Salvage Conquest

by Chris Kennedy

  Pete thanked him and headed back home from the university. He was tempted to visit Bret just to see how he was doing, but he got a “Do Not Disturb” response when he tried to text his cousin. Well then, he’d just have to inform Bret of his results on another day.

  Once back in the workshop, Pete started to work on the translation. In all, Orlin had captured five different video sequences where symbols appeared on the screen of the control module. Pete had begged off on the testing today, and his patrol-mates had headed off to the canyon on their own. They still had five more days, so Pete was going to get this translation done this afternoon while his friends were out.

  The professor was correct, the translator overlay converted the symbols, but the words were unfamiliar. It seemed as if he should know them, however, and a couple of hours on the ‘net searching thousand years-old Earth Common dialects gave him some rough translations.

  The first text had appeared when the rectangular block had split. The translation didn’t make a lot of sense:

  Nanite source unbalanced.

  The next sequence occurred when the clamshell resized itself to his body:

  Biomorphic adjustment, species 1732, juvenile.

  The third message was quite a bit longer and appeared soon after he’d finished pulling on all of the sleeves:

  Allergen detected.

  Imidazole-ethanamine levels elevated.

  Eicosanoid PgI levels elevated.

  Administer antihistamine and cyclooxygenase inhibitor.

  He didn’t know all of the words, but Pete knew that some of them were medical terms. The fourth message was more of the same:

  Blunt impact trauma. Tissue damage. Organ bruising.

  Administer hematoma nanites 1732.42.

  Temperature imbalance. Cooling.

  The final message put it all in perspective:

  Treatment complete.

  If Pete was interpreting these messages correctly, he had actually been seriously hurt when he had Jinx punch him in the stomach. The suit had treated the injury, and all he’d felt was a brief pain from the impact. A few more minutes on the ‘net revealed that he’d been in the middle of an allergy attack when he’d first donned the suit. It diagnosed and treated his sneezes and headache.

  No wonder he’d felt better by the time he finished testing that day.

  He still wasn’t sure what was meant by “nanite source unbalanced,” but apparently both sockets needed to be filled with the dense material, so maybe that was the nanite source. As for “species 1732” that was likely a reference to being a Caldivar. After all, he was a juvenile and hadn’t reached his full adult height yet.

  With this new knowledge, Pete decided to put the power cells back in and don the suit to see if he could get any other responses. Sure, he was healthy now, but the only time he’d really gotten a response was when he was wearing it.

  He propped his slate up on the workbench where he could see it and detached the video pickup so he could place it in position to view the chest readouts. He then sat on the bench and pulled the clamshell down over his head. Once again it configured itself to his body, and he saw “Biomorphic adjustment, species 1732, juvenile,” followed by a new message that read: “Health check complete, no treatment needed.”

  Okay, so he was healthy. Now he needed to see if he could get any other response. After about an hour of trying to get a response from the control module—and succeeding to a limited extent—he translated a message that read:

  Enhanced Medical Technician Operator Interface (Y/N)?

  Pete figured there was nothing to lose, so he tapped on the symbol that was being translated as the letter “Y” in Earth Common. Almost immediately he noticed a prickling sensation in his paws and a sharpening of his vision. He looked closely at the mottled gray skin of his paws and noticed a very fine network of fibers, terminating in what looked like sensor pads on the tips of his digits. Looking in the video playback from his slate camera, he noticed a similar network on his cheeks and leading up to his lower two eyes. When he touched the skin of his face to see what the fibers were, he immediately began to see a readout of skin temperature, moisture content, hydration, pulse, respiration rate, and other body conditions. The test showed up directly in his vision.

  More surprisingly, it was in Caldivar Upper, the technical language of his people. All Caldivar learned to read Caldi-Up at the same time they learned Earth Common. Even if their particular community mostly used Caldi-Low, Caldi-Up was used for all scientific, technical, and engineering communication. If you were educated, you knew Caldi-Up. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. This had to be another feature of the suit. It knew he was Caldivar, thus it was communicating in the appropriate language.

  He noticed that it was getting dark. Orlin and the twins weren’t back yet. He wondered why they were out so long. It would have long since been dark down in the canyon, and if they had left when the light failed, they should be back by now.

  He no sooner had the thought than he heard the whine of an approaching flyer. It sounded like the thrusters the twins had mounted in Zoomer, but it also sounded like they were unbalanced. There was a vibration that he could almost feel, and one of the thrusters seemed to be sputtering as if it had an uneven fuel feed. He stepped outside to greet his friends and find out what had happened to the flyer, and he was shocked at the appearance of a badly damaged vehicle with only one occupant. One of the twins was in the cockpit, and from all appearances, he was having difficulty controlling the vehicle.

  “Jerry? Or Jinx? What happened?”

  The human, Jinx,—as evidenced by a small scar on his chin, the only distinguishing feature between the two—was smeared in blood and was holding his left arm close to his body. It didn’t look right, and Pete noticed a new set of symbols appearing in his vision. He didn’t have time to pay attention to those just yet, as he tried to pay attention to what Jinx was saying.

  “Pete come quick…” He paused, as if waiting for his twin to finish the sentence. He gulped as he realized that he was alone for one of the few times in his life. “Jerry’s hurt, but Orlin’s hurt bad. Stomper crashed into Zoomer, and we both hit the canyon wall. We need your help to get Orlin out of his mecha so we can get him to medical help.”

  Pete took in the information, then noticed the text flashing in his lower right vision:

  Probable osteo fracture. Contact diagnostics needed.

  “Hold on, Jinx, let me help you.” Jinx was trying to slide out of the pilot position. He winced every time he had to move his left arm. Pete touched him on the shoulder and was rewarded with more diagnostic information:

  Compound fracture, left radius, simple fracture, left ulna.

  Subcutaneous hematoma. No internal injuries.

  He felt his left sleeve begin to loosen, and then it split lengthwise down the middle.

  Limb component L1 configured for independent operation.

  Place splint on injured limb and activate.

  Continue? (Y/N).

  He tried to concentrate on the text in his vision. How was he supposed to respond to something projected directly at his eyes? There was no physical symbol to touch or tap.

  The sleeve was threatening to fall off, so he grabbed at it with his right paw. The fabric, tubing, wires and all, easily came loose from the clamshell. The ports in the edge of the carapace appeared to have come with it, since the connections terminated in a small rectangular block similar to the “nanite source” blocks.

  That must be the “independent operation” part. He carefully placed it over Jinx’s left arm and attempted to seal it. It appeared to have dilated to even larger than its resting state, so Pete just settled for overlapping the two edges. It must have been enough, because the moment he did so, the sleeve tightened, and the embedded tubing became rigid, forming a hard splint to realign and support the broken bone.

  Jinx released a quick “Agh!” of pain as the sleeve stiffened, then a relaxed sigh.

  Pete saw:r />
  Fracture immobilized.

  and:

  Analgesic administered.

  in his vision.

  “Okay, let’s get moving.” Pete climbed into the pilot station of the flyer. Yeah, it was rough, but he’d assisted the twins with the assembly—they’d each helped each other with the projects—so he should be able to fly it out to the canyon. “Beggar’s Canyon, right? Where in the canyon?”

  “Down by the thermal ports.”

  It was a region of turbulent winds, fueled by geothermal vents that vented hot gases into an already narrow stretch of canyon.

  “What the hell were you fools doing down there? You were supposed to stay up near the moisture extractors!”

  “Everything was going so well, we decided to step up the testing to the next level. Stomper was so stable and Zoomer so responsive that we thought a little bit of wind wouldn’t hurt.”

  Pete just shook his head.

  During the 20-minute flight out to the canyon, Jinx continued to talk about the testing, never once mentioning—or noticing—that Pete was wearing the suit and one arm was currently serving as a cast on the human’s arm.

