Tauren Invasion Snippet 4

 

Chapter 4

 

TauG9-77

 

“My such a fuss!” Admiral Richards said in a mock dismay voice as the black bear cub continued to squall. “What's all the hubbub about, bub?” she asked in a teasing voice.

She winced when the bear cub squalled again and then looked about him blearily. Bear cubs could be extremely loud like this little fellow. He was complaining at being handled and probably the parlous state of his stomach.

He was clearly dehydrated and would not take to a bottle. According to the report his mother had been found dead in her home. He was half the normal weight for a cub his age. According to the report his stool had splinters of wood, cloth, and bits of carpet in it. Not much there to eat in his room apparently.

She watched a Neodog nurse cuddle with the bear cub, walking him around and trying to sooth him as she checked the contents of his stomach and intestinal track with an X-ray scan. She sighed in relief after a moment; it was clean of debris and obstructions. “Well, that's a relief.”

She turned back to see that the nurse had even gotten the little guy to suckle. She smiled at the glow of pleasure from the dog. The cub seemed to take to the bottle urgently.

“How did you manage that?”

“I dabbed a little honey on the tip and warmed the bottle. He liked the sweet flavor apparently,” the nurse murmured. She looked around. “We need a rocker,” she said.

Helen nodded. “Pediatrics, where this little guy belongs, at least as long as we're here,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. Will he be going down to the planet?”

“As soon as they find someone to take care of him,” Helen replied as she finished writing up her report. “Weight daily. Keep an eye on how much he eats. Stool cultures daily, especially if there are any signs of infection.”

“Yes doctor.”

“Watch for gas,” the admiral said as she went on to the next patient.

That was the nice thing about visiting worlds; she was getting plenty of practice with different species. There were three groundside medical sites set up. They were shifted every ten days. The public was continuously informed about the sites. So far everything was looking good though, no signs of the plagues.

That was a relief.

She left the led lined X-ray suite and moved past the isolation room and then on to the next bay.

The planet was agricultural in nature, but they'd recently suffered a series of mining accidents. Apparently with contact with the Federation, the planet's industry had re-opened some of the mines. They had run into problems though.

A rash of accidents had been a major concern and a reason to invest in safety measures and training. The crude air compressed chisels in the mines were known as widow-makers for a reason. And explosives were dangerous, black powder even more so when not handled properly.

Silica dust was another big problem and not just for the miners. It got on their clothes and not only caused respiratory issues with them but also their family.

Half of Site B was dealing with the respiratory issues while also dealing with injuries and losses in hearing. She made a note to look into finding a way for the natives to use hearing protection.

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” she muttered.

“So, what do we have here?” she asked, stopping at a bay where a man was sitting on the edge of the bed. Only the worst cases were sent up to the ship.

“Pineapple bit me,” the guy said a little too loudly. “You really feel it in your chest,” he said and then began to cough.

She eased him back into his seat. He was missing some fingers on one hand and had a badly mangled arm. The wounds were months old. Someone hadn't set the bones right.

“I can't lift the gear,” he said over and over.

She shook her head. She'd seen a picture of the air chisels after she'd asked how some of the injuries had been done. They were fifty kilogram monsters that frequently broke down. It was very gritty dangerous work.

“We'll fix you up,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. She looked to the ward nurse and then went over to consult with Doctor Bently. He quietly pointed out that they were going to surgically repair the bone and brace it. His hearing could be repaired but what was the point if he was going to go back in and destroy it again?

“No cloned tissue,” he said with a frown. “We don't have the time to do the fingers, mores' the pity.”

“Straighten what's left, fix the eyes and hearing and ribs,” Helen said. “Do what you can. Triage,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

“Do the hearing. When he recovers, make sure someone gives him information about hearing protection.”

“I doubt he can read. But we'll give it a go, ma'am.”

“Good,” she said, patting him on the arm before moving on.

It was like that all over the ship and at the ground stations. Fortunately, they didn't have to deal with the plagues this time, so work like this was a welcome change.

She made a swing through two more wards and then checked out the cloning tanks.

The cloning tanks were reserved for critical organs since their time was limited. That meant hearts, lungs, livers and so on. One cloning bank was for making blood and blood components. Another for skin and muscle grafts. It still amused her that they had to explain that they needed to take blood and other samples in order to make it. The people were ignorant but settled down once you patiently gave them knowledge.

