A Stitch In Space

by Christopher Lansdown

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Freia said.

  “Give them one more for good measure,” Belle said. “It won’t hurt anything to blow a hole clean through them. I mean, it won’t hurt anything important.”

  At that moment, they heard Freia scream. (When someone talks on an intercom channel, there’s a visual indication given of who’s talking.)

  “Freia, are you OK?” Belle asked.

  “The attackers have gotten to engineering,” Biff said. “Freia? Can you hear me? Take cover. You’re not going to be a primary target.”

  There was no response.

  “I’m having all units converge on engineering,” Biff said. “There’s no point defending the cargo if our engines get damaged.”

  There was the sound of another missile firing.

  “Just making sure, like you said,” Biff said.

  Fr. Xris texted Belle, “has anyone gone to see if Freia can be helped?”

  “No,” Belle texted back.

  “Do you object if I do?” he texted.

  “It’s your skin, but if you get hurt realize no one else is coming in after you.” Belle texted back.

  “Thank you.”

  Fr Xris hastened to the engineering room. Judging from the scream follow by silence, it stood to reason that Freia was injured, though she might just have been jammed. He had heard when Biff said that the attacking terminator robots were putting out powerful radio noise.

  He was passed several times by defender robots. They were, in truth, no different from terminator robots, except for what they attack. They were intimidating in appearance, being roughly humanoid in design except for not having heads.

  When he got to engineering, there was a lot of smoke in the air. There was at least one electrical fire from which smoke was pouring out. There was the sound of bullets firing somewhere deep in the smoke, and Fr. Xris dropped to the floor to present a smaller surface area for stray bullets, and got behind some cover.

  “Freia!” he called out.

  “Xris!” she called back. “Is that you?”

  “Yes!” he shouted back.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Coming to get you. Where are you?” he asked. “I can’t pinpoint your voice.”

  “Behind the desk, near the door. Don’t you realize how dangerous it is in here?”

  “That’s why I came to get you out. How badly are you injured?”

  “Badly,” she said. “They hit me in the leg, and I’ve bled a lot. I suspect that in a few minutes I won’t be conscious any more.”

  Fr. Xris had waited for a lull in the fighting, then gathering himself, dove across the entrance to minimize the time he might be in the line of fire. He landed into an awkward roll and slammed bodily into the wall, but he was next to Freia. She hadn’t exaggerated the extent of her injury—there was a pool of blood on the floor, and her right pant leg was soaked with it. The bullet fire started up again.

  “Not that I’m ungrateful, but don’t you realize you could be killed doing this?”

  “Would you mind terribly if we postponed that conversation for a time when you’re not bleeding to death?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Now that you’re here, what’s your plan?”

  “I didn’t know where medical supplies were to bring to you, so my hope was that you could be moved,” he said. “Can you walk if I support you on the right side?”

  “I think so,” she said. “The adrenaline has kicked in, so I’m not feeling the pain yet.”

  “First things first,” he said, “let’s try to reduce your bleeding a bit.”

  He tore a length of fabric from his cassock and folded it into a make-shift bandage. Then he tore another length and used it to tie the bandage to Freia’s leg, applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. He got up first, and helped her to stand. She put her weight on his left shoulder and tested out her other leg. It worked, but she didn’t have much energy and still hobbled.

  “Screw it,” he said, and picked her up. She was surprised at how strong he was. He set himself against the wall to have something to push off of, then waited for a favorable moment. The fighting seemed to have moved off a bit, possibly because all of the attackers or defenders in the next room had been destroyed, and so he didn’t have to wait too long for a lull.

  He pushed off in a big surge, careful to avoid slipping in Freia’s blood, and ran for all he was worth across the door opening. This lull was shorter lived than the first one, and a bullet missed him narrowly (judging by where it seemed to hit the wall behind him), but it was only the one that came close, and in another moment they were through the outer door.

  “Is there a manual way to close it?” he asked. “I’m not seeing the virtual controls.”

  Freia nodded and pointed to a panel. He brought her close and she slid it up, revealing a glossy touch panel.

  “Nothing like old technology for working when you need it,” he said, and Freia pushed the button to close the door. With the door blocking electromagnetic radiation from inside the room where the fight was going on, the virtual controls appeared again.

  Fr. Xris made a voice call to the captain, who answered immediately.

  “I’ve got Freia out of engineering,” he said, “and she’s badly injured. Bleeding out. What’s the closest thing we have to a doctor on this ship?”

  “Bring her to the bridge,” Belle said, “Stan has medical functionality. How bad is the battle going?”

  “I couldn’t tell, it was going on in the next room and there was a lot of smoke from electrical fires. The attackers weren’t making progress, but I couldn’t tell what they’d already gotten to. They were jamming all of the computer’s signals, so I couldn’t see any of the displays to see what was working and what wasn’t.”

  As he spoke, he carried Freia towards the bridge. He got to the ladder, and paused.

  “This isn’t going to be comfortable,” he said.

