think she'll be okay but not if she doesn't get fixed up ... Christ, we've got to get the paras here. Those look like clean cuts — they should be able to reattach easily enough. They do it to humans all the time if the cut's clean enough ..."
"She?" asked Sharma, frowning. Vanessa stared at her, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.
"Yes, she. Her name's Sandy." How the hell did she know that? The GI hadn't told her. "She's scared. And confused. She doesn't know what she did to deserve this."
Stares from her guys. They thought she'd gone crazy. It happened sometimes to people who dived too deep, or stayed too long, or poked their reckless noses where they weren't welcome. Something bleeped on her inner-ear frequency. That was backup arriving, landing on the roofpads. She made a connection.
" Naidu ," a voice acknowledged in her inner ear, " go Vanessa ."
"We have to get the best biotech surgeons and specialists available. There's a GI here and she's in bad shape."
" A GI ?" Pause. " Shit, that explains a few things. I'll get everyone. I don't think they'll have to be asked twice ."
Vanessa strode back around the table, ignoring her gathered team and careful not to entangle the cord. Knelt down by the GI's immobilised, blond-haired head, an uncomfortable move in the bulky armour, and gazed at her face. The eyes stared unsighted at the floor, loose hair framing features that might have been beautiful under other circumstances.
You'll be okay, Vanessa thought, remembering the sensation of hurt and fear, and despair. Remembering the voice, distinctly female now that she remembered it, whispering in her ear. We'll fix you. Whatever you are, and whatever you've done, no one deserves this. Not even a GI.
CHAPTER 3
Several times she woke. It was exhausting, being awake. Sleeping was just as bad. Her interface rebuilt itself, no longer needing the external feeds, and her sleep was delirious. She dreamed dreams that made no sense, of dark, shifting shapes and flooding, incoherent emotion. It washed her like a tide and left her scoured and bare. She lost all track of time, and struggled for sanity.
Awoke once more, and discovered after several searching minutes that she was face down on a bed. She had no access to her links, completely shut out, and something was hooked into her access. Reading responses, private things, like pain, and basic sensation. It registered that she was awake.
"Ms Cassidy?" came a voice, distantly, from across a vast, unbridgeable distance. But that was not her name and she ignored it.
"April?" the voice tried again, many times. Something was pressing at her feet, she was vaguely aware ... and found time to wonder at why feet should be significant enough to trigger a surge of unthought relief.
"Cassandra?" the voice tried again. Finally, the right name. She applied some effort, and tried to open her eyes. Her vision was dark and she shifted spectrums, trying for regular light ... shapes remained indistinct. Further adjustment, and light drowned everything. She could find no in-between and moved instead to infrared, merged with motion-sense ... it hurt her eyes to hold it there, but she could at least make basic sense of her immediate surroundings, as regular light alone could not. Sounds echoed badly. Of smell or taste she had no hope, her tongue swollen and dry, her sinuses blocked. "Cassandra Kresnov?"
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Forced air from her lungs with an effort, and managed ... "that's me." A small, dry whisper.
"Can you feel your feet, Cassandra?"
"...a little..." Pause.
"Does that hurt?" Stupid question.
"... never does ... short of bullets ..." She felt terrible, all over. She wanted to go back to sleep.
"Cassandra, you're going to be fine. We've fixed everything, the incisions were very precise and everything fit back together very easily. It was much easier than a normal human. So don't you worry. You're going to be perfectly okay."
She didn't feel perfectly okay.
"She?" asked Sharma, frowning. Vanessa stared at her, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.
"Yes, she. Her name's Sandy." How the hell did she know that? The GI hadn't told her. "She's scared. And confused. She doesn't know what she did to deserve this."
Stares from her guys. They thought she'd gone crazy. It happened sometimes to people who dived too deep, or stayed too long, or poked their reckless noses where they weren't welcome. Something bleeped on her inner-ear frequency. That was backup arriving, landing on the roofpads. She made a connection.
" Naidu ," a voice acknowledged in her inner ear, " go Vanessa ."
"We have to get the best biotech surgeons and specialists available. There's a GI here and she's in bad shape."
" A GI ?" Pause. " Shit, that explains a few things. I'll get everyone. I don't think they'll have to be asked twice ."
Vanessa strode back around the table, ignoring her gathered team and careful not to entangle the cord. Knelt down by the GI's immobilised, blond-haired head, an uncomfortable move in the bulky armour, and gazed at her face. The eyes stared unsighted at the floor, loose hair framing features that might have been beautiful under other circumstances.
You'll be okay, Vanessa thought, remembering the sensation of hurt and fear, and despair. Remembering the voice, distinctly female now that she remembered it, whispering in her ear. We'll fix you. Whatever you are, and whatever you've done, no one deserves this. Not even a GI.
CHAPTER 3
Several times she woke. It was exhausting, being awake. Sleeping was just as bad. Her interface rebuilt itself, no longer needing the external feeds, and her sleep was delirious. She dreamed dreams that made no sense, of dark, shifting shapes and flooding, incoherent emotion. It washed her like a tide and left her scoured and bare. She lost all track of time, and struggled for sanity.
Awoke once more, and discovered after several searching minutes that she was face down on a bed. She had no access to her links, completely shut out, and something was hooked into her access. Reading responses, private things, like pain, and basic sensation. It registered that she was awake.
"Ms Cassidy?" came a voice, distantly, from across a vast, unbridgeable distance. But that was not her name and she ignored it.
"April?" the voice tried again, many times. Something was pressing at her feet, she was vaguely aware ... and found time to wonder at why feet should be significant enough to trigger a surge of unthought relief.
"Cassandra?" the voice tried again. Finally, the right name. She applied some effort, and tried to open her eyes. Her vision was dark and she shifted spectrums, trying for regular light ... shapes remained indistinct. Further adjustment, and light drowned everything. She could find no in-between and moved instead to infrared, merged with motion-sense ... it hurt her eyes to hold it there, but she could at least make basic sense of her immediate surroundings, as regular light alone could not. Sounds echoed badly. Of smell or taste she had no hope, her tongue swollen and dry, her sinuses blocked. "Cassandra Kresnov?"
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Forced air from her lungs with an effort, and managed ... "that's me." A small, dry whisper.
"Can you feel your feet, Cassandra?"
"...a little..." Pause.
"Does that hurt?" Stupid question.
"... never does ... short of bullets ..." She felt terrible, all over. She wanted to go back to sleep.
"Cassandra, you're going to be fine. We've fixed everything, the incisions were very precise and everything fit back together very easily. It was much easier than a normal human. So don't you worry. You're going to be perfectly okay."
She didn't feel perfectly okay.
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