She looked up to a line and frowned as she read it. The lettering was a bit flaky. LOX, Liquid Oxygen. The LOX and liquid nitrogen were being fed into the equipment in the ICU and surgery suite where they would be converted into usable forms for the patients. She made a mental note to ask about the painting.

LOX was not something to be played around with. It was stored and run through an evaporator to be turned back into a gas. But it was very flammable and explosive. Every piece of equipment was marked and the machinery sealed to prevent a spark reaching the materials within. If a compartment had a fire, it went into lockdown and vented to space to kill the fire.

“Ma'am, we have an issue with the water filtration at site C. The mayor in the town is giving our people a hard time about it,” Florence reported.

“They don't want it anymore?”

“No, they do. They are replacing pipe that had scale and crap. The water is not potable. The problem is that they want the shuttle to remain past the scheduled lift-off time.”

She frowned. “How much of a delay are we talking about?”

“Indefinite,” the A.I. replied. “And yes, I told them that isn't going to work. They said they'd appeal to the governor.”

“Go ahead. Those are navy shuttles.”

“There is talk of a sit-in. I believe they want us to offload the equipment.”

“Not going to happen,” She replied with a shake of her head. “We need that gear.”

Some of the shuttles could filter water and even provide power to a given area. But it was a temporary fix.

“They are also giving us flack about material.”

Helen sighed. “Of course they are.”

Due to ignorance, most people just didn't understand how the replicators worked. They were tantamount to magic. They didn't care how they worked; they just expected results. They didn't understand that you need material to use as a substrate in order to turn it into the object you wanted to replicate.

“Call the mayor,” she said as she strode into her office.

“Done. He's online now, ma'am.”

“Mayor … Garceti is it? This is Admiral Richards.”

“Finally! Someone who knows what they are doing! I've been telling your people I need that equipment to stay in place!”

“I understand that. You have to understand our time on your world is limited. Our time in your region is limited. Other areas need help and support too.”

“Not as badly as we do!”

“Sir, two locations on this world have been hit by hurricanes. Thousands lost their homes and have no access to fresh water or power.”

“That is their problem.”

“No, it is everyone's problem; otherwise, people start dying,” Helen said with a frown. She wished she could see him. Then again, maybe not, at the moment she wanted to ring his neck. “Now, have you put an order in for a new filtration plant?”

“We have. But there is a delay.”

She inhaled and exhaled. “Okay? So, are you looking at alternatives?”

“Your people said their engineers can whip some parts up with a replicator or a small filter plant.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, but they need material they said. I don't have it!” he said peevishly.

She shook her head. “Mister Mayor, it doesn't all come from the press of a magic button. We still have to adhere to physics.”

“And that means?”

“Simply put, energy can't be created or destroyed, just transformed. The same for matter. We don't create it from thin air. We take matter and convert it into what is needed.”

“I still don't understand.”

“Okay, simple example, a chair. You want the chair made out of, oh, wood.”

“Okay.”

“You feed the replicator power for the machinery and nanites and wood. The machinery takes the wood, and the nanites turn it into the chair according to the design you chose.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause. Her lips pursed as she hoped he was finally catching on.

“The same if it was made out of metal or other things.”

“You said it takes energy,” he said.

“The machinery takes energy to run to process the material. Energy is needed to power the machinery to grind the material up. Energy is needed to power the nanites and the containment fields.”

“Oh. I think that's good,” Mayor Garceti said.

“I do too.”

“So, when can you do it? You can have your shuttle back when we get it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you didn't just threaten to hold a naval shuttle and crew hostage, sir,” she said sternly. “We take a very dim view of such things. I can and will take action,” she warned.

“Ah, no, not what I meant,” the mayor said hastily.

“You provide the material to our people. We'll get you a basic filter system. We have blueprints for simple bush filter systems. You'll need to change the filters often but that should get you through this crisis until your new system is back online.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that works.”

“Find the material and get back to my engineers with it. They have a list.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Geesh,” the guy said and then hung up.

Helen shook her head.

“Some people,” Florence sniffed. Helen snorted and then went back to work.

~~{}~~