Ceres Rising (Cladespace Book 3)

by Corey Ostman

  “You had a similar response when you first met me,” Tim noted.

  “I’m being serious,” she said.

  “I know. I guess I am, too. I do know how much he cared for Eugene,” said Tim. “And Eugene liked him. A lot. They roomed together for a while. Eugene survived on Kyran’s chicken marsala at school.”

  “Chicken.” Grace’s stomach mewled. “Ok, talk later. Must demand food!”

  She finished fastening her boot and hopped out of her room, pulling on her jacket in the process. Kyran was at one of the exam tables in his lab, arranging an array of plastic bulbs.

  “Good morning, Kyran,” she said.

  Tim sailed in behind her. She waited for him to come alongside and nudged Tim with her elbow.

  “Good morning, Kyran,” he echoed, taking the hint.

  The doctor swiveled in his seat to face them. “Good morning, Grace,” he said, then added, “Eugene.”

  “Tim,” the PodPooch snapped.

  Kyran grinned. Grace raised her eyebrows. Was this an attempt at humor?

  “I don’t have time for this, guys,” she said. “I’m famished. Put up, shut up, and feed Donner.”

  “As to that—” Kyran picked up a flask of orange fluid. He shook it vigorously.

  Grace shuffled closer and eyed the flask. “Don’t tell me that’s orange juice,” she said.

  Kyran shook his head. “No. This is a nutrient solution. I synthesize it for my own consumption. It’s healthier than pucks and the raw ingredients don’t fluctuate as much in price.”

  Kyran unstoppered the flask and held it out.

  “Want to try it?”

  Grace pulled a seat up to the exam table and anchored herself. She took the flask.

  “Smells good, actually,” she said after a sniff. Her stomach grumbled in agreement. “Hint of citrus.”

  Kyran looked surprised. “I was waiting for you to tell me how bad it smelled. I’ve tried it on others here with no success.”

  “To a hungry Grace, everything smells delicious,” said Tim.

  “Well,” she said. “It does have a weird bouquet of cabbages and lime. But not bad.”

  Kyran smirked. “Finally, a willing subject.” He motioned to a pair of drink bulbs.

  Grace smiled broadly. “I’ll watch you pour. I haven’t quite mastered fluids here.”

  Kyran nodded, opening one bulb and wrapping it around the top of the flask. He tipped the flask until the fluid drained into the bulb. It seemed to take a long time. Once it was half full, Kyran righted the flask and snapped the bulb away.

  “Not a drop spilled,” she said in awe, taking her bulb. She took a sip. Although the consistency was nearly that of her father’s flapjack syrup, it felt lighter. Had a fruity taste.

  “Mmm. Not bad!”

  Kyran sealed up the other bulb. “I’m going to drink mine later. Almost time for an appointment.”

  “Charlie?” Grace asked.

  Kyran nodded. “I’m glad he’s taking me up on it,” he said, tucking the bulb into his pocket. “He’d be a danger to others if his grafty malfunctioned.”

  “I’m surprised you had one to spare. Aren’t they hard to come by?”

  “Usually. Medical personnel have access. Lee has me keep a lot in stock, actually.”

  “Lee? The crook?”

  “It’s legitimate: his requisitions were approved, anyway. I don’t like it, of course, but it has some benefit to the bode, since I’m able to stockpile one or two extra for emergencies like Charlie.”

  “Is nothing here fully legal?”

  “It’s just the way Ceres works, Grace.”

  “Do you know what he’s using them for?” She had pegged Lee as a petty thug, but this news set off alarms in her mind. He’s not using the grafties to increase his intellect.

  “At one time, belters took ‘em apart and used the bits to increase transmitter range. But Lee wouldn’t need anything like that.” He shrugged. “Finished with your breakfast?”

  The drink had grown tart since her first sip, but it was still enjoyable. Grace drained the bulb and smacked her lips. It tasted like apple-lime juice.

  “What next?”

  “Next?” said Kyran. “This is it. The nutrient solution has plenty of calories—” He stopped short as Grace flashed him a look of disbelief.

