Code Blue

Astrid had lost track of the number of resuscitation attempts she’d been involved in over the years. That first week as a junior member of a Rushlight Biomedical Response Team she found herself covered in blood, desperately working to get one of the Rushlight security specialist breathing again while the rest of the team returned fire. Some damn stupid corpo had gotten himself in serious trouble with a local gang at a brothel down in Renton while slumming, and was currently being stabilized by the lead medic. That left the junior medic to take care of other casualties. Unfortunately, the gang took saving the corpo’s life all personal.
 
After what seemed like hours of work with gunshots whizzing by overhead—probably a few minutes real-time—the Rushlight AV got back on station-keeping and started filling the gangers with depleted-uranium mini-gun rounds, which took the fight out of them quick. Astrid had managed to stabilize her patient, and the team took both the primary and the casualties back to the AV. The pilot made a tricky hover maneuver to pick everyone up, and in the end the team made it back to base with everyone alive.
 
In retrospect, that had to be considered on the whole a “good week”. She had lost a number of colleges in those Response Team missions in the years since, and while the medical treatment was top-notch for the staff, luck didn’t hold out forever.
 
Not all Response Team missions were balls-out, guns-blazing glory. More often than not, the client was some mid-level executive type who blew an embolism or heart value under constant 24/7 stress at the office and needed immediate treatment. The high-level execs tended to have their own personal care teams. Once in a while a well-off individual might be in a tight spot and need extraction or a fast ride to the ER, and they ran the gamut of humanity: edge-runners, mob bosses, diplomats, politicians, popstars, and even the occasional bewildered and bleeding lottery winner.
 
For the most part, though, Astrid never felt like the people that they saved were all that worthy of saving at least at the risk of a half-dozen lives in the hot-zone. Rushlight wasn’t in the business of doing ‘pro-bono’ work, and for the most part the average joe either died on the street or were dropped off at a clinic by an Uber. As such, working in the clinic was a tiny bit more rewarding. Still, Astrid was a professional and spent many long shifts “paying bills” for Rushlight in those high-billing missions.
 
This, however, was the first time she’d ever been trying to resuscitate someone she loved.
 
The stench of the settling pond was intense. MRLD and Astrid had waded out to find the submerged tank where Thresh was supposed to be, and MRLD dove down to secure a line so they could hoist it out. The water was too deep to attempt to open the tank underwater, and as worried as Astrid was for Thresh, she knew their best chance was to get it out of the water first. Old Evil Voice made it clear that Thresh didn’t have much air left…
 
Between VLK’s van and Box, the four of them managed to hoist the steel tank up and out of the muck. The work was backbreaking and slow. There was no time to get heavy equipment on site, and there was nothing for klicks.
 
Astrid pulled herself out of the old crabbing suit they were wearing for some protection from the fetid water, but her face and hair were still covered in the scum. Grabbing his tools from the van, VLK cut the bolts holding the tank shut while Astrid fidgeted anxiously with her medbag in hand.
 
Finally the hatch swung open and Astrid rushed to check Thresh’s vital. Bluish tinted skin and no sign of breathing had her mind fearing the worst. The medscanner in her cyberarm told her that the blood was still oxygen rich, so between that, the cold and the chemical coma there was still hope.
 
Tears rolled down Astrid’s face as she set to work saving her friend…
 
A few minutes later, Thresh inhaled deeply, then settled down into a steady rhythm. Breath in. Breath out. Running the medscanner over her one more time, Astrid felt joy and triumph. Then, as the adrenaline’s effect began to fade, bone-deep exhaustion.
 
Thresh’s all-black eyes popped open a few minutes later, taking in the sudden light and noise of her friends celebrating it’s return to the world of the living. “What the fuck happened? Where am I?”
 
Astrid fell back and flopped to a seat on the ground, shoulders slumped and feeling emotionally and physically spent. The weight of the past few days finally lifted from her, and she just smiled back at Thresh. “I’m not explaining anything until I get a shower…”
 
“Well, that’s not very considerate, Skinner,” Thresh commented. It was acting as if they had just woken up from a nice rejuvenating nap.
 
VLK replied bluntly, “In the middle of no-where Monroe at a settling pond full of cow-shit.”
 
“OK, that’s some information at least,” Thresh replied, continuing to look around bewildered.
 
Again, it would go down as a “good week” after all.