Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 (10 page)

“Water.” Aaron stood by his side with the bowl, his brows drawn tight as he looked at the wound.

Trace placed the bowl at the head of the table and quickly sorted through his instruments. “When the freeze is retracted, she’s going to feel everything. I could use anesthesia but—”

“She’d refuse.” The thin line of Aaron’s mouth said he didn’t like the option any better than Trace did.

“Hena, use the water to clean the wound on her shoulder and try to keep her calm. She’ll hear you even if she’s unconscious.”

He grabbed two more items. “Aaron, you need to pull the bar from her stomach—only when I tell you. I’m working from the outside in on the back.” Scrutinizing the young man’s face for faintheartedness and finding none, Trace snapped open a small tube and dribbled liquid around Analena’s wound on her back. Foam built and steamed, then dissipated. The freeze would recede from her skin traveling inward, allowing him attack the critical inner organs last as they released from frozen form.

A moan shifted the flesh beneath his fingers as he probed for the arteries to reconnect. He pressed his elbow to a dot on the platform. “Secure shoulders and hips.” A thick line spiraled from the platform and looped across Analena’s shoulder and hipbones, effectively pinning her in place. Squinting, he delved with a modified surgical crochet hook, delicately looping and feeding dissolvable fibers to join the perforated tissue.

Trace blinked as more light flooded his work area, Gar’s shoes suddenly visible beneath the translucent platform. Rather than send the child away, he remained silent, thankful for the boy’s insight.

The major damage in Analena’s back finally secured, he looked at Aaron. “Ready on three, and easy. Slow and steady. One. Two. Three.”

As Aaron slid the metal free, Trace pressed more gel, though the warming from the back section was already working through her body. The bleeding increased with the foam and warmth.

“Ninety degree backward tilt.” Blessedly, the light realigned as he widened the wound in her stomach to seek the final, elusive artery causing her blood pressure to plummet. “Come on, Angel. Stay with me. We’re almost done.”

Fingers moving in a fast rhythm, he pinched one end and reached for the next. “Aaron, I need the—” A long, narrow clamp appeared in his line of sight. “Thanks, I need one more.” Digging deep for the other half of the artery triggered a groan from Analena. His heart tightened, and he swallowed a curse. “Almost, Analena.”

Finally sutured together, he released her artery back into position, cauterized several surrounding veins, and ran a check on her major organs. Next, he tied a loose knot with the suture on the surface of her skin to keep everything in place.

Then, he moved to her leg.

By the time he’d finished with her wounds, Hena, Aaron, and Gar looked as drained and exhausted as he felt. Yet he still had one more problem. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to address.

“Lower platform.” He placed his equipment in a bowl Aaron had provided and considered Analena’s last injury as Hena sprayed him again with ion disinfectant.

The arm wasn’t a replacement unit. No common orthotic component, but a highly sophisticated integration of biochemistry and engineering, supported by nanites. Through the bubble, signs of progress were visible. Her fingers were reformed. The fiber and sinew construction had progressed, as well as bone formation. Issues surrounding infection, and whether the nanites could reconstruct the arm’s interface to the body remained to be seen.

His thoughts returned to his med pad only to have it thrust into his hands before he turned halfway around. Giving a quick nod of thanks, he turned back.

Perhaps Aaron had the aptitude to learn some preliminary procedures. It wouldn’t hurt these kids to have another option for their ailments.

One keyed sequence, and the bubble segment on top of her arm dissolved. He bent forward, the light unit in one hand as he carefully scanned every inch of Analena’s arm, creating a snapshot of her progress. While he couldn’t rebuild her arm, there might be a benefit to recording the progress of the nanites. If something went wrong, he’d at least have data to help him backtrack.

He grabbed one more surgi-disc. “Full arm cradle.”

The two-and-a-half-foot narrow board elongated and slid easily beneath the bubble under her arm. He released the remaining bubble segment, initiated a series of rib-like structures over her arm and covered it with a light tarp to keep out floating debris. One final command snapped a strap from the platform over her shoulder and another one beneath her breasts.

