Филип Керр - The Second Angel

‘You’re doing fine,’ he told her. ‘Twenty-five percent of your blood has now been removed. Not long to go now.’

Simou, still running a diagnostic check on the fuel cells, looked around for Gates. ‘Correction,’ he said. ‘Cell number ten’s looking a bit low all of a sudden. Probably the computer just registering the change in chemical mixture, now that it’s back on-line. It’s not about to close down, but I’m going to override that one and do it manually, just in case.’

‘Wait a second,’ said Cavor. ‘Where’s the power for the transfusion machine coming from?’

‘One fuel cell fails, the next one down the line takes up the load,’ explained Simou. ‘It’s number nine.’

‘Thirty percent,’ said Dallas.

‘Not feeling so good now,’ said Ronica, shivering a little. ‘Feel sick. Like I’m going to puke.’

‘How much power is in number nine?’ inquired Cavor.

‘Relax, will you? Nine’s fine. Nine is fully charged. We can run the whole ship on just three of these cells if we have to. System’s like a bus station. One goes out, one comes in. But there’s always going to be a bus around, okay?’

Ronica’s eyes flickered. She was going into hemorrhagic shock. Forty percent of her blood had now been removed. It was time to speak to Descartes. Dallas stopped the transfusion machine and then turned to the communications panel, to open a channel.

‘Descartes, this is Mariner.’

‘What is your status please, Mariner ?’

‘Switching from cell ten to cell nine,’ said Simou, pressing a button on his computer.

‘Our computers have rebooted, Descartes. However, one of my crew has been injured,’ reported Dallas. ‘During the landing. She’s lost a great deal of blood and urgently requires some RES Class One whole component.’

‘You’re aware that this is not a drawing bank,’ said Descartes, ‘but a federal reserve. In emergencies I am authorized to make withdrawals; however, blood units are deep-frozen. I have no facilities for component recovery.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Dallas. ‘We have someone qualified on board ship.’

‘I shall need to verify her vital signs for myself. Then, provided you can give me an authorized autologous donation code, I will send you the components you need. Please submit both sets of data for my scrutiny.’

‘Right away,’ said Dallas, relieved that this was proceeding more quickly than he had anticipated. He quickly dispatched the information to Descartes and took hold of the machine, waiting for an approval that would let him put the trans-infusion pump into reverse. The sooner he could return Ronica’s blood to her, the more comfortable he would feel about what she was doing. This felt very different from the simulation. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cared about her before; it was just that now the transfusion procedure was happening for real, he could properly appreciate the essential meaning of losing her.

‘If cell number ten’s been running on near empty levels...,’ mused Cavor.

‘I have your data,’ reported Descartes. ‘Your crew member is type O, genotype OO, phenotype O, showing H-substance redcell antigens, and all normal plasma antibodies.’ It was the Descartes computer’s ability to test for antibodies that stopped them from also getting blood for Lenina, who was type AB. As soon as Descartes saw the hematological hallmarks of her P2 infection, it would have guessed something was wrong. ‘I’m sending you three units.’

‘And cell nine is fully charged...,’ said Cavor, continuing his line of thought.

‘Please await further instructions on cryoprecipitate collection procedure.’

‘Thank you, Descartes.’

‘Then whatever was operating off a low-level fuel cell might suddenly find itself having to cope with a much larger current. Which might prove too much for it.’

‘Only miscellaneous auxiliaries are being powered off cell ten. It’s true you might get a bit of a power surge for a second or two.’ Simou glanced across his computer screen. ‘But there’s no auxiliary equipment that’s operational right now. Nothing at all.’

‘That can’t be true,’ said Cavor.

‘Take a look at the screen for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ said Simou. ‘Think I don’t know how to run an electrical system?’

Dallas reached for the trans-infusion machine to switch it back on.

‘Well what about the...?’

Simou was about to curse Cavor roundly for his persistent nagging, when suddenly he realized what was about to happen. ‘You’re right! Dallas, don’t— ’

But even as Simou spoke, Dallas switched the trans-infusion machine back on to begin the process of returning Ronica’s own blood to her body. He hardly heard Simou in the small explosion that followed as the machine failed to cope with the full charge of cell nine. The small fire that briefly flared was easily extinguished, but not before the heat had melted the neck of the plastic bag connected to the machine, causing most of the blood it contained to spill into the atmosphere. Amid the cries of alarm and bitter recriminations, Dallas coolly took hold of Ronica’s arm and, pressing a piece of sterile gauze to the site of the venipuncture, removed the needle. He surveyed Ronica’s blood floating around the RLV until all was quiet again, and then said, ‘It looks as if she’s going to need that blood from the vault, after all.’

‘Hey, don’t worry,’ said Prevezer. ‘There are two more transfusion machines in one of the storage bays. Those things just attach themselves to your arm like leeches. It isn’t like there’s anything for us to do except plug one of the machines in and stand it next to her.’

‘Actually, that’s not what I was concerned about,’ admitted Dallas, staring gloomily at the now unconscious Ronica. ‘Component storage and preparation is Ronica’s expertise. The stuff that comes out of the vault is low-glycerol fast-frozen cryoprecipitate. Frozen at minus one hundred ninety-six degrees Celsius, and then stored at minus one hundred and twenty. It needs to be thawed and the cryoprotective glycerol removed and replaced with isotonic solution before transfusion to the patient. Red cells are living things. They have to be given time to rejuvenate. Ronica knows all about the deglycerolization process. Without her expert knowledge, I don’t know.’ Dallas shook his head. ‘I don’t know how we’re going to give her the transfusion. But if she doesn’t have one soon, she’ll go into a coma.’

‘If she dies, so does Lenina,’ said Gates.

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘There is another solution,’ said Gates.

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m type O myself. I could give her some of my blood. At least enough to get her back on her feet and able to process the cryoprecipitate. When she’s done that, she can infuse me with it.’

Dallas frowned. ‘But you’re...’

‘That’s right,’ nodded Gates. ‘I’m P2. If I give her my blood, she gets the virus. But at least she’ll regain consciousness. If she regains consciousness, then she can infuse me and everyone else when you come out of that vault with the rest of the blood, herself included. But if she stays in a coma, she’ll probably die. And so will Lenina.’ He shrugged. ‘Only thing is I don’t know how my system will react to having less blood than usual.’

Dallas stayed silent. Despite the time he had spent at close quarters with Gates and the rest of them, he still had an instinctive horror of the virus they carried in their bodies. He knew Ronica felt much the same. The idea of becoming infected with the virus would be abhorrent to her. But he could see no alternative to what Gates was proposing.

‘If you go into a coma, we’re marooned here,’ said Dallas.