Dark Running (Fourth Fleet Irregulars Book 4) (53 page)

‘They won’t need to,’ Alex said, feeling secretly quite pleased that he knew more about something than Simon. ‘We already have that capacity,’ he answered Simon’s enquiring look. ‘As part of the blind-filming system. The whole point of it is that it can be accessed if there’s an incident which requires investigation. That often does mean that you need to look at things from the different perspectives of the people involved, physically, in order to understand what they could see and how that influenced their actions. So we can certainly run the footage through a perspective filter. But we are talking about a
lot
of footage, Simon. There’s blind filming of all the time that Mr Jezno has been on the ship, which is fourteen months – even if you knock out time he’s been asleep or on leave, you’re still looking at hundreds of hours of footage. Can you really get him to remember all that?’

‘Yes and no.’ Simon said. ‘We code it through sensory experience – the first stage of memory formation, right? Basically, you allow him to experience all those images and sounds again, at high speed, as fast as his brain can cope with. The brain itself selects what information it will encode into short term memory and then consolidate into long term storage. The more familiar information is, the more neural connections it already has, the easier it is to engramize. Then you just keep running that data, again and again, allowing the brain to build up solid, coherent memories. He won’t remember everything we show him any more than
you
remember every moment of the last fourteen months, but he will have memories of the events which are most important to him. Fourteen months is actually much smaller than I’d like, but we can only work with what we’ve got. And we do only have one window for this, okay? This technique only works with new, young brain cells which haven’t yet got any neurological data. If you try to do it with already working cells the data just gets scrambled. So we get one shot at this; four, maybe five days when we can hit those new cells with all the data we’ve got. During that time Ali’s brain will be hyper-stimulated. He won’t be conscious but he’ll experience it like a really vivid dream. We’ll keep him on life support during that period, just to keep him fed and hydrated and manage his biochemistry. Then we put him into a bunk and let him wake up naturally – there’s nothing freaks patients out more than coming round to find themselves full of tubes and wires, or even worse, in a tank. After that, he’ll be in rehab for a while. We won’t know till he wakes up just how much memory he’s formed or exactly how much functionality he’ll have, so there’ll be tests and we’ll determine then how much rehab he’s going to need. Rangi will come into his own, with that – he’s an excellent nurse.’

‘Simon.’ Alex gave him a reproachful look, which made Simon look startled for a moment and then laugh.

‘I didn’t mean that in any derogative way,’ he assured him. ‘I often pee doctors off by telling them that nurses do far more for their patients than they do. Rangi
is
an excellent nurse. He doesn’t see a patient as a technical problem to be fixed and walk away from, he’s all about the care, and that ongoing relationship. In that sense, he’s a better medic than I am – I have to admit that I lose interest once I’ve done my bit. I’m a great surgeon, but I’d be a lousy GP. Anyway, Ali will be in good hands for the rehab. My best guess, if everything goes as planned, is that we’ll need to keep him in sickbay for maybe a week and then as an outpatient for two or three months, but don’t hold me to that. So, that’s Ali.

‘Banno is a lot more straightforward – that’s a perfectly routine limb replacement, along with some equally routine internal repairs, which any trauma surgeon ought to be able to do competently. I say ‘ought’ because I have some issues with the standards that many so-called consultants seem to feel are acceptable. Far too often, they’re so focussed on mobility that they drop the ball on sensory and reflex nerves. Reflex nerves, particularly – I’ve come across cases where the surgeon hasn’t bothered with them at all.’

He snorted, and it was apparent that he was recalling some past confrontation over that issue, as his nostrils flared slightly and a militant tone came into his voice. ‘You can
not
call reflex nerves ‘unnecessary’.’ Remembering who he was talking to, he explained, ‘The reflex nerves are what makes you jerk your foot up so quickly if you feel yourself stepping on something sharp. They’re fiddly little beggars, located in the muscles, time consuming to fit when you’re constructing a replacement leg. Some people think it’s okay to leave them out and rely on pain receptors instead, meaning that if you step on something sharp you’ll realise that it’s hurting and look down and
then
lift your foot as a conscious reaction to seeing what’s happening. Not acceptable by
my
standards, and I won’t tolerate sloppy sensory work, either, leaving the patient with any numbness, tingling or lack of sensitivity.’

