Eternity Row

by neetha Napew

  “Go scrub.” Squilyp nudged me toward the cleansing unit. “I’ll get started in surgical and trans him to the machine.” He paused. “Put your cortgear on. We need to make a record of this.”

  “Your students can read a text.”

  “It’s not for my students,” he said, then hopped away.

  As I passed my hands under the sterilizer port, I was shocked to see them trembling.

  I thought of OverSeer FurreVa, the Hsktskt guard who had become my friend during my days as a slave doctor on Catopsa. I’d lost her to the same kind of injury, after she’d taken a blast meant for me.

  No way was I letting Dhreen go that way.

  I remembered the cortgear and clamped the unit over my head as I rushed into the surgical suite, where the team had the Oenrallian on the procedure table. Squilyp was transitioning Dhreen’s body from his own lung/heart to the machine which would perform the same functions for him while I repaired the damage.

  He looked so damn young, lying there. Like a little boy. And I could smell him-that not-quite pineapple mixed with chocolate smell filled my head. I clenched my hands into fists for a moment, then gloved. “Report.”

  “Hypoperfused but prominent jugular venous dis-tention,” the Omorr said. “I can’t get him over on the machine.”

  I stopped feeling guilty and became furious. “He’s going into cardiac shock. Goddamn it.” I yanked the table scanner over his chest. “Compression’s coming from the pericardium. Great. Cardiac tamponade. Just what we needed.”

  “Fluid bolus?” the Omorr asked me.

  “No time. Number four chest aspirator.” I held out a hand, and the instrument nurse slapped the big needle onto my palm. With a hard push I stabbed it through the wall of Dhreen’s chest until I penetrated the smooth membrane surrounding his lung/heart. Immediately the aspirator’s empty reservoir began to fill up with bloody fluid. So much had accumulated inside the pericardium that the membrane was literally crushing the organ that it was supposed to protect.

  Once I finished the aspiration, I withdrew the needle. “Make sure we’ve got plenty of Oenrallian whole blood synthesized; we’re going to need it.” I looked toward the head of the table. Vlaav was manning the anesthesia rig. “Status?”

  “He’s leveling, Doctor, but his vitals remain borderline,” the Saksonan said.

  “Can’t be helped. Squilyp?”

  “Almost there.” The Omorr finished inducting the arterial lines that would supply Dhreen with oxygen and pump his blood. “Ready.”

  I powered up the lascalpel rig and made the initial midline incision with one stroke. Every order I gave was clipped with impatience. “Clamp. Get those ribs out of my way. Suction.”

  Once the blood and tissue fragments had been cleared from the chest cavity, I stopped Dhreen’s cardio-pulmonary organ and switched him over to the lung/heart machine, then inspected the damage. A large, clean perforation ran straight through his liver and into his lung/heart on the cardiac side. Because Oenrallians breathe with the same organ that pumps the blood through their bodies, he had in essence collapsed both lung and heart.

  “Dhreen, you’d better not die on me,” I told his unconscious face, “because you still owe me a hundred credits for that last whump-ball game I won.”

  My boss took a position on the other side of the table and studied the mess. “Acoustic inhomogeneity refracted the blast wave, judging by the tissue displacement.”

  “We’ll deal with that later.” I carefully suctioned the pooled blood out of his delicate cadiac sacs and began removing several bits of scorched tunic that had lodged in the wound. “You’d better get that bleeding in the liver under control. Cauterize and suture if it’s clean.”

  Plugging the holes in his lung/heart wasn’t enough. I had to piece back together the internal bronchial structures that had been ruptured by the point-blank shot first. He’d lost too much tissue for a normal repair job on the cardiac structures as well. “I’m going to have to use a pericardial graft to fix the ventricular sacs and install a triventricular assist device for the interim.” I glanced down at Squilyp’s membranes, which were busily sewing the two halves of Dhreen’s liver back together. “How’s it look?”

  “The shot exited the liver through the hepatic flexure.” He tossed aside a suture laser and asked for suction. “I’ve debrided and litigated the enterotomies. Left lobe is intact and functional.” Squilyp peered into his scope. “I can’t resect the flexure.”

