‘Jesus, that was close,’ said Gates. ‘For a moment there. Tell me we’re still alive.’
‘I think, therefore I am,’ said Dallas, as he unbuckled his seat harness and climbed almost weightlessly to his feet. ‘I’d say that was a pretty useful experience, wouldn’t you?’
‘Sure. It’s convinced me of two things. One is that I need some synthetic nerves. Mine are shot to pieces. And the other is that this plan of yours is crazy.’
‘It worked, didn’t it? Come on, there’s lots to do.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’
II
Simworld: Elapsed Time
1 Hour 01 Minutes
Before leaving the flight deck, Dallas opened the payload bay doors and used the remote manipulator system to deploy what looked like the wingless fuselage of a smaller RLV. Entirely covered with the ceramic-hafnium tiles that protected only the nose, bottom, and wingtips of the Mariner, this was the space fridge,[116] designed to carry perishable material back to Earth. Equipped with three primary thruster engines and two folding wings, it was the same model used by the blood banks themselves: the space fridge attached to the rear of the RLV, thereby doubling the available cargo capacity from two tons to four. Dallas had good reason for deploying the fridge immediately, as he would shortly explain to Rameses Gates.
But first there was a medical emergency to fabricate. Once Dallas was on mid-deck with the rest of the team, the hatch was closed and the crew quarters were repressurized so that Ronica could remove her pressure suit. As soon as she was wearing just her underwear, she lay down on a hammock and attached herself to a computerized transfusion machine so that she could carry out her own phlebotomy.
‘One medical emergency, coming up,’ she said.
As the venipuncture proceeded automatically, Ronica’s blood began to be drawn into a plastic tube. With no gravity to speak of, a pump in the machine was slowly sucking the life’s blood out of her body like a mechanical vampire. She was used to the usual autologous donation of 10 percent of her total blood volume. Weighing one hundred and forty pounds, she had a total volume of just under five thousand milliliters, and by her own estimate, any donation of more than 20 percent, twice as much as normal, would prompt her body to exhibit the hypovolemic reaction Dallas was after. The noise the pump made while performing this task was disconcertingly sibilant, and apparently quenchless. Rather more quietly, the same machine’s computer recorded the transfusion rate and all her vital signs. It was this medical data, conveying an apparent medical emergency, that Dallas planned to transmit to the Descartes computer.
‘Ten percent,’ he noted.
Ronica kept her eyes on the crimson snake beside her bare arm.
‘How do you feel?’
Taking a deep breath, she glanced over at the computer readings and then closed her eyes. ‘A little faint,’ she admitted.
Still the pump kept on sucking the blood out of her.
‘Fifteen percent,’ said Dallas. ‘Systolic and diastolic pressures falling now.’ He picked up her wrist and checked the pulse pressure. Her skin felt cold and clammy to his touch.
Ronica took a deep breath and swallowed nervously. ‘Where do you get these good ideas, Dallas?’ she asked.
‘They just come to me, through the ether, at the speed of light.’
‘That can’t be true,’ she said, eyelids flickering. ‘No signals carrying information can travel faster than light.’
‘Twenty percent.’
‘Not feeling so good now. Nauseous. Must be something I ate.’
‘I hope she doesn’t vomit,’ said Simou, unfolding a plastic bag. ‘Smells bad enough in here already.’
‘Maybe you’d like to volunteer for this instead,’ said Lenina.
‘Not me. I’ve got a puncture to mend, remember?’
‘Then shut up.’
‘Twenty-five percent,’ said Dallas.
Ronica retched again.
‘You’d better start talking to Descartes,’ Dallas told Gates. ‘Another few minutes and she’ll be in hemorrhagic shock.’
Gates was already positioned close to the radio. He flicked on a switch to open a channel.
‘Descartes, this is Mariner.’
‘I’ve been trying to contact you, Mariner,’ said Descartes. ‘What is your status, please?’
‘I can confirm that we were probably struck by a tiny meteorite,’ said Gates. ‘It penetrated the ship’s hull, causing a slow decompression on the flight deck. Until we can make repairs, that area’s sealed off. So there’s no immediate danger of asphyxiation.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, Mariner.’
‘In a while, a couple of my crew will go EVA and fix the hole with the UHT electron-beam welder.[117] However, right now, I have a more immediate problem on my hands. One of my female crew has been injured. It would seem the meteorite struck her, like a bullet. There’s no damage to any of her vital organs, but she’s lost an awful lot of blood. Since we’re going to be here for several hours I’d like to request some RES Class One whole blood component, in order to carry out an infusion.’
‘This isn’t a clearing bank, Mariner,’ explained Descartes. ‘It’s a federal reserve. This bank exists to guarantee other blood banks on Earth. People don’t make deposits. Nor are they withdrawn. Blood supplies are sold in order to help the government balance its books and meet its borrowing commitments. When times are good it will buy supplies to meet any future borrowing requirements. That’s the way it works here. And besides, the blood here is deep-frozen. You would have to thaw it first.’
‘Thirty percent,’ announced Dallas. ‘She’s going into shock.’
‘I’m well aware of all that, Descartes,’ Gates told the computer. ‘I’m also aware of what it says in the International Convention of World Blood Banks. That’s the convention that exists to protect all autologous donors in emergencies. According to section fourteen, paragraph ten, and I quote, “Provided authorized autologous donation codes are given, all banks, regardless of their hematological charter, are obliged to provide autologous donors with the necessary components in an emergency.” End quote. You can leave the preparation to us.’
‘You’re very well informed,’ said Descartes. ‘However, I must insist on conducting my own patient evaluation. Are your crew member’s vital signs being monitored by a computer, Mariner?’
‘Affirmative, Descartes. Anticipating your compliance with section fourteen, paragraph ten, and to save time, she’s already been hooked up to a trans-infusion pump. I’m sending you her vitals, now.’ Gates flicked a switch on the communications panel, and then covered the microphone with the palm of his hand.
‘Let’s hope Descartes goes for it,’ he told Dallas. ‘How’s she doing?’
Ronica looked pale and feverish. The rest of the crew watched her with a concern that was only partly due to her physical condition: If the Descartes computer considered her phlebotomy was not urgent, they were stalled.
‘Her body temperature’s way down,’ said Dallas, reading what appeared on the computer screen. ‘And she’s showing signs of tachycardia and insufficient tissue perfusion.’
‘From the data you’ve sent me,’ said Descartes, ‘it would seem that she’s still losing blood. I can hardly organize you a specific delivery of component until I know how much she will need. To do that you will first need to stabilize her condition.’
116
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