New Beginnings Read online

of the problem, available resources for resolution.”

  “Uh, well, my left arm has been amputated and destroyed. The rest of my body is functioning fine. I have all the tools available here in the nursery. That’s it, I guess.”

  “Working.”

  As I waited, I stared around at the little bodies again – a gruesome scene that held my gaze - like the way you can’t help staring at a vehicle accident.

  Then I saw it.

  One of the delicate unborn ones moved.

  I thought, at first, that it was my mind playing tricks on me, so I moved closer.

  “New variable introduced,” said the Auto-Nurse, startling me.

  “Explain.”

  “Resources list has increased. Fetal unit fourteen indicates living tissue enclosed.”

  “Yes, yes! I knew I saw it move!”

  I reached the unit and peered in through the plexi at the little child.

  A boy.

  “Solution developed,” said Auto-Nurse. “Living fetal stem cell tissue from a matching donor can be used as seed to regrow a new arm.”

  “What? But wouldn’t that take months?”

  “This nursery is equipped with an Accelerated Neutron Pulse, or ANP machine. This technology will produce a fully developed adult limb in approximately eight hours.”

  “Huh. Um, define ‘matching’ donor.”

  “Genetic compatibility requires a sibling, parent, child, grandparent, first cousin, nephew or niece for this procedure to be successful. The fetal tissue in unit fourteen is compatible.”

  “What?”

  I stared down at the little unborn baby boy in the incubation unit, then looked below at the label on the front.

  LASSERTIS, JAMES, R.

  My sister’s little boy.

  My nephew.

  I quickly pushed myself back out to the interface and looked at the trajectory data.

  Six hours.

  “Auto-Nurse, you said it takes eight hours to regrow a limb?”

  “Yes. Tissue extraction procedure takes two hours, limb regrowth at maximum allowable ANP rate takes eight hours, full recovery in twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s not fast enough! What if I turn up the power on the ANP? Say, rig it to run at two-hundred percent power?”

  “That is inadvisable due to safety considerations.”

  “But it would work?”

  “Working. Yes, two-hundred percent power would reduce limb regrowth time to under four hours.”

  “Okay. Talk me through the tissue extraction.”

  I gathered the required instruments and entered the incubation chamber once again. A hissing sound indicated the Auto-Nurse was running the appropriate decontamination subroutine, making me, the tools, and the room itself a clean-zone.

  Carefully – very carefully, I opened unit fourteen.

  I administered the anesthetic, then, with my one hand, began cutting into the upper arm of young James.

  The Auto-Nurse informed me that I only needed a mere grain of the bone tissue. A tiny speck would contain sufficient DNA, RNA, and stem cell magic to provide me with a new arm.

  It seemed like I held my breath through the whole procedure, which I managed to accomplish in just under an hour.

  If I made it out of here alive, this little guy was coming with me – so I was especially careful to close up the surgery cleanly before moving to the next phase.

  “Use the Regen Gel found in locker three, second shelf,” said Auto-Nurse. “Spread the gel evenly on the stump of your missing limb, a layer approximately five millimeters thick. Using the calipers, insert the donor tissue to a depth of three centimeters at the center of the stump. Activate the ANP and step inside the booth, closing the door behind you. Activate the controls on the internal panel, setting power to one hundred percent.”

  “I thought we agreed we need to go to two hundred?”

  “I am unauthorized to recommend unsafe levels.”

  Now this thing decides to cop an attitude.

  “But you won’t stop me, right?”

  “Provide override authorization code to proceed.”

  The only code I knew was the military command protocol for emergency action aboard civilian ships. Hopefully it would work for this.

  “Override code Gamma-Six-Four-Delta, 12th Spaceborne Command.”

  “Working.”

  I held my breath.

  “Override authorization granted.”

  I followed the instructions for the Regen Gel, which thankfully had the side effect of numbing my stump. I then inserted the tissue sample from little James, turned on the ANP, and stepped into the humming booth.

  The panel inside had surprisingly simple controls; I turned it up to 200% and waited.

  The hum increased in pitch, and I felt my stump tingle.

  After a few minutes, the tingle became a tickle – I had an overwhelming urge to scratch at the stump, but my instincts told me that would be a bad idea.

