Far Frontiers Part 11

Amelitia Rujillo, a delicate-looking lady with silver hair in her late fifties, lay as if sleeping peacefully on the surgical table, a scan plate beneath her head to translate to computer screen the operations of the tiny machines. The Chief of Surgery's unique micro-laser waswheeled in and settled near the patient. Jeffrey conferred quickly with Drs. Greene and Ka.s.sarr about their duties watching the monitor and the molecule-sized machines. Settling down behind the secondary computer with the prominent surgeon at his shoulder, Dr. Ka.s.sarr nodded his readiness.

"Okay, folks, here we go." Hoping the trembling of his hands wouldn't impair his work, Jeffrey reached out for a syringe, loaded it from the first vial in the box, and injected the tiny machines into the patient's carotid artery.

The computer screens brightened suddenly with a swarm of blue dots concentrated to one side of the outline of the patient's neck as the nanites swirled in her bloodstream and became used to the sudden heat. Slowly at first, then in a nish, they surged toward the growth at the base of her brain on the current of Rujillo's lifeblood. First they scooted into smaller arteries, then into capillaries, from there easily crossing that permeable barrier to charge at the growth pulsing yellow on-screen.

An audible gasp came from the operating room team when the first few specks of blue attached themselves to the bilious surface. Ron let out a long breath, unaware he'd been holding it, eyes glued to the monitor and the battle now joined beyond his reach. The malignancy was only the size of a hazelnut kernel, but had demanded a critical toll of the systems controlling Rujillo's body. Silently, Jeffrey urged the little machines on.

"Will you look at that?" Dr. Greene leaned toward the screen he was watching with Dr.

Ka.s.sarr as the first wave of microscopic machines fell away from the growth and the second took their places. A thin green line remained to mark the original circ.u.mference of the cancer, already a measurable difference. 'They're just peelin' it right off."

Ron didn't know who started the applause, but it took over the operating theater before he could get it stopped. "Hold it, hold it," he snapped, voice cutting through the sound. "We've got a long way to go yet. Keep your focus." He checked the time by the wall clock. Fifteen minutes into the first surgery ever performed on a human by nanites.

The malignancy was now completely covered by blue mites, with more on the way. The process increased in speed, the green line showing s.p.a.ce clearly now between what had been the original outline of the growth and what remained. For Jeffrey time slowed, dripping like cold honey as his long years of research and struggle crystallized into success.

The growth spasmed as if fighting back, causing exclamations among the operating roompersonnel. Like a line of miniature bulldogs the tiny machines kept tight hold on their enemy, in control of the offense.

"Half gone," Dr. Ka.s.sarr murmured in an awed voice as more s.p.a.ce showed clear between the green line and the existing tumor. "Already half gone."

"Anything can happen now," replied Ron tightly, his blue-gray gaze locked on the screen as the nanites with necrotic burdens began gathering to one side of the internal surgical field.

"Stay alert."

"I wouldn't miss a second of this show for any-thin'," muttered Dr. Greene. "Look at that!"

The tiny machines and their partner virus had reduced the malignancy to the point where it seemed to be dying twice as fast as before. And then suddenly everything stopped.

"What happened?" bellowed Dr. Greene, frowning at Ron.

'They've found something different," replied Jeffrey. "They'll check the programming to figure out what to do." Beyond sight of his colleagues, he crossed his fingers.

The nanites not involved with the main part of the growth swirled around the upper end.

Abruptly they j~egan working, but in a different pattern than before.

Ron caught his breath. "It's a tendril."

"It worked itself deeper into her brain," Dr. Ka.s.sarr said. "None of us saw that. No wonder she lost her motor functions so quickly."

The tiny machines that had accomplished their task now outnumbered the ones working.

Except for those - extracting the tendril, most gathered in the upper right hand quadrant, awaiting the rest before they plunged back into the bloodstream and eventually congregated at the extraction site. There remained very little of the original malignancy to remove. Ron glanced at the clock.

One hour into surgery. With micro-laser techniques, it would have taken several, perhaps all day.

A tiny motion on the screen caught his eye as the hum of excited conversation from the surgical team rose in the theater. A block of virus piggybacked on 'mtes shuddered delicately.

The motion pa.s.sed from the first group, to another and another. The observant Dr. Ka.s.sarr looked up frowning from his monitor as Ron's flying fingers split his own screen and called up the programming.

"What's going on?" Ka.s.sarr asked. The staff hushed suddenly, making Ops One as silentas a tomb except for the sigh of the small pumps helping to regulate Ms. Rujillo's breathing.

"Virus mutation." Jeffrey scanned the lines of code, found the ones he wanted, and amended them.

"What're you going to do?" rumbled Dr. Greene.

