Globall War of Terror - Safe Place
Apr. 18th, 2018 07:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drewkittyGloball War of Terror: Safe Place
(WARNING and Reader's Note: I am consciously going for vicious and savage in this story.)
Based on recent threat assessments we've had to make some changes to our radio system.
Initially we'd had three nets: Facilities, Security and Crisis Management, which kind of talked to each other but had no net control.
This had evolved into seven (7!) nets, each covering a different function. Logistics, Facilities, Security Emergency, Security Tactical, Medical/Fire, and Management. Then we'd tried to add a calling net and it had all turned to mush.
After the massive attack we'd had to revisit how we used radios from scratch. Security was essentially given the existing radio system lock, stock and barrel. Management switched to a Zello like Voice over IP system on the same mobile phones they were using for WiFi calling. This meant lots of talk groups, but only three Security cared about or monitored - Security, FireMed, and Reaction.
That last one was a site wide panic button. If you called in your location on Reaction, you were going to get one. At minimum a lot of angry folks waving weapons around and summoning your grand-boss to give you an ass chewing. It went uphill from there.
Security talkgroup was for the employees to call us - then the dispatchers would relay their excited panicked screeching in the form of something useful.
FireMed was for calling in fires or medical emergencies. Security dispatched for the FIre Brigade and stretcher bearers, who would provide first aid and transport to the designated point of care, which would change based on the campus alert status.
Given the entire former radio system to play with, Security made almost no use of it.
It was insecure as hell.
Could use it for routine stuff - but then enemy ELINT (and My God we had enemies!) would map our routine.
Could use it for emergencies, but then enemies would figure out how we would respond to those emergencies and plan accordingly.
So what we ended up doing was using it for very short, cryptic communications, only when time was of the essence and other means of communication would not do. I found this highly annoying for all sorts of reasons, including being very attached to my call sign.
What we ended up doing is staffing responses according to unified call signs ("Golf 1" being the first Security golf cart dispatched, etc.), and a lot of "Echo 18, call the Command Center."
If I never hear those words again, it will be too soon. I hear them several times a day and they are never good news.
"Echo 18, call the Command Center."
This particular call caught me in the Data Center toilet with my pants down, uncomfortably looking at the quarter washcloth I carried around in a plastic baggie.
Toilet paper was rather scarce in these parts, and various substitutes had been experimented with. The site discussion forum was full of ... well ... yeah.
So I had chosen to go very old school, with ready access to running water but not getting much sunlight. I'm nowhere near Islamic enough to just go bare skin.
"Copy," I replied before getting my hands dirty. Unpleasant tasks accomplished, and hands washed, I called in on my own Wi-Fi cell.
"Janine is asking for you to respond, Code 2 rapid, silent approach, to the West pedestrian entrance. Complex medical, no details."
I acknowledged. That was an interesting request. I have a smattering of medical training, and rather more experience than anyone with my low level of training should have, but "silent approach" was not a phrase we used. In the pre Firecracker world where suddenly flaming children had been a rare exception, it had meant a fire or EMS unit showing up with lights but not sirens. To avoid bothering the neighbors.
I was more of the "fuck the neighbors, bring the noise" school of thought. Or to put it more tactfully, "You have requested life and death EMS response and a silent approach. [Godfather shrug]. This I cannot do."
But if Fire Captain Janine was requesting that I respond by name, and quick but casual, she probably had a really good reason.
This was complicated by the fact that our West pedestrian entrance was rather hard to approach. Historical reasons involved a wavy stone wall and more modern reasons involved junked cars, excellent fields of fire and the ability to defend a long, large perimeter with a handful of not very well trained snipers. We'd even piled rock to make it impossible to mountain bike down the two trails.
So I wouldn't be bringing the golf cart any closer than the perimeter roadway. That would have to do.
It was unfortunately fairly easy to see from the collection of equipment that we indeed had a medical. Both medical carts and the ambulance (my van! ... I miss you but the site needs you more... ) were stacked on the perimeter road.
