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Mack was pacing outside the regen tank when I came round. I reached out to him using the implant.
“Let’s not do that, again,” I said, but nothing escaped my head.
He looked towards me, but I drifted out, again. Everything still hurt, and I sure as shit hoped they didn’t want this job to happen anytime soon. Mack was still there, and still pacing, when I came back on-line.
“Mack?” But, again, nothing left my head.
This time, he noticed me. I watched, as he looked towards me, and then frowned, and I waited until he realized I couldn’t hear whatever it was he was trying to send. I kept watching as he turned towards the door, and punched the intercom beside it.
And then I started laughing, as the intercom disintegrated beneath his fist.
For once, I didn’t hurt. It had been a while since that had been the case.
Mack bent his head and leant against the wall. He was still standing there, when the door slid open, and the young lord stepped into the room, accompanied by a medical team. They took one look at me, and another at Mack and the shattered intercom, and then set about getting me out of the tank. The whole after-process was a lot quicker if you didn’t have to do it on your own.
I was given a change of clothes, and combat gear similar to what I’d been wearing when we’d first arrived at the park, but of much better quality. Mack turned away from the wall, and found a seat beside the doctor’s table in the corner. He plonked himself into it, and rested his head in his hands, and not a single medic tried to move him. It was worrying to see him so wrung out—especially as we had a mission to run. I went over to stand beside him, as soon as I was dressed, and I completely ignored the lordling as I did so.
“Mack?” I asked, but my voice didn’t come out the way I intended, and I cleared my throat. “Mack?”
When he still didn’t respond, I knelt beside his chair, and laid my human hand on his shoulder.
“Mack?”
“I’m here,” he said, but he sounded completely drained, and I wondered what had happened while I’d been out.
“You have a bomb in your head.” He lifted his face to look at me. “It’s insurance to make sure we do the mission.”
I squeezed his shoulder, and then patted it, before getting to my feet.
“Better get it done, then,” I said, and was pretty pleased when I didn’t hear the tiniest ounce of fear in my voice—and that’s saying something, because I was terrified.
He followed me with his eyes, and then glanced over at the lordling.
“We’re ready,” he said, and stayed beside him—because all I wanted to do was punch the self-satisfied smirk off the lordling’s face... and then maybe pound his head into pulp. Yeah. That would about do it. A sticky, wet pulp.
I looked up at Mack, trying very hard to keep my thoughts off my face, and behind my eyes. He reached out and took my hand, and we looked at our unworthy host, waiting for him to decide our next move. He stood there and studied us for a very long moment. It helped that I could feel Mack’s grip tightening on my hand, even if it started to hurt.
That was a good thing. It reminded me I needed to be careful. I might be able to survive a blade through the lungs, but an explosion in my head? Yeah, not so much.
I really hoped Mack had a way of fixing it. I didn’t ask him, though. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking, and I figured he had his reasons. I also figured Tens and Delight were on stand-by, and I wasn’t going to like what had to happen next.
There are days when I hate being right. And those stretch into months, when I’m around Mack.
The Corovan lordling led us back through what turned out to be a small fortress, and into a courtyard surrounded by stone walls reinforced by field generators. A shuttle stood in the centre of the courtyard, and the lordling stopped at the edge of the path leading to the landing pad, and waved us on board.
“You’ve got four days to bring me my fiancé,” he said, looking at Mack, “or you’ll be needing a new sidekick.”
I glanced from him to Mack, and back again, and was worried when Mack let go of my hand.
“Understood,” he said, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, as he turned toward the shuttle.
I let him keep his arm there, as I walked with him. I also tried very hard not to think about the deadly cargo in my skull, or the possibilities that might be waiting once the shuttle got us to our destination—and I was hoping that destination was Mack’s ship, and not Blaedergil’s mansion on Magnus 19.
At least I lucked out on that one.
We hit orbit and docked. Apparently, Mack’s pilot had decided being tethered to the beanstalk was a security risk, so she’d taken a high orbit, and let the Corovans make contact. Doc and Tens were waiting, along with an honor guard made up of the galley staff. I took my cue from them, and dropped to two paces behind Mack, as we stepped off the shuttle.
If they wanted a show, I could play the game.
No one tried to escort us out into the shuttle bay, and Mack extended no invitations.
We were inside, and watching from the observation deck, when the shuttle was politely shown the door, and allowed to return with what it thought were the results of the covert scans it had done of Mack’s ship. Tens’ smile turned downright evil, as he watched it go.
But he didn’t say a word, and neither did anyone else, until Tens had swept us clear of the half dozen bugs the Corovans had tried to smuggle on board in our clothing, our hair, and via our implants.
“Well,” Tens said, when he was satisfied we were clean. “That was rude.”
“You have no idea,” Mack said, and the look he turned in my direction was more than worried. “Can you fix it?”
“I did that during the bug scan,” Tens said. “To anyone watching, the program I ran was just the usual security measure for decontaminating spyware from an implant—and we’re all damned lucky the protections on the exploding device weren’t wired for more direct forms of interference.
From the outside, it looks like the device still works. It sends out the right responses to their scans, and everything it’s supposed to do, but it won’t explode. The worm I put in has taken over the receptors so it can divert external signals, and is mimicking the correct responses for the check-ins. While it’s doing that, the programs on the device itself think they’re still being pinged, so they’re happy... Now, all we need is for Doc to do his part.”
Doc? I turned my head, just as Doc came and sat down beside me. There wasn’t a needle in sight.
“What do I need to do?” I asked, and failed completely to keep my suspicions off my face.
