“A-negative, Doctor Alendresis,” The medical A.I. voice answered calmly.
“Do we have any?”
“No,” said the A.I. matter-of-fact.
“How long to make two gallons?”
“Three minutes.”
“Then do it, stat."
“Yes, Doctor Alendresis.”
Rhonda had to remove Cole’s clothes and get him completely sterile while the drug took effect. She pulled off his soft gray boots. The blood had dripped down his body and drenched his right sock.
Carefully, she slid down the bottom part of his uniform. She found the underwear caked with blood. As she pulled it down, she couldn’t help but admire Cole’s body. What a waste of a splendid man if he were to die. “Decontamination shower,” she ordered then stepped away from the table.
From the overhead A.I. unit an antiseptic solution showered the naked body of Cole Riggeur. Rhonda had to scrub as well. She stepped into the Doctor’s bathroom, removed her clothes, took a five-second decontaminating shower then slipped on loose-fitting scrubs, surgical mask and gloves. “Is the patient asleep?”
“Yes, Doctor Alendresis.”
Adjusting the cap covering her hair, Rhonda stepped back into the operating room. She felt like a doctor again. It had been a while since she’d performed surgery. She breathed evenly to calm her nerves then gazed down at her patient.
Covered up to the waist by a yellow sheet, Cole looked pale in comparison. Electrodes stuck to his chest and forehead connected him to a bank of monitors. His vital signs, faint but steady, gave Rhonda hope. She hooked the blood tube from the A.I. directly into the vein in Cole’s left arm. “Start transfusion,” she ordered calmly.
“Transfusion started.”
The scanner hovered above Cole. On the main screen, Rhonda could see the internal damage caused to his lungs, brachial conduits and blood vessels. A large hematoma and the beginning of an infection also marred the deep wound. “Inject superantibiotic solution.”
“Superantibiotic solution injected,” the A.I. mimicked.
Rhonda slipped on a pair of wired operating gloves giving her cybernetic control of the operating unit. Watching the blood vessels closely on the magnification screen, she moved the tiny robotic fingers inside the wound.
With infinite care, she maneuvered the tiny pliers to grab the edges of the collapsed vessels. Patiently, she reattached them then glued the severed edges, like building a boat inside one of the bottles she had seen at the Earth Antiquities Museum. But this was no recreational game, and she couldn’t afford to fail. Both their lives depended on how well Rhonda could perform under these difficult circumstances.
When the surgical ward shook from a strong tremor, Rhonda lost control of the robotic surgery fingers, lost her balance and fell down to the yellow floor.
“Dear God, No!” she cried, imagining the damage the sharp instruments must have inflicted inside Cole’s lungs. She rose back up to her feet, holding her hands away and trying not to move her gloved fingers.
Quickly, she assessed the damage. More bleeding had occurred, but it could have been worse. I can do this. Blocking any interference, Rhonda focused on the only thing that mattered now, saving Cole’s life.
Chapter Nine
Level Sixteen - Yellow Zone - Surgical Ward
Rhonda hoped no more tremors would shake the operating room during the delicate surgery. Working as fast as she could, she lost herself in the intricate network of the human lung. She reattached severed blood vessels, vacuumed the blood accumulated in the lung bases. No wonder the poor man breathed shallow. She tried not to think about his suffering as she struggled to keep a steady hand.
By the time she finally pulled the skin back over the wound and glued it into place, Rhonda felt exhausted but proud. She could now look with fondness upon Cole who slept peacefully, drugged for hours to come. He would live, and in a few days, if they managed to get out alive, he would scarcely have a scar to show for his heroic deed.
Rhonda removed the electronic gloves and pulled down her surgical mask. “Clothe the Captain in comfortable underwear and move him to a warm bed.”
Immediately, the spidery robots executed the order in a sprightly dance, with all the gentleness due a recovering patient.
Cole would sleep out the drug while his body finished healing. Rhonda had better take advantage of this respite as well. When Cole awoke, she would need her strength for the rest of the journey back to the Garrison. She hoped the other guards had been successful in finding a life pod, and if they found one, she hoped they would wait for her and the Captain.
