Chapter Ten: Shallow Bruises
“Laston's been a hair-raiser this whole mission. Takes personal offense to us military types.” Sgt. Bowles had many desirable qualities. Full lips, young face and enough chatter for her entire squadron. She was quite attractive. Aaran had an amused micro-expression that would not exit the vehicle. Without a helmet it was possible to see her striking quartz-and-crimson eye with matching slicked-back short hair. She wore a patch to cover her artificial eye.
“Nothing actionable,” I proposed.
“Y'think we'd let him spook the crowd if we could tuck him in a cell somewhere?”
Sonata giggled. I flashed her a look, annoyed by her reaction.
[Nothin' to be annoyed about, Buddy,] Aaran said. [I gotta say this is really cute. Be nice to her. I don't think she's playin' you up to get what she wants.]
Ten minutes more... [Why do you say that?]
[She said as much didn't she? She's a plain-faced woman. Not the hurtful type.]
[Her comment about virgins?]
[Socially expected. She did retract it without prompting,] Sonata interjected.
[You weren't there,] I retorted. She only giggled.
“It got real quiet in here,” Justine Bowles pointed out.
“My apologies.”
“I guess I came on too strong, huh?”
I flicked a glance at Aaran, who expected it and grinned. Perceptive.
“He's a kid. I said so. No experience with feminine wiles,” Aaran remarked. “Cute though.”
“Gettin' cuter all the time...” I muttered. Curious she has no aversion to all the flirtations.
“Thought I'd look nice for this job. I like t'find out you're what the C.O. said, not some trumped up civvie. Worked with a lotta Knights lately. Squires aren't what they used to be. He been off the farm long?”
“About six months,” Aaran supplied. She was loving this.
“An' in service 'bout half that. Yeh.” She laughed sharply. “You're gonna be popular, Buddy! You're the right kinda guy!”
“Ah. Well. Thank you?”
“Yep.”
Aaran and Justine continued to jab me–affectionately, I was informed–for the remainder of the trip. Tolerance was the best course, I reasoned, understanding the high tension nature of our mission. Eventually Justine stopped in front of a makeshift field hospital, a quickly assembled structure of prefabricated components.
Justine threw an arm over the passenger side seat and smiled toward Sonata and I. “I'm your driver while you're tourin' this crate. Job's a job. Got it?”
“Who's issuing the orders?” I remarked, operating the side door. Justine laughed, but I couldn't fathom why. Aaran directed Justine to park cautiously and stay inside.
486th 'Holdover' Field Hospital consisted of sixteen beds, one operating room and a treatment center for mild trauma cases. A digital identifier transmitted a short range encrypted profile for those of suitable clearance. As we approached an automated registrant acknowledged our presence and notified those who desired to be informed of our arrival.
[We were expected,] I advised Aaran.
[Any specifics?]
[Only that six marks were attached to the event. No identifiable codes.]
[Okay. Any countermeasures?]
[None that I can discern.]
[Keep it up. One of these days I'll stop callin' you a kid.] She patted my shoulder and stormed the fragile looking front desk. Behind it a thin woman in whites bared pearly teeth at her assailant. “Where's Laston?”
“Who?”
[How many of those beds are full?]
[Just one,] I replied. [There are no other admittances.]
“Before I go down myself and make more trouble for you, why don't you just tell me?”
The smile vanished. “They're warm beds. Uncomfortable, but warm. I'll have you removed if you get in the way of any real patients, ma'am.”
Sonata tapped Aaran's shoulder. “You do look that tired.”
“Mrs. Coates, if you've business with Laston Pilcrow, go on. You are expected.”
Aaran sighed. [I'm a flagrant moron. Why'd I assume she wasn't going to cooperate?] “Right. Yes. Thank you.”
[It's your way,] Sonata supplied helpfully with a chuckle.
“My name Rely Shale. No one'll mind if you take a nap, Mrs. Coates. Pilcrow is in recovery, so you're best off waiting. The mess is next door. It's a niche, but don't hesitate to refresh yourself.” Her smile powered on again, and was mightily disarming. Another notch in the 'kinder, friendlier' AOC campaign belt.
“Well, thanks Rely. Beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” Her smile did not lessen, and somehow her pride seemed deserved. Sonata made a point of mirroring Rely's winning smile, but sobered as we trundled down the brief hallway. “You didn't ask who was on duty.”
“That's because she already knows who's on duty.” The voice was deep, commanding, but distant and nasal. Aaran smiled again, and then dropped backward into Sonata's arms, completely unconscious. “An excellent example of trust. Sonata? Yes. Let's carry her into the ward. She's over exhausted. What a state.”
“Doctor Dryfuss. How are you?”