  “You’d make a defect the size of Texas if you did. Anastomose with the primary and tertiary hepatic vessels.”

  The Omorr lifted his face from the viewer. “The ternary’s too narrow.”

  “Damn.” I finished removing a piece of the smooth membrane surrounding Dhreen’s lung/heart for the graft and set it on a sterile procedure tray before stepping around the table to look in the endoscope myself. “Do it anyway. We’ll find a way to keep it functional until I can clone a new liver.”

  Behind his view lens, one dark eye narrowed. “That is very risky.”

  “Have you got any other options?” I flung a hand toward the open cavity. “I mean, show me what doesn’t have a hole blasted through it!”

  Vlaav cleared his throat. “Doctor. Vitals are falling into red range.”

  “Right. Plug them together for now, Squilyp.” I trotted back around the table to perform the cardiac graft. “Suture laser.”

  Several hours later, Squilyp and I trudged out of the surgical suite, both of us liberally splattered with Dhreen’s blood. Although he was out of immediate danger, we had a real problem on our hands.

  Dhreen’s lung/heart had been badly damaged, but his liver was basically totaled.

  “Even with the TriVAD in place, those sacs may atrophy,” the Omorr said as he cleaned up at the scrub unit beside me. “The anastomosis won’t keep his liver functioning more than a few days. How long to clone a new organ?”

  “A week. Maybe two.” I stripped off my gloves and splashed my face with cold water. “He won’t survive that long, which means we have to find a transplant.”

  “With the ship two weeks away from Oenrall? Unlikely.” Squilyp shook off his membranes. Someone made a polite sound behind us, and he straightened. “What do you want, resident?”

  “Some manners,” I muttered as I brushed past Qonja and headed for the Omorr’s office.

  The Senior Healer conferred with the psych resident for a minute before he joined me. “It’s a shame you couldn’t bring back one of the hypercellular injectors from Terra.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I thought of Reever. “You should have seen how those cells rebuilt Duncan’s kidney.” I decided not to tell the Omorr about my little chat with the resident. Though the Boy Shrink and I might need to have another one. Soon. “Why don’t we try to construct one ourselves?”

  Squilyp finished fastening his fresh tunic. “I can biopsy your husband’s organ and perform a micro-cellular analysis. The device itself would be simple to duplicate; all we need are the organic components of the replacement cells.”

  I tried to imagine Reever agreeing to that. My husband was only squeamish about one thing, and it just happened to be surgery. “I’ll talk him.”

  My boss left to check on Dhreen, while I stayed behind and wrote up the surgical notes. Xonea came in when I was about finished. Flanking him were two armed security guards. All three appeared mildly distressed. “Problem, Captain?”

  “Ilona Red Faun claims you shot Dhreen.”

  “Did she?” I went around him and sat behind the desk. It was better than kicking it across the room. “I didn’t know she had X-ray vision. Or is that shuttle’s hull transparent on the bottom? Because she was inside it when Dhreen was injured.”

  “Cherijo.” Xonea made a gesture of frustration. “Tell me what happened, and all will be made simple.”

  I sighed. “I’m not sure. Dhreen was working on something, and asked me for a laser welder. When I handed it to him, the ship tilted, and I was knocked o
ff balance. Who rocked the ship, by the way?”

  “A stabilizer failed. The problem was corrected immediately.”

  “Not soon enough for Dhreen.” I thought of the hole I’d burned in the hull. “It’s possible I triggered that welding tool by accident. I’m not sure.”

  “The Terran female claims she heard you threaten Dhreen just before the incident.”

  I recalled my threat to strangle him. “It was a joke, Xonea.”

  Xonea seemed really miserable now. “Cherijo, in light of Dhreen’s condition, I must treat the threat as serious.”

  After everything we’d been through, he really thought I’d shot Dhreen. “For God’s sake, I was handing him a tool! Besides, if I wanted him dead, why would I spend the last six hours working on him in surgery?”