A stretcher bearer team was looking green and throwing up. "STOP!" I halted and got out my binoculars.
More than one sick person is an exotic weapons attack until proven otherwise.
I looked carefully. They were alert and oriented, rinsing out their mouths. They had seen something horrible - they were not chemical warfare casualties.
"Continue in." Shane did not have any curiosity as to why I'd ordered either the halt or the continue. One reason among many that he was not allowed to drive a cart unless I was on board.
"What do we have?"
One of the bearers started to tell me and threw up again.
His team leader waved weakly towards the trail. "It's bad."
Shane fixed his bayonet on his shotgun. I took my rifle off its rack and checked chamber, then rigged the patrol sling for a short hike.
Over the hill and through the dale, down to see a lot of fail... not a good moment to either sing or hopscotch, I feared.
When I arrived, Janine and two of her medics were leaning over something in the trail. One of the two medics was holding an IV bag high over his head and studiously staring at a fixed point on the horizon. Tubing linked the IV bag to what he was not looking at.
The other medic was green faced and pale, with freckles of vomit on his beard and shirt. He was clearly stuck in the "airway breathing circulation" loop of attempting to care for his patient, and failing.
Janine was speaking calmly to the casualty.
"It's OK, you're safe now," she kept saying. Her hands checked the IV tubing to make sure it stayed in the fragile vein on the left inner arm.
"Shreve, overwatch," I ordered and slung my rifle, putting on a pair of gloves. I could see where this was going. "Shreve, I'm going to need you to relay radio traffic for me."
"Sir."
Patient one is a male in his apparent sixties. Patient one has lacerations to his hands and feet. Patient one is dehydrated and has left a blood trail to this point, possibly exsanguinated. Patient one has a patent airway and has been hooked up to IV fluids, but needs transfusion and pain medication immediately. Patient one is very vulnerable to shock.
I kneel down by the patient's side.
"My name is [Echo 18] and I am an emergency medical technician. We are going to help you. I need to know your blood type. What is your blood type?"
He tries to gasp. I uncap my water bottle.
"Sir, I'm going to hold this up to your lips. Just take a tiny little sip. DON'T swallow it, OK, just swish it in your mouth. There you go. Sir, what's your blood type?"
"Doctor David Alexander, employee number [######]." A slow blinking, and he whispers again, "Doctor David Alexander, employee number ..." I take out my pen - now contaminated - and write name and employee number on my left forearm.
We are out of wifi cell range.
"Shane, call Dispatch. I need two stretcher bearer teams and a Stokes stretcher, and a lot of blankets. Warn the teams to fully mask and glove up."
Shane calls it in.
Janine is still right on the edge of losing her shit.
"Sir, I copy that you are Doctor David Alexander. You are on [CLIENT] property and I am a security contractor to [CLIENT]. We are going to take you to our infirmary to treat your injuries. I need to ask you a few questions."
A slow nod. A second slow sip; I am ready to carefully pry the bottle from his nail less fingers if necessary to keep him from swallowing, but he's got this.
"What is your blood type, sir?"
He gasps it.
"Is there anyone else with you? Anyone else who needs help?"
A slow shaking of his head.
"Is anyone chasing you? Are you being pursued?"
He shakes his head again.
RI wordlessly ask Janine - can you hold what we've got? She nods.
"My partner Janine is a medic. She will stay with you. I am going to go get the people to carry you."
I hike back to the hill. My wifi cell works now. I call on the Security private talkgroup.
"[Echo 18], priority operational traffic. Prepare to copy."
"Go."
"We have a medical emergency just inside west Pedestrian gate to which two stretcher bearer teams and a Stokes have been dispatched. Confirm two repeat two teams, Stokes litter and extra blankets."
"Confirm."
"Infirmary alert: trauma and medical patient in extremis, repeat in extremis, I need a site page for blood type [Letter, Rh] immediately. Confirm infirmary alert and blood page."
"Copy blood page, [Letter, Rh]. Copy infirmary alert."
