Blye and Prash readied their surgical instruments as the Aggaaddub maneuvered the stasis pod into their operating theater. Kaihautu Yugha hovered nearby, garbed and masked as best they could manage, overseeing their preparations with a watchful eye. As the other Troika soldiers departed, he glanced in their direction.
“How shall you proceed?” he demanded.
“Delicately,” she answered. “Nyanzvi Jenkai’s injuries are extensive, requiring us to operate in stages to safely wean him from the stasis field. Once we repair the damage to the cardiac and circulatory system, we can then address the injuries to his pulmonary organs. Restoring proper blood flow is vital, but without access to a heart-lung bypass device, we’re forced to use the stasis pod’s generated field to stave off organ failure while we operate.”
“And then?” he pressed them.
“Then we can switch off the field and restart his autonomic functions,” she explained. “When the patient has stabilized, we can finish repairing the other damaged organs before closing him up. After that?” Blye shrugged. “We must allow him the opportunity to heal.”
“How much time will be required to perform the surgery?” the Kaihautu asked.
“Hours,” she sighed. “There is a great deal of damage. This isn’t something that can be done with a mere wave of the hand. It’s going to take time.”
“Then I suggest you begin at once,” he ordered, using his size to intimidate the Terrans before finally retreating once more.
Blye turned to her assistant. “Are you ready?” she asked him.
Prash gave her a concerned look. “And I thought Samara’s surgery was tricky,” he said with a nervous laugh.
“At least she was human,” she agreed, before taking a moment to reconsider. “Well, mostly human,” she amended. “Pull up the Aggaaddub physiology data on the monitor,” she told him.
“Wait… you do not have our gross anatomy and morphology committed to memory?” Kaihautu Yugha exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this?”
“It may surprise you to learn that few of your race choose Terran physicians,” she said caustically. “However, we have detailed medical files on all the major races, and we routinely train on alien surgical procedures. If, however, you wish to have your crew treated by Troika physicians…” she suggested, leaving the rest unsaid.
The massive reptilian ground his molars in frustration. “That is not possible,” he spat out. “Continue… but know that I will be watching your every action very closely.”
“I had already assumed as much,” she said evenly, before turning and giving Prash the nod.
Prash took a moment to ready himself, then reached out and touched a control on the stasis pod. The exterior casing split down the center and slid away in both directions, disappearing into the pod’s shell as the individual inside was exposed. The alien lay frozen within the pod’s chamber, still under the stasis field’s influence, as the pair readied themselves for what was to come. “Prash… start the music,” she requested.
Moments later, the sound of Mahler’s 9th Symphony filled the room, earning her a curious look from their chaperone. Taking a deep breath, Blye focused on her patient, disregarding everything else around her. “Mother Terra, guide my hand,” she said softly, just above a whisper, before bending to her task.
According to the files Kaihautu Yugha had provided, the patient served as a gunner’s mate aboard the Aggaaddub warship Implacable and was wounded when a Yīqún weapon burrowed into the ship’s hull and detonated, sending shrapnel spraying in all directions. His fellow crewmates had placed him in stasis before it was too late, saving his life. At least, that’s what the file indicated.
After a cursory exam, she found nothing to contradict the official record, the injuries consistent with a heavy weapon’s discharge. Multiple wounds and lacerations covered the patient’s body, but at the moment, it was the most serious injuries that had her full attention. Familiarizing herself with the obvious trauma, Blye held out her hand.
“Scalpel,” she ordered.
Prash slapped the instrument into her waiting palm. Adjusting her grip, she reached out to one of the larger wounds and began carefully widening the exposed cavity. The patient’s flesh was rubbery and resistant to her efforts, symptoms of the stasis field at work. And yet she pressed on, cautiously cutting away until the patient’s heart was fully exposed. Prash let out a low whistle as the damage became visible to the naked eye.
“It’s a miracle he made it to stasis,” he observed. Hearing that, Kaihautu Yugha leaned in, inspecting the wound for himself, before retreating out of the way once more.
Blye barely heard him. A chunk of metal had lodged within the damaged organ’s tissue, and unless it could be repaired, the rest was moot.