He cracked a smile, and held out a canteen.
“Drink this.”
I looked at his face, and then glanced over at Mack and Tens. They shrugged in unison, mirroring each other’s frowns. Well, fair enough then. I opened the lid, and started to drink. I got two mouthfuls in, when the first mouthful bounced.
“For fuck’s sake, Doc! What is this shit?”
“Chemical response to the stuff in your head.”
I’d been about to try another sip, but I lowered the canteen, instead.
“Say what?”
“You heard me. Now, shut up and drink.”
I gave him a good hard stare, but it was just to cover the fact that I was trying to get my stomach to settle, while I got ready for the next sip. The next three tries stayed down... and then came up on the fourth.
“Damn. This is worse than the stuff they give you to get rid of colds.”
And that gave me an idea.
I looked at Mack.
“Your galley got any Cherry Red?”
It was a flavoring. You mixed it with water, and it formed a sweet drink... or you mixed it with your medicine to hide the taste. I usually avoided it like the plague, because it was too sweet, but I figured it would be an improvement on whatever this stuff was.
Mack got that far-off look in his eye that said he was communicating via implant, and one of the kitchen hands arrived with a bottle of the stuff. They handed it to me, and then took one look at the mess I’d made of the observation deck, and left, returning with a mop and bucket. I ignored them, and got to mixing.
I wasn’t particularly scientific about it. I just filled Doc’s canteen to the brim, and started drinking. Five swallows in, and I was battling with my stomach, again. Doc leaned in, his breath tickling my ear.
“You chuck that lot up, and I’m gonna have to go intravenous.”
Well, there was an incentive if ever I heard one. I got my stomach under control, and topped up the canteen with more of the magic red. I was going to have one hell of a sugar hangover when I was done, but, if it meant avoiding another of Doc’s well-placed shots, it was worth it. It took a good few minutes of continuous sipping, but I eventually got the whole canteen down.
“Done,” I said, and returned the canteen... which was exactly when everything that had gone down, came right back up.
I looked for the bucket, but the kitchenhand had already taken it away. Well, sheeit. Wasn’t he just going to be ten times so impressed with me? Cherry Red stains like a bitch.
Doc didn’t wait for me to recover. He pulled that derm from whichever coat pocket he’d been hiding it in, and got me good and fast. Right then, I was too busy throwing up to care. I figured if I saw a glass of Cherry anything this side of the next decade, it would be ten decades way too soon.
“You done?” Mack asked, when I’d finally stopped, and was trying to catch my breath.
“Sure,” I said, but I stayed right where I was, until someone passed me a mug of water.
“Try and keep it down,” Doc said, and I nodded.
The water settled my stomach enough for me to get to my feet, without losing anything more. I wiped my mouth, and looked at Mack.
“What next?” I asked.
“You stick with Doc in the med bay, while we get under way. Tens should be able to tell you if Doc’s gunk worked, come morning.”
I nodded, and watched as Mack headed for the door, Tens falling into step behind him. Doc stood up, and came alongside me.
“You need a san unit,” he said, and I wanted to ask him whose fault that was, but didn’t feel up to an argument he’d win hands down.
“Just show me which one’s mine,” I said.
An hour later, I settled into a med-bay bed and closed my eyes. Stars only knew how I was going to feel in the morning, but I wasn’t betting on good. It didn’t help, when Doc came in an hour later, and ran a hand scan over my head, and then over the rest of me.
“What was that for?”
“Seein’ if you’re goin’ to explode,” he said, but he didn’t explain, and he was grinning as he left.
“Sonuvabitch,” I managed, as the door closed behind him, but I didn’t bother chasing after him and demanding answers; I figured I’d find out more than I needed, when I woke up in the morning.
I was right, again, but I didn’t feel like I’d won a prize. I was facing down Delight, Mack, Doc and Tens, and none of us were happy: me because I wanted to say ‘no’, and knew I couldn’t; Doc, because I was being uncooperative; Tens and Delight, because Mack said it was my decision, and they had to wait for me to make it; and Mack, because he knew I was stalling, and we really didn’t have the time.
Finally, I just leant my head back on the wall, and rolled my eyes at the ceiling.
“Sure,” I said. “Go for it.”
And I closed my eyes.
Because I didn’t want to see this coming, and I didn’t want to run, and I knew my body wouldn’t want to stay. So, I sat, and I kept my head tilted back and my eyes closed, and I tried to not think about what was about to happen.
It almost worked. I hated needles. I hated being under. And I really didn’t want to sit there, while they replaced the implant and my head exploded... and I really had no choice. The implant needed to be out of my head; it was contaminated with whatever toxic sludge the explosive had mulched down into, after Doc’s chemical concoction had done its work.
They were all there when I agreed to let them take it out—and they were still all there, when it was done, and I came back around. That was kinda nice of them. I hadn’t realized just how dangerous the procedure was, until I opened my eyes, and found them all staring back.
“That bad, huh?” I asked, and Delight rolled her eyes.
“Hurry up,” she said, “or you’ll miss the briefing.”
There was a briefing? Since when was there a briefing?
I hurried as much as Doc would let me, while Mack and Tens waited outside the door.
“It’s not like she’s going anywhere!” Doc had snapped, when they’d looked like they might stay. It had been Tens who’d led the way out of the room.
“Old habits die hard,” Mack muttered, and followed after. “Don’t keep me waiting, Cutter. We’re meeting in the caf, before the briefing starts.”
I rolled my eyes at his departing back.
As if I’d ever!