  Squilyp came in, carrying a stack of charts. “Cherijo, I have a-“ He skidded to a halt when he saw the armed guards and Xonea. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Stupidity should be painful, and I should get a job in the galley.” I chuffed out some air. “Guess who they think tried to kill Dhreen?”

  “You? That’s ridiculous; it was an accident.” The Omorr thumped down the charts and treated the Captain to one of his iciest glares. “We’re physicians. We don’t shoot people. We heal them.”

  “Thank you. Nice to know someone has faith in me.” I folded my arms and turned to Xonea. “What happens now? You put me in restraints? Throw me in a cell?”

  “I must investigate the scene and interview Dhreen.” The Captain gestured toward the critical care unit. “When will he recover from his injuries?”

  “Hard to say. Today. Tomorrow. Never. Read it and weep.” I pushed Dhreen’s chart across the desk. “He has multiple systemic damage that we couldn’t fix. The temporary repairs we made won’t last more than a few days. We were just discussing how to save his life before you showed up to arrest me for attempted homicide.”

  “Doctor.” Squilyp put a gentle membrane on my shoulder. “This is all a simple misunderstanding. The patient has regained consciousness, and is fairly lucid. Captain, you may speak with him now, if you keep it brief.”

  We all went in to see him. Adaola, who was monitoring Dhreen, jumped up when she saw the guards. “Healer? Is something amiss?”

  “Plenty.” I took the scanner she handed me and performed a thorough pass over Dhreen’s chest. Our repairs were sustaining him-barely. “Dhreen, can you hear me?”

  Hazy amber eyes focused on my face. “Doc?”

  “My alibi is awake.” I stepped to one side to allow Xonea access to the jerk.

  “Pilot.” The Captain spoke softly, but with intense dislike. “How is it that you acquired these injuries?”

  Dhreen closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  I was watching his vitals, which unexpectedly began to spike. “All right, calm down. Just tell Xonea what happened in launch bay.”

  Guileless amber eyes went from the Captain to me. “What launch bay, and who is Xonea?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Necessary Compromises

  He’s lying.”

  “No, he has trauma-induced global amnesia.” I sat back and rubbed a tired hand over my eyes. I wasn’t happy with my present situation, but I had to be professional. “He can’t lie. He can’t even remember his own name.”

  Reever didn’t respond to that, but then, he was too busy pacing back and forth in front of the detainment cell I occupied.

  I watched him for a minute, then shifted Marel on my lap. She’d been there for an hour, without moving. “Are you tired, honey? Daddy will take you home and get you settled down for a nap.”

  “No.” She put her arms around my neck and pressed her cheek against my breast. Like me, she was watching her father. “Sday wid you, Mama.”

  The guards had already violated the Captain’s orders by allowing my daughter in my cell, but not even the toughest, battle-hardened Jorenian warrior could deny my daughter when she turned on the tears.

  Not while her extremely agitated father was in close proximity, anyway.

  “Xonea should have confined you to quarters. This is ludicrous.” Reever stopped once more in front of the inhibitor webbing. “He can’t keep you here. I’ll attest to your innocence through a mind link.”

  I’d already suggested that, but the Captain had shot it down. I repeated to Reever what he’d told me. “Under Jorenian law, bondmates cannot testify for or against each other. I think there was a law like that on Terra, once, before they legalized polygraph drones.”

  He gripped the webbing with both hands, and something ripped. “We are not Jorenian.”

  “You’re not. I was formally adopted and granted residential status. Which includes planetary citizenship, being subject to their laws, getting tossed in the brig when I’m under suspicion of attempted murder, et cetera.” I put Marel down and walked her over to the barrier. “You’d better take her home.”

  “I’m not leaving you here like this.”

  “Squilyp will straighten it out.” More webbing tore, and I quickly laced my fingers through his. “Duncan. Please.”

  His thoughts blasted into mine, along with images of what had happened to me in Joseph’s lab. Do you know what it does to me, to see you confined like this?

  Yes. Do you know what seeing her daddy lose it will do to our kid?

  He glanced down at the little girl on the other side of the barrier, and closed his eyes for a moment. Very well.