  “Plenty? Maybe for you. That doesn’t seem like a steak, four eggs, three pancakes, and two cups of coffee to me.”

  Kyran grinned. “But you’re not at Donner Ranch.”

  “The squeeze thinks I am. Come on, I’m wasting away!”

  “Later.”

  Kyran cleared the flask and extra bulbs, then removed a small metarm package from a drawer in the exam table. Tim floated over to inspect it.

  “New grafty,” said the PodPooch.

  “Correct,” said Kyran.

  Grace peered at it. The enclosure had a transparent lid with a silver disc inside. To her inexperienced eye, it seemed similar to the one Raj wore. She could see the dangling metallic tendrils that would interface with the brain. Grace felt a wave of revulsion crest in her stomach, and she swallowed.

  “What’s it like?”

  “I don’t have one, Grace.” Kyran tapped his bare temples.

  “You know what I mean. What’s it supposed to feel like?”

  Kyran paused, considering.

  “You know,” he began, “I’ve performed the implant hundreds of times. My patients come from all walks of life: slushers, belt crews, compstate personnel. Each was looking for an edge and, to my knowledge, each ended up finding it.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes, I know.” He smiled meekly. “Hmm. You know what it’s like, when you’re working at something difficult and it just suddenly makes sense?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kyran tapped the package. “Well, the grafty makes that sense happen quicker.”

  “You mean it makes you learn faster?”

  “No, not exactly. What the grafty does is make you apply faster what you’ve already learned. It’s eminently practical, especially the older you get.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she elbowed him. The explanation made sense, but it was distinctly different from the description Raj had given her after he’d implanted his own grafty.

  “I thought it was a separate storage for new memories,” said Grace. “Are you saying it’s really just for…” she grasped for a word, “extra connections?”

  “Nice, Grace,” said Tim appreciatively.

  Kyran nodded. “That’s right.”

  “If it’s so great, why don’t you—”

  “I’m content,” he said.

  “Worried that something might go wrong?” she asked, playfully.

  “Honestly? Yes.”

  She was surprised by his answer. “Why?”

  “The unit could have a catastrophic malfunction. It’s rare, but it happens. If it does, all or part of the memory would be erased. Not unlike what a stroke victim experiences. If the unit has been worn for decades, such a loss could prove fatal.”

  Grace shuddered. “Then why do people swap models?”

  “When they’re functioning, it’s easy enough to transfer the memory prior to fitting a replacement. That’s exactly what I’ll do with Charlie. We’ll download his memory into the new grafty and then do the swap.”

  “But his grafty isn’t functioning.”

  “It is—but they’re not compatible. Different problem.”

  The talk of grafties made her anxious, crawly. Grace found herself rubbing the back of her neck.

  Kyran saw the motion. “How’s the squeeze treating you?”

  “I was a little sore this morning.” She flexed. “Still sore, actually. Am I always going to feel like this after waking up?”

  He shook his head. “No. You might for a few days. The squeeze is getting used to your body, tailoring the exercise to suit your needs. You’ll feel normal soon enough. Might even condition some muscles
you didn’t expect.”

  “I like to decide where to put on muscle,” Grace said, squeezing her right bicep. “I packed some free weights before we left. Once they get here, I can use them to bend the squeeze to my will.”

  “Your things arrived a few hours ago, actually,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She followed his gaze to an olive green container in the corner of the room. It was decidedly grungy, caked in Ceres dirt, a sharp contrast to the sterile environment of Kyran’s home.

  Grace bounced over to her luggage, looking it over. It looked like it had fallen out of the Waltz during the crash. She located the access pad, caked with dust, and fingered her code.

  A soft hiss came from the unit as it unsealed. Inside, things were tousled about, but nothing appeared broken.

  “Do you see my energy pack?” Tim asked.

  Grace dug into the contents. The power pack was near the bottom. It was pale blue, about the size of a grav boot box. Six sides were etched with the ancient trefoil symbol for radiation. She lifted it out.

  “Here you go, Pooch.”

