“Attenuated virus vaccine? Successfully?”
Steve thought about that for a long time.
“Yes.”
“Know someone? As in they know how to produce it? Have done so? And are available?”
“Yes, although absent that pardon you’re going to have to break out thumbscrews to get me to say who. And thumbscrews won’t work.”
“Stand by.”
* * *
“That is better than we could have hoped for,” Dr. Dobson said. He had been brought in on the conversation early on.
“I still don’t think some drug dealer…” Commander Freeman started to say.
“Wolf, despite his grandiose name, does not sound like a drug dealer,” Galloway said, holding up a hand.
* * *
“Captain Wolf? Blount, over.”
“Wolf.”
“First of all, since I didn’t cover it. No, there will be no charges. Can I absolutely guarantee that someday in the fullness of stupidity, some group will not bring charges of crimes against humanity for production of attenuated vaccine from human spinal cords? No. We are human and such things happen. What I can guarantee, and I’ll get someone to send you a facsimile of a document to the effect, is that to the extent I have the legal power to do so, I will retroactively permit the production as well as authorizing future production for the good of the United States and humanity. That way if there is ever an ICC again we can both hang. But right now, without vaccine we are truly stuck. I won’t ask you to reveal much about it but we need to get some issues straight. Doctor?”
“This is Dr. James Dobson. I’m the Acting Director of the CDC. Can you detail, at all, the nature of the person you have who is familiar with production of attenuated vaccine? What are his or her qualifications?”
“None, essentially,” Steve said, carefully. “They were recruited by a clandestine, but highly professional, lab to assist in the production. They were the primary laboratory technician for the production of the vaccine my family used and currently has. We only have a few remaining doses, which I’m using for clearance personnel since they are more likely to get blood contamination. It works. None of us have contracted the disease and my daughter, handle Shewolf, contracted the virus after only the primer but survived. It was touch and go but she made it.”
* * *
“Sounds like his wife was the lab-tech,” Brice said, grimacing. “That had to be cold.”
“Can you define ‘highly qualified’?” Dr. Dobson said. “In a way that…”
“Fully prepared lab including Scanning Electron Microscope and all that sort of stuff,” Wolf replied. “Run by a PhD in microbiology. I hope you won’t mind if I avoid the name. But he used to work for you, Doctor. He was a consultant for a…well heeled group.”
“Corporate lab,” Dobson said, grimacing. “The FBI was aware they were around. New York, L.A. and San Francisco were particularly rife with them. They produced the vaccine for senior corporate officers and support. But they were professionals. But a lab tech… That’s not the same as the doctor…”
* * *
“Could he or she do it again?”
“The problem is, as you probably know, doctor, quality control,” Steve said. “The doctor running the lab did the quality assurance. I was not directly involved. But I understand that getting the strands just right is critical. Not too much radiation, not too little, no contamination. And we sure as hell can’t do it with what we’ve got. We’ll need something resembling a lab and a good x-ray machine for sure. I don’t suppose any of the subs have one?”
* * *
Galloway looked at the Navy liaison who shook his head.
* * *
“They have an x-ray machine but insufficient lab equipment and materials to do production much less quality control.”
Steve looked at the deck and wanted to throw the radio as far as he could.
“Stand by, please.”
“Roger.”
* * *
“Dallas,” Galloway said. “Can you observe the subject?”
* * *
“Roger,” Bradburn said, looking at his screen. He’d popped the periscope up for the chat. “Transferring…”
* * *
“That is a man in deep thought,” Galloway said, looking at the video. The presumed “Commodore Wolf” was just standing there, looking at the deck. Then he straightened up and keyed the radio.
“Blount, Wolf, over.”
“Go ahead.”
“The way this was going to go was that I was just going to do one thing after another and hope that nobody big enough to stop me would get in the way. Not that those things were going to be as bad as, say, a zombie apocalypse. But they were going to get right up some people’s nose. And they were going to be to my plan and intentions. Example. I can go loot that Coastie vessel. I really do need the ammo. The Coasties might get it in their noses, but they don’t have any guns. And from what my daughter has told me and I saw, they’re not going to be much use clearing any time soon. If ever. I suppose you could torpedo my boats, but that wouldn’t get you anywhere.
“But at a certain point I’m for sure going to need military personnel. A lot of military personnel. I’m probably going to need a working helo carrier. I’m going to need Marines. The problem, and I’m laying it on you since I’m thinking you’re not really busy and I am, is how to do that. Because I said that I’ve got a goal. I don’t know when I’ll secure that goal but it sure as a billabong is dry isn’t going to be tomorrow. And I won’t secure it, ever, without your support. But you don’t know me from a wallaby. Somebody else might muckle this out, I suppose. I can find a boat for these coasties and they can muckle it, maybe. Right now, I don’t care. I’m tired. Myself, a green beanie sergeant and my thirteen-year-old bloody daughter just cleared a bloody cutter and rescued your bloody coasties and we used a bunch of priceless ammo doing it. I’m tired. I’ve been doing this for weeks with no bloody support and no real reason for anybody to do it but me asking them nicelike.
“I’m going to seed the cutter, mark it, and when you decide if the coasties are going to work with me or not, get back to me. If not, I’ll find them a boat, hell, I have a spare I can’t use, and they can do whatever they’d like with it. Rescue, clear or go bloody pirate. But I’m not going to try to read the mind of some bloke I’ve never met on the radio. I’m going to stop doing that today and I’m not going to do it tomorrow. Or a year from now. So when you figure out how we’re going to work together, or if we’re going to work together, have your bloody sub come by and say hello. That’s not being impolite but I really don’t have the time for this. And I’m tired. We usually give people a few days to get their wits back. If you don’t want to work with us, I’ll give the coasties the Large in three days and you can do whatever you’d like. Wolf, out.”
* * *
“That is a man on the ragged edge,” Brice said, quietly.
“A paladin in hell,” Ellington said.
“Excuse me?” Galloway said. “I understand the words…”
“Oh, my God,” Brice said, shaking her head. “Congratulations. You get the geek win for the week, Colonel Ellington.”
“Some context?” Galloway asked, tightly.
“Colonel?” Brice asked. “Would you care to explain?”
Ellington twitched and looked at her helplessly.
“General?” the NCCC asked.
“It’s from Dungeons and Dragons, sir,” Brice said, smiling tightly.
“Seriously?” Freeman said, snorting. Then he paused. “General, how did you…?”