He regarded me, expecting change, remembered the facts and nodded to himself. “Frankly, bored. I see you've had work done.”
Sonata laid Aaran down and drew the available blankets over her. She gave a sigh.
“I was damaged in the Sector 9 attack,” I told him.
“The Breach. And Aaran, too. New arm. I see Sonata's spare?” He leaned over and pressed fingers on Aaran's forearm, which was laid over the light-blue blanket. “Every bit the same. Composite plasteel-fiber tissue, heat moderating ... Functionally stable and performance enhancing, to her preference. She'll replace the leg as well.”
“Sir, may I ask about Laston's condition?”
“Buddy, would you call me Timothy?”
“I would, but it might be improper.”
He smiled mutely, then said, “I concede that may be true. Very well. Laston is stable and recovering. Fortunately the cut was precise and totally clean. Almost undetectable. Your imaging was exact, Sonata.”
Sonata had bowed her head at this, and Dryfuss took no notice. He is renowned for his indifference and effectiveness. He is also known as a highly protective family man. The contrast makes a startling remark about his personality.
“Sir...”
“Yes?”
“When can we question him?”
“Whenever he awakens. Aaran could easily obtain a full eight hours rest in that time.”
“I see. Thank you. Sonata and I will stand watch.”
He shrugged, eyes angled a tablet device which he clutched to his flat chest. “I am reassured by your company. There is a crysolen integrated with his nervous system at the base of his spine. Until someone decides if he's needed alive, we can't remove it ... and when was the last time Aaran got some rest?”
“On the elevator trip for less than an hour,” I explained. “I did my best ... she's stubborn.”
“She's of a breed that'll give until her parts fail completely. Let's leave her alone for a while. Laston is a handful.”
His tone may appear ironic, but Dryfuss treated Aaran after the accident that resulted in her amputations. He is older than he looks, thanks to healthy living and a vital soul. He is the sort of man who could ostensibly outlive his children and not be blamed for doing so. I suspect his staunchness of interaction comes from deeply rooted passion for those in his care.
“He should be dead.” We sat in the hallway, crammed into chairs along one side of the wall when he announced this, voice metered, nearly a whisper. Sonata took particular notice of the statement.
“I thought ... I thought I made a mistake.”
Dryfuss flicked a glance at her, then returned to musing his freshly prepared myst. “No. The crysolen provided a counter agent for the paralytic you administered. We found traces of the compound in his bloodstream. What was left of
it.”
“His blood,” Sonata inquired clinically.
“Yes. He's paralyzed from the waist down, but otherwise unharmed. He'll be no threat to the AOC in his condition. Your discretion is to be lauded.”
Sonata had both hands over her mouth, eyes wide, then narrowed as they dropped almost as quickly. Again, I was unsure of her reaction.
“Why, Aaran? Couldn't you have been happy with retirement?”
I looked at him and waited until he returned the favor. “You couldn't.”
This drew a slight grin. “No, I couldn't. Sonata, would you join me? I'm checking on the condition of Marlene Namiki.”
Regarding her I was half convinced she would begin to cry again. I interjected into her emotional feedback that my priority was to protect Aaran Coates, which she accepted readily. I knew from experience that Sonata should be first in line to visit. Sonata is Marlene's favorite, a fact that amuses us to no end.
I have asked Father if he built us because his wife is sterile, and while he has never directly responded in a negative fashion ... he also has never confirmed my hypothesis. Sonata could have been a Namiki child, but not so myself. My darker skin bears traits of cultures surviving by little more than force of political will on Ansile Colony.
His justification was that 'just fit' for my personality and design. When I look in the mirror, I agree with his assessment. These things represent what I desire others to see. Aaran has dyed her hair in her youth, but I understand the practice is commonplace. At this stage of her life she is reluctant to wear even makeup, so I surmise it is due to an attitude parallel to my own.
Laston Pilcrow awoke in five hours, and I was at his side. His sluggish, wry grin was satisfying to me. I had made a lasting impression.
“No running for me, then.” His voice was like glass scratching stone.
“Why haven't you detonated the bombs you placed around Talon?”
“I like being alive.” His eyes were nearly as glassy as his voice.
“I'm sure you do. Right now I like you being alive too,” Aaran said with a grunt. I turned my head to see her swing legs over bedside with a twinge. Her hair was slightly mussed, indicating she had not been too restless. “Be a gentleman and provide your op codes so we can deactivate them.”
His bemused grin became a nasty snarl. “Chew shards.”
Aaran took her time straightening her hair in a mirror opposite us. She then procured a bottled drink and a staunch glare. She approached bedside and gripped the bed rail, leaning in. “So you're threatening us, then. Civilians are out of the way, you know. Just a few military and us.”
“You're pumping dust.”