"I need the vet surgeon and respiratory therapist to respond Code 3 to the infirmary. Tell them this will be surgical. Patient is unstable. I need them at the infirmary, not here in the field."
"Copy both medical specialists, Code 3 infirmary, unstable patient, surgery required."
"I need three patrols to gear up to go out perimeter, West Gate, within the next hour. At least two patrols will need to stay out all night."
"Copy 3 patrols, two all nighters."
"Clear for now."
I switch nets to the Stretcher Bearer frequency. They have radios for many reasons, mostly because they suck.
"Echo 18 to stretcher bearer teams Albert and Baker. Meet me at the top of the hill. I need you to glove up and mask up as if for a dead body, If you have VapoRub put it under your noses."
I can see from a distance that one team is listening and the other team is not.
"Echo 18 to the team that doesn't listen, put on your fucking gloves and your fucking masks before I put a boot in your asses. Do it now."
They comply. A couple minutes later, they have hiked up the trail to my location - with the Stokes and the blankets, and extra straps.
"OK, folks, here's what we got. Over that hill we have someone who is very badly hurt. I'm amazed he's alive, he might die at any moment. Some of you will know him.
"I am telling you this so you can handle your business. He looks like hell. Actually, he looks like hell took a shit on your mom's face. Fortunately for him he's too fucked up to know it. To keep him alive we have to keep it that way.
"If you throw up when you see him, you get your ass out of this evolution and off this trail. If you throw up anywhere near him, I am going to seriously fuck with your shit. If you throw up ON him, I will literally draw this handgun and kneecap you in both knees to avoid the humiliation of having you on a stretcher bearer team again. Do you fucking understand?
"The correct answer is 'Yes, sir, we fucking understand sir!'"
A ragged chorus of replies. It will have to do.
As we go over the rise, they are all looking with great curiosity as to what could have caused me to be so ruthless in my warning.
As we get closer, two go to the side of the trail and keep going, holding their gorge until they can vomit copiously well away from us. Good.
I re-evaluate Doctor Alexander. His skin color has improved very slightly, otherwise no significant change.
I lead the stretcher bearers through gently lying the enclosed steel litter next to him. Normally it is for confined space or high angle or rope rescue. Today it is for carrying a man who should scream in agony if any one of his limbs brushes anything.
I check the water level in my bottle. To forestall any more attempts at hydration, I gently and slowly pour it over his lower legs and feet. Then I toss it to the side. I'll get it later. Or burn it.
Janine and I fuss with the blankets.
A third member of the stretcher bearer teams lurches away, not without glancing at my handgun. Probably wondering if I meant it.
Yes I fucking meant it.
"OK, folks, we are going to lift very carefully. Janine and I will support Doctor Alexander's head and neck. You two will support his torso from that side, you two from this side. I need you two to carefully - carefully - support him under his buttocks. Do not touch his spine. As we lift, our two medics here will carefully slide the stretcher underneath, and we will gently put him down.
"On the command of three, one... two... three."
He groans weakly and gasps, but we manage it.
"Bearers, take your grips. This is a rough terrain six person carry. Take it slow and easy. On the command ... lift."
With the train in motion, Janine is free to turn away and take her turn on the vomit comet. I must take the lead with the stretcher party and watch for rocks and bumps. She catches up with us as we are slowly loading him into the ambulance.
I get in the back with him. He seems to be fascinated with me for some reason. His eyes keep looking at my belt.
"Homeland?" he says weakly, in some alarm.
"[CLIENT] Security," I reply firmly. "Not Homeland."
As we - slowly - drive away, the bearers are doing a critical incident stress defusing in between a nice team building gang vomit. I am alone in the back of the ambulance with Doctor Alexander and Janine.
I whisper deliberately.
"Not Homeland. Never, ever Homeland."
He relaxes so completely that I wonder if he has finally gone into clinical shock. Then he breathes and thus so do I.
We transfer him to a gurney, then into the trauma room of the infirmary.
