Requiem looked at him for another beat of his heart and then released Damion’s arm, resulting in his own falling limply as the orderly took him away to a glass tank that dominated one corner of the Intensive Care Unit.
For physical healing that needed to be performed in emergencies, immersion tanks were used. This one was already filling with a gelatinous liquid that Requiem would float in as soon as he was prepped.
Nurses placed Requiem on a metal table and began working on him. His mouth was pried open and a breathing apparatus, used while in the tank, forced its way between his teeth. At the same time, the nurses plugged monitors into his chest and next attached some cables to his head ports, allowing them to document his life signs. The rest of his suit was quickly removed, leaving him in only his boxers. As soon as he was ready, they lifted him up again and, with the help of two orderlies, gently lowered him into the tank.
Requiem’s good eye stayed focused on Damion until the tank was full. He distantly heard a hiss through the liquid, and as much as he didn’t want it to happen, he couldn’t help but close his eye as he was forced toward sleep by the dissolving gas. Through a haze, he felt his chin droop to his chest before unconsciousness took him completely.
Damion
DAMION SIGHED, very happy that his Core was dead to the world for at least the next hour. He sat heavily on the metal table Requiem had vacated. He did not know where to go from here. If he made a report, would the Commander still turn a blind eye to the damage done by Arkin? Did the truth have any value in a world where they turned men into machines?
One of the nursing aides offered him a sedative to help him sleep, but he declined. He wanted to be here for Requiem when he awoke. He had a feeling his Core would not leave his side if he were injured. He figured that sort of loyalty warranted a cold ass and a stiff back.
Chapter Eight
Requiem
REQUIEM CAME to consciousness slowly, his eyes fluttering as they opened. He was alarmed for a moment to see how blurry everything was and then remembered he was in an immersion tank. Figures rushed back and forth beyond the glass, and then one walked up to the tank. It took him a minute to recognize Damion placing his palm against the tank, fingers splayed. Still groggy, Requiem moved his hand slowly through the gelatin, eventually placing it on the glass, matching Damion’s. There was a tug from above, and he was pulled from the liquid. He noticed a male doctor walk into the unit and take a small data pad from a nurse.
Damion tilted his head up to look to the top of the platform and gave Requiem a small grin. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You feeling better?”
The nurses brought Requiem down, laying him on a table so that they could dry him off and assess his injuries. He glanced up at the polished backside of an overhead light. His reflection showed bruises still covered him, though now they looked as if they had been healing for a few days—still blue and purple, but with greens and yellows interspersed around the edges. Both eyes could open, but his right one was bloodshot. And he was very sore, but not in agony.
“I am… acceptable,” Requiem finally replied in a hoarse voice as soon as the nurse removed the mouthpiece.
“Acceptable, yes, but not well enough for duty,” the doctor said as he walked up with a clear portable console in one hand. Words scrolled across the screen. “You had a concussion, three broken ribs that punctured your left lung, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and your spleen had ruptured. Not only that, but some of your input ports were damaged.” The doctor looked up at Damion, his face serious. “What the hell happened? Did he get hit by a transport truck?” His expression showed he blamed Damion completely.
“Arkin,” Damion said simply, giving the doctor a glare. “I responded a bit too late.” He came over to the examination table and touched the top of Requiem’s damp head.
A tension that Requiem didn’t know he had been holding released, and he let out an inaudible sigh and opened his eyes. “Your response was in acceptable parameters from the time I contacted you. It was my tactical error that brought me within range of a subject I knew to be volatile.”
The doctor frowned. “I don’t know why they keep giving that man Cores. It seems like every other week I’m repairing one or examining one for cause of death. I’ve submitted many reports, but they’re ignored every time because of Arkin’s fighting skills. That man makes me sick. He’s psychotic. If the Creators and Command weren’t so damn adamant in having him stay in the Alpha squad I could have filed a motion for dismissal.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Arkin pushed too far this time.” Damion scowled as he kept petting the top of Requiem’s head.