  Kyran looked up, then froze. “You transported that? In a crate? With no containment vessel?”

  “We didn’t expect a rough landing,” Grace said, placing the energy pack on the deck.

  “Why take the risk?” Kyran asked. “The PodPooch chassis can harvest solar energy, magnetic fields, vibrations, direct electricity, and thermal—”

  “But Raj thought it might be best if we brought a little insurance,” she interrupted, patting the nuclear battery.

  “Raj thought it best?! To transport a radioactive load in a general shipment container?”

  Grace sighed. She needed a cup of coffee.

  Chapter 7

  “This won’t hurt, will it?” Charlie asked. “The first time, it hurt.”

  “Did it?” Kyran’s jaw worked. Grace could see he was angry.

  “No, this won’t hurt, Charlie,” he said.

  Charlie was sitting in the same chair Grace had used for her squeeze installation. Kyran was aligning the headrest for him. Pushing another button brought a metal band in contact with Charlie’s neck. Grace shivered. It was harder to watch than she’d expected.

  “Should I remove my squeeze?”

  “No, that’s unnecessary—it won’t interfere.”

  “Should I go, Kyran?” asked Grace.

  “Actually, I wish you’d stay,” said Charlie, his eyes wide.

  Grace mentally fortified herself and anchored to a wall.

  “Good. We can begin.” Kyran rubbed his hands together, the fingers glistening with sterilizing solution. “First, I’m going to immobilize most of your body. You’ll be able to see, hear, speak—and of course, all your autonomic functions will continue. You just won’t be able to move.”

  “All right.” Charlie said. Grace saw his knuckles whiten.

  “After you’re immobilized, I’m going to copy your grafty onto the new one. That should only take a few minutes,” said Kyran. “Then I will remove your grafty and clean up the site. You may become disoriented during this time. If you do, just close your eyes. It will pass.”

  “Ok,” said Charlie. He already looked disoriented.

  “Finally, I will introduce the new grafty and monitor it as it connects to your neural pathways.” Kyran pulled on surgical gloves. “Any questions?”

  Charlie laughed weakly. “Just get it over with, Doc.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Kyran pressed a switch on the chair. Grace blinked. Charlie’s body had suddenly stopped moving. It hadn’t gone rigid, but it had frozen in his relaxed position, though his chest still rose and fell with each breath. All the little movements of a living human were gone. She didn’t realize how creepy it would look, missing all the fidgets and twitches.

  “You ok?” Kyran asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. You’re right: can’t move a thing,” said Charlie.

  A small antenna extended upward from the headrest directly over Charlie’s head. The doctor scrolled down a display on the chair, and a cone of blue light sprang forth from the tip of the antenna, surrounding both him and Charlie.

  “What’s that?” Grace whispered to herself.

  “A sterile field. Especially necessary because of the blood-brain barrier.” The voice was Tim’s, speaking through her dermal dot. He had floated down the hall and was hiding just out of Charlie’s vision.

  “Hey,” she subvocalized.

  “Hey yourself.” He wagged his tail, which was large and feathery. Some kind of spaniel.

  Kyran took the new grafty out of its package and held it close to Charlie’s old implant. Small blips of light appeared on the new grafty as it began to download from Charlie. Part of a human mind was being transferred to a machine.

  Grace turned to Tim and subvocalized. “Did Raj do something like this to you?”

  “I had my whole brain scanned. And I think Raj had to remove it at the time. I was dying.”

  Oh, she thought. Her stomach flopped.

  The lights on the new grafty stopped blinking.

  “Perfect download, Charlie,” said Kyran. He put the new grafty back in its box, then picked up a small probe from his instrument tray.

  Grace leaned closer from her spot on the wall. She watched Kyran insert the probe at a tiny access panel in the side of the grafty. There was no noise, but suddenly, like a crab releasing its prey, the grafty unclenched from Charlie’s skull and dropped lifeless to the floor.

  Grace winced, but kept watching. There was now a two-centimeter patch of pink flesh with red dots on Charlie’s temple where the grafty had been attached. The skin looked irritated. It must have hurt.