Rhonda needed to contact the other guards and let them know of the Captain’s recovery. Heaven forbid they would presume him and Rhonda dead and leave without them. Unfortunately, the com system in the infirmary didn’t seem to work. She tapped her comimplant but received only static. Disappointed, she turned on the compad but again failed to find a working transmission channel.
Using the compad, she made sure no convicts lurked on the other side of the disabled door. A small comfort, that, and the fact that the surgical ward was impenetrable, independent in power, and more resistant to earthquakes than the facility itself, thanks to its double set of walls.
At least for the moment, Rhonda felt safe enough from the rabble, although she still doubted she could fall asleep. She must recoup her energy, however. Until Cole awakened she had nothing better to do, so she pulled off the cap covering her hair and lay down in her scrubs on the bed next to Cole’s and closed her eyes.
*****
Level Sixteen - Yellow Zone - Maintenance platform
Sniffing the air, Tomar recognized the scent of his prey as he emerged with his crew on the maintenance platform of Level Sixteen, the Yellow Zone. After inspecting the platform to collect more weapons and tools, Tomar led his men down the stairs and made Gramps open the security door to the main floor.
As they emerged in the yellow corridor, Tomar smelled the air and his sharp olfactory sense betrayed him. So many other creature scents of sweat, blood and unwashed bodies mixed with that of the two guards. The odor of refuse and sewage overwhelmed his sensory cells, and he had to stop and collect himself. Tomar didn’t like to lose anyone’s scent. Which way had the guards gone?
Other convicts in red overalls from Level Nineteen stalked the corridors of the Yellow Zone, provoking and harassing yellow inmates. Tomar rejoiced at that fact. It meant that new passages between floors must have opened, which increased his chances of finding a way up as well. Still sniffing, Tomar could smell several Monacks among the inmates on that level. He looked forward to meeting one of them. His wild instincts had returned since he’d left his cell, and Tomar spoiled for a good fight with a worthy opponent. Another Monack would do just fine.
As Tomar and his gang ambled along the corridors between double rows of cells, some dejected inmates loitering inside the cells glanced at the red-clad convicts with foreboding. Others, still feeling the effect of Styx withdrawal, paid the gang no heed and went on bickering or fighting while their friends placed bets on who would win the confrontation. This level seemed calmer than the Crimson Zone.
Tomar was not surprised when the first large group he encountered had a Monack leader. Most males of his race had an innate need to dominate. Although he wore yellow overalls, the other Monack had gathered red-clad convicts in his gang.
Tomar changed into his fiercest shape, that of the stone-gray gargoyle, all claws and fangs extended. The other Monack did the same and hissed at him in the ritual challenge. Around them, inmates rushed out of the way and into the cells, to watch safely behind the protection of the titanium bars. Tomar could smell their fear and took strength from it.
Although Tomar looked forward to the fight, he wanted to study his opponent, so he didn’t leap but advanced menacingly. “Submit or die!”
The other Monack, slightly smaller than Tomar, had the silvery glow of youth on his skin. He puffed up the ridges of his stony face, a commo
n intimidation technique. “Only cowards hesitate to attack.”
Tomar knew better than to fall for the old adage. Better take his time and win than rush and fall into a trap. “I am Tomar! Who is my challenger?" By uttering the ritual question, Tomar deliberately forced his opponent to follow the Old Ways and agree to a fight to the death, where no rules applied.
“My name is Kalloum, and like you I honor the Old Ways." The younger Monack exuded pride. “Your reputation precedes you, Tomar, but you do not scare me. I will kill you."
“Good." Tomar grinned. “You are brave, Kalloum. I’ll enjoy killing a worthy contender for a change."
The young Monack grew in size then leapt to land on the exact spot where Tomar stood, but Tomar had already sidestepped. He rushed the young Monack and shoved him across the corridor, into the titanium bars of a cell. In the struggle that followed, Tomar grew many tentacles to immobilize Kalloum and pierced his muscular thigh with his claws, but the younger Monack altered his shape into that of a ball and bounced away.