“Retractors,” she instructed her assistant. Prash clapped the device into her hand, before reaching into the cavity and attaching the gripping ends directly to the heart muscle. Ever so gently, she spread the tissue wide, creating the space needed to safely remove the shrapnel. It was a delicate balance; too wide and she could tear the muscle, not wide enough, and the shrapnel would damage the organ as it was removed.
“Forceps,” she said, reaching for the next instrument. As Prash passed it over, she inspected the hunk of metal, determining how best to remove it without doing further damage. It was a jagged shard of alloy, with barb-like protrusions dotting its surface. It had ripped through the Aggaaddub gunner’s torso, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake, so merely clasping onto the offending bit and yanking it free was not an option. Instead, she was forced to gently wiggle it loose, rotating the metal chunk until the most dangerous bits were clear of the heart muscle. It was painstaking work, with Prash mopping her brow as she operated, but after several tense minutes, she managed a small sigh of relief.
“Emesis tray,” she requested, holding up the blood-coated splinter for inspection, before dropping it into the metal bowl with a loud clunk. Kaihautu Yugha’s eyes fixated on the piece of shrapnel as they set it aside, while Blye looked up from the table.
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“That was the worst of it,” she informed him. “The remaining shrapnel isn’t as dangerously placed.”
“So what happens now?” he asked her.
“Remove what remaining foreign bodies I can, suture up the damaged tissue, and then disengage the stasis field and restart his autonomic functions,” Blye explained. “That’s when we learn just how successful the surgery was.”
“For your sake, I hope it is extremely successful,” he rumbled, fixing her with a baleful glare.
Her jaw hardened as she drew herself up to her full height… still far below his towering stature. “Threatening the only surgeon within a dozen light-years will not help your crew,” she fired back. “You have my word they will receive the very best care possible, but medicine is not an exact science. Patients can die, even when by all rights they should be thriving. It is an inescapable truth of my profession, and if you cannot accept that...”
She paused for a moment, steeling her courage. Stepping forward, Blye looked up at the lumbering alien. “If you cannot accept that,” she said once again, “then you had best kill me now.”
Prash stared at her in panic as the Troika commander returned her gaze, his yellow eyes slitted as he studied her as if she were prey. Finally, he chuckled.
“You have courage, Terran,” he said at last. “I respect that. Few would dare speak to me as you have.”
“Your kind may control the galaxy,” she said bluntly, “but here? This is my kingdom, and I will guard it and those who come seeking aid with my very life. Threaten me all you wish but let me do my job.”
Whatever courtesy he’d been willing to grant her disappeared in a flash. “Mind your tongue,” the reptilian hissed, “or suffer the consequences.”
There was no doubt in her mind he meant every word. A warrior chose their battles with care, picking a time and ground that was advantageous, and that was not here and now. A battle here would only end one way.
With a deep cleansing breath, Blye forced herself to reel it back in. It might have been smart to apologize for her impudence, attempt to curry a little favor, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Prash stared at her in horror, terrified she’d just signed their death warrants, but instead, she turned back to her patient and picked up the scalpel. “Give me suction here, please,” she requested, as she probed the alien’s pulmonary organs.
Prash froze for a moment, needing a moment to mentally switch gears before reaching for the tube attached to the electrical pump. Handing it over, Blye began vacuuming away the excess blood and fluids that had settled within the body cavity, as Kaihautu Yugha glared at her before finally settling back into his original position, watching over her efforts and awaiting their outcome.
Hours crept by as the pair worked to stabilize the patient. The damage was extensive, requiring conscientious effort on both their parts as they sought out and repaired the wounded reptilian’s injuries. Slowly, carefully, they mended the torn flesh, suturing and gluing the bits and pieces back together, like some living jigsaw puzzle. Finally, she nodded to Prash.
“It’s almost time,” she informed him. “Stand by to kill the stasis field when we’re ready.” With the worst of the damage now repaired, they began switching on the various monitoring devices. As long as the patient remained under the stasis field, they were unnecessary, since by all appearances the Aggaaddub gunner looked to be dead. Once they dropped the field and restarted his organs, that illusion would hopefully prove to be just that… an illusion.
