First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3 (20 page)

              “All right, George,” Vincent said, as they were approaching geosynchronous orbit above the largest city.  “Talk to me about what we have going on.”

              The operations officer was furiously working his console, his frown deepening with every moment he looked at the display.  “Captain…” he said slowly, drawing out the word, “I’m seeing signs of serious damage to the city.”

              “What?” Vincent said, activating his own display.  “Send me what you’re seeing.” 

              George pressed a control and the captain’s display lit up.  “It looks like there was a two-hundred megaton explosion on the northwestern section of the city, Captain.  And I don’t know how, exactly, but it looks as though the explosion was directed mostly to the north from that position, in a sixty-degree wedge.”

              “Stella?” Eamonn asked.

              “I agree with George, Captain,” the young AI replied.  “I can’t tell what caused the explosion.  I’d say that someone dropped a bomb on that portion of the city.”

              “A bomb?” Vincent said.  “What are the radiation levels looking like?”

              Stella blinked, surprised.  “Low, Captain,” she reported.  “Well, actually, levels of beta radiation are about five points above normal, and are eight points above at the site of the old power plant.”  She pursed her lips.  “That’s down considerably from what it was before we started rad decon, but it’s still pretty high.  There must have been more leakage from unremoved storage tanks or something.”

              “There’s no additional radiation?  How the hell is that possible?”

              “Fusion bombs, Captain,” George said and Stella nodded.  “Like the ones that Ka’Xarian built and we used on the
Leytonstone
.”

              “Someone dropped a fusion bomb on this place?” Vincent asked.  “Why?  These were good people but they didn’t have anything of any particular value that a pirate might want to take.”

              “Captain,” George said slowly.  “I don’t think someone dropped a bomb.”

              “You don’t?”

              “No, Captain.  I think that this was an attempt to build a fusion power plant.  They must have been trying to work on building one, something happened and…”

              “But how did it do that?” Vincent asked.  He gestured, fanning his hands outward.  “How did it blow in a cone like that, a wedge, instead of expanding outward in a circle?”

              “I’m not sure, Captain,” George said.  “We’d need to take a closer look.  Maybe have one of the shuttles do a flyby of the blast site.  Perhaps when it blew part of the containment held and focused the blast in that one direction.”

              “I believe George is correct, Captain,” Stella put in.  “I can see scorched fragments in the area of the blast, at the flashpoint.  It looks like the casing, or the walls of the reactor held up in large parts and focused the blast.”  She considered it.  “I suppose there’s something to be said for that.  I don’t know what caused the failure, but the failure happened in such a way that it actually spared a large portion of the city and the populace.”

              “Small favors, I guess,” the captain replied.

              “That’s horrible,” Serinda said, putting a hand over her mouth in horror.  The dark-haired beauty looked as though she was going to be sick.

              “It could have been a lot worse, Serinda,” Stella pointed out.

              Serinda looked very pale.  “Yes, thank you, Stella.”  She was avoiding looking at the holo image.

              Vincent eyed his communications officer.  “Stella, make sure Turan is informed of what’s happened.  And Quesh.  Let Serinda be for a minute.”

              Stella flicked her eyes to both the captain and the young woman, then nodded and her holo image vanished.

              “Serinda, open a channel down to the planet,” Vincent said, looking calmly at his display.

              She pressed a few control, gulping visibly, but otherwise maintaining her composure.  “Channel open.”

              “This is Vincent Eamonn on the
Grania Estelle
,” he said.  “We have arrived in orbit and we are ready to assist.  I have medical and engineering teams standing by.  Please contact me on this channel to advise where we can be of most help.  Eamonn, out.”  He looked over to Serinda.  “Keep sending that every ten minutes until someone responds.  Let me know immediately.  I’m going to get Turan and his medical teams ready and loaded up into the shuttles.  Quesh and
his
teams are to get those last shuttles assembled and then be ready to head down to the planet and assist with anything they need for rebuild.  Turan and the med teams first, we’ll summon the engineers.”

              “Understood, Captain,” Serinda said, composing herself.  Vincent left the bridge, heading for sickbay.

              “So what is the plan, Captain?” Turan asked, the gills on his long slender neck, his short trunk flaring up.  He was busy loading a few extra things into a plastic tote, which he then loaded up onto a hover pallet sitting on the side of the office.

              “Well, we’re waiting for a call from the locals, either government or doctors, or at least someone in charge,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I’m going to give them only another half hour or so and then I’m sending you and your medical teams down in the first load of shuttles with medical supplies.  I’ll have a security team be accompanying you, but I’m hoping they won’t be necessary.”

              “Any real idea of what we’re dealing with?” the doctor asked, skimming down a checklist on his datapad. 