When Kalloum regained his fighting shape, the hole in his leg had already healed. He emitted a dry laugh. “You are too slow, Tomar, too old and rusty.”
Tomar suddenly realized he faced a very powerful specimen of his race. He’d underestimated the advantage of youth. Years of inactivity behind bars and daily drugs had not only aged Tomar but affected his reflexes as well. He had better find new strength, or he could lose life and honor.
Suddenly, the contest he’d first seen as mere sport had turned into a matter of survival. Free again, Tomar must start his unending battle to rule according to the Old Ways. The excitement, mixed with the fear of losing, sharpened his senses. He had to prevail.
As he circled the younger Monack warily, Tomar watched for weaknesses. Cocksure, Kalloum tended to leave his left flank open. Was it a ruse? In order to win, Tomar would have to neutralize the other Monack and cut him into several pieces, then into pieces small enough to eat and assimilate before the cells had time to regenerate. The cannibalistic tradition scared the weak who condemned it, but Tomar thrived on the Old Ways.
Although he’d done it countless times, Tomar realized he may not succeed today. A frightening thought. A beaten Monack eaten by his adversary didn’t deserve a warrior’s paradise. Tomar started to understand how his previous victims had felt. But a Monack of the Old Ways couldn’t allow himself to feel anything but the thrill of the kill and impending victory.
Psyching himself to win, Tomar pounced. A mistake. The younger Monack, faster than Tomar, ducked and rolled away.
Furious, Tomar let his rage take over and leapt, nailing Kalloum to the wall with a spear extended from his arm. Unfortunately, the youth ignored the pain and, rather than retreating, took advantage of Tomar’s close proximity to cut off part of the spear, inflicting damage to Tomar’s fluid body cells.
Struggling with the pain, Tomar retreated, attempting to regenerate the damaged cells of his mutilated body.
Kalloum grinned and made a show of pulling the spear end out of his body and eating it. If he planned on eating Tomar piece by piece, he could very well win.
Tomar couldn’t let him. He knew digesting his amputated flesh would slow his adversary somewhat, so he rushed the youth with claws and started to rip him in two, but Kalloum reacted fluidly then changed into a spoked wheel to escape and use the time to heal his wound, rolling fast along the corridor.
But Tomar could beat the youngster at this game. Shifting into a slightly smaller wheel with deadly protruding blades, he rolled along the corridor at greater speed. When he caught up with his opponent Tomar matched his speed and forced his adversary against a wall. As they touched, still rolling along the wall, Tomar’s blades severed the spokes of his opponent’s wheel, shredding them in many small pieces.
Stopping to regain his fighting shape, Tomar grabbed each piece and shoved them into his toothy mouth, ripping them with his fangs. He chewed and swallowed as fast as he could, until not a single morsel of the young Monack remained on the yellow floor.
While the other convicts stared in awe, Tomar uttered a guttural victory cry, and the onlookers applauded. This time, experience had won against youth and speed, but now that Tomar had absorbed his opponent, the younger Monack’s speed, strength and mass soon would become his, and he would possess the young warrior’s qualities from now on.
Tomar saw various articles changing hands as the inmates ventured out of the cells. Some of the convicts had been betting on the outcome of the fight. “Who dared bet against me?”
The convicts looked at each other, fear in their eyes, but none spoke.
Tomar thought of killing those who lost the bets, but he might need them. Besides, Kalloum’s men had shown loyalty to their leader and he liked that. “Kneel to your new leader!” he yelled to Kalloum’s gang. “And I’ll take you with me as we escape this dump.”
Obviously relieved for getting away with their lives, Kalloum’s followers obeyed, and as they knelt, Tomar went to each of them and extracted their locator chips with one claw, digging a little deeper than he had to, and taking pleasure in inflicting pain.
When Tomar interrogated his new recruits about guards in the area, he heard an interesting story. A robotic cradle containing a wounded guard had crossed the whole floor at great speed, fiercely defended by a female guard. It could only be the Alendresis woman. The vehicle had disappeared on the East side, and Tomar wondered what attracted the guards to that area.