The respiratory therapist starts to ralph but swallows it.
The vet surgeon is fully geared up for trauma, gloves and mask and gown. The overhead light is lit and surgical tray and tools are at hand.
Thank God.
Then I realize that she is sweating profusely and has no idea where to start.
I realize with horror that I am apparently the medical lead.
"Give me nasal cannula, 2 LPM, be ready with suction. Doctor, I would like to start by stabilizing the patient. I asked for a blood call. We have a vein, can we transfuse?"
She blinks twice and takes over. Good.
Our protocol is to live-link people who are blood type and Rh factor compatible. Someone else has had a rush of brains to the head - the donor is blindfolded, has VapoRub on his lip, and is masked when brought in.
I am demoted to scrub nurse. This involves a lot of fiddling with instruments, a lot of which have to be pointed out to me by touch.
Janine is not in the room - she has gone out to put her people back together.
I can trust my supervisors to put the patrols out.
If anyone is following Doctor Alexander, I want them ...
Pause. Steady breath.
... neutralized.
"I'm going to wait to do the legs. I'm concerned about the clots if they let go. Gentle washing may be better than attempting to debride at this point."
"Copy."
Doctor Alexander is now fitted with tubes to the best of our dim ability - nasal cannula, three IV lines (two saline drips, one blood) and a catheter.
He has fallen asleep.
If someone had been doing that - however gently - to my wounded fingers, never mind how I had lost my nails, I would be screaming and clawing at the ceiling.
He has fallen asleep.
Even if he dies now, and he very well might, he has reached - however temporarily - a safe place.
I excuse myself and scrub out.
It is now my duty to keep it that way. And the second question is to keep his identity safely contained.
The first question - who did this to him? - has already been answered to my satisfaction.
Homeland.
(WARNING and Reader's Note: I am consciously going for vicious and savage in this story.)
Based on recent threat assessments we've had to make some changes to our radio system.
Initially we'd had three nets: Facilities, Security and Crisis Management, which kind of talked to each other but had no net control.
This had evolved into seven (7!) nets, each covering a different function. Logistics, Facilities, Security Emergency, Security Tactical, Medical/Fire, and Management. Then we'd tried to add a calling net and it had all turned to mush.
After the massive attack we'd had to revisit how we used radios from scratch. Security was essentially given the existing radio system lock, stock and barrel. Management switched to a Zello like Voice over IP system on the same mobile phones they were using for WiFi calling. This meant lots of talk groups, but only three Security cared about or monitored - Security, FireMed, and Reaction.
That last one was a site wide panic button. If you called in your location on Reaction, you were going to get one. At minimum a lot of angry folks waving weapons around and summoning your grand-boss to give you an ass chewing. It went uphill from there.
Security talkgroup was for the employees to call us - then the dispatchers would relay their excited panicked screeching in the form of something useful.
FireMed was for calling in fires or medical emergencies. Security dispatched for the FIre Brigade and stretcher bearers, who would provide first aid and transport to the designated point of care, which would change based on the campus alert status.
Given the entire former radio system to play with, Security made almost no use of it.
It was insecure as hell.
Could use it for routine stuff - but then enemy ELINT (and My God we had enemies!) would map our routine.
Could use it for emergencies, but then enemies would figure out how we would respond to those emergencies and plan accordingly.
So what we ended up doing was using it for very short, cryptic communications, only when time was of the essence and other means of communication would not do. I found this highly annoying for all sorts of reasons, including being very attached to my call sign.
What we ended up doing is staffing responses according to unified call signs ("Golf 1" being the first Security golf cart dispatched, etc.), and a lot of "Echo 18, call the Command Center."
If I never hear those words again, it will be too soon. I hear them several times a day and they are never good news.
"Echo 18, call the Command Center."
This particular call caught me in the Data Center toilet with my pants down, uncomfortably looking at the quarter washcloth I carried around in a plastic baggie.
Toilet paper was rather scarce in these parts, and various substitutes had been experimented with. The site discussion forum was full of ... well ... yeah.