“And killing five Cores,”—the doctor’s irritation was clear in his tone—”Almost six, is not already pushing it too far?”
“I know, the Commander won’t stop him.” Damion responded, and Requiem would hypothesize Damion’s arms were also crossed. “How long will he be down? He will lie to me if I ask him. His pain tolerance is too high.”
“His pain tolerance is what kept him standing for that long. It’s extraordinary,” the doctor said, his eyes full of possibilities as he looked down at Requiem.
“I cannot lie to my Fighter. I can merely work around the truth,” Requiem mumbled, showing that he was not asleep.
The doctor shook his head. “At least a week. We’ve repaired most of the damage, but the tissue and bones are still soft, so he must rest for that long so that the body can heal his remaining injuries naturally.”
“Looks like we are out of the sims this week, and you shouldn’t work on the Ares either.”
Requiem turned his head at the second command, looking directly at Damion. This time the sigh was audible as he closed his eyes once again. “As my Fighter commands.”
“You shouldn’t even jack in for a few days. Let the ports that were damaged repair. I’ve already sent in my report to operations, so they know that you won’t be in the system for a few days. They were reluctant, but I was determined,” the doctor said. “I was amazed to see the number of input ports that were installed on his body,” the doctor continued. “Was this something you had ordered for a particular reason, Hawk?”
Damion snorted. “No. I haven’t even seen them all. Is there something different about them from other Cores?”
“Other than he has more, no. They’re the same, but while the typical Core has about ten or eleven, he has twenty-two in total if my count was correct. I’ve never seen a Core with so many input ports.”
Requiem felt the doctor smooth a thumb over one of the ports in the back of his bicep. His eyes opened again, watching the doctor with a blank expression.
Damion frowned. “Who puts the ports in?” He eyed Requiem critically.
“I did. Or rather, requested the Creators to install them,” Requiem whispered after a few moments of that penetrating stare. “They help me get deeper into the system to better assist my Fighter.”
Damion rubbed his left temple. “Let’s go back to our quarters.”
“I don’t think that’s wise at this time,” the doctor protested. “Core 47 did take an extensive amount of damage to many of his internal organs, and while they’re healing I would like to continue monitoring him.”
Requiem’s gaze stayed connected to Damion’s. “Back to our quarters. Please.”
“That’s what I said.” Damion gently helped Requiem off the examination table.
Requiem’s legs were still shaky and very weak. He clung to Damion while trying to appear as if he were standing under his own power.
The doctor followed them toward the door. “I really must protest against this. Core 47 should stay in Med Bay for at least another day so that we can do some tests to make sure he’s healing correctly. If you take him out of our care now, we don’t know if you’ll be able to get him back here in time if something goes wrong.”
“No offense, Doc, but I won’t leave him anywhere Arkin will have direct access to.”
“You think we can’t protect him h
ere? Med Bay is under constant surveillance.” The doctor’s voice rose in anger, following them out the doors. “If you take him from my care, I won’t be responsible if something happens because of your neglect!”
“Why does he think I would be negligent in watching over you?” Damion looked at Requiem and frowned. “Okay, he has a small point since I let you be attacked.”
A mumbled “Stupid Fighters” came from the doctor before he stomped back into Med Bay.
“You did not let me be attacked. It was my own error that took me past Arkin’s quarters and therefore put me unattended in his sights. I am the only one at fault for my injuries,” Requiem replied quietly, his voice strained. He knew Damion wouldn’t argue with him.
“The doctor also wants to study you.”
“Probable. I have avoided the Med Bay and any doctors for this reason as well as others until now.” Requiem found himself very sleepy all of a sudden. It was becoming more and more difficult to put one foot in front of the other. “If I may offer some advice, please warn Fighter Juni of the assault. I think it would be wise to inform him so that 108 does not travel alone, as I did, and therefore avoids Arkin.”