Aaran shrugged. “Maybe I am. Want an uplink?”
This confused him rather obviously. “Why would I want an uplink? Just to hack your lousy security? Couldn't even crack my head. I was under the knife. What am I supposed to believe? This isn't some Drima fantasy? Cram it, braintorn wonder.”
“Experience tells me you're an adventurer. Have you ever wondered just how many sensors Talon has no one can tap? You'll find out, if you want. So long as we're floating, you want a bite? I'm starving. Buddy will glare at you, meantime.”
[You want me to glare at him?] I transmitted gently, not surprised for an instant by the depth of her knowledge. She owed me no apologies.
[Yeah. Weird him out. I'll be in the mess.] And so she was gone. With a groan, Laston shut his sore eyes. I stared on, curiously entertained.
“She is profoundly unhinged,” Laston commented, but I did not reply to this prompting. “How you like working for that woman, robot?”
“Is that admission?”
Laston rolled his shoulders and winced. “Of what?”
“Private citizen status is selectively awarded. To be employed by the AOC is recognition of this fact. How long have you known about us?”
“I was a little surprised Sonata came to kill me. I thought someone else would. That's her name, right?”
I nodded. “It is. You were very surprised. Enough not to disable her completely.”
“So it's admission. You're Buddy. My pity to you, man,” he paused, breathing for a moment as if the sensations were strange to him. I could imagine they were. “I wasn't trying to disable her.”
“Your pity can stay with you. We know you weren't.”
Laston shook his head regretfully. “KnightsMage an' you shardin' robots think you've got it all over us 'fleshies'. No gift, no strength, no right to live. Where's a shroud when you need it, right? Your sister is hot. She really functional? Really?”
“Is that why you chose not to destroy her? So you could find out?”
He sniggered and wheezed. “You're blasting my doors off. You'd talk that why about your sister?”
“No, but you are.”
He seemed impressed. By what? He was not the first man who desired a machine that resembled a female. Eventually he said: “I gotta get me one just like her some day.”
I did not answer him after that. He was finished toying with me in hopes of obtaining useful information. Laston Pilcrow would do nearly anything for fun, but that wasn't in his profile either. He was crafty and dangerous.
While I resumed my assignment, he threw his head back on his pillow and pretended to sleep. Aaran returned a while later, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “You had no reason for hiring the hit on my best friend. She was just a distraction.”
Pilcrow was especially perky and inquisitive. “No one knew that. I mean, no one knew that. Everyone on my grid thought you had some kind of tag on her or something. Friends, you beat all.”
Half lidded eyes glowered under Aaran's uncommonly heavy frame of light toned hair. Knowing her she was pondering method and process. It was unlike her to plan ahead. “You can't walk. What will that shard do for you?”
“It might let me walk,” he grated teasingly. “Y' better watch me close.”
This did not appear to be effective. “And the Brainhaulers agree? Who performed the surgery?”
“I get why you're chaffed. It's because you're chaffed. Anyone knows the Brainhaulers. I have family in the Brainhaulers.” Pilcrow restrained a cough.
“Pilcrow. I'm shipping you to a Scraper. Whatever they pull out of your brainpan will suit me. I've got eight diffused bombs with tech you sold to the AOC. Maybe you had aspirations of becoming a Crown engineer?”
He jutted chin, and I saw his shoulders twitch. “Yeah I did. Swing a deal, maybe I still could. What do they care I wired this place up? No one else could.”
“That's a lot of maybes. If I told you that the only reservation they had was your freelance memory trading, what would you think?”
He looked down, then back up again with redoubled defiance. “I think they're shard-hazed. They're killin' me with morals and all they want was some skinflint to eject the dead weight? Blasted hypocrites. You see it. You do, I see it in your face.”
“Not in my eyes?”
He hadn't, by then, made much eye contact. Aaran's narrowed in a threatening manner. “I don't really care you hired a couple of wanna-be killers to ace my friend. I do care if you know a thing about the attack on the shield.”
Laston Pilcrow squinted, wound up his face then gasped. “I'm in so much pain. That doll o' yours should've aced me proper, or let me sleep with her.”
Aaran crossed the floor with startling speed and clasped his neck with her right hand. After a moment Pilcrow's face began to redden. She released her grip. “She's not that kind of girl.”
“Buttons,” Pilcrow heaved. “Oh you got buttons. Why do you think I didn't hit the shield?”
“Because you like sleeping with girls.”
“Yeah I do. Lots of girls.”
“But you don't.” Pilcrow fell silent. Aaran's emotional edge dissipated, replaced by an indifferent facade that commanded his attention. “Girls like you, but Cherice … she's your girl. You never turned a hair on another girl but her.”
“...flak.” Pilcrow was white be
fore, but paled even further. A glