It was a simple thing, really.
Cut away the skin, carve into the muscles and sinews, pull back the tendons, reveal the bone. Extract the sample, close.
I suppose it would’ve been a little easier if I had not been in a zero-G environment.
And if the subject were not a baby.
An unborn baby.
Okay, so it wasn’t a simple thing at all.
Oh, and the fact that I was missing an arm didn’t help, either.
And not only did my life depend on it – but also the lives of a couple thousand colonists.
Also, I had no prior training in this kind of thing.
I was about as far from a prenatal surgeon as you could be: I was a unit commander for the 12th Spaceborne.
۞
We’d spent the last forty days straight repelling the insurgent forces in orbit of Mars.
Those cowardly snakes fought with no ethics whatsoever – laying cloaked mines throughout the x-zone just beyond the upper atmosphere, taking long-range plasma potshots from the polar regions, infiltrating our ranks and sabotaging our operations from the inside out. They also targeted the most vulnerable: schools and hospitals topping their list.
The last attack came thirty-six hours ago.
They laid waste to one of the nurseries aboard this generational cruiser we’re guarding – killed about a hundred infants and fifty or so incubates.
Innocents I’d come here specifically to protect. In particular, my own infant nieces and unborn nephew.
The plasma charge ripped a sizable chunk right out of the hull, and the emergency fields immediately sealed the hole – with me stuck inside, alone with dozens of tiny dead bodies littered around what was left of the damaged facility.
“How long till you can get me out of here?” I asked, communicating with Lieutenant McMaster via the two-way bead in my ear canal.
“We’re still taking heavy casualties out here, Sir. As soon as we’ve routed the enemy and secured the bridge we’ll get a crew down there to extract you. Just sit tight, Sir – and we’ll –”
“McMaster? Lieutenant, are you there?”
Silence.
Great.
I felt a low rumble in the deck plates and heard a crunching, moaning sound move around the perimeter of the room. I watched as the debris sprinkled across the floor started to dance around, then the blue lighting flickered and went out.
Suddenly, I felt weightless.
Half of the lights came back on, just in time for the lifeless body of a baby boy to bump into my face. I groaned and pushed it away, and watched it coast across the room, bouncing off other tiny bodies and pieces of smashed equipment.
I reached for a steel table that was bolted to the floor and stopped my gentle spinning motion.
Then the whole place rocked violently, darkening the lights once again. A searing pain in my left arm made me cry out in anguish. I released the table reflexively and reached for my new wound.
The lights came back even dimmer than before, and I looked at my left arm to assess the damage – but it was –
Gone.
As if in a weird dream, I watched it floating toward the energy field that held me and everything else in this room from being pushed out into space. It tumbled end-over-end, a stream of dark blood trailing in a spiral behind it.
I looked back at where my arm should’ve been – a stump that also streamed blood that randomly sprayed into the space beside me.
I looked down, and my numb mind put together what had happened – the fire-axe embedded in the floor at my feet had been blown at me in the last blast.
Could’ve been worse.
Fortunately, I was trapped in a facility with advanced medical equipment – I could just retrieve my arm and use an Auto-Surg to do a field re-attachment.
Without even waiting to stop the bleeding, I started to push off toward my arm, which continued to spin toward the energy field.
Then my arm – the severed one – struck the field, and disintegrated in a flash of yellow sparks.
I reached back to the table with my remaining arm and firmly gripped it, preventing myself from floating toward the energy field.
It was malfunctioning.
It shouldn’t have zapped my arm like that – the field is supposed to be neutral.
My arm.
My arm!
It was truly gone, now.
This was looking more grim by the moment.
I switched to Plan B, and scanned around for something with which to stop the bleeding. I quickly spotted a supply cabinet with a broken door, nearer the inner wall. I pushed off toward it, found a roll of gauze, and tore it open with my teeth. Then I wrapped my legs around another anchored table and dressed the wound, sealing off the stump with a tightly tied strip of gauze.
It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do for now.
I needed to assess the situation, so I pushed off gently with my feet and glided to a manual computer interface. The zero-gravity, combined with severe blood loss, made me dizzy and weak. I reached the interface, grabbed onto the console, and shook my head to clear my blurring vision.
