The common phrase for it is coma, but without any head scans or MRI testing it could be as bad as “vegetable” status. Ventilators hum and whirr in a low pitch as they draw in air and push it into the lungs, the chest rising and falling rhythmically. Beside Pauls head the small electronic cardio gram chirped in pace with his heartbeat. At a glance the tangle of wires and tubing might lead one to think Paul was on his death bed, but to Ke it gave her a deep sign of relief. His heart rate and rythm were good and his oxygen saturations were well within exceptable ranges. When Tom spoke up from partially behind her it gave her a slight fright.
“Doc won’t tell me anything.” He said, peering through Ke as he rested back on the cot. Ke looked him over, eyeing the vital sign machine beside Tom. His blood pressure was fairly normal, which worried her. He was stressed, a long time frontiersmen, and probably a regular drinker. His blood pressure should have been sky high, instead it looked normal, she wagered he’d already lost a portion of blood into his abdomen. Her form squared up to the side of his cot and she put her hand on his shoulder.
“Do you know when he last took a breath before he got his helmet off?” Her voice was even and steady, maternal.
Toms eyes shut, face twisting up in thought, visibly sorting memories. Ke took the chance to speak again, “how is your belly?”
“His eyes shut ten minutes before we got back up ta’ the boat. M’ belly’s fine.” His hands pushed over his abdomen and rested at his sides.
Ke nodded and began doing the math in her head. A body can last perhaps two or three minutes without oxygen before bad things start, then the bad things can last another two or three minutes before the permanent things happen. She stole another glance at Pauls ECG, comforted by how healthy his heart appeared to be. She gave Tom’s shoulder a light squeeze.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re more critical than he is.”
Tom grinned with what few teeth he had left and gave her a little thumbs up, “Are you from Vietnam?” He was happy to have somebody who seemed sincere around.
She leaned her head forward a little and gave the shortest smirk that vanished faster than it came, “all Asians look alike, huh white man?”
Tom laughed and abruptly stopped and chose, instead, to bare his teeth in a winced smile. “Never met any outside of ‘Nam, ain’t any nea’h Farmington.”
She politely nodded and said, “Chinese. Been American since I was seven.”
The veteran returned the nod and reached his hand up to hers, his wide and worn grip resting over her softer, strong hand. “Thanks for get’n us up he’ah. You’ll always be a’ Coastie first.”
Ke laughed through her nose and looked up at the pair of blue coveralls that stumbled into the room. They looked to her and then to the brothers, then a third set of blue coveralls joined in. His bug eye helmet still on and heavy vest covered in flight equipment. Ke pointed at Tom first.
“See you portside, jarhead.”
“See you portside, baby squid.”
The crew transferred Tom to a mobile gurney and Ke and the flight medic began to exchange equipment to move Paul on the respirator and ECG computer. As Tom was taken out of the med-bay and yelled back into the room.
“Ya can’t steal his wallet, ya dirty saila’, I already did!” And with that he was being carried off and down the passageway.
The flight medic offered a smirk and Ke finished attaching the new flight gear just as the stretcher bearers came back to fetch Paul. As he was pulled away Ke squeezed his foot and the flight medic gave her a fist pound with a thumbs up. And just like that, they were gone. Ke followed the group up to the deck, water misting off in the rotor wash of the deafening helicopter. Hunter 11 was loaded up and then the orange rescue bird lifted up and was gone. As the silence began to rush in and the sound of water slapping against the boat filled the void, Akin spoke.
“Ensign Ke, your file says you speak five languages?”
Perry and Wells flanked Akin, they had already changed into their navy fatigues, the dark blue and gray camouflage blending well. They looked at her with perplexed appraisal, as if trying to guess what she was doing as a young officer, with such a language background, working rescue missions between Maine and Nova Scotia.
“English, Mandarin, German, Japanese, and Arabic. Yes sir.”
“The fuck’re you doing here, lady? Killing time between Nobel prizes?” Wells was visibly stunned.
“You know, French would be really helpful round these parts I’d wager.” Perry offered a wry grin.
“The brothers brought up a bunch of captains logs that are all in German. Think you can start to work on it while we head back to port?”
Ke, sensing a long night of no sleep and lots of merciless coffee, redid her hair bun and walked past Akin speaking, “Show me the books, sir.”