Damion effortlessly picked up Requiem once again as the elevator opened to their floor, “Damn, I feed you, but you don’t gain any weight. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him everything once we get you comfortable.”
“I am not worried. Just cautious.” Requiem’s voice was strained from the pain of being picked up, his many bruises and half-healed wounds becoming apparent. He was silent for a few minutes as Damion carried him. “I must admit to not knowing what to do since I cannot jack in to my capsule. This has never happened before.”
“You can sleep in my bed.”
Damion’s tone wasn’t joking or sarcastic.
“That would be unacceptable. Where would you rest?” Requiem paused for a moment, leaning his head on his Fighter’s shoulder. “I have never retired outside of the capsule. Nor have I ever slept while not plugged in.”
“It’s big enough for both of us as long as you don’t kick. I think.” Damion narrowed his eyes at Requiem, expecting a challenge.
“I… do not know. Being plugged into the system is similar to being in a cryogenic state. A Core’s mind is not fully within his body, but instead in the system,” Requiem explained, another unfamiliar feeling clutching at his chest. He thought it might be called… anxiety. Maybe worry. He didn’t know.
“You’ll be fine. It’s just until you are healed enough so you won’t blow your synapses up or whatever happens when a port gets damaged.” Damion’s shoulders relaxed as they made their way to their quarters. “I won’t leave your side tonight.”
“It is highly improbable that Arkin will attack me in our quarters. It would be tactically unwise. There is no reason why you should keep surveillance over me all night. I am certain Fighter Juni would appreciate your company and the warning you will bring to him and 108 concerning Arkin.”
“I can send him a wave through the comm in the room. It will do.” Damion let out a tired breath as he looked at the back of Requiem’s arms. “You always have to push things too far. Why do you have so many ports?”
“I have already explained. It helps me enter the system deeper, therefore I comprehend more and control more. It also helps me conceive what I need to do to create new defensive and offensive weaponry for the Ares. It lets me make the impossible possible.” He kept his eyes closed so that he did not have to look at Damion’s face. He knew Damion was upset with him for many different reasons, and he regretted being a Core that was a hindrance to his Fighter, instead of a help.
Damion was silent the rest of the way to their room. Once they entered it, he set Requiem carefully down on the bed and gave him a firm look. “Stay in the bed unless you need to use the shower or toilet.”
Requiem looked at him for a moment before lowering his gaze. “As you order.” He wrapped his arms loosely around his chest and tucked his knees up as far as his injuries would allow. Being clothed in nothing but boxers in front of anyone except himself in the mirror caused an interesting feeling, not to mention a chill that ran through him, which was something he wasn’t used to. It was possible his body temperature was below normal parameters.
Damion gave a few pets to the top of Requiem’s head before moving away. He went to his drawer and pulled out one of his of duty shirts. It was quite a bit larger than Requiem needed.
He handed the shirt to Requiem. “I’m going to wave at Juni now.”
Requiem blinked at the clothing before pulling it on over his head. He was swimming in it, but he felt better now. Suddenly tired but not tired enough to sleep, he eased down in the bed, making himself small against the wall as he laid his head on the pillow. He was intrigued at how much more comfortable the bed was compared to his pod. Although he didn’t feel physical discomforts as much when he was in the system, so he supposed the relative discomfort of the pod didn’t matter.
Damion turned on the comm and told Fighter Juni what happened. First Juni was surprised, then cursed about Arkin, and finally showed concern for Damion and Requiem.
Damion sighed wearily, rubbing his eyes with thumb and pointer finger. “We’ll be fine. Just don’t let 108 out by himself.”
“I apologize for being the cause of so much strife,” Requiem said quietly as soon as the comm connection ended. “I did not hypothesize that this would happen.”
“You have to stop apologizing,” Damion grumbled as he turned in the chair to look at him. “Seriously, you can’t control the future.”