I positioned my feet under the bottom edge of the console to prevent myself from drifting away. One-handed, I input a few basic commands to get a view of the ship’s status report and some surveillance feeds from the main decks.
It was worse than I expected.
Much worse.
Visuals showed the aftermath of a deadly battle aboard the vessel – deadly to the last man. The ship was mostly deserted – records showed that a few hundred survivors had launched escape pods during the thick of the fight, leaving only soldiers from our side and the enemy aboard – along with too many dead civilians to count.
My men who’d remained were all dead now – along with all of the insurgents.
A scan of the data showed that none of my family members who’d been aboard had made it to the escape pods.
My whole family – dead.
I pushed the thought aside – I couldn’t let that affect me – I still had a job to do.
Status reports showed the ship on autopilot. I plotted the trajectory to a colonial settlement on the western plains – population 2,800.
This ship – a generation vessel – was about the size of that whole community. And traveling at nearly a thousand kilometers an hour, they’d never know what hit them.
I had to get out of this morgue for children and to the bridge – I had to prevent even more death and destruction.
My remaining hand shook as I pulled up a schematic of the room. With the damage to the hull and the main entrance offline, there was only one way out – a service hatch at the back of the incubation chamber.
I pushed off again and floated to the chamber, pulled myself awkwardly through the door, and moved past the dead babies to the back. Their tiny bodies – still forming as if in the womb – looked as if they were sleeping. Yet they’d never had even a chance to live, let alone to live the dreams they appeared to be having in their still silence.
I reached the hatch and studied it. Two large handles, each about three feet apart, operated the sealing function. A quick turn of each and I’d be free.
The first one wouldn’t budge.
I tried the other. Same thing.
I read the small instruction label and sighed heavily.
Both handles needed to be turned simultaneously to release the hatch cover.
Holding on with my one hand, I contorted my body until my foot was on the second handle, and tried to turn it.
It was no use – this was a job for two hands.
Thankfully, I was in a medical facility equipped with the finest e-physicians available.
“Auto-Nurse,” I said loudly, trying to activate the facility’s medical computer system.
“Au-au Auto-Nurse ac-activated -vated,” the system speakers sputtered as the program came to life.
“Nurse, I need emergency assistance
,” I said. “My arm has been amputated – I need the Auto-Surg to reattach it.”
“The Automated Surgeon System has been damaged beyond repair. Any triage must be performed by a human. Audio instructions are available for six-hundred basic procedures. Please specify desired procedure.”
Basic procedures.
“Uh, is ‘limb reattachment’ on the list of procedures with instructions?”
“No.”
“Arrrgh!” I pounded my one good fist on the hatch in frustration. A deep, hollow boom resounded from within.
I laid my sweaty head on my forearm.
Think.
Think!
“Auto-Nurse, are you programmed to problem-solve?”
“Yes. I am capable of differential diagnosis, prognosis, algorithmic determination, and inductive solution development. Please state parameters.”
“Parameters?”
“Outline of the problem, available resources for resolution.”
“Uh, well, my left arm has been amputated and destroyed. The rest of my body is functioning fine. I have all the tools available here in the nursery. That’s it, I guess.”
“Working.”
As I waited, I stared around at the little bodies again – a gruesome scene that held my gaze - like the way you can’t help staring at a vehicle accident.
Then I saw it.
One of the delicate unborn ones moved.
I thought, at first, that it was my mind playing tricks on me, so I moved closer.
“New variable introduced,” said the Auto-Nurse, startling me.
“Explain.”
“Resources list has increased. Fetal unit fourteen indicates living tissue enclosed.”
“Yes, yes! I knew I saw it move!”
I reached the unit and peered in through the plexi at the little child.
A boy.
“Solution developed,” said Auto-Nurse. “Living fetal stem cell tissue from a matching donor can be used as seed to regrow a new arm.”
“What? But wouldn’t that take months?”
“This nursery is equipped with an Accelerated Neutron Pulse, or ANP machine. This technology will produce a fully developed adult limb in approximately eight hours.”
“Huh. Um, define ‘matching’ donor.”