"I'm sending in a second batch with stronger programming to take out the first. I've got to do this within minutes, or we'll have a ma.s.sive viral infection to deal with as well as what's left of the tendril part of the tumor." Ron connected the special cable to the box protecting the namtes, administered the instructions, took out the vial, and accepted a sterile syringe from a nurse standing nearby. Jeffrey tapped the flat end to activate its automatic function: the syringe activated, sucking the nanites into the needle. Rising, crossing the short s.p.a.ce between his monitor and the patient as quickly as he could, the doctor injected the micro-machines a little closer to the tumor site than before.

The new batch glowed red as they surged into her bloodstream, through the capillaries, and to the site where the malignancy was now almost a memory. The vermilion spots ignored everything else, heading directly for the shuddering blue motes.

Some of the latter tried to escape, flying away from captivity. Others attacked, but the new infusion was too strong for the former. One by one, red superimposed the blue, creating an odd purple glow on the screen as the original namtes were overcome. A few reds waited for unmutated blues still working on the last of the tendril, restraining them as they surfaced from the tunnel the malignancy had pushed into the patient's brain.

"What's going on?" one of the nurses quavered.

"The second group of nanites and the new virus killed the mutating group. They've got the originals piggybacked, and will take them to the retraction site." Ron hoped his voice didn't sound as coiled-spring tight as he felt. "With a little luck, I can suck most of ~ them out. That is, if nothing else happens."

Purple indicators streamed into capillaries and back into Amelitia's main bloodstream as the surgical team watched nervously. Their acc.u.mulation in a vein on the left side of her neck took an additional few minutes. Jeffrey signaled from his monitor when all but a few swirled in place. Dr. Ka.s.sarr stood ready with an-other syringe.

"Do it."

The swarthy doctor leaned over their patient, inserted the needle, hit the trigger forautomatic suction, and watched as the void filled with dark blood. Ron a.s.sessed the numbers of the micro-machines as most of the purple vanished from his screen. "What have we got left inside?" he rasped.

"'Bout thirty, close as I can make it," Dr. Greene replied.

"Good. Dr. Wages, how's the patient?"

The primary anesthesiologist checked her readouts. "Blood pressure normal. Breathing with very little a.s.sistance. Still on a minimum of anesthetic. From here, she looks very good."

Jeffrey scrutinized the very few colored bits on his monitor. No yellow. No heaving viruses that meant mutation. A minimal number of nanites left in the patient's body-those would be escorted out by the leucocytes, white blood cells that cleansed the system. He heaved a big sigh. "Folks, I think we've done it."

A cheer rose. Someone pulled him to his feet, and a warm hand clasped his. "Dr. Jeffrey,"

Dr. Northman's voice sounded cool but friendly beneath the din. He was dressed in surgical attire, as if he'd been in the room during the entire procedure. Ron hadn't noticed.

"Congratulations. How quickly can you write this up? I'd like to get it into the American Medical a.s.sociation's Journal as soon as possible.

"And by the way, I appreciate your excellent performance under pressure. This was truly your trial by fire. How would you like to head the new nanotech surgical section, working with Dr. Greene and his staff?"

"I-I.. ." Ron couldn't get the words past his constricted throat.

The administrator smiled. "Get some rest first. We can discuss it tomorrow. Nine o'clock, my office." He raised his voice. "Good work, people. I'm going to release the particulars to the media in a few minutes, along with Dr. Jeffrey. In a few hours, I expect to announce a successful new surgical technique, another winner for humanity and Mid-Atlantic Peace-the first nanotech surgery performed on a human. We saved Amelitia Rujillo with microscopic machines!"

HOME WORLD

by Marc Bilgrey

Marc Bilgrey has written for television, magazines, and comedians. His short stones have appeared in numerous anthologies, including Cat Crimes Through Time, Merlin, and Bruce Coville's Alien Visitors.

I was out in one of the fields behind our house weeding tomatoes when I saw Emma walking toward me. The sun was setting and she was framed against a gorgeous purple-and-blue sky, just like the kind I used to remember seeing when I was a kid, back on Earth.

As Emma approached, I wiped my brow and stood up. She was wearing her dirty jeans, work s.h.i.+rt, and boots. She brushed some of her gray hair out of her eyes and smiled at me. "Hiya, Beautiful," I said. "What's going on?"

"Have you forgotten about the meeting in town tonight, James?" she said.

We hadn't been into town in months, not since we'd gone in to pick up some flour and salt. "Was that tonight?" I said. "I thought it was later in the week." After twenty-five years of marriage I had begun to accept the fact that Emma was more practical and always better informed than I was.

"We should leave in a few minutes," said Emma, "I don't want to be late."

"I still don't understand what the point of this meeting is," I said.

"You know exactly as much as I do."

"Why can't they just tell people what these things are all about? What's the big mystery?"

"Sam says he thinks it's about expanding the s.p.a.ceport."

"When did you see our nosy neighbor?" I asked.

'This afternoon, and how can a man who lives ten miles away be nosy?"

"I don't know, but he manages."We went into the house, and I put on my jacket. It was completely dark by the time we stepped out again, and the planet's twin orange moons hung motionless in the sky above us.

