CHAPTER 5

DISCLAIMERS the same as all before. My continued thanks for comments--it helps to know which stuff makes sense and which, not so much!

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT: nine hours earlier, 1:00 p.m.

The plastic sleeve had filled quickly with the dark, rich blood flowing from the arm of the X5 strapped to the table, and as it topped the first pint, the man greedily snapped the cap closed and switched the tube over to a second pint bag. The subject was clearly healthy and vital, and it occurred to him that he could freeze her blood and have additional supply on hand, as needed.

He turned his back on her to take the first pint down the hall, refusing to be too concerned about the tremors that had continued despite her apparent succumbing to the drug. If it continued he would find a way to ask his mother, but as it was it shouldn't change the quality of the blood she supplied. He felt a heady thrill to know that he was succeeding, that he would be able to give his mother this new chance at life. There was no reason it shouldn't work...

"Beginning with the X2 series, the subjects were bred to be universal donors, for the improvement of survival rate in battlefield or other critical situations, with 98.79 percent success reached in the X4" he had read in his mother's study. "And in X5, pluripotents were introduced into the subjects' serum, the desired result being not only an augmented healing capacity in the subject itself but in use as donor blood, for an increase in healing efficiency in the field."

He did not find any further reports on the use of stem cells and had asked about that. The studies were incomplete, she had explained, and so not statistically reliable–but her eyes had sparked as she went on to say that it would have only been a matter of time, that the breeding of healing blood donors had indeed been successful. Beyond use for battlefield regeneration of the project soldiers, she had spearheaded the creation of the super-donors, a group of living, breathing serum-machines that could be tapped to cure damn near anything that required the regeneration of any type of cell in the body. The potential was staggering...

She had just needed another six months to study the genetic flaw that repressed serotonin production in these donors, and her genetic program design would have been perfect. Her donors could have been used not only for other project subjects but for the general public as well. What a scientific breakthrough she could have offered the world-- ready blood sources that would heal any disease for any blood type! So close...

At least now, she would have a personal reward for all her work–one of the subjects was here and would provide her with the promised healing that the stem cell-rich blood would afford. The only thing that nagged at him at the moment was that 452 might have been a defective who somehow survived the purge of those with serotonin deficiencies....

No matter. She was here and her blood would heal the architect of the donor program. It seemed to be the ultimate justice.

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT: seven hours earlier, 3:00 p.m.

Max tried to focus on the walls and ceiling around her but she could not; she could not stay awake for long and when she did, she felt small but insistent tremors shaking her, further demonstrating how disruptive the drugs were in her system...

It was bad enough that she was completely overpowered, she now felt nauseous and dizzy. While the first drug, and even the second, had initially felt familiar, this thick, lethargic illness did not. She had a fleeting thought of Logan, of how right he had been to insist she wait and how if she got out of this she would never ignore him again, ever...

She heard the door and strained to see the face of her jailer as he glanced over to her, keeping a bit of distance. She had to know. "What is all this?" She croaked.

"What?" He looked over at her, a bit distracted and pre-occupied, as compared to before. He turned back to his work.

She swallowed and, before she slipped under again she had to know, "What about Jondy? What have you done with her?"

"Jondy?" He shook his head, dismissive. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Who..." She breathed, suddenly feeling her eyes fill, understanding with finality that Logan was right. "Not what..." He ignored her, back to her and working at the shelves several feet away. "The photograph."

"Oh." There was a long pause, and he said, "it was a picture I found in some files. Another one of you; I could never tell one from another." He turned back to consider her. "Have you always had those seizures?"

She turned to look over at him, trying to focus, and what she saw made her shiver, not liking the look in his eyes. She rolled her head back, wearily...alone. "What seizures?" she muttered.

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT: five hours earlier, 5:00 p.m.

"Mother...?" the voice was soft, encouraging. "Time for another treatment."

The woman opened her eyes to see the smiling face of her son blinking owlishly, looking hopeful...and holding a pint bag of plasma, as far as she could tell. She struggled to remember, her thoughts actually a bit more clear with the rest she'd gotten...

He could tell she didn't remember. "Transfusions, mom. X5 blood. You're going to get better."

