Chapter Eleven
Until more help could arrive, Michael had to prioritize the best that he could. Rudy's monitor readings indicated that even though he still hadn't regained consciousness he was beginning to stabilize with no further cardiac incidents. Jaime's condition was the most dire but if she needed surgery to remove a clot (and Michael suspected she did), it would be long, delicate - and would require more hands in the operating room. For now she was heavily sedated, her bionics tuned down as far as they could safely take her, and on her way to x-ray. Michael's heart longed to stay by her side but his head overrode his emotions. He was a doctor, first and foremost. There was nothing more he could do for Jaime until he had more staff (and the results of her x-rays) and right now he had a far more immediate and urgent priority to attend to. It had been over 45 minutes since Steve's power pack was damaged. There was very little time left. Bionics were not Michael's specialty (he'd always tended to leave that to Rudy) but he had acquired at least a working knowledge...and he was the only chance Steve had. Michael scrubbed up and strode briskly into OR-1 where Steve (still fully awake and coherent) waited on the table.
''Alright, put him out,'' Michael instructed.
''Michael...wait,'' Steve requested. ''I don't need that. Just pop in the new pack so I can get back to Jaime. Please...''
With Rudy incapacitated, this was Michael's operating room, and he was in charge. ''I need to work fast, with you perfectly still, to get this done. Besides, you won't leave the table until I'm sure your energy has been restored and there are no complications. Sorry; non-negotiable. But I'll have you up and back with Jaime as soon as bothof your conditions allow it. I promise.'' With no further discussion, Michael nodded to the anesthesiologist and Steve didn't put up a fight.
The procedure itself was straightforward and went quickly. Michael was able to replace the power pack, remove the bullet and stretch a new (temporary) plasticine skin into place. He took a look at Rudy's latest monitor readings as he waited for Steve to start coming around...and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. His boss and mentor had suffered a myocardial ischemia - an 'event', rather than a full-on heart attack - and the medications appeared to be working. He would be closely monitored and more tests would need to be done but (for now) Rudy was out of danger.
Steve, too, was beginning to stabilize. He was just fighting his way back to consciousness when a nurse brought Jaime's x-rays and pinned them up in the light box for Michael. For one brief fleeting moment, his emotions overrode his professionalism and he swore softly...just as Steve opened his eyes.
''Well that's a helluva 'Welcome back', Doc,'' Steve joked groggily. Then he saw where the young doctor's attention was focused - and instantly snapped into full awareness. Steve had an awful, eerie sense of deja vu, back to another very dark night in the same hospital, when he'd stared at a similar set of x-rays with Rudy and Oscar...the night Jaime had died. ''Tell me, Michael...?'' Steve pleaded, fighting off the effects of the anesthetic to sit up on the table.
Michael snapped off the light box; he'd seen everything he needed to see. ''Give her another dose of coumadin and x-ray again in 15 minutes,'' he told the nurse. He pulled a stool over to the table and sat down to have a very difficult conversation with Steve.
''Is she...?'' Steve began (unable to fully wrap his mind around the words).
Michael nodded grimly. ''The injury to her leg - and the stress of the situation - Jaime's in full bionic rejection. There's a clot. It's a very small one but in a dangerous position. I'm hoping medication might dissolve it harmlessly but if that doesn't happen in the next few minutes, I'm afraid there won't be any other option but to take her into surgery. I'm sorry; I wish I had better news for you.''
Steve nodded wordlessly. Michael checked his vital signs and concluded that the new power pack had taken hold and was functioning normally. ''Steve,'' he said carefully, knowing he was treading into delicate territory, ''if Jaime does need surgery, it needs to be as soon as possible. But I need to know if you're comfortable with having me perform the procedure...or if you'd rather have another doctor brought in.''
''You're the best at what you do,'' Steve said simply. ''And I appreciate everything you've done here tonight...and everything you're about to do. Thank you.''
The two former rivals for the same woman's affections shared a sincere handshake with the fervent hope that this longest of nights was almost over...and not just beginning.
''Oscar, I need you over here!'' Jack Hansen called. Most of the makeshift command center had gradually been cleared away, with the medical staff returning to the hospital and teams from the NSB and OSI hauling their new prisoners downtown to The Hole for processing and interrogation. Jack Hansen had remained behind, in a fortified van with the one who appeared to be the ringleader, pumping him for information without any prying eyes to witness how that information was obtained.
''Tell him what you just told me!'' Hansen snarled at the prisoner when Oscar reached the back of the van. ''Tell him!''
The prisoner grinned evilly, his eyes glowing in the manner of the truly psychotic. He didn't flinch when Hansen slammed him against the wall of the van. It was only his own sheer joy (and lunacy) that loosened his tongue. ''Let's just say that trigger switch might not have been attached to only one bomb,'' he chuckled. ''And that's all I have to say about that!''