Resurgence

He was sitting opposite Darya Lang. She gave him one look and said to Louis Nenda, “Medical treatment.” Then, to Ben, “You have as much right as anyone else to know what’s going on. But right after this meeting, that arm and those ribs receive expert attention.”

Fixing me up so we can all die together? Ben saw Nenda’s grim look as the other man sat down at the end of the table.

Nenda began, “Conditions are bad out there, an’ I can’t see ’em gettin’ anythin’ but worse. You may think it’s no problem, we’ll be up an’ out of here in ten minutes. That’s not true. Here’s where we stand.”

He described the problems of the ice loading and the reduced efficiency of the engines that had to take them to orbit. He concluded, “So unless somebody has a brilliant idea, there seems to be only one answer: we have to lighten ship in a big way. Anything that can go, must go. Things like this, for example.” Nenda tapped the tabletop in front of him. It was a gorgeous expanse of smooth alabaster, into which dust or even crumbs of food were absorbed leaving no trace. “Beautiful, an’ valuable. But when things get desperate, in a pinch it’s expendable. We’ll make an inventory. If you’re in doubt, ask me. I know what we need to fly. I also know what we need to survive in space. Reducing us to a minimum is goin’ to be a long job—three or four days, I’d say. An’ at the end of it we still may not know what our chances are. Also, we’ll need a party to go outside again an’ clear ice and snow off the engines and the control surfaces, an’ make us a runway in case we fly atmospheric. I’ll accept volunteers for that in fifteen minutes.”

He looked down the table at Ben. “You’re not on that list. You come with me now, and we’ll fix you up.”

Ben forced himself to his feet. His legs felt as though they belonged to someone else as he followed Louis Nenda out of the conference room and along the upper corridor of the Have-It-All.

“You don’t think we’ll make it, do you? Even with everything inessential stripped away, you don’t think that in these conditions the ship can reach orbit.”

Nenda shrugged. “What I think don’t matter. I’ve been wrong before. Main thing is, we do what we can. Anythin’ we can leave on Marglot, we do. Up on the table now, an’ slide into the opening.”

They were in the ship’s medical center, the main part of which was shaped like a horizontal cylinder. Ben went in feet-first and inched forward until he was lying full length and flat on his back.

“That’s good. The doc will tell us if you’re ready to go dancin’ again. Don’t worry about the farmyard noises an’ all the spaghetti. It’s non-invasive. Have fun, an’ I’ll leave you to it.”

Ben looked up. Hundreds of multi-colored tendrils were descending from a sphere suspended from the ceiling of the cylinder, homing in purposefully on his body. Clucking and chirping came from all around, accompanied by a dazzling array of lights. Ben felt touches in a hundred places at once, delicate pressures in combinations that were never the same twice. This might be a robodoc, but it was like nothing that Ben had ever seen. He wondered for which type of being the unit had originally been intended. It would easily accommodate something far bigger than a human.

He started to turn his head, until an admonishing voice said. “Lie still. It is beginning.”

The gentle touches of the tendrils went on, accompanied by small chills here and there on his body as though a cool spray was being applied for a second or two. Ben was beginning to wonder how long this would go on—and just what was going on—when the same dispassionate voice said, “It is finished.”

The array of tubes, fibers and wires retreated into the medusa from which they had emerged. The sounds ended, the lights went off. The voice said, “Please wait here for at least five minutes before you leave.”

That was it, the whole thing? Ben was mightily unimpressed. There had been no examination, no imaging of his arm or ribs, no adjustment of bones, no careful assessment of torn muscles or ligaments. He said, aloud, “That has to be the most stupid medical procedure I’ve ever heard of. What did it do?”

He expected no answer, but the voice said, “All bones were placed into perfect alignment. Instantaneous hardeners were applied to break points. Intercostal muscular inflammation was eased and five hematomas dissipated. There will be no more pain.”

Ben reached across with his left hand to feel his ribs and right upper arm. There was indeed no pain. Also, there was none of the mental numbness and disorientation that normally went with painkillers.

“However,” the calm voice continued, “despite a feeling of well-being, the recovery process is far from over. For the next several weeks, body stresses should be kept to an absolute minimum. New trauma must be avoided at all costs.”