With a long exhale, he rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead and looked around.

“She won’t like the restraint.” Hena looked at him worried, as if he’d have a solution.

“She won’t like having her arm torn out if she wakes up disoriented, either. You guys did a great job,” he added, not wanting his response to end on a harsh note.

“If you want to lie down, we’ll watch her,” she offered.

“Not until she’s conscious, but thanks, anyway.” Trace shook his head, sat next to the table, and rested his forehead against Analena’s uninjured thigh. Her pulse, reassuring and steady, beat against his skin.

Now they’d wait.

***

Fire burned along Analena’s right side and cut through the fog in her mind; the heat a contrast to the cold steel of the commuter tram’s rail pressed against her right cheek.

“Get up now, Dr. Maresco.”

“No. I’m not leaving my daughter.”

Her father struggled against the men who pulled him to his feet.

“If you and your wife had responded to the summons, and not run when requested by the center, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Analena blinked as the Regent guards dragged her father from her side. She lifted a hand toward him. “Daddy.”

Confused at seeing small fingers reach for her father’s back and her own childlike voice, Analena froze.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.” Her mother’s voice caught in a sob at her side as she stroked Analena’s face. “Please, help our daughter. We’ll come with you, do anything you want. You can’t just leave her here like this.”

“Too late Mrs. Maresco.”

Analena’s left arm jerked as the guard yanked her mother away.

“No. I won’t leave my baby.”

She whimpered as her mother’s shouts increased and then tensed as a shadow covered her, cutting off the view of her parents being forced into a security vehicle.

“Take her to the center?”

Analena scrunched her eyes to block out the owner of the nasally voice.

“No. Between the arm severed by the tram and the blood loss, she won’t last the next few hours. Transport her to the holding room in the basement of the science lab. You know what to do with her later.” The shadows shifted.

“Why are you wasting a tranq on her?”

“Use your brain. We’re out in the open and the public can see her. You want to have citizens making more clamor than they will with the two prominent Maresco scientists being hauled off?”

“Daddy.” Her screams had no effect but she thrashed against the darkness as her vision blurred and thunder roared in her ears.

“Angel.” The call was faint, but Analena hung on to the words.

“We’re here, Angel. Stay with me. Please.”

The fog filtered back in and she floated, fighting back fear only to have it recede with the view of a baldhead, Coke bottle glasses, and a bulbous nose posed over her. Dr. Paresh?

She forced out a cry. “No.”

“Be still child. If I have to anesthetize you it will interfere with my results.”

“I want my Daddy.”

“He’s gone. Now be still.”

“No.” Her yells turned to screams as a series of levers descended from the ceiling and a dozen razor sharp teeth pinned her chest to the steel table.

“Angel.” The fog fought back with the deep voice’s command and the hold on her body from nightmares softened. “Listen to my voice. Hold on. It’s going to be okay.”

The pressure on her lungs decreased and relief spread through her as something feathered across her forehead.

“Mommy?”

The fog returned with a sensation of comfort and the deep voice. “We’re here, Angel.”

“Trace?”

“Just hang on.”

Then blackness folded in over the fog.

Chapter 9

Trace frowned as he extracted the last pint of AG from the case Shepherd had given him.

“Will we need more?” asked Aaron.

Trace glanced from him to Analena’s still form. “If she wakes up soon we’re good. If she remains stuck in her nightmares and keeps thrashing—”

Aaron’s pained expression stopped the rest of his explanation. All the kids were worried about Analena, but not all of them carried the weight of responsibility of this young man. “Want to learn how to hook this up?”

Obviously surprised, Aaron nodded. “Is there something different about this versus real blood?”

“This takes weeks to develop. The process is something similar to curing, less all the salt. The manufactured red blood cells steep in plasma with a stem cell derivative. Then the mix is slowly gyrated over a week’s time in a no-gravity field to integrate all the elements without rupturing the cells. Because the initial manufacturing process includes markers for all blood types, the AG is a universal fix.”

