PROTOTYPE 04
By Heck



Comments to heck@petermeyer.go-plus.net

CHAPTER FOUR

We didn't believe him, at first.

I mean, who would? A woman fifteen times stronger? Come on.

But we did the math, anyway. It came out to fifteen point two five.

Over the next month, we performed every test we could think of. We cat scanned
her, x-rayed her, prodded and poked her, and did everything short of invasive
surgery. We ran computer simulations, trying to factor in everything we knew
about her, both now and from her archive records.

They were interesting. All of her test scores, both physical and mental, had
been in the top two percentile. For both sexes. So even then, Lucy Radovic had
been an impressive specimen. Her intelligence had bordered on genius, her
psych profile had her as bold, loyal, resourceful, and adaptable, and her
physicality was the equal of many men in the astronaut program.

And according to Rob, all of that had been multiplied by a factor of fifteen.
At least.

One of the last checks we made was on her immune system. We introduced various
bacterial and viral infections to samples of her blood, and watched through a
microscope. It was like watching a war movie. Her white cells reacted
aggressively and in an organised way, attacking and destroying even viruses
that had defeated pharmacology, almost before they had a chance to begin
multiplying. All contagions were defeated within minutes of their
introduction.

Finally, we exhausted all the procedures we could carry out on a comatose
body. All the results and sims pointed to Rob being, as usual, right on the
button. We could do nothing further while she was unconscious.

It was time to wake her up.

We made the mistake of informing Bouvier of what we were going to do. As a
result the three stooges, as we called them, had gathered to witness the
event. Bouvier, Jackson, and Santana all clustered round the dome, peering
over Rob's shoulder at his monitor screens.

I still didn't know why there was military involvement in all this, even less
the FBI. I kept thinking that one of them would tell us, but they never did
and, I have to admit, that FBI woman made me uneasy. I had a few ideas why
they were taking an interest, and I didn't like any of them.

It was a strange feeling, knowing you were involved in something this big and,
potentially, dangerous, that nobody else knew about. All the billions of
people in the world, going on with their daily lives, and here we were working
with the only possible evidence of extraterrestrial life mankind had ever
discovered. Weird.

Suited up, Mike DeLuca and I stepped into the dome. That in itself was an
eerie feeling. The sterile environment and the warm, still air seemed to
muffle all sound, as if the world was cushioned in cotton wool.

"Rob, you speak up if there's any fluctuations in her vitals", Mike reminded.

"You got it, man". Rob's voice sounded small and tinny over the comm.

Mike and I began unhooking Lucy from the apparatus, cleaning her up as we
went. We deflated the retaining balloon to pull free her urinary catheter, and
extracted the IV from her arm. We stripped the tape from her eyelids and
removed her plastic airway. A quick glance at Rob, who gave a thumbs-up sign,
reassured us that all was going OK, so we finished the job by pulling off the
ecg and eeg electrodes, leaving only the BP and pulse monitor attached to her
finger.

I shared a look with Mike. We were feeling both excited and anxious. Nothing
could go wrong, but those could be famous last words.

As the physician, we had decided that Mike should be the one to actually wake
her. There is a drug called Activon Twelve, only a couple of years old and
still largely experimental, that has been used successfully in the treatment
of coma, and even pvs, and that was what he filled the spray-hypo with. He
placed it against her brachial artery, on the inner arm just under the biceps
muscle, and depressed the nozzle. The syringe discharged its preset dosage
with a sharp hiss, leaving only a slightly reddened disc on her skin.

"That it?" I asked as her stepped back.

"Should be", he nodded, dropping the hypo on a tray and folding his arms. "I
was a bit concerned that the spray wouldn't penetrate her skin, it being so
dense and all, but it seems to have worked. She should be coming round any
second".

Right on cue, the thickly lashed eyelids fluttered briefly. Her lips made tiny
smacking noises, working saliva round her dry mouth, and she lifted a hand to
her face. Her brows knitted, and her eyelids finally found the courage to
open, revealing a pair of startlingly clear deep blue eyes.

The bland inner surface of the domed ceiling was the first thing Lucy Radovic
had seen in over six decades.