  I squeezed his hand, then called out, “Guards. My daughter is leaving.”

  Marel kicked the webbing. “Mama weave do.”

  “Soon, sweetie.” I knelt down to get on her eye level. “You take care of Daddy for me until I come home, okay?” As the web slid to one side, I stood up and handed her over to Duncan. Then I touched his face. Don’t worry. And don’t get into this with Xonea. He’s only doing his job.

  He kissed me before I could think another word. Don’t get comfortable.

  I eyed the mostly empty cell, with its single console and spartan sleeping platform. “No problem.”

  Since I might be in detainment for a few days, I decided to use the time to get some research done. Squilyp had already transferred all of Dhreen’s and Reever’s medical records down to my console, so I could work on replicating the hypercellular injector.

  Several hours passed as I roughed out a schematic for the injector device. One of the guards brought me a meal I didn’t eat, then later interrupted me again. “Healer, there is an urgent signal from Medical for you.”

  “Transfer it to my console.”

  Squilyp’s face appeared on my screen. “Cherijo, I just completed the kidney biopsy on your spouse.”

  That was news. I’d asked Reever to donate some cells, but hadn’t expected him to do it so quickly, considering the patient I needed it for had inadvertently gotten me thrown in jail. “Everything go okay?”

  “Marel’s presence persuaded him to stay out of the critical care unit, but he indicated to me he’d be back to speak to Dhreen tomorrow.”

  I winced. “You’d better post some guards up there, just in case.”

  “I’ve already contacted security.” He did something to the console. “Downloading the microcellular results to you now.”

  I watched as the scan data appeared. “Hold on, Squilyp, these aren’t the right tests. The patient has two kidneys.” Reever had only been born with one.

  “Wait for the download to finish.”

  I waited. I’d performed a follow-up exam on my husband a few days after we left Terra, and that file appeared. Duncan Reever, Terran male, one kidney. His individual DNA pattern provided the file ID. I split the screen to show Squilyp the other test belonged to someone else, then nearly fell on the deck. The file ID tags were the same.

  Reever, Duncan. Male, Terran. One kidney, two kidneys.

  That was absolutely impossible, unless- “Squilyp, have you been performing transplants behind my back?”

  “No.” />
  I sat back and rechecked the DNA patterns. Then I ran a comparison test via the computer, just in case I was hallucinating.

  “Send me the renal imaging, split screen.” I leaned forward as my vid divided and the internal scans of two Terran torsos appeared. One had one kidney. The other had two.

  Both torsos were Reever’s.

  I didn’t want to believe my eyes. “It’s not a tumor? You checked?”

  “I checked. It’s not.”

  I stared at the budding mass tucked away under the right side of Reever’s liver which, until a few weeks ago, had never existed. “Terrans don’t spontaneously regenerate organs.”

  “Nevertheless.” He rotated the view for me. “It’s another kidney, Cherijo.”

  I magnified the normal-size, healthy left kidney. “No abnormalities detected from the hypercellular procedure?”

  “Other than some unusual microcellular structures, none.”

  Back on Terra, Reever had taken a deep stab wound to his kidney, which had required me to perform surgery under the worst conditions. I’d only been able to repair it enough to keep it working for a few weeks. When it subsequently failed, I’d even managed to rig a hemodialysis machine. But in the end, I had gone back to my deranged creator, Joseph Grey Veil, to beg him to save my husband’s life. He’d used an experimental technique to restore function to Reever’s dysfunctional kidney.

  But no technique in the world could produce a second one-or so I’d thought, until today.

  Squilyp’s image reappeared. “His counts are unremarkable. Textbook Terran, in fact.” He stroked his gildrells. “What is your opinion?”

  “I’m thinking these hypercells Joe used to repair the damaged kidney may be acting like a carcinoma, and spreading.”

  Once upon a time, Squilyp would have scoffed at a wild theory like that. But we’d been through a lot medical science couldn’t explain, and now he just nodded. “If these engineered cells were modified to act like cancer, they may have been derived from some form of the disease. They may be an entirely new form of the disease.”