              “Only in the broadest sense,” Vincent replied.  “There was a massive explosion in the northwestern quadrant of the city, but from what our sensors can tell us it was a clean fusion explosion.  No residual radiation from that.  The only serious radiation problem is still coming from the site of the old reactor.”

              “I saw,” Turan said, distractedly.  He was still going through something on his datapad.  “Clearly they didn’t deal with all of the rad sources like we’d told them to the last time we were here.”  He gave a sigh, which came out as a sort of blat through his gills.  “I’m glad we loaded up on blue goop.  I can see we’re probably going to need it.  And I imagine there’s still going to be issues with the radiation again.”  Another sigh.  “Why in the stars would they blow up their own city?  A bomb?”

              He shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Our working theory is that they were attempting to build a helium 3 reactor, something went wrong and there was an explosion.  But part of the containment structure held, so it focused the blast northward.”

              “For what that’s worth,” Turan replied, flipping his trunk in disgust.  “So instead of half the city dead, we have only a quarter.  That’s still way more in the way of injuries than my teams can possibly handle.  And even if we unloaded enough for a base camp and you took the ship back to Seylonique, they don’t have the kind of support we’d need.”

              “What about the
Kara
?” he asked, perking up.  “I mean the ship was originally designed as a medical vessel.”

              “Sure, but they yanked all that out when the ship was brought in to the station the first time.  And then later, they converted it to carry passengers.  And besides, it wasn’t the ship that was important, it was the doctors.”

              “So I go back, talk to Galina and get her to recommend me some doctors,” Vincent said. 

              The Guura nodded.  “That would certainly help.  But I think we should wait on that until we have a more firm idea of what we’re dealing with.  I don’t want to send the ship off until I can make an initial review.  Besides, they have their own doctors, and I hope they’ll appreciate the help.”

              “I hope so too.”  Then he frowned.  “Stella?”

              “Yes, Captain?” her voice came from the overhead.

              “Any updates?”

              “Still no word from the people down there, Captain,” she replied.  “But George and I have refined my sensors and have rescanned the city.  We’ve determined that the blast occurred less than a week ago.  No more than six days.”

              “Looks like if the
Leytonstone
hadn’t attacked the mine, we’d have been here just in time to watch the place explode.”

              “And maybe prevent it, Captain,” the AI said.
              “Thank you, Stella.  Just let me know once something comes in from the surface.”

              “Yes, Captain.  Serinda has been sending messages every few minutes and I’ve been trying to get in touch through their computer datanet, but communications lines were trashed due to the explosion.  I’m unsure that anyone will respond in the half hour time limit you’ve set.”

              “Well, I’m a little hesitant to just send down shuttles without getting some sort of permission,” he said.  “I don’t want the locals to thing that they’re being invaded, on top of all the tragedy they’ve already dealt with.”

              Five shuttles dropped into the atmosphere, flying down toward the largest city, the heat from the friction of reentry burning on their forward shields.  The heavy cargo shuttles were laden with all of the medical personnel from the bulk freighter in orbit above, as well as medical supplies, and a quarter of the drums of the blue radiation compound from the ship’s holds.  They arced down out of the sky, the heat dissipating as they entered the lower levels of the atmosphere, less than a kilometer from the city.

              “This is Doctor Turan of the
Grania Estelle
’s medical contingent,” he said into the comms.  “I’m transmitting on an open frequency to anyone who can hear me.  I and my medical team are descending to the planet’s surface.  I understand that a serious crisis has occurred; I wish to offer our assistance.  Please respond.”

              “I think we’re getting through,” Latanga, the shuttle pilot said.  She was bringing the shuttle down into a lazy spiral to the landing pad they had used in their last trip to this place.  It was less than half a kilometer from the site of the old nuclear reactor, and about a full klick from the site of the devastation. 

              A call laced with static came in.  “
Grania Estelle?
  Thank the …rs.  We have so many dead.  When will you be landing?”

              Turan looked to the pilot.  “Three minutes.”

              He pressed the transmit command.  “We will be landing in three minutes,” he said.  “As I said, I bring our medical contingent and a host of supplies to aid you.”

              “Thank you,” the voice replied.

              “Who am I speaking with?” Turan asked.

              “Oh, forgive me.  I am Acheron Vall, acting governor of Vanoria,” the man’s voice replied, the static clearing slightly as the shuttles drew ever closer.  “I am so glad that you are here.  We need so much.”

              “We’re coming in to land at the same pad as the last time we were here,” Turan commented.

              “No, I need to divert you,” Acting Governor Vall replied.  “There is a large parking lot on the eastern edge of the blast zone, about nine hundred meters up from the epicenter.”