I moved slowly into her field of view, smiling what I imagined to be my best
smile of welcome. She gazed back blankly, at first, and then with bewilderment
as the first waves of disorientation washed over her.

"Hello, Lucy".

He reaction was unexpected, to say the least. Her lovely face screwed up as if
in agony, and her hands flew to cover her ears. I stepped back hurriedly,
hands spread and shoulders lifted as I looked at Mike in confusion.

"What? What did I say?"

He looked as baffled as me, and we both looked at Rob. He leaned over his
mike, and his tinny voice sounded in the 'phones of our suits.

"Quiet, man. You forget, she's enhanced. That means hearing, too. Fifteen
times more sensitive, you know? Your voice must sound like hell, to her. She
has to get used to it".

It made sense. I went back to the gurney and laid a gentle hand on Lucy's
forearm. She opened her eyes again.

Those eyes. I never saw the like of those eyes. Fringed by lashes that were
unusually thick and long for one so fair, they were large and very blue.
Almost indigo, in fact, and it was like looking into deep pools of sparkling
intelligence.

"Hello", I said again, very quietly. "Sorry to have startled you. Welcome
back, Lucy".

She looked puzzled, but there was no fear in her eyes and she returned my gaze
steadily. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"Don't try to talk. Just get your bearings, first. I'm Dr Cameron, but you can
call me Sean". I beckoned Mike and he moved closer, a wide grin on his big,
beaming face. "This is Professor DeLuca. But I'm sure he won't mind if you
call him Mike".

"Hi", Mike said, and a corner of her mouth twitched as if she tried to smile.
Her eyes darted about as she took in her immediate surroundings, frowning a
question as her lips framed a word.

"Hospital?" I asked. "Are you asking me if you're in hospital?" A tiny nod.
"Not exactly. But you are in a facility where we can care for you. There's
nothing to be afraid of, but you should know that you've been in a coma
for.quite some time. Everything's going fine now, though"'

"What happened?" Her voice, rasping through her dry throat, was so tiny that I
had to lean very close to catch her words. I wasn't sure how much to tell her
yet, and looked to Mike, who had gravitated to the position of unofficial
leader of our little team, for guidance.

"There was an accident". His deep voice was calm and soothing. "You were
brought here unconscious and Sean and I, with the help of Rob, there, were
assigned to look after you". Enough information, you would have thought, to
satisfy her immediate curiosity.

"What kind of accident?" Ah, well. Wrong again. Mike left a long pause before
replying.

"How much do you remember?"

Her eyes closed, and you could almost see her accessing her memory banks.

"I remember the shuttle", she whispered. "Europa. And I remember going EVA to
fix the waldoe arm". She stopped abruptly, and a look of horror settled on her
features like a mask. "Ohmigod! The shape! The black shape! The explosion!"

Mike's large hands held her shoulders comfortingly, as the tears sprang from
her eyes.

"It's OK. You're OK. It's all over". His compassionate voice had a great
calming effect, and the near panic subsided as her face relaxed into an
expression of deep sadness.

"The crew?" So quietly that it was hard to hear her. "John Sorensen? Steve
Nixon? The rest?" Mike's expression answered her question. "Oh. No. Oh, God,
no".

"I'm sorry. You were the only survivor. Europa was completely destroyed, and
you would have been, too, if you weren't EVA at the time".

Her tears were flowing freely, but there was no sobbing or wracking of her
body. Time enough for that later, but for now it looked like her few waking
minutes had completely exhausted her.

"That's enough for now", I said. "You'll have loads of questions, and we do,
too. But for now, you should try and get some sleep. Proper sleep". Her mouth
opened to protest, but I pressed a finger to her lips. "You've been through a
lot, Lucy. There'll be plenty of time, and I promise we'll explain everything.
But now, sleep. Close your eyes. There's a good girl. Go to sleep".

Obediently, her eyelids closed and, such was her fatigue, that despite the
hundreds of questions that must have been in her mind, she was deeply asleep
within a minute.

Proper sleep. REM sleep. Restorative sleep".

Mike and I slipped out of the dome and left her in peace.