"When are we going to have dinner?" I said, as we got into our dusty aerocar.

"We'll have something when we get back," said Emma.

I closed the plexdome and turned on the engine. It sputtered to life, and then we lifted off into the air. We floated over the rock-strewn, barren landscape like a cm, one of the planet's few species of indigenous birds.

Soon we were flying over scattered farms, canyons, and tall mountain peaks. Eventually, the buildings of Zeta Town came into view below us. There were acm-cars everywhere: in the air and on the ground.

"I haven't seen it this crowded since the harvest festival last year," I said.

"It looks even busier than that," responded Emma, as I set the aerocar down behind Al's General Store.

From there we got out and began walking on Main Street. There was something very comforting about its one- and two-story buildings and stone sidewalks, I thought. It reminded me of old, two-dimensional photographs I'd seen of Earth's American West, circa 1870.

By the time we reached the church a block away, we'd been jostled, pushed, and elbowed so many times I was starting to feel like this was Alpha Central Station, not the Zeta settlement.

Emma and I found seats in the back of the austere church as people filled every available pew and even lined up against the walls. The church was the only building in town made of real wood, specially brought from Earth on one of the first s.h.i.+ps that had arrived on Zeta.

A few minutes went by and then Reverend Collins stepped up to the lectern and addressed the gathering. Though he was in his sixties now, he seemed much younger.

After welcoming everyone and making a joke about not seeing this many people on Sundays, he introduced a man, William Evans, who he said was with a company called Plan- Form, and that Mr. Evans had some things to say of interest to everyone. There was some polite applause as Evans stepped up to the podium.

Evans, who was dressed in a dark blue business suit, looked out at the crowd. "I'll get right to the point," he said. "My company feels that the Zeta settlement has great potential as a center of commerce. It's for that reason that we've been quietly buying up land here, and, as of today, are proud to announce that we're the biggest real estate holder on the planet."So far I didn't like what I was hearing at all. I glanced at Emma. She had a concerned expression on her face.

The speaker continued. "Up till now, the Zeta settlement has been a quiet, sleepy, little frontier planet at the edge of the known galaxy..

"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered under my breath.

Emma looked at me and said, "Shhhhhhh."

The speaker smiled. It was one of those cold smiles, the kind you see on politicians who are running for office. "Plan-Form," he announced, "intends to bring prosperity to Zeta by attracting new residents with affordable housing. New businesses will come here because of tax and other incentive packages. And with new business will come jobs."

"What do we get?" yelled Dan White, a corn farmer.

"Plan-Form intends to expand the s.p.a.cepoit. Also, we will build a community center."

Our neighbor Sam stood up, turned to face the people, and said, "It seems that a lot of us here have been tricked into selling our land to this man without knowing what he intended to do with it. Well, now we know. We also know that this is no man. Don't be fooled by his looks. This is the devil. That's whom we've made a deal with. I never thought the day would come when I'd be listening to the devil in my very own church."

The crowd went wild with applause, cheers, cat calls, and boos. When everyone calmed down, Evans tried to recover. He spoke about progress, about the future and opportunity, but there wasn't anything he could say that would make Sam's words go away.

When he was done talking, a lot of people asked questions and there were a few more heated exchanges.

During the trip home, neither Emma nor I spoke. I looked out at the pa.s.sing landscape I knew so well. The empty valleys and vast, expansive plains suddenly seemed to be sad places, like innocent mice about to be eaten by a hungry cobra.

As soon as Emma and I were in the house, I went out to the back porch. There, stretching in front of me for hundreds of miles were rock fields and craggy mountains behind them. Emma stepped onto the porch and stood next to me.

"It's even prettier than usual this evening," she remarked, looking out into the night.

"Maybe you'd better take a picture of it," I said, "it might not be here tomorrow."

"Let's not overreact, shall we?""We've just been told that everything we've worked for is about to be destroyed, and you think I'm overreacting?" I exclaimed, staring at the shadows in the distance.

"Is that what you got from this?"

"Was there another interpretation? We didn't come here twenty years ago to watch it be destroyed by some outsider."

"But he did say that they would be building things for the community."

"Sam was right. We've sold the Zeta settlement to the highest bidder. We caine here to escape from so-called 'civilization.' We're one of the last frontier planets in the galaxy. We wanted a better life away from everything that is wrong with the populated worlds."

"I know why we came here, James. It's just been a very hard life, that's all."

I looked at Emma and saw that her gaze was directed out at the mountains. "What exactly are you saying, Emma?" I said.

"I'm saying that these last twenty years have been a struggle."

"Of course it's been a struggle, that's what pioneers do," I said, looking at her. "We knew that going in. But we've prospered. We're self-sufficient. We live off the land, we want for nothing. And now this man... this company is coming in."

"James.. . I want for something. I want things to be easier. I'd like to have some of the nicer things in life."

"What do you mean?" I said. "What do you want?"