  Pete thought about what he would do... what he could do... once they were at the canyon. He’d brought his slate. In fact, as he had been trying to figure out where to carry it, a pocket opened up on the front of the clamshell. Before leaving the workshop, he’d triggered the emergency locator beacon on the slate, sending it to his parents, Troopmaster Zentto, and Cousin Bret. He’d used a code that indicated that he, personally, was okay, but that he needed assistance. The adults could track his slate to find them. Hopefully, they could get there before it was too late.

  When they reached Beggar’s Canyon, Pete set the flyer down a cautious distance from the thermal ports and walked the rest of the way with Jinx. They found the wrecked mecha with Jerry sitting beside it. Orlin’s face was barely visible through the open visor of the combat armor. His face was very pale, his normally blue-green scales tinged with gray, and his eyes closed. Jerry was pale as well. He tried to stand when the pair approached, but his right leg wouldn’t support his weight.

  A red circle appeared in Pete’s vision superimposed over Jerry’s knee, but it was when he looked at what he could see of Orlin that the display was filled with alerts and flashing indicators. Since he already had an inkling of the suit’s response, he stepped up to Jerry and placed a paw over his knee.

  Ruptured right anterior cruciate ligament.

  The right leg sleeve loosened, and as he had anticipated, his visual display said:

  Limb component R2 configured for independent operation.

  Place splint on injured limb and activate.

  Continue? (Y/N).

  It occurred to him that he still didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to the query. With Jinx, he’d simply put the sleeve on the injured limb, and the suit did the rest.

  Once again, he removed the expanded sleeve. He wrapped it around Jerry’s leg, but this time he was able to mate the edges together. The sleeve sealed itself up and inflated. He saw the confirmation message and the information that medication had been delivered.

  Now for Orlin. One of the arms of the mecha had come loose at the shoulder joint. Pete and the now-mobile Jerry carefully removed the mechatronic limb, exposing the Prithmar’s scaly skin.

  Pete touched Orlin’s arm, and the display started scrolling a large amount of information. It stopped, then flashed an instruction to remove the right arm sleeve and apply it to his badly injured patrol-mate. This time he noticed that the fittings for the large and small bottles on that side also came loose from the clamshell when he pulled off the sleeve. Once the sleeve was on Orlin, his vision displayed several long messages. Each paused in his vision just long enough for him to see and understand it before the next message appeared.

  Severe trauma and shock.

  Concussion.

  Multiple internal injuries.

  Internal bleeding.

  Multiple compound fractures.

  Blood pressure low, administering Flurodec volume expander.

  WARNING: Leak in FLURODEC reservoir.

  Leak is within tolerable limits. Continue? (Y/N)

  There was a vaguely sweet smell in the air, and he could hear a slight hissing. It was the fluorocarbon tank. There must have been a hidden crack. He concentrated on the Yes/No query, and saw the Y flash green. The readout continued:

  Multiple internal injuries.

  Medical stasis required. Trauma nanites required.

  Remove central somatic unit and place on patient.

  Continue? (Y/N)

  Central somatic? Oh. Soma meant body. He needed to put the clamshell on Orlin, but they needed to get him out of the damaged mecha first. He concentrated on N and saw it flash ready. The question remained in his vision.

  “We have to get him out of there. Jerry? Jinx? How do we get him out?”

  “There’s an emergency eject—”

  “—under his chin. But I didn’t want to do that before help got here. I think a piece of the hatch is sticking into him. I didn’t want to him to start bleeding when I pulled it out.”

  Pete looked at Jerry, surprised at the long speech without his twin’s interruption.

  “You mean, start bleeding more,” Jinx added.

  Jerry looked down at the blood on his shirt and pants, and on the front of the mecha.

  “Well, we have to get him out. I can’t say for certain that he won’t start bleeding some more, but the only way to treat him is to get him out of there, and get this—” Pete rapped his knuckles on the chest plate of the suit “—onto him.”