He opened the release chamber that regulated the flow of blood for the current pint of AG into Analena’s vein. The construction had been adapted for a second regulator to allow the existing pint to continue as the second pint was prepped. A non-typical requirement, given AG was rarely used for supplanting a patient’s entire blood supply. Given Analena’s injuries, they’d had little choice but to transfuse her.

Passing the pint into Aaron’s hands, he indicated a space on the table.

“The key point to remember is to never hook this up without running an initial scan for blood type. If the regulator isn’t set correctly, it will process the wrong type and kill the patient.”

Looking uncertain, Aaron hesitated, his hands over the regulator.

Trace gestured to his med scanner near Analena’s head. “Activate the device and let it run a full scan. That will negate an error due to a random sample of someone else’s blood on her body.”

The slender palm-sized panel blinked in Aaron’s hands. Color flashed as it moved from the top to the bottom of Analena’s body, depicting each segment.

“When it’s done, tap the stats icon. Blood type will be one of the items there.” He reached over Aaron’s arm and pointed at another command segment. “Now you can authorize the scanner to relay the blood type directly to the regulator. But it’s important to know how to handle this manually, just in case. So note the type and grab my sterile field unit.”

“You want me to find a new vein?”

“Yes, I want you to cannulate one of her veins.”

“And I get the vocabulary quiz at the end?”

“What you get is familiarity with the terms, in case you have to message or receive information in an emergency.”

He walked Aaron through the process needed for insertion of the small catheter. The connection of the regulator worked with an energy field. When Analena struggled, the field would release the tube from the catheter, stemming the blood flow on both ends. Fortunate, given the number of times they’d needed to reconnect her lines.

“Can I ask what they did to you? In the center?” Intrusive as the question was, Trace couldn’t detect obvious symptoms or physical defects with Aaron. It was clear he was the oldest and that left a hole as to how he’d come to be in Analena’s care. Trace couldn’t begin to right the wrongs if he didn’t have a clear map to work from.

Aaron paused. “They took a kidney. I’d lost almost half my blood.” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he tapped through the scanner’s information searching for a good vein to use for the catheter. “I should have been unconscious but I remember everything. She carried me on her back for what seemed like miles. When she got to the meet point, one of the team members said I was too close to dead and he was needed on a more important mission.”

Trace could imagine how well that had gone over with Analena. “It’s obvious she didn’t give up.”

“No. She fu—she was really pissed. She demanded they give me blood and the guy with issues just left. The other one didn’t have the right blood type but he offered his spare plasma injection, signaled for help, and left too.”

“You were how old?”

“Ten, almost.” He shrugged. “Three men showed up. Radar, Shepherd, and another guy I never saw again. They let Analena set up transfusions directly from their arms. I know they gave way more than was healthy but nobody complained.”

“Then she brought you here.”

“Yeah, after she told Radar she’d never work in another team. She would handle solo but she had enough risk without backstabbing.”

“Explains why you are all housed so far from other people.” Actually, it explained a great deal about Analena’s methods. “I’d like to check you out—later, when things calm down.”

“No need. I’m good.”

“You’re her right-hand man. It only makes sense to ensure that you are at your peak and at minimal risk.” Trace leaned closer. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a role model.”

Aaron glanced at the kids, but with a strained look he nodded. “Fine.”

The remainder of the process took concentration and exactness. And evidently provided a new form of entertainment. At least eight of the children had gathered on the opposite side of the table to watch Aaron’s efforts.

Trace disabled the existing regulator and picked up the med scanner, waiting on Aaron’s execution of the final step before releasing the flow. A soft beep indicated successful connection and feed, the scanner monitoring the release of new blood into Analena’s system.

“Good job.” He patted Aaron’s shoulder as a vid screen launched on the far wall with a global call on his code name.

Radar: Onyx?

The crowd of fans shuffled his way as he refined the public request for a private channel and acknowledged his call.
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