  “I’m tough,” she said. “And besides, I’m better off in pain than dead.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder, holding onto her legs with his right hand. With his left arm and his legs, he climbed down the stairs from the engineering decks toward the command deck. He tried to make the descent as smooth as he could, but with only one hand on the rungs, it was somewhat necessary to let go and catch himself again, though the primary work of descent control was in his legs. Freia let out the occasional whimper, but otherwise kept her pain to herself.

  Fr. Xris wanted to apologize with each bump, but refrained, since that would ask for a response from Freia, which would be a hardship on her. Besides, since he was obviously trying to minimize her pain, and she obviously needed to get to the bridge, it would have mostly just been asking for reassurance, and that’s not fair to ask of a person who’s bleeding to death.

  When he got to the command deck, he gently pitched Freia forward and into his arms again.

  “I’d offer to let you walk in on your own, but honestly, that’s a terrible idea,” he said. “The last thing you need right now is to get your heart pumping and raise your blood pressure.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to,” she said. “But how is it that you’re so strong?”

  “It’s more you being light than me being strong,” he said, “but I’m a rock climber, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s my form of exercise. I’ve been climbing for about eight years.”

  As they came up to the command room, she said, “Hey,” and touched his shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  When it was clear she had no more to say, they walked into the command room. Belle looked up and said, “Stan: administer first aid to Freia.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” Stan said.

  Stan walked to the supply closet, got an emergency medical kit, then came up to Fr. Xr
is and Freia.

  “Please place Freia on the ground,” he said.

  Fr. Xris gently laid her on the ground.

  “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

  “One or more gunshot wounds to the right leg above the knee—between the hip and the knee,” Fr. Xris said.

  The problem with even very good natural language systems, is you could never be sure whether they’d get what you mean or take you overly literally or even go completely wrong. Stan seemed fairly state-of-the-art, but this wasn’t the time for taking risks.

  Stan knelt down and used the scissors from the kit to cut the leg of Freia’s pants off.

  Fr. Xris rose to leave but Freia said, “please stay,” so he knelt back down.

  “Cursory examination indicates two deep puncture wounds, I am unable to determine the weapon.”

  “Bullets,” Fr. Xris said.

  “I will use the field x-ray to determine if there is any solid material lodged in the wound. Are you in pain, Freia?” Stan said.

  “Yes,” Freia said.

  “On a scale of one to ten, where one is the pain corresponding to a small cut, and ten corresponds to third degree burns covering your entire body, how much pain are you experiencing?”

  “Six.”

  Stan drew the corresponding dose from the morphine bottle and gave her a shot in the arm.

  “That should help ease the pain,” Stan said, and one could almost believe from his tone that he had some idea what pain was. He was evidently programmed very well.

  Stan used the field x-ray, which was composed of two wands each about a foot long, and passed them in parallel on either side of Freia’s leg.

  “There are no fragments of exterior material lodged in the wound. I will now determine whether any major blood vessels are ruptured using the sonogram scanner.”

  Stan replaced the field x-ray and withdrew the field sonogram wand. It had a coherent gelatinous tip, so he didn’t need to apply any goo to it. He put the wand on her leg and probed around. He then moved it to another position and repeated the procedure.

  “There is a partial laceration of the femoral vein,” he said. “Repair is indicated prior to bandaging. Anesthesia is not indicated due to time constraints, blood loss, and no competent medical personnel to administer it. Additionally, there is no anesthesia in the medical kit. Please be aware this might hurt, and any movement, whether as the result of pain or not, may cause further injury. I will try to be as fast as possible to minimize the movement-related risk of damage, as well as discomfort.”

  “Thank you,” Freia said. Her voice was weak, but Fr. Xris was pretty sure she was being sarcastic. She reached for his hand, and he gave it to her.

  “Do you want to bite down on your knocking stick?” he asked.

  “I’ve never been one for biting down on things,” she said.

  Stan retrieved the sutures and other materials he needed from the med kit.

  “I am beginning,” he said.

  He stuck the suture needle and thread, on the end of a clamp, down through her wound into the vein with one hand, while manipulating the sonogram wand with the other.

  Freia squeezed Fr. Xris’s hand very hard, but didn’t make a sound. He hoped for her sake that the painkiller had started to take effect.

  “It is at times like these that it would be very convenient if humans were not made uncomfortable by four-armed robots,” Stan said.

  Having a robot’s precision and having been constructed with high quality servos, Stan finished the suturing in just four seconds. He took another two to snip the thread and remove the implements.

  “That has reduced the likelihood of bleeding to death by 85%,” Stan said. “I will now sterilize the area and apply a proper bandage.”

  He took a solution of semi-stabilized hydrogen dioxide and using a tube syringe, applied it to the interior of the wound on both sides. Freia squeezed Fr. Xris’s hand again, and let out an almost inaudible whisper which might have been a curse. When he was finished with the interior of the wound, he then liberally applied the antiseptic to the entire exterior of Freia’s leg.