“Genetic compatibility requires a sibling, parent, child, grandparent, first cousin, nephew or niece for this procedure to be successful. The fetal tissue in unit fourteen is compatible.”
“What?”
I stared down at the little unborn baby boy in the incubation unit, then looked below at the label on the front.
LASSERTIS, JAMES, R.
My sister’s little boy.
My nephew.
I quickly pushed myself back out to the interface and looked at the trajectory data.
Six hours.
“Auto-Nurse, you said it takes eight hours to regrow a limb?”
“Yes. Tissue extraction procedure takes two hours, limb regrowth at maximum allowable ANP rate takes eight hours, full recovery in twenty-four hours.”
“That’s not fast enough! What if I turn up the power on the ANP? Say, rig it to run at two-hundred percent power?”
“That is inadvisable due to safety considerations.”
“But it would work?”
“Working. Yes, two-hundred percent power would reduce limb regrowth time to under four hours.”
“Okay. Talk me through the tissue extraction.”
I gathered the required instruments and entered the incubation chamber once again. A hissing sound indicated the Auto-Nurse was running the appropriate decontamination subroutine, making me, the tools, and the room itself a clean-zone.
Carefully – very carefully, I opened unit fourteen.
I administered the anesthetic, then, with my one hand, began cutting into the upper arm of young James.
The Auto-Nurse informed me that I only needed a mere grain of the bone tissue. A tiny speck would contain sufficient DNA, RNA, and stem cell magic to provide me with a new arm.
It seemed like I held my breath through the whole procedure, which I managed to accomplish in just under an hour.
If I made it out of here alive, this little guy was coming with me – so I was especially careful to close up the surgery cleanly before moving to the next phase.
“Use the Regen Gel found in locker three, second shelf,” said Auto-Nurse. “Spread the gel evenly on the stump of your missing limb, a layer approximately five millimeters thick. Using the calipers, insert the donor tissue to a depth of three centimeters at the center of the stump. Activate the ANP and step inside the booth, closing the door behind you. Activate the controls on the internal panel, setting power to one hundred percent.”
“I thought we agreed we need to go to two hundred?”
“I am unauthorized to recommend unsafe levels.”
Now this thing decides to cop an attitude.
“But you won’t stop me, right?”
“Provide override authorization code to proceed.”
The only code I knew was the military command protocol for emergency action aboard civilian ships. Hopefully it would work for this.
“Override code Gamma-Six-Four-Delta, 12th Spaceborne Command.”
“Working.”
I held my breath.
“Override authorization granted.”
I followed the instructions for the Regen Gel, which thankfully had the side effect of numbing my stump. I then inserted the tissue sample from little James, turned on the ANP, and stepped into the humming booth.
The panel inside had surprisingly simple controls; I turned it up to 200% and waited.
The hum increased in pitch, and I felt my stump tingle.
After a few minutes, the tingle became a tickle – I had an overwhelming urge to scratch at the stump, but my instincts told me that would be a bad idea.
The minutes ticked away, and the tickle grew into a burning sensation, which became more and more painful.
I watched in amazement as the stump’s surface began to bubble, then elongate as my new limb started to grow in.
After about an hour, my arm was past the elbow. Great drops of sweat poured down my face as I gritted my teeth against the excruciating pain.
It was worse than the original injury.
By far.
As my new hand started to form, I screamed out uncontrollably. I didn’t sound like my own voice, but like the distant, torturous call of a dying man.
Through my tears, I watched the fingers grow like reedy stalks in a time-lapse vid, the bones and ligaments coming into place in an uncanny high-speed construction. My stomach turned as the joints aligned and the flesh developed – the veins and skin joining like a horrific accident viewed in reverse.
The final moments were unbearably agonizing – my vision went red, then black.
I awoke on the floor with a ringing in my ears – what seemed like seconds later. I’d emptied my bowels and vomited in my unconscious state.
The humming had stopped, and the door to the booth stood ajar.
I got to my feet and staggered out, looking down at my new arm. I flexed the slender fingers and made a weak fist. My new arm looked like it belonged on a ten year old boy – slim, pale, hairless.