So I had chosen to go very old school, with ready access to running water but not getting much sunlight. I'm nowhere near Islamic enough to just go bare skin.
"Copy," I replied before getting my hands dirty. Unpleasant tasks accomplished, and hands washed, I called in on my own Wi-Fi cell.
"Janine is asking for you to respond, Code 2 rapid, silent approach, to the West pedestrian entrance. Complex medical, no details."
I acknowledged. That was an interesting request. I have a smattering of medical training, and rather more experience than anyone with my low level of training should have, but "silent approach" was not a phrase we used. In the pre Firecracker world where suddenly flaming children had been a rare exception, it had meant a fire or EMS unit showing up with lights but not sirens. To avoid bothering the neighbors.
I was more of the "fuck the neighbors, bring the noise" school of thought. Or to put it more tactfully, "You have requested life and death EMS response and a silent approach. [Godfather shrug]. This I cannot do."
But if Fire Captain Janine was requesting that I respond by name, and quick but casual, she probably had a really good reason.
This was complicated by the fact that our West pedestrian entrance was rather hard to approach. Historical reasons involved a wavy stone wall and more modern reasons involved junked cars, excellent fields of fire and the ability to defend a long, large perimeter with a handful of not very well trained snipers. We'd even piled rock to make it impossible to mountain bike down the two trails.
So I wouldn't be bringing the golf cart any closer than the perimeter roadway. That would have to do.
It was unfortunately fairly easy to see from the collection of equipment that we indeed had a medical. Both medical carts and the ambulance (my van! ... I miss you but the site needs you more... ) were stacked on the perimeter road.
A stretcher bearer team was looking green and throwing up. "STOP!" I halted and got out my binoculars.
More than one sick person is an exotic weapons attack until proven otherwise.
I looked carefully. They were alert and oriented, rinsing out their mouths. They had seen something horrible - they were not chemical warfare casualties.
"Continue in." Shane did not have any curiosity as to why I'd ordered either the halt or the continue. One reason among many that he was not allowed to drive a cart unless I was on board.
"What do we have?"
One of the bearers started to tell me and threw up again.
His team leader waved weakly towards the trail. "It's bad."
Shane fixed his bayonet on his shotgun. I took my rifle off its rack and checked chamber, then rigged the patrol sling for a short hike.
Over the hill and through the dale, down to see a lot of fail... not a good moment to either sing or hopscotch, I feared.
When I arrived, Janine and two of her medics were leaning over something in the trail. One of the two medics was holding an IV bag high over his head and studiously staring at a fixed point on the horizon. Tubing linked the IV bag to what he was not looking at.
The other medic was green faced and pale, with freckles of vomit on his beard and shirt. He was clearly stuck in the "airway breathing circulation" loop of attempting to care for his patient, and failing.
Janine was speaking calmly to the casualty.
"It's OK, you're safe now," she kept saying. Her hands checked the IV tubing to make sure it stayed in the fragile vein on the left inner arm.
"Shreve, overwatch," I ordered and slung my rifle, putting on a pair of gloves. I could see where this was going. "Shreve, I'm going to need you to relay radio traffic for me."
"Sir."
Patient one is a male in his apparent sixties. Patient one has lacerations to his hands and feet. Patient one is dehydrated and has left a blood trail to this point, possibly exsanguinated. Patient one has a patent airway and has been hooked up to IV fluids, but needs transfusion and pain medication immediately. Patient one is very vulnerable to shock.
I kneel down by the patient's side.
"My name is [Echo 18] and I am an emergency medical technician. We are going to help you. I need to know your blood type. What is your blood type?"
He tries to gasp. I uncap my water bottle.
"Sir, I'm going to hold this up to your lips. Just take a tiny little sip. DON'T swallow it, OK, just swish it in your mouth. There you go. Sir, what's your blood type?"
"Doctor David Alexander, employee number [######]." A slow blinking, and he whispers again, "Doctor David Alexander, employee number ..." I take out my pen - now contaminated - and write name and employee number on my left forearm.