              “Can you find that?” Turan asked the pilot.  Latanga nodded. 

              “No problem,” she said, nodding.  “I don’t have coordinates, but it shouldn’t be that hard.”  Latanga pressed a control.  “Stella, do you have an idea of where the governor is directing us?”

              The AI’s face appeared on one of the displays, a smile on her face.  “I think he’s referring to this one,” Stella said, as her image disappeared, and a grid map came into focus, with the landmarks indicated and a cross indicating the destination.  “It’s more than large enough to handle five shuttles,” the AI remarked.  Then she frowned.  “But it appears there are vehicles already parked there that will hinder a landing.  You’ll need to inform the governor that they’ll need to be moved.”

              Turan relayed the message.  “Oh, of course.  I wasn’t expecting you to be coming.”  He sounded as though he was growing more and more frustrated.  “Hmmm.  Well…”

              “Can you simply order the vehicles to be moved, Governor Vall?” Turan asked.  “I have a lot of supplies and assistants that need to be unloaded and it will slow things down and waste a considerable amount of fuel if I have to keep some of the shuttles in the air.”

              That seemed to jar the man out of his funk.  “Yes, yes of course.  What is your expected time of arrival?”

              “Two minutes, tops,” Latanga called out.

              “I will get things moving,” Vall promised.  “But I can tell you right now that your wonderful ships will need to um… hover a bit while we get the vehicles out of the way.  Probably be ten to fifteen minutes.”

              Latanga sighed, shaking her head.  “We’ll make it work,” she grumbled.

              “Thank you, Governor,” Turan said, sounding gracious.  “That would be fine.  I do appreciate the situation you’re in.”

              “I can’t thank you enough,” Vall said again.  “We’ve just been…”

              “Governor,” Turan interrupted, “I know this has been a stressful time and we’ll be landing soon.  I promise you that we’ll do everything we can to help you and your people.”

~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~

              “All right, let’s get things unloaded.  Saiphirelle, if you could please get your security people in place to handle anyone coming in for any mischief?”

              The silver-furred lupusan grinned, hefting her assault rifle.  “I’m on it, Doc.”  She nodded to her people, who were the first to trot down the cargo ramp.  She set them up in a loose perimeter around the shuttles while the doctors, accompanied by hover pallets filled with supplies, trundled down the ramp after them.

              “All right, let’s get all this organized,” Turan bellowed, his voice surprisingly loud.  It needed to be over the sound of the shuttles’ engines cycling down.  He turned back to the pilot.  “Latanga, if you could be so kind, get the acting governor back on the line and find out where he needs us to be.”

              “On it!” the young woman replied, hustling back into the cockpit.

              Crates and totes and bags were being unloaded from the shuttle, and Turan set to work getting all of the supplies put into places where they would be the easiest to get at.  As the work continued, Turan was interrupted by the arrival of a scrawny little man wearing what looked to be an impeccably tailored suit.  Of course, it had seen better days, now it was dirty and rumpled and from what Turan could tell, no amount of dry cleaning or even outright scrubbing was going to restore it.

              “Are you Doctor Turan?” the little man asked, his voice hesitant.

              He turned his large eyes on the man.  “Yes, I am Turan.  We’re just getting things organized here, but we’ll need transport to get all of this,” he gestured, “to where it needs to be.  And who are you, sir?”

              “We’ve spoken already.  I’m Acheron Vall,” he said, extending one hand.

              Turan took it in one of his flipper hands and shook it.  “Very good to meet you in person, Governor.  Now, to business.  What kind of casualties and injuries are we looking at?”

              “Well, anyone caught within the blast radius was killed instantly,” the governor replied.  “But at the edges of the blast, there were hundreds of casualties.  Then when the power grid overloaded, there were numerous traffic accidents, then the hospitals lost power…”  He let out a deep breath.  “I’m not really sure where you’re needed the most.”

              “Where are the bulk of the trauma cases being brought?”

              “To Intanjii Hospital,” Vall answered immediately.  “But they don’t have power either.”

              “Do they have a place to land a shuttle?”

              “The front parking area,” he replied.  “But it’s full of vehicles, both personal and hospital trucks.  There isn’t space for one of these to land there and nowhere to direct the vehicles.”

              “How close is this Intanjii?” Turan asked.

              “About seven blocks, that way,” Vall said, pointing to his left. 

              “Can we commandeer some of the trucks that had to move out of
this
lot?”

              Vall looked around, slightly concerned.  “Well, only a few of them are government vehicles.  Most are owned by the citizens…”

              “Are those citizens here?” Turan asked, impatiently.