  “Since antibiotic resistance is so common these days,” Stan explained, “proper sterilization technique is essential, especially in cases of deep-puncture wounds.”

  “Of course,” Fr. Xris said absent-mindedly. It was not his habit to reply to robots. They were not in fact people, however much they were programmed to simulate people for the comfort and convenience of those who were interacting with them. But his mind was on other things, and Stan had extremely convincing voice synthesis.

  “All that remains is to apply a sterile bandage,” Stan said.

  He accordingly did so, first applying the non-stick absorbent pads, then fastening them on with vet wrap.

  “There,” he said when he had finished, “good as new!”

  He then looked a little perplexed at what he had just said, as obviously some part of his programming which looked confused at apparently false statements kicked in—despite it being him who said it as part of his medical patter programming. The common practice of modular robot programming had its pitfalls. Particular skills were bought as stand-alone modules that ran on a standardized virtual machine which abstracted away the particulars of the robot running it. Modules which came from different companies might therefore be inconsistent with other modules, or even with core programming.

  Stan packed up the rest of the medical kit, returned it to the emergency supply closet, then returned it to his station.

  While Stan was busy patching Freia up, the captain and her crew were busy trying to assess the damage, and how the robot battle was going.

  “That jamming is very annoying,” Belle said.

  “I haven’t seen this sort of power curve in a radio jammer before,” Biff said. “They must be outfitted with a big honkin’ power supply. I do recall that was an option with the orcas.”

  “Wealthy pirates is an odd combination,” Belle said. “But what can we do to get some status information?”

  “Wait,” Biff said, “I’m actually getting a report from engineering now. There were eight orcas attacking, all are now terminated. We had scrambled twenty eight units to engineering, six of which are still functional.”

  “Maybe we can get some status reports from engineering,” Belle said. “Why isn’t Katie here?”

  “Perhaps she’s sleeping,” Fr. Xris said. “It’s normal to turn off the intercom while sleeping, and I don’t believe you sounded an alarm that would cut through the sleep filter.”

  “Kari, get Katie up here,” Belle said.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Kari said.

  “Where is there still fighting going on?” Belle asked.

  “There appears to be a fight still going on near the breach point. The defenders which were too close to the jamming wouldn’t have gotten the command to retreat to engineering. I’m trying to locate any other Orcas in the ship by finding any jamming signals. I don’t want to commit our remaining defenders to the fight near the breach if it means that an Orca could slip by and cause more damage.”

  “I’m glad you’re good at your job,” Belle said.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Biff said.

  “Damn,” Biff said. “there does appear to be one more group of orcas which is on a search-and-destroy hunt for our loading robots, based on how they’re moving.”

  He thought for a moment, “I’m going to chance it being just one, since the pirates probably figured on their high powered robots being able to operate independently. I’m sending two of the engineering robots to go and hold a defensive position against it. The other four I’m sending to reinforce whatever’s left at the breach point.”

  “Stan,” Belle said. “Engineering is now safe. Go there and see if you can repair any of the defenders which are currently non-functional. Prioritize them by how fast you can get them up and running. Even partial functioning is acceptable, as long as they can shoot. I need as many as you ca
n bring online as fast as you can bring them online. This is a maximum priority command.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” the robot said, and ran off.

  “I don’t think that there’s anything more which Freia can do, Captain. May I bring her to her quarters to rest?”

  “Go ahead,” Belle said. “I hope that Stan can bring a few of the busted robots online. If they manage to destroy all our defending robots, we’re dead.”

  Fr. Xris gently picked up Freia and carried her out of the command room.

  “Biff,” Belle said, “If worse comes to worst, could we harvest some of the weapons from the dead robots and use them ourselves? It would be better than just letting them kill us without a fight.”

  At that moment, Katie entered the command room. “What the hell is going on?” she asked.

  “Didn’t you bring her up to speed?” Belle asked Kari.

  “I did,” Kari said.

  “I meant, ‘how did this happen’. It doesn’t matter. What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to find out how much damage we’ve suffered, since the engines were attacked, though the attack was successfully defended, there was damaged sustained. Fr. Xris saw electrical fires in engineering.”

  “What did Freia say?” Katie asked.

  “Not much,” Belle said, “since she was shot. I need you to find out what our engines are doing. Transfer control up here, I’m not sure that engineering is safe enough. And turn off the engines. We need to kill all acceleration.”

  “Shit,” Katie said. “Is Freia still alive?”

  “She is,” Jack said, “thanks to Fr. Xris. He went to engineering and brought her down here for first aid. Now that she’s bandaged up, he’s taken her to her quarters to sleep. She’s not what you need to worry about. Worry about our engines.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  She walked over to the auxiliary engineering command panel and transferred engine control there.

  “One of the main engines is in emergency shutdown,” Katie said. “The other is 90% spooled up, but is going to the energy spill-off rather than the ion drives. The spill-off is at 130% of capacity and nearing meltdown temperature. I’m diverting its power to the ion drives.”