Requiem sat up, leaning against the wall. “Nothing is impossible. I should have done a logical hypothesis of the situation when I terminated my previous Fighters.” He bowed his head, looking to the side. “I just did not see any other choice.”
Damion shook his head. “We aren’t meant to know the future.”
“But we can hypothesize,” he replied. “Through proper situational analysis we can identify certain alternatives to various encounters. I just… did not have time.”
Damion gave him a warm smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“You cannot say that because it is not true,” Requiem said as he finally looked up. “I did kill those other Fighters. For many different reasons, but in the end, I did terminate them. That is the catalyst for the chain of events that have caused you so much strife up to this point. So yes, it is my fault.” He paused, looking down again for only a moment until he raised his gaze again to meet Damion’s. “And if you ordered me to, I would also terminate Arkin.”
“You killed to protect yourself. That is called self-defense.” Damion sat next to him and sighed. “As for Arkin, I want him dead. I should be the one to kill him, but if they catch me, we’ll both be terminated.”
“I could kill him.” Requiem tilted his head slightly, making sure his full attention was on Damion while he made this offer. “It would be… appropriate.”
Damion’s mouth twisted into that tight line. “You hate him just as much as I do, I know, but I don’t want you risking your life.”
“I do not hate Arkin. I just do not see any benefit from his continued existence. He does not bring anything productive to the Chrysalis Corporation or the Zeus. He is more a hindrance and a danger,” Requiem stated logically, finally easing back in the way he was sitting and stretching his legs out in front of him. “I… do not have to get near him to terminate him.”
“That sounds like hate to me,” Damion pointed out. “How can you kill him if not in person?”
Requiem was confused. What he said had been logical, not emotional. He would think more on it later. “If he were near any electrical object—the pod, an access point, his terminal—I may be able to electrocute him. Or I can trap him in the shower while he is bathing and dial up the heat too high. Any number of ways. I could even get into the Hephaestus’s systems, but I do not know if Arkin will be flying his Zodiac without a Core until I access those systems.”
Damio
n flinched a bit at Requiem’s cold and clinical way of talking about death—about murder. “You’ve thought about this… a lot.”
“I anticipated this situation,” Requiem replied after a moment, looking down at his hands so that he didn’t have to see the look in Damion’s eyes. “I surmised that you would not be able to terminate Arkin yourself, so I began to think of ways to keep both of us safe.”
“I think I feel a bit more worthless now, but what you said is true. We need to take care of him.” Damion rubbed his forehead. “How do you want to do this?”
“In the end, it is up to you,” Requiem said quietly, then closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. Pain shot through him as he released the breath from his still healing lungs. “I will not be able to do anything for a few days until my input ports are healed.”
“You should never rush to kill.” Damion moved so he could pull Requiem close to his side with one arm around his shoulders. “Now you rest.”
Requiem’s eyes widened for a split second, barely perceptibly, before he smoothed his features again. He was tucked under his Fighter’s arm, his head on Damion’s chest. He hesitated for a moment before releasing the tension in his sore body. Slowly moving an arm to wrap around Damion’s waist, he closed his eyes. It was an interesting feeling, being held by someone. Warm and… safe.
He was quiet for a moment or two before speaking again. “I mean no disrespect when I ask you this, but… I am… intrigued as to why you treat me with such… kindness.”
Damion turned his gaze on Requiem and a chuckle escaped. “You are my Core.”
“But many others have Cores and do not treat them like you or Juni does. It…. I suppose the word is confusion. It confuses me,” Requiem mumbled, weariness dragging at him. “Explain please?”
“We treat you like human beings.” He tilted Requiem’s chin up and looked at him.
“That does not explain why,” Requiem replied softly, opening his eyes as soon as he felt Damion’s gentle fingers on his face. “As much as we are told otherwise, we Cores know that despite all the modifications to our bodies, we are, in truth, human. But you are the first non-Core I have ever met who also believes so.”
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