She was lucid enough to react in surprise. "Briley–how...?" She wondered if her simple, attentive son had finally lost touch with reality, in his fear of her illness. "How could you know if it was an X5's blood...?"

"Don't you remember–at the market? You saw 452?" He saw the flicker of memory in her eyes. "Well, I found her–she agreed to donate some blood, so you'd get better. It won't be long, will it?" He asked, innocently.

The woman sighed. He had read her work, had studied all the files she'd managed to salvage from Manticore, but he just couldn't conceive of all that it meant. Her son the pharmacist, wanting to continue her work but just not equipped with sufficient "skills" for the task... "No...not long..." Oddly enough, it might just work. And if he actually got 452 to agree? Maybe he was more adept than she thought...

WAREHOUSE DISTRICT: present, 10:00 P.M.

The tremors had finally stopped when Briley upped the concentration of SS-112 in her saline drip–he didn't want to have to do it but her increasing pallor and the seizures had him worried. Everything else had gone so smoothly; if this defect compromised his mother's recovery...he wouldn't allow himself to think of it.

He wanted to give his mother yet another transfusion but the sedative was making her sleep for two or three hours afterward, so deeply she couldn't be roused. He hated that he had to disturb her in this but he had to face the fact that he needed her input. He stood and made his way to her room..

"Hi. Mom," he came in quietly, siding up to the bed. "You awake?"

She opened her eyes to him. "Hello, son." As he sat on the bed beside her, she thought she saw that look he had, as a child, when troubled or confused. She waited.

"How you feeling?

She nodded. "I'm alright, Briley." She paused, closing her eyes tiredly. "What is it?"

"You know, I think 452 has those seizures you thought had been eliminated."

She opened her eyes again to him. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, things are fine..." he assured her hurriedly, then paused..and continued, vaguely, "it's just that I think the SS-112 might have caused..."

"The what..?" The grey eyes looked at the man more carefully now, as if trying to see through a fog of memory. "She was given SS-112? By whom?"

The pharmacict shifted uncomfortably under the increasingly lucid gaze. "By me." He swallowed. "I wanted her to be comfortable, and I w...wasn't sure about any other sedatives for her...you had said that it was safe and humane; I thought it would be better than trying something else..."

"How much have you given her?" His mother's voice was steady, even.

"She's been on a drip since she got here; I prepared the dosage as you had listed for the single dose darts; I gave her two, full strength, then put two in a litre of saline. She was still having some tremors, so I put in four." He came clean, realizing he was over his head. He paused, looked away, and added, "she doesn't look so good..."

"Of course not," his mother sighed, wearily, "it's toxic."

"Toxic!" His eyes flew wide as he felt creeping panic overtake him. "But you said--all the reports said--"

"The reports deal with single doses, and recovery time in between." He really wasn't up to this, she thought, not for the first time in his lifetime. "It was never meant to be more than a single use application."

"But mom--" he cringed with the thought of the harm he might have done, "I've given you her blood! Twice! If I've done anything..."

"Briley, please..." she tried to soothe, but felt a bit of irritation that she again had to worry about his lack of understanding in such things. "There were a few hours in between the transfusions, weren't there?"

He nodded eagerly. "Five hours between the first two; five hours since the last--"

She considered the ramifications--and the growing realization that she was starting to feel stronger, more focused, as the blood quickly worked in her system. "It will be fine; five hours in between, and scale back to three doses per litre. I'll be fine." She lay back. "And if you're concerned about the tremors--add 50 ccs of liquid tryptophan into the preparation. That should help."

He bounced up to his feet, again nodding eagerly, and asked, "Should we start this pint now?"

She nodded, considering him, thinking that she might also be starting to understand. "You believe she needs the sedation?"

He looked over at her, guiltily. "Yes."

The doctor sighed again. "Then you may want to take some extra, for storage. It's hard to determine when the toxic effects will affect her organs, but once that happens..." she shrugged.

"I'll get some more right away." And as the small man attached the blood to his mother's IV line, he relaxed a little. She knew everything now, and he had her help--and her blessing. Everything would be just fine...

To be continued.