              “Well…”

              “Could you find out, please, Governor? 
Grania Estelle
will do what we can to compensate the people, but in the meantime, it sounds like there are a lot of lives that need saving and we don’t have time to argue.  Can you please get us access to these vehicles?”

              The little man straightened his shoulders.  “I will do what I can.”

              “In the meantime, I will start getting these vehicles loaded with supplies and start moving them toward the hospital.”  Turan gestured to two of his sick berth attendants, who nodded and started shouting orders to the others.  In a few short moments, six pickup trucks were loaded with boxes of supplies, had a driver behind the wheel and people were shouting for directions.

              “We’re waiting on you, governor,” Turan said simply.

              “You can’t just steal peoples’ vehicles, Doctor Turan!” the official protested, puffing up a bit.

              “No one is stealing anything, Governor,” the Guura assured him.  “We’re just getting the supplies and the personnel where we need them.  We have every intention of bringing the vehicles back.  And in any case, the owners of the vehicles can simply make their way to the hospital to reclaim them.”

              “Well…” the man stammered.

              “Excellent,” Turan said, paying him no more mind.  “Let’s go!” he said, standing on the footplate on the side of one of the trucks, which already had two of his sick berth attendants inside, one of whom seemed quite competent in the operation of the vehicle.  He threw the vehicle in gear, hit the accelerator pedal and the truck roared out of the parking lot and onto the street.  Turan clung to the handholds with all his strength.  “I’d like to get there in one piece, Mitchell, and without losing all the supplies in the process.”

              “No sweat, Doc!” the man cried, a maniacal grin on his face.  “Don’t you worry.  I got this!”  The young man was a decent sick berth attendant, one of the crewmen they’d picked up at Instow, so very long ago.  He’d been one of the ones who had picked up living on a spaceship fairly quickly.  A few had taken some time to adapt, but Mitchell acclimated to shipboard life almost as though he’d been living on one his whole life.  “Used to have something similar to this back home.  My mama’s Model-F500.  Man, I miss that truck.”  He was weaving in an out of the stalled traffic now, since most of the cars weren’t going anywhere.  A lot of them were abandoned, but a few still had people in them, trying to negotiate the treacherous streets.  Mitchell lay on the horn at one point, until a terrified young woman pulled over to the side.  “Sorry, ma’am!  Doctors coming through!”

              Turan just sighed and tried not to think about the trip, staring pointedly into the cab of the pickup.  “Please, slow down, Mitchell!” he squeaked, not caring how undignified he must sound.  “I’m not secured to the seat.  In fact, I’m not even in a seat!”

              The young man managed to look abashed.  “Sorry, Doc,” he said, and the vehicle gently slowed down, though the weaving through traffic did not slow at all.

              “Turan, talk to me,” Vincent Eamonn said.  It had been nearly half a day since the shuttles had flown down to the planet.  He’d been getting regular reports from the pilots, all of whom reported that their cargoes of people and supplies had been offloaded and transported via ground vehicle to the nearest hospital.  He’d ordered the shuttles to return to the ship, and the security contingent went with Turan to the hospital. 

              “Well, things are pretty bad, Captain,” the Guura replied.  He sounded tired.  “I’ve just gotten out of surgery and sadly, the medical facilities here are not as good as those on the ship.”

              “Should we bring people up?”

              “I don’t think so, Captain.  Not just yet.  Oh, I’d love to have access to my own hospital again, but there is only so much room up there and I’ve cleaned out all but one of my sick berth attendants and nurses.”

              “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

              “What I’m saying is, I’d have to truck a good number of my people back up to the ship in order to really utilize the facilities in my sickbay, so I could save five or six lives up there, or potentially more down here.  I think down here is where I and my people can do the most good.”

              “Understood.  I’ve got Quesh and his teams working on coming down.  They’re gearing up, but I’m not sure who I’m supposed to talk to about that.”

              “I have the comm code for a man who says he’s the acting governor, an Acheron Vall,” Turan said.

              “Says he’s the acting governor?”

              “I got the impression, Captain, that this man wasn’t actually part of the governing body of the city when things went bad,” the Guura explained.  “Oh, he might have worked for the government, but he strikes me more as middle management than he does someone who’s in the line of succession.”

              Vincent sighed.  “Well, considering what’s been happening here, I can’t really have expected much more than that.  But how did someone in middle management happen to wind up as acting governor?”

              “I suppose he could have lied to me and my people,” Turan mused.  “But everyone he spoke to called him by that title.  Maybe he was put in by popular vote simply because he was the highest ranking member of government left?”

              “Yeah, but the whole city wasn’t destroyed.  Hell, government house is to the south of the blast site.  There should be bureaucrats crawling out from all over trying to talk with us, or at least stay in charge of the whole situation.”