If their efforts failed, however… given the Kaihautu’s threats, there was no telling how this day would end.
“Ready the IV,” she continued, “and standby with a 2mg Atropine push,” she ordered while preparing the electrodes needed to stimulate the heart. Once they dropped the field, in essence, they would be kick-starting the patients' organs. Stasis interrupted the natural processes so that while they might appear to be in flatline, in fact, they were actually frozen between heartbeats. A jolt of electricity to start it beating, coupled with a dose of medication designed to keep it beating, so they could re-oxygenate the brain and bring the patient back from the pseudo-death of stasis. It was a delicate dance, and it all had to go off without a hitch.
Blye stole a quick glance at the Kaihautu. He had barely moved during the extensive surgery, a gift of his reptilian ancestry, no doubt. Being an ectotherm, conserving his energy reserves came as naturally to him as shedding excess heat did to her. He simply stood silently in the corner, watching… and waiting.
There was no point in further delay. “Stand by to drop the field in 3, 2, 1…now,” she barked, as the pod’s telltales suddenly went dark. “Atropine push!” Blye ordered, as normal color and consistency began returning to the alien’s flesh. Prash injected the Atropine into the IV, as she took up the electrodes and placed them on the patient’s chest. “Clear!” she shouted, sending a jolt into his heart. The monitor beeped erratically as the cardiac tissue twitched, sending out a series of random impulses instead of a strong sinus rhythm.
“He’s in V-fib,” Blye growled. She waited a moment, giving it a chance to settle on its own, but as the ventricular fibrillation continued without improvement, she snapped her head back to Prash. “Charge to 350!” she snarled, hearing the familiar whine as the capacitors re-energized, before sending another jolt into his chest. The monitor continued its abnormal beeping, as it had no effect.
“Charge to 500!” she bellowed, drawing an uneasy look from Prash. The fact was there were no hard and fast rules when dealing with a species like the Aggaaddub; given their limited contact, and what they knew about their physiology was more theoretical than practical. A certain amount of trial and error was inevitable, but unfortunately, she doubted the Kaihautu would see it that way. She had to save him, otherwise their lives, and the lives of those they protected, were forfeit.
“Push another milligram of Atropine!” she shouted, even as she clambered onto the platform supporting the patient and straddled his body. Snatching the scalpel from the tray, she slashed open the sutures she’d just finished sewing and opened the chest cavity once more, before reaching in with both hands and grasping the heart directly.
It was a long shot, little more than a desperation move, but when all else failed, direct cardiac massage was still a viable option. She could feel the muscle convulse beneath her fingers as she squeezed, mimicking the heart’s natural mechanism. “Come on… come on,” she urged, pumping the patient’s blood manually while praying for a miracle.
And then she felt the organ pulse.
Blye kept up the pace, in case it was a fluke, but moments later she felt another, and then a third. Releasing her grip on the organ, she watched as it began beating on its own; the monitor falling into the familiar patterns of a normal sinus rhythm.
With a sigh of relief, she turned to Prash. “Ten milligrams of Lidocaine,” she said wearily, taking up the suture kit once more. “As soon as I’m sure he’s stable, we’ll close him up and move him to Recovery.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Prash agreed, as he prepared the hypospray.
Sensing movement behind her, Blye turned to see the alien commander towering over her once more. “So. He will live?”
Shrugging, she turned back to the operating table. “He’s not out of the woods,” she warned him. “He suffered numerous injuries, and that’s not even considering the resuscitation procedure itself. But… I’m cautiously hopeful.”
The reptilian cocked his massive head. “Most in your situation would simply tell me what I wished to hear,” he said after a moment.
“What would be the point?” she asked him. “We can’t leave, and if things go south… well…” She sighed yet again, shaking her head. “We’ll continue to monitor him closely until the danger has passed, but until then?” Taking up a suture, she bent to her work. “What happens, happens.”
The Kaihautu seemed to deliberate on that statement, weighing his options. Finally, he exited the operating room without speaking further.
The remaining humans looked at one another across the patient. “I think we just dodged a bullet,” Prash told her.
Blye just shook her head.
“Until they’re off this world… it’s not over.”