of the planet had been best
served by his remaining in orbit doing what he could with what he had on hand. 
He'd managed to wrangle a few more rocks and had been rather busy dealing with
them for some time.

He
took his own launch down, bringing a load of broad spectrum antibiotics as well
as immunization materials for everything he, Bryan, and Sprite could think of.

It
was a normal drop, nothing really memorable. The skies were a nice shade of
blue, pretty. The star port had clear skies, though some thunderheads were
gathering on the south eastern horizon.

He
wasn't really interested in the view, he'd seen rustic planets before. He'd
seen them as small colonies or badly damaged ones like this one was. He scanned
the port. Good, there wasn't going to be any reception committee or party for
him. Good. He really didn't want the attention right now. He had more important
things to think about.

Damn
it! There he went again, thinking about the long view, about “Important things”
when he really should be just relaxing and enjoying the outing. Apparently the
others were right, he did need some time off to just unwind.

He
passed over a swamp to land near the growing star port. The port wasn't what it
had been, a poor shadow of the original. But it would be better with careful
management and investment, he thought, rolling his shoulders.

Sprite
noted a large tree as they descended. She tried to bring it up but he was in
the middle of landing and cut her off. Later she went over the file while he
was asleep and came to a startled conclusion. When he woke she told him.

She
showed him the footage from the flight camera. He was amused when she pointed
out a large hilltop clearing with a giant tree on top. It was near a river,
tentacles from the tree ran to the river. He took a sip of coffee, amused at
her sudden interest. It wasn't like her to go off on a tangent like this.

“So?”
he asked, disinterested. Alien biota were not his specialty.

“So?
Don't you notice who it is Admiral?” she asked exasperated. She highlighted the
giant plant.

“No.
It's over 150 meters tall.” Then her choice of pronoun registered. “What...
wait who? What do you mean who?” His brows knit in sudden intent speculation.
It couldn't be!

“It's
a Vesuvian Admiral,” Sprite explained excitedly. She pointed out the shape,
doing a comparison match from the Encyclopedia Galactica files. “The size of it
though, it's immense. Old. Very old. Definitely a mature adult,” Sprite said.
She pointed out the insects and wildlife buzzing around the top mouth. Again
that was normal for a Vesuvian. They emitted pheromones that attracted insects
and other wildlife.

“Spirit
of space!” he looked with fresh eyes, completely surprised and awed. He had her
replay the image and enhance it. She cross referenced an adult Vesuvian with
the images and got a ninety eight percent match.

“Damn.”
He noted that the normally red petals around it's mouth at the top of the head
were shot with purple and yellow instead. “It looks like a giant Denubian
dandelion,” he muttered.

“Adaptation
to it's environment or it's malnutrition.”

“Whatever,
let's go take a look,” he said, now very interested in the diversion.

They
went to the clearing in a restored air car. The air car was one of the few
remaining on the planet. He had only to ask Jim, the dour farmer for a ride.
The farmer had tossed him the keys with a wave.

The
air car was old, and had seen better days. Still it was functional, maintaining
a stable hover about a meter off the ground. It was a battered, faded blue pick
up truck, something to be expected in a rural setting like this one. Function
over fashion was the rule in the rural community.

He'd
taken along a guide, a teen related to Custard who had seemed bored and
interested in the diversion at first. Irons had been pretty sure that the teen
had been wished on him as a guide to keep the lad out of mischief more than to
guide him. Though it might be both reasons.

He
glanced at the lad out of the corner of his eye. Red hair, freckles, yes
definitely a relative of Mr. Custard. He had pimples and a gawky adolescent
look to him, obviously he was in the early stages of puberty. He was more
interested in looking for girls than in showing an out of towner what was what.

Which
suited Irons just fine. He didn't really want a guide. He was curious about how
the lad would react when he found out where they were going to. And what would
he do when the Vesuvian reacted?

When
he got to the base of the hill his guide warned him off. The kid was pale, eyes
locked on the giant tree. “That tree is evil. Any who come near it end up as
food,” he grimaced.

The
stamen tentacles were whipping around constantly. Occasionally one would catch
a bird or group of insects on it's sticky tip and whip it into the mouth. Irons
nodded, craning his neck over the yoke to see it through the dirty windshield.
Yes, Vesuvian, definitely an omnivore. Good.

He
pulled up in a relatively flat spot and got out. The kid was really nervous
now, adams apple bobbing constantly, sweat beading on his brow.

He
felt a rumble under foot. Sprite translated the subsonics as language, running
it through the universal vocoder.

'Go
away,” the deep bass voice told him curtly.

He
spread his hands apart. “I can't do that. Not yet. I believe you are a
Vesuvian,” the Admiral immediately replied. Sprite used the force emitters in
his legs to create subsonic signals in reply.

There
was a rumble of apparent shock through the alien. Obviously no one had talked
to it in centuries. How could he live a life like that? He personally couldn't.
Humans were social animals. They went mad without some sort of semi regular
social contact. What did the absence do to this alien he wondered warily.

“You
are the first one to notice in centuries. So? Now go away human,” the Vesuvian
rumbled. A tentacle lashed out. He let it hit his shields and was knocked back
onto his ass, the tree reared back startled. He could hear loud cracks and pops
as it moved and shook the tentacle. Hitting the shield would have smarted.
Brown and blue moss was coming off the creature and animals that had taken
refuge in the moss were taking flight.

“You...
how..? that hurt!” the plant snarled.

“Probably,”
Irons said. Getting back onto his feet he brushed himself off. “I came here to
talk.”

“What
is there to talk about human? My species dies with me. My home world is gone,”
it moaned softly, then louder and louder.

The
guide and Admiral winced. He waited as the guide covered his ears. When the
moaning ebbed he nodded, hands on his hips. “You done feeling sorry for
yourself?”