  No sooner had he uttered the words, than his display signaled:

  Patient stability limited. Current blood loss within acceptable limits.

  Place central somatic unit on patient within the next 15 minutes.

  Additional Flurodec blood substitute being administered to compensate for removal of primary impalement.

  Proceed with patient extraction.

  The last sentence wasn’t a question. It was a command.

  “Okay, guys, let’s pop the lid. Once it’s open, you lift him out, and I’ll slip the clamshell over him.” The moment he said it, the catches on the torso of the suit popped open, and the plates rearranged into a larger volume to accommodate their injured friend.

  There was indeed a projection of the suit’s hatch penetrating Orlin’s body. The moment the cover came open, there was a spurt of blood, and the hissing sound increased.

  Pete pulled the clamshell over his head and was surprised to see that a small ring of suit material remained around his neck, connected to the network of fibers on his paws and face.

  Okay, he guessed that’s how he would continue to control the suit.

  The three youths managed to get Orlin free enough from the mecha to get the clamshell over his upper body. Once lowered over his form, it configured itself to whatever parts of the Prithmar’s body it could contact. A continuous stream of diagnostics and treatments scrolled through Pete’s vision and stopped with one final message:

  Trauma Nanites type 2460.9 administered.

  Medical stasis achieved. Transport patient to medical facility.

  EMT Mk XI service required at conclusion of independent operation.

  The text blinked for a minute, then was replaced by a graphical readout of Orlin’s pulse and respiration rate, blood pressure, body temperature, and oxygen saturation rate. A new display appeared in Pete’s upper eye, depicting a map of the region with a flashing icon moving toward the canyon. Pete knew that, somehow, the suit had interfaced with his slate and was tracking the adults racing to their position.

  Now that all three boys were treated and help was on the way, Pete stopped to look around at the crash site.

  It was completely dark.

  It had been maybe an hour since Jinx had arrived at the workshop—dusk up on the plains, but well into night down here in the canyon. It would hav
e been completely dark even before they arrived, but he’d been able to see perfectly throughout the whole rescue. Caldivar had good night vision—they were a burrowing species—but it didn’t explain the fact that the only reason he knew it was dark was because of the color of the sky.

  His own vision might have been a result of the suit’s optical fibers enhancing his vision, but what about Jerry’s and Jinx’s? They seemed to be able to see pretty well, too.

  “Now that your body—”

  “—isn’t glowing like daylight—”

  “—can we turn on a light?”

  * * *

  Zerith Farnog had returned to Joth as a special guest presenter for the Joth Maker Faire. The Prithmar was one of Salvage System President Tomeral’s closest friends, and he’d been an important part of the construction and innovation that had helped President Tomeral defeat the Squilla threatening Tretra, Joth, and the Squilla home world, as well as the Krith and the Gritloth. He was one of the principal shareholders of Tomeral and Associates, and he shared the company’s reputation for hating bullies, but supporting sophonts struggling to be self-reliant. It had once been rumored that he was responsible for establishing the Maker Faire, but it was just that, a rumor. On the other paw, his parent’s company, Farnog Corp, was one of the main sponsors of the youth category.

  Zerith had to stand on a platform to be able to place the Special Award medallion over Pete’s head. Troopmaster Zentto had already pinned on his Maker Merit Badge and his new Senior Class rank insignia, as well as the medal for lifesaving. Now it was time for the big moment.

  “Pettekil Emil. It is my pleasure to present you this Special Award for your discovery, restoration and most importantly, analysis of the Trauma Suit. While Maker Faire awards are generally for sophonts who make their entries from components, the Maker Faire Council has decided that your work in restoring the Emergency Medical Technician Mark XI support garment is worth recognition. The last of these suits was thought lost more than two thousand years ago. To find one and recognize what it was—not to mention restoring it to working order before you knew what it was—is a remarkable achievement. Thanks to your work, we not only have a working suit, but also the information we need to duplicate it.