After interrogating many witnesses and following the treads of the vehicle on the yellow floor, Tomar recognized the scent of the two guards and determined their path. He followed their trail and found several bodies and finally stopped in front of the smooth titanium casing of a reinforced door. According to the loitering inmates, the guards had disappeared in there. Tomar could smell them close, but a strong chemical stink mixed with their scent.
Besides a bold black number, the security door had no distinguishing features and Tomar wondered what lay on the other side. It had to be something important. The pungent smell of disinfectant and pharmaceuticals reminded him of a hospital. The bitch had brought Riggeur to an infirmary.
The thought that maybe she intended to treat Captain Riggeur entered his mind, but Tomar rejected the idea. The bitch was only a dumb female guard with a pretty face. She’d probably come in search of pain killers or drugs. Rumor had it that some guards took Styx on a regular basis. They looked down at the inmates, but most guards deserved to be behind bars, unlike Tomar, who only followed the only honorable path, the Old Ways.
The infirmary, however, brought to mind all kinds of possibilities. Tomar could use surgical instruments as weapons, and drugs, especially Styx, could come in handy. He could persuade hundreds of convicts to work for him if he had control of that stash of drugs.
Gramps caressed the smooth door with veined hands as if feeling for an imperfection that wasn’t there. “You want me to open this door?”
“How did you guess?" Tomar’s good mood altered suddenly. “Is there a problem?"
“This is a special door, tougher than the others." Gramps shook his head with dismay. “There is no visible panel. I can’t access the wires. Must be something valuable inside.”
“Valuable indeed." Tomar felt his patience wane. “How fast can you open it?”
“I’m not sure I can.”
Tomar groaned. “You better be sure, little man.”
“But the controls are on the other side and the door is made of smooth titanium." Gramps’ tone grew whiny. “And if, as I suspect, the door has been disabled. It may not be possible to open it at all.”
“Not possible?" Tomar didn’t want to hear that. But, of course, the guards must have known the infirmary presented a refuge. “They must feel very safe inside. But they can’t stay in there forever.”
“We could wait them out and ambush them." Gramps smiled at his idea.
“No. They’ll be armed and alert when they come out on their own. Better to
catch them unaware." Tomar studied the forbidding door. “Is there another exit or entrance to that infirmary?”
“No. I don’t think there is, Fierce Leader.”
“Good. Any bright ideas how we can take this stronghold? Think hard, Gramps, how is this thing rigged?”
Gramps rubbed his forehead with bony fingers. “If we can’t wire the door open, we could use the power tools from the maintenance bay and try to cut a small hole in it to reach the panel. But it might be easier to cut through the wall itself.”
Tomar sent his team searching for the necessary tools. “And bring a few robots as well. I may have a use for them.”
*****
Rhonda awoke screaming in a cold sweat. In her nightmare, the devil himself dangled her by the ankles above a black abyss. When she realized where she lay, still wearing the yellow surgical scrubs, it didn’t make her feel any better. The cooler temperature of the infirmary had risen slightly.
On the bed next to hers, Cole slept peacefully. His skin had regained a healthy glow, and Rhonda rejoiced at the prospect of his conscious company. The man had his flaws, but she found his heroic qualities quite endearing.
If Rhonda’s scream hadn’t awakened him, however, Cole must still be under the influence of the drug. It would take a few more hours before he awoke, and when he did, the after effects of the Styx would keep him disoriented for a while.
Rhonda wondered what had awakened her. The noise from the prison and its demented convicts didn’t reach inside the infirmary. She checked on her compad and didn’t see any inmate activity in the area. Still, something had jolted her awake.
When a tremor rumbled and shook the surgical instruments that jingled in their metal holders, Rhonda understood why she had awakened. Another earthquake!
Stronger than the previous temblors, this one lasted longer and threatened to crush the reinforced walls of the surgical complex. Rhonda needed to move the Captain to a safer area. She hadn’t saved his life to see him killed by falling rubble. The archway between the surgery and the recovery room seemed reinforced by titanium beams. It would have to do.
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