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From: joward13@yahoo.com<BR>To: meridian@firstera.net<BR>Sent: 10/29/2011
3:08:05 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time<BR>Subj: [Meridian] 2161.10.28 - CMO Duty
Log - Dr. Corbett<BR></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV><FONT style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent" color=#000000
size=2 face=Arial>~~C-Deck~~<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR>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.<BR><BR><BR>~~~~~<BR><BR>Stile Corbett, MD<BR>CMO<BR>FCL-06
Meridian<BR><BR>_______________________________________________<BR>Meridian
mailing list</FONT></BLOCKQUOTE></DIV></FONT></BODY></HTML>