[Galaxy] Fwd: [Meridian] 2161.10.28 - CMO Duty Log - Dr. Corbett

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____________________________________
 From: joward13 at yahoo.com
To: meridian at firstera.net
Sent: 10/29/2011  3:08:05 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time
Subj: [Meridian] 2161.10.28 - CMO Duty  Log - Dr. Corbett


~~C-Deck~~

Through the blackness he could hear the  roaring freight train that 
signaled decompression. Cold mind numbing cold  surrounded him as the vacuum of 
space filled the compartment.

Fifteen  seconds, his brain screamed at him. Fifteen seconds is all that 
you have.  Against the survival instinct of his body he forcefully expelled 
all the air  from his lungs. The countdown had begun.

Fourteen seconds a small voice  in his head screamed as he reached into the 
trauma kit and grabbed at the  laser scalpel. Twelve seconds now, that 
small voice echoed as he grasped  either side of one of the turbine blades with 
his booted feet and locked his  legs. Ten seconds left, the small voice was 
getting louder and more desperate,  as he reached up and grasped at the 
securing line hooked into the harness and  cut it with the laser scalpel.

Immediately he dropped and was pulled  laterally as the last of the air 
moved forcefully toward the decompression  site. Eight seconds the voice 
shouted, its internal tone filled with panic and  fear. His thighs burned with 
exertion as he forced his body back into  position. By strength of will alone 
he bent at the waist and grabbed at the  turbine blade. Five seconds, the 
voice was almost frantic. His muscles  screamed as he pushed himself off the 
blade and into the space that separated  the blade he had straddled from its 
nearest companion. Two seconds the voice  had grown faint. Wedging himself 
between the two blades he scrambled back into  the trauma pack and pulled out 
the respiratory unit and opened the valve. The  flow of oxygen was almost 
immediate and his body relaxed.

He was  breathing; at least he had that going for him. His hands they were 
another  matter altogether. They were exposed like his face. He could see 
that they  were swollen as the tissue began to expand. The bruising was harsh 
as the  blood in his cutaneous capillaries began to boil. His saliva would 
be next and  his blood pressure would drop due to the lack of air pressure. 
Eventually his  heart would stop beating and beyond that point, his brain 
would suffer  irreparable damage.

One minute maybe a minute-thirty seconds at most,  the voice in his head 
whispered to him. He opened his eyes and through the  blurry haze and pain he 
saw the panel. God surely does love women, children,  and Texans - he though 
as he braced himself between the two turbine blades and  shimmied forward.

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute, but it felt like an  eternity. His body was 
on fire with pain. Every nerve screamed at him as he  moved. His strength 
was failing as he pushed up onto his knees and pulled at  the access panel. 
His hands were awash in partially cooked blood as the skin  cracked and the 
coagulated mass pushed its way out.  His hands slipped  and faltered but 
eventually he was able to move the panel and in a last  desperate attempt pull 
himself through the turbine’s assess  port.

Thirty seconds the voice whispered, thirty seconds, so push God  damn it, 
push forward push. The turbine had been shut down because of the man  
trapped. Corbett’s emotions threatened to overwhelm him as that thought caused  the 
weight of his inability to save any of them come crashing down on him.  
Stop it you couldn’t have done anything the voice screamed at him. Right now  
you might not even be able to save yourself. Find the turbine control switch  
and activate it. The man wedged in the blades will keep it from working, 
but  it will cause a cascade of functions one of which is pressurization of 
this  room against the outside forces.

He screamed in agony as he pried open  the bruised and cracked lids of his 
left eye. The blood in the capillaries of  his lids had boiled as did the 
aqueous fluid of his eye. He wanted to vomit  from the pain, but he tried to 
focus on where the control panel would be. He  held up his laser scalpel 
hoping it would provide enough light. It was there  over to his right. He dove 
forward with his last ounce of strength hoping he  would reach the panel and 
activate the system. His last thought was about how  mush oxygen did he have 
left. He calculated an hour maybe two at most. It  didn’t matter as his 
mind drifted into sweet pain free  blackness.


~~~~~

Stile Corbett, MD
CMO
FCL-06  Meridian

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