  The minutes ticked away, and the tickle grew into a burning sensation, which became more and more painful.

  I watched in amazement as the stump’s surface began to bubble, then elongate as my new limb started to grow in.

  After about an hour, my arm was past the elbow. Great drops of sweat poured down my face as I gritted my teeth against the excruciating pain.

  It was worse than the original injury.

  By far.

  As my new hand started to form, I screamed out uncontrollably. I didn’t sound like my own voice, but like the distant, torturous call of a dying man.

  Through my tears, I watched the fingers grow like reedy stalks in a time-lapse vid, the bones and ligaments coming into place in an uncanny high-speed construction. My stomach turned as the joints aligned and the flesh developed – the veins and skin joining like a horrific accident viewed in reverse.

  The final moments were unbearably agonizing – my vision went red, then black.

  I awoke on the floor with a ringing in my ears – what seemed like seconds later. I’d emptied my bowels and vomited in my unconscious state.

  The humming had stopped, and the door to the booth stood ajar.

  I got to my feet and staggered out, looking down at my new arm. I flexed the slender fingers and made a weak fist. My new arm looked like it belonged on a ten year old boy – slim, pale, hairless.

  It occurred to me that I had gravity again – which meant we had entered the atmosphere. I immediately checked the time on the system interface.

  I had only five minutes before this giant ship slammed into the settlement on the surface.

  Flexing my new hand over and over, trying to gain strength, I rushed through the door of the incubation chamber and ran to the hatch.

  I gripped both handles and tried to turn, but my new arm was so weak – like when your arm falls asleep.

  “Come on!” I yelled, groaning and struggling against the seemingly immovable handles.

  Finally, the handles started to turn in unison, and I heard the metallic “thunk” of the bolts shifting within the locking mechanism.

  Cold, stale air rushed in through the hatch as it opened, but it tasted like freedom to my dry mouth.

  I escaped through the hatch, taking a moment to look back at James.

  Cursing the short time I had, I returned quickly and grabbed a small canister from my utility belt, placing it beside unit fourteen. I activated it, creating a stabilization field around his unit.

  “This is going to be a rocky ride, little guy.”

  Moments later, I was on my way to the bridge, passing dozens of corpses along the way – both my men and the insurgents with whom they’d been locked in battle up until a few hours ago.

  The environmental system had been knocked into auxiliary by whatever that last explosion was, and frost was starting to form on the bodies. My heavy breathing spouted plumes of foggy air as I stepped onto the bridge amid the bumps and shudders of the rapidly descending vessel.
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br />   I pushed aside the dead pilot, taking his seat as the body toppled to the floor beside me.

  The great viewscreen ahead was black, and the flight controls were locked out.

  I provided my command override once more, and gripped the piloting controls.

  The huge ship shook violently as I took it out of autopilot and activated the viewscreen.

  Suddenly, I could see the fore view of the ground below rushing up at me, headed at dizzying speed for the small Martian settlement filled with unsuspecting colonists.

  Barreling down at a speed that blurred everything, I wrenched on the controls with all the strength of my good arm and my weak new limb.

  The ship started to level off, but not fast enough.

  I may miss the settlement, but this boat was going to crash.

  Hard.

  It was a long shot, but I pulled out my other stabilization field generator and planted it next to my seat, activating it moments before impact.

  The world went black.

  #

  Weeks had passed when next I opened my eyes.

  I could have been dead, for all I knew – for no dreams whatsoever had accompanied my deep sleep.

  I was in a white room, with white curtains covering brightly back-lit windows. The air was warm, the room quiet except for the soft whirring of a mainframe.

  “Doctor, he’s awake,” said a woman’s voice from somewhere behind me as I lay staring at the ceiling through watery eyes.

  Then I felt the bed begin to slowly rise beneath my shoulders, a gentle hum coming from the servos.

  At last I was sitting up. I took a few deep, labored breaths.

  “It’s all right, you’re safe, now,” said the young bearded doctor, coming into view and sitting on the edge of my bed.

  I looked down at my body. It seemed to be generally intact. As I recalled the last few minutes of my memories, this fact surprised me.

  “We’ve fixed you up, Sir,” said the physician.