‘Oh,’ said Alex, aware of a kind of horrified fascination. ‘Did you say you’re going to
construct
a leg?’

‘Yes. Sorry to have to break it to you, but it really
isn’t
like they do it in the movies,’ Simon said, with a long-suffering note. ‘You can’t just programme a leg and pull one out of a tank fully formed. It’s like an artificers’ workshop – you can make parts, but you have to assemble them to make working tech. So we’re growing the bones, muscles, nerves, skin, everything we need, in different vats, and Rangi and I will put that together before we get Banno out of stasis. It’s actually not difficult,’ he said, with unusual modesty. ‘Second year med students get to do a leg, using their own DNA – it’s kind of a rite of passage, a thing, you know, whether you’ve ‘done the leg’ yet. Obviously you wouldn’t want to
use
a leg a student had put together, they’re basically assembled with a glue gun and biotape. Me, I use neuro-grafts so fine you’d need a microscope to find the join.’

He saw the searching look Alex was giving him and spread his hands defensively. ‘Look,
genius
, okay?’ He reminded the skipper. ‘Actual, bona fide, certificated genius. When I told them at the Gifted Institute that I wanted to work as a doctor they were horrified, actually said ‘Why are you wasting your talents becoming a brain surgeon? You could do so much more!’ Me, I like to think I’m using my abilities the best way I can, pushing our medical knowledge and skills forward and dragging the morons along with me whether they like it or not – not unlike yourself, in that, in your efforts to modernise the Fleet. But yes, Alex, I
can
put a leg together and you can kick me round the ship if Banno has anything less than a hundred per cent functionality in the new one, okay?’

‘I wouldn’t do that, but thank you,’ Alex said. Simon was arrogant at the best of times and could be infuriating, but right now Alex could not have been more grateful to have him aboard.

‘All right, don’t get mawkish,’ Simon told him, responding more to the heartfelt tone in Alex’s voice than to the words. ‘I’m just doing my job, here, so don’t do the ‘noble healer’ thing at me.’

Alex was suddenly reminded of Marto, weeping and embracing him at a formal reception, calling him a hero. He broke into a laugh.

‘Fair enough,’ he repeated, just as the door opened and Rangi came in. He paused for a moment, concerned in case he’d interrupted a private discussion, but seeing the welcome on both their faces, came in with a smile.

‘Morning, skipper,’ he said, with a slightly cautious look as he remembered the last time he and the skipper had spoken. Rangi was uneasily aware that Alex might not be best pleased that he, a Fleet officer, had supported the civilian medic in an act that was, indeed, technically mutiny.

‘Morning,’ Alex said, with a reassuringly friendly grin. Rangi had already said that he would respect Alex’s decision with regard to Ali Jezno and was willing to work with Simon on the brain restoration, keeping his personal views just that. Alex was relieved, though, to see that the two medics were on good professional terms again.

‘I’ve just been telling Alex we need access to the blind recordings,’ Simon told him. ‘And you’ll back me up on that, right?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Rangi said, without hesitation. ‘I’ve already done the paperwork.’ He turned to Alex. ‘We really do need it, skipper, if we’re to give Ali the best chance we can.’

‘All right,’ Alex held up a hand, seeing that Rangi was about to start explaining and persuading, something he could keep up for hours. ‘I’m sold!’ he assured him. ‘Though it’ll have to go to command discussion, of course, and I do feel that it would need support from the crew. They have rights in this too, remember – it’s footage of them in conversation with Mr Jezno that will be accessed and used. I can’t ask for their permission, as such – that’s not allowed under Fleet regs, but I think we have to give people the opportunity to voice any concerns or objections they may have to their footage being used, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure nobody will refuse that, but it’s a matter of principle, see?’

Simon didn’t really see, and clearly didn’t want to.

‘Just as long as you get me the data before two o’clock,’ he said. He got up as he spoke, reaching over to slap Rangi’s hand casually. ‘Tag,’ he said, ‘You’re it.’ Then he nodded to Alex, already walking away. ‘I’m going to bed.’

Alex and Rangi exchanged looks of perfect, wordless understanding as Simon went out, but Alex was already getting up, too, his manner purposeful.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let me see them.’

Rangi took him to the stasis locker. He knew there was no point in the skipper going to see this, that it would do the patients no good and only distress him, but he also knew Alex well enough not to even attempt to stop him. They had to go through Lucky’s habitat to get to the stasis locker, adding a surreal twist to an already unnerving situation.

This had been the dispensary before Rangi had converted it to a roomy habitat for the gecko. Lucky was drowsing on a tree branch, basking in the warmth of a sun lamp as they passed through. He raised his head and chirruped when he saw Rangi, trotting along the branch to meet him, head cocked alertly.

‘Not now, sweetheart,’ Rangi said, and scooped up the lizard with a practised hand, giving it a tickle and slipping it into a tank. Then, with a look of quick apology at Alex, he moved over to open the other door. ‘Remember, they’re not feeling anything,’ he advised.

Alex stood in the doorway, looking. The locker was too small to allow for horizontal storage, so the stasis bags were hung on rails like clothing in a wardrobe. They were like outsize vacuum-packed figures, encased in black plastic. They were horribly eloquent as to the nature of the injuries beneath. The stasis bag clamped down tight around the patient to act as a whole-body tourniquet. Ali Jezno’s head was not the right shape and Banno Triesse’s left leg ended mid-thigh.

‘Hold on,’ Alex said, though he knew they could not hear him.
He
needed to say it. ‘We’re doing everything we can for you.’

They certainly could not be doing any more. Later that morning, when Alex was able to call the command team together, he had immediate agreement to release the blind-recording file, from Buzz and from Martine. Jonas was the only one who hesitated, and then only because he was going through the paperwork, confirming it was all in order. The request was for all blind-recorded footage in which Ali Jezno appeared to be released, generated to a high security tape on the format of ‘from his perspective’ as Simon had requested. That tape would then be used for medical purposes only and its contents wiped as soon as the procedure was complete.

‘I have no issue with that, under regulation and established policy,’ Jonas confirmed. ‘And I would have no issue, either, with the ship’s company being asked to volunteer any personal footage they may have which includes Mr Jezno, taken on or off the ship.’

‘Thank you,’ Alex said, and there was a moment, just a fractional hesitation, as if he was expecting something more but Jonas had finished all that he intended to say.

‘I do feel, skipper,’ Martine stepped in, her manner thoughtful, ‘that it would be fair, in the circumstances, to make a formal statement about this and allow reasonable time for any member of the crew to register concerns if they have issues with violation of their privacy.’

She had worked with Alex for a lot longer than Jonas, and knew what he wanted – he wanted that point to be raised by somebody else so that it could be established in discussion, not just dictated by him.

‘Do you think that is likely to be an issue?’ Alex queried, as if he didn’t already know. It would not have been surprising if people
did
feel that it was an invasion of their privacy, really. Unlike the comms-cams which only operated in public, working areas of the ship, blind cameras worked
everywhere
, even in lavatories, even in bunks and showers, everywhere around the ship, around the clock, recording to a sealed file that could only be accessed for genuine, justified reasons.

‘I don’t know.’ Martine said. ‘Some people might have concerns about their own right to privacy being over-ruled without their consent. I know we have the right and authority to do that, on medical grounds, but we should at least give people the opportunity to express any concerns they may have. And I do feel it would be a good idea, in that, to issue an amnesty of some kind, so that if any misconduct
does
come to light through the disclosure which we wouldn’t otherwise have known about, no action will be taken on it.’

‘I have no problem with that, either,’ Jonas said, as Alex looked to him for a response. ‘Legally, if footage is released for a specified and limited purpose, you cannot then use it as evidence for something else.’

‘Okay – amnesty then,’ Alex said. ‘And nobody, not even the medics, will be accessing the data to view the contents. The only person who will view it is Mr Jezno. So, we’ll put it on the board and leave it for half an hour before we sign off on it, all right?’

They agreed that they would do that, but it was only a few minutes after the announcement had appeared on the notice board that a deputation came to the command deck. Alex was not the slightest bit surprised. He had heard the buzz of debate around the ship and seen the huddles on the mess decks, the rapid process of shipboard democracy. Or at least, the nearest the Fleet would countenance to democracy aboard a warship.