came in fast. Ghost killed the engine and threw Jane a rope. Simon lay
on the aluminium floor of the boat. Jane helped drag him from the boat. They
laid him on a stretcher, put it on a cargo trolley and wheeled it to the
freight elevator.
The
stretcher buggy was parked at habitation level. Rye drove Simon to Medical.
Jane and Sian jogged behind the little electric car as it hummed down dark
corridors.
They
moved Simon on to the operating table.
'Cut
off his clothes,' said Rye. 'Get him under the shower.'
Jane
and Sian hacked through Simon's clothes with trauma shears. His genitals were
so shrivelled by cold he looked female. Nothing between his legs but a tuft of
pubic hair.
There
was a bathroom at the back of the bay. They dragged Simon to the shower and
stood him under a jet of hot water.
Rye
stripped out of her survival gear and filled the hypothermia bath, tested it to
forty-six degrees.
'All
right. Let's get him immersed.'
They
laid Simon in the bath.
'Keep
his hands and feet out of the water.'
She
shone a penlight into his eyes.
'Ideally
I would like to test rectal temperature, but we'll spare him that indignity for
now.'
'His
hand is fucked.'
'We'll
see how his condition develops as we restore circulation. Of course, that's
when the pain will begin.'
Jane
jogged a kilometre circuit of C deck. She was joined by Sian. 'Spoken to
Ghost?'
'Briefly,'
said Jane.
'What
did he say about that Apex guy? The one who didn't make it back.'
'He
refuses to talk about it.'
They
trotted down unheated corridors. Each puffing exhalation was a great plume of
steam-breath. They both wore three tracksuits. The metal floor was slick with
ice so they ran in snow- boots with thick rubber tread. Their route was lit by
weak daylight shafting through the corridor windows.
Jane
ran fast and lithe. She had lost four kilos. Her clothes felt loose. Sian
struggled to keep pace.
Jane
had been fat all her life. Her body had been nothing more than a sweating,
aching encumbrance but now she felt an intimation of what it would be like to
be supple and strong.
'What's
the deal with you and Punch?'
'How
do you mean?' asked Sian.
'Both
young, both bright. An obvious match.'
'I
always thought Nail and Ivan seemed like a happy couple. Pumping. Preening.
Oiling each other down.'
'Nice
deflection.'
They
ran the kilometre circuit then ran it again.
Sian
returned to her room to shower.
Jane
walked past Medical on her way back to the accommodation block. Dr Rye was
packing packets of drugs into a box. Jane felt obliged to offer help.
'Happy
pills,' said Rye. 'Seroxat. Triptafen. You've got to expect depression in a
place like this. No daylight. Nowhere to go. There will be plenty of demand,
now night is closing in.'
'How
is Simon?'
Rye
gestured to a side room.
'Stable.
Sleeping. Infection: that's my chief concern. This is a first aid station.
Serious injuries are supposed to get a priority airlift. We don't have enough
antibiotics for long-term treatment.'
'Right.'
'I
probably shouldn't mention it, but what the hell. You might need to know.
Nikki? That girl we pulled off the ice? She was pretty distraught about the man
they left behind. She blames herself. It should have been me, blah, blah. I dosed her with Anafranil but
it takes a few days to kick in. She'll need a shoulder, someone to coax her
through the next few days.'
'Okay.'
'The
crewmen are smoking weed and hoping for a ship, but once the sun has set for
good the mood will quickly head downhill. There are black days ahead. Thank
God we don't have guns on board.'
Sian
found Simon watching DVDs in his hospital room. Goodfellas. He was pale. His hands and feet
were bandaged. Sian held a cup so he could sip from a straw.
'Can
you help me up a little?'
Sian
pressed the Elevate button to raise Simon's head.
'Where's
Nikki?' he asked.
'Eating
in the canteen. Eating and eating. Can I bring you any food?'
'No
thanks.'
BBC
News was still showing slow-motion footage
on the aluminium floor of the boat. Jane helped drag him from the boat. They
laid him on a stretcher, put it on a cargo trolley and wheeled it to the
freight elevator.
The
stretcher buggy was parked at habitation level. Rye drove Simon to Medical.
Jane and Sian jogged behind the little electric car as it hummed down dark
corridors.
They
moved Simon on to the operating table.
'Cut
off his clothes,' said Rye. 'Get him under the shower.'
Jane
and Sian hacked through Simon's clothes with trauma shears. His genitals were
so shrivelled by cold he looked female. Nothing between his legs but a tuft of
pubic hair.
There
was a bathroom at the back of the bay. They dragged Simon to the shower and
stood him under a jet of hot water.
Rye
stripped out of her survival gear and filled the hypothermia bath, tested it to
forty-six degrees.
'All
right. Let's get him immersed.'
They
laid Simon in the bath.
'Keep
his hands and feet out of the water.'
She
shone a penlight into his eyes.
'Ideally
I would like to test rectal temperature, but we'll spare him that indignity for
now.'
'His
hand is fucked.'
'We'll
see how his condition develops as we restore circulation. Of course, that's
when the pain will begin.'
Jane
jogged a kilometre circuit of C deck. She was joined by Sian. 'Spoken to
Ghost?'
'Briefly,'
said Jane.
'What
did he say about that Apex guy? The one who didn't make it back.'
'He
refuses to talk about it.'
They
trotted down unheated corridors. Each puffing exhalation was a great plume of
steam-breath. They both wore three tracksuits. The metal floor was slick with
ice so they ran in snow- boots with thick rubber tread. Their route was lit by
weak daylight shafting through the corridor windows.
Jane
ran fast and lithe. She had lost four kilos. Her clothes felt loose. Sian
struggled to keep pace.
Jane
had been fat all her life. Her body had been nothing more than a sweating,
aching encumbrance but now she felt an intimation of what it would be like to
be supple and strong.
'What's
the deal with you and Punch?'
'How
do you mean?' asked Sian.
'Both
young, both bright. An obvious match.'
'I
always thought Nail and Ivan seemed like a happy couple. Pumping. Preening.
Oiling each other down.'
'Nice
deflection.'
They
ran the kilometre circuit then ran it again.
Sian
returned to her room to shower.
Jane
walked past Medical on her way back to the accommodation block. Dr Rye was
packing packets of drugs into a box. Jane felt obliged to offer help.
'Happy
pills,' said Rye. 'Seroxat. Triptafen. You've got to expect depression in a
place like this. No daylight. Nowhere to go. There will be plenty of demand,
now night is closing in.'
'How
is Simon?'
Rye
gestured to a side room.
'Stable.
Sleeping. Infection: that's my chief concern. This is a first aid station.
Serious injuries are supposed to get a priority airlift. We don't have enough
antibiotics for long-term treatment.'
'Right.'
'I
probably shouldn't mention it, but what the hell. You might need to know.
Nikki? That girl we pulled off the ice? She was pretty distraught about the man
they left behind. She blames herself. It should have been me, blah, blah. I dosed her with Anafranil but
it takes a few days to kick in. She'll need a shoulder, someone to coax her
through the next few days.'
'Okay.'
'The
crewmen are smoking weed and hoping for a ship, but once the sun has set for
good the mood will quickly head downhill. There are black days ahead. Thank
God we don't have guns on board.'
Sian
found Simon watching DVDs in his hospital room. Goodfellas. He was pale. His hands and feet
were bandaged. Sian held a cup so he could sip from a straw.
'Can
you help me up a little?'
Sian
pressed the Elevate button to raise Simon's head.
'Where's
Nikki?' he asked.
'Eating
in the canteen. Eating and eating. Can I bring you any food?'
'No
thanks.'
BBC
News was still showing slow-motion footage
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