We are out of wifi cell range.
"Shane, call Dispatch. I need two stretcher bearer teams and a Stokes stretcher, and a lot of blankets. Warn the teams to fully mask and glove up."
Shane calls it in.
Janine is still right on the edge of losing her shit.
"Sir, I copy that you are Doctor David Alexander. You are on [CLIENT] property and I am a security contractor to [CLIENT]. We are going to take you to our infirmary to treat your injuries. I need to ask you a few questions."
A slow nod. A second slow sip; I am ready to carefully pry the bottle from his nail less fingers if necessary to keep him from swallowing, but he's got this.
"What is your blood type, sir?"
He gasps it.
"Is there anyone else with you? Anyone else who needs help?"
A slow shaking of his head.
"Is anyone chasing you? Are you being pursued?"
He shakes his head again.
RI wordlessly ask Janine - can you hold what we've got? She nods.
"My partner Janine is a medic. She will stay with you. I am going to go get the people to carry you."
I hike back to the hill. My wifi cell works now. I call on the Security private talkgroup.
"[Echo 18], priority operational traffic. Prepare to copy."
"Go."
"We have a medical emergency just inside west Pedestrian gate to which two stretcher bearer teams and a Stokes have been dispatched. Confirm two repeat two teams, Stokes litter and extra blankets."
"Confirm."
"Infirmary alert: trauma and medical patient in extremis, repeat in extremis, I need a site page for blood type [Letter, Rh] immediately. Confirm infirmary alert and blood page."
"Copy blood page, [Letter, Rh]. Copy infirmary alert."
"I need the vet surgeon and respiratory therapist to respond Code 3 to the infirmary. Tell them this will be surgical. Patient is unstable. I need them at the infirmary, not here in the field."
"Copy both medical specialists, Code 3 infirmary, unstable patient, surgery required."
"I need three patrols to gear up to go out perimeter, West Gate, within the next hour. At least two patrols will need to stay out all night."
"Copy 3 patrols, two all nighters."
"Clear for now."
I switch nets to the Stretcher Bearer frequency. They have radios for many reasons, mostly because they suck.
"Echo 18 to stretcher bearer teams Albert and Baker. Meet me at the top of the hill. I need you to glove up and mask up as if for a dead body, If you have VapoRub put it under your noses."
I can see from a distance that one team is listening and the other team is not.
"Echo 18 to the team that doesn't listen, put on your fucking gloves and your fucking masks before I put a boot in your asses. Do it now."
They comply. A couple minutes later, they have hiked up the trail to my location - with the Stokes and the blankets, and extra straps.
"OK, folks, here's what we got. Over that hill we have someone who is very badly hurt. I'm amazed he's alive, he might die at any moment. Some of you will know him.
"I am telling you this so you can handle your business. He looks like hell. Actually, he looks like hell took a shit on your mom's face. Fortunately for him he's too fucked up to know it. To keep him alive we have to keep it that way.
"If you throw up when you see him, you get your ass out of this evolution and off this trail. If you throw up anywhere near him, I am going to seriously fuck with your shit. If you throw up ON him, I will literally draw this handgun and kneecap you in both knees to avoid the humiliation of having you on a stretcher bearer team again. Do you fucking understand?
"The correct answer is 'Yes, sir, we fucking understand sir!'"
A ragged chorus of replies. It will have to do.
As we go over the rise, they are all looking with great curiosity as to what could have caused me to be so ruthless in my warning.
As we get closer, two go to the side of the trail and keep going, holding their gorge until they can vomit copiously well away from us. Good.
I re-evaluate Doctor Alexander. His skin color has improved very slightly, otherwise no significant change.
I lead the stretcher bearers through gently lying the enclosed steel litter next to him. Normally it is for confined space or high angle or rope rescue. Today it is for carrying a man who should scream in agony if any one of his limbs brushes anything.