  “I’m gonna throw up,” Charlie said in a hollow voice.

  Kyran placed his left hand over Charlie’s eyes as he continued to probe the insertion site with his right.

  “Close your eyes. The queasiness is normal and will pass.”

  His voice was soft, gentler than his usual tone. Charlie mumbled a reply.

  Kyran carefully cleaned the wound. Then he held the new grafty over the implant site. Its metallic tendrils began to move. Now Grace felt she would throw up. It looked exactly like some demonic spider about to latch onto Charlie’s skull. She turned away to look at Tim. The PodPooch was watching the operation intently.

  “Were you with Raj when he installed his grafty?” Grace subvocalized to Tim.

  “Yes,” came the voice in her dot. “Raj hadn’t done it before. It looks like Kyran’s had plenty of practice.”

  Grace turned back just as the grafty inserted its metal spines into Charlie. Grace covered her mouth. It kept moving, ever so slightly, burrowing into Charlie’s flesh. Kyran was making satisfied little grunts as he adjusted the grafty into place. A rivulet of blood ran down Charlie’s cheek, but Kyran quickly cauterized the wound with a laser.

  “Almost there. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. I don’t know what you did, but the nausea went away just now. I’m feeling like I did when I first sat down. Better, actually.”

  Kyran turned to smile in triumph at Grace. She smiled back, wanly. He reached down and turned off the light cone.

  “Ok, Charlie, it’s in. I’m going to bring your body back under your own control. First muscle control, and then your pain receptors.”

  “Got it,” Charlie said.

  Kyran flipped a switch. Random movements resumed across Charlie’s body.

  “Please touch your fingertips together on your right hand.”

  Charlie performed as ordered.

  “Excellent. Now I’m going to bring up the pain receptors. If your temple starts hurting too badly, let me know.”

  “K.”

  Kyran dialed back the pain block. Charlie’s eyes flickered, and a momentary look of concern flashed across the doctor’s face.

  “You ok, Charlie?”

  “Sure. It kinda hurts, but no worse than when a horse kicked me once.”


  Grace laughed. Amidst all this crazy tech, that was something she knew well. Charlie smiled at her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kyran said. He placed a medbind on Charlie’s right arm. “There. Better now?”

  “Back down to a throb.”

  Kyran nodded, pleased. “Then if you’re not disoriented,” he said, “you can try standing. I’ll be right here in case you need to hold onto someone.”

  Charlie opened his eyes and looked around. He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. With no further effort, he stood. Then he smiled.

  “Doc! I feel great. Better than great!” He clapped his hands and spun. In the low gravity, he spiraled several times.

  “How can I repay you?”

  “Don’t worry about that, Charlie. We’ll work something out. No one should have to wear a used grafty.”

  Grace bounced over and shook Charlie’s hand. “How about if I buy the two of you lunch at the mess? We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

  “Sounds good to me, but maybe I should buy?” Charlie asked, tentatively.

  “Nothing doing,” Kyran laughed. “You need to save your money to pay me back.”

  “Ok,” Charlie said. “Just let me send a message to my family, ok? I’ll see you there!” He bounded toward the door.

  “He’ll be in heaven for the next few days,” Kyran said as the door closed behind the roider. “Actually, the new grafty is so superior he may be in heaven for a good long time.”

  Grace leaned over to Kyran and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Kyran Chanho.”

  She heard the whir of Tim’s thrusters from behind.

  “Eugene and Tim agree,” said the PodPooch.

  Chapter 8

  Grace and Kyran pulled down the spoke toward the mess. Unlike her first trip to the canteen, the halls weren’t crowded. Since there were fewer people to dodge, Grace locomoted with enough confidence to read the signs as she passed. A green arrow between two parallel poles had the inset words SPIRAL 5 UPPER. A little further down, an orange locker announced EMERGENCY SUITS. She kept pulling. A sign with thick, red lettering read DANGER. She kept away from that one.

  “Where is everybody?” she asked.