It occurred to me that I had gravity again – which meant we had entered the atmosphere. I immediately checked the time on the system interface.
I had only five minutes before this giant ship slammed into the settlement on the surface.
Flexing my new hand over and over, trying to gain strength, I rushed through the door of the incubation chamber and ran to the hatch.
I gripped both handles and tried to turn, but my new arm was so weak – like when your arm falls asleep.
“Come on!” I yelled, groaning and struggling against the seemingly immovable handles.
Finally, the handles started to turn in unison, and I heard the metallic “thunk” of the bolts shifting
within the locking mechanism.
Cold, stale air rushed in through the hatch as it opened, but it tasted like freedom to my dry mouth.
I escaped through the hatch, taking a moment to look back at James.
Cursing the short time I had, I returned quickly and grabbed a small canister from my utility belt, placing it beside unit fourteen. I activated it, creating a stabilization field around his unit.
“This is going to be a rocky ride, little guy.”
Moments later, I was on my way to the bridge, passing dozens of corpses along the way – both my men and the insurgents with whom they’d been locked in battle up until a few hours ago.
The environmental system had been knocked into auxiliary by whatever that last explosion was, and frost was starting to form on the bodies. My heavy breathing spouted plumes of foggy air as I stepped onto the bridge amid the bumps and shudders of the rapidly descending vessel.
I pushed aside the dead pilot, taking his seat as the body toppled to the floor beside me.
The great viewscreen ahead was black, and the flight controls were locked out.
I provided my command override once more, and gripped the piloting controls.
The huge ship shook violently as I took it out of autopilot and activated the viewscreen.
Suddenly, I could see the fore view of the ground below rushing up at me, headed at dizzying speed for the small Martian settlement filled with unsuspecting colonists.
Barreling down at a speed that blurred everything, I wrenched on the controls with all the strength of my good arm and my weak new limb.
The ship started to level off, but not fast enough.
I may miss the settlement, but this boat was going to crash.
Hard.
It was a long shot, but I pulled out my other stabilization field generator and planted it next to my seat, activating it moments before impact.
The world went black.
۞
Weeks had passed when next I opened my eyes.
I could have been dead, for all I knew – for no dreams whatsoever had accompanied my deep sleep.
I was in a white room, with white curtains covering brightly back-lit windows. The air was warm, the room quiet except for the soft whirring of a mainframe.
“Doctor, he’s awake,” said a woman’s voice from somewhere behind me as I lay staring at the ceiling through watery eyes.
Then I felt the bed begin to slowly rise beneath my shoulders, a gentle hum coming from the servos.
At last I was sitting up. I took a few deep, labored breaths.
“It’s all right, you’re safe, now,” said the young bearded doctor, coming into view and sitting on the edge of my bed.
I looked down at my body. It seemed to be generally intact. As I recalled the last few minutes of my memories, this fact surprised me.
“We’ve fixed you up, Sir,” said the physician. “You’d lost your arm in the crash,” he continued.
“No – I lost it before that,” I interrupted, my voice hoarse.
“I mean your other arm. We are aware of your left arm’s amputation prior to the crash, but you also lost the right arm on impact. You now have two new arms – fully developed and ready to begin therapy.”
“Fully developed – how long have I been out?”
“Nearly two months. You were in very bad shape when the colonists dug you out of the rubble just outside their town. We’ve been performing various surgeries for weeks. Including using your nephew’s tissue to grow you a new right arm.”
“My nephew! He survived? Where is he? Where’s James?”
“He’s matured past incubation, and is now a healthy newborn boy,” said the doctor. “Thanks to you.”
A nurse brought the tiny boy to me, wrapped in a soft white blanket, and laid him in my new arms – arms I owed to this little guy. “Here he is – you’re his only remaining family.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” said the nurse.
I looked down at the sweet baby boy.
“I – I was talking to James.”
THE END
ALL STORIES © 2012 by Michael D. Britton / Intelligent Life Books
IF YOU ENJOYED THESE, THERE ARE DOZENS MORE BOOKS AVAILABLE AT WWW.MICHAELDBRITTON.COM
Honored: 7 Honorable Mention Stories from the Writers of the Future Contest Page 7