I check the water level in my bottle. To forestall any more attempts at hydration, I gently and slowly pour it over his lower legs and feet. Then I toss it to the side. I'll get it later. Or burn it.
Janine and I fuss with the blankets.
A third member of the stretcher bearer teams lurches away, not without glancing at my handgun. Probably wondering if I meant it.
Yes I fucking meant it.
"OK, folks, we are going to lift very carefully. Janine and I will support Doctor Alexander's head and neck. You two will support his torso from that side, you two from this side. I need you two to carefully - carefully - support him under his buttocks. Do not touch his spine. As we lift, our two medics here will carefully slide the stretcher underneath, and we will gently put him down.
"On the command of three, one... two... three."
He groans weakly and gasps, but we manage it.
"Bearers, take your grips. This is a rough terrain six person carry. Take it slow and easy. On the command ... lift."
With the train in motion, Janine is free to turn away and take her turn on the vomit comet. I must take the lead with the stretcher party and watch for rocks and bumps. She catches up with us as we are slowly loading him into the ambulance.
I get in the back with him. He seems to be fascinated with me for some reason. His eyes keep looking at my belt.
"Homeland?" he says weakly, in some alarm.
"[CLIENT] Security," I reply firmly. "Not Homeland."
As we - slowly - drive away, the bearers are doing a critical incident stress defusing in between a nice team building gang vomit. I am alone in the back of the ambulance with Doctor Alexander and Janine.
I whisper deliberately.
"Not Homeland. Never, ever Homeland."
He relaxes so completely that I wonder if he has finally gone into clinical shock. Then he breathes and thus so do I.
We transfer him to a gurney, then into the trauma room of the infirmary.
The respiratory therapist starts to ralph but swallows it.
The vet surgeon is fully geared up for trauma, gloves and mask and gown. The overhead light is lit and surgical tray and tools are at hand.
Thank God.
Then I realize that she is sweating profusely and has no idea where to start.
I realize with horror that I am apparently the medical lead.
"Give me nasal cannula, 2 LPM, be ready with suction. Doctor, I would like to start by stabilizing the patient. I asked for a blood call. We have a vein, can we transfuse?"
She blinks twice and takes over. Good.
Our protocol is to live-link people who are blood type and Rh factor compatible. Someone else has had a rush of brains to the head - the donor is blindfolded, has VapoRub on his lip, and is masked when brought in.
I am demoted to scrub nurse. This involves a lot of fiddling with instruments, a lot of which have to be pointed out to me by touch.
Janine is not in the room - she has gone out to put her people back together.
I can trust my supervisors to put the patrols out.
If anyone is following Doctor Alexander, I want them ...
Pause. Steady breath.
... neutralized.
"I'm going to wait to do the legs. I'm concerned about the clots if they let go. Gentle washing may be better than attempting to debride at this point."
"Copy."
Doctor Alexander is now fitted with tubes to the best of our dim ability - nasal cannula, three IV lines (two saline drips, one blood) and a catheter.
He has fallen asleep.
If someone had been doing that - however gently - to my wounded fingers, never mind how I had lost my nails, I would be screaming and clawing at the ceiling.
He has fallen asleep.
Even if he dies now, and he very well might, he has reached - however temporarily - a safe place.
I excuse myself and scrub out.
It is now my duty to keep it that way. And the second question is to keep his identity safely contained.
The first question - who did this to him? - has already been answered to my satisfaction.
Homeland.
no subject
Date: 2018-04-20 05:11 am (UTC)I nod.
"I know what I'm asking. Can he be transported?"
"No idea. We have no laboratory. He might stay lucky, he might start circling the drain at any moment. I pulled my IV calculations out of my ass, he weighs about as much as a pit bull."
"We transport or he dies."
"So why ask?"
"Get him ready, Doctor."
no subject
Date: 2018-04-20 05:31 am (UTC)Who: a picked team of Security personnel.
What: one bus, one van, one shuttle bus.
When: right fucking now.
Where: out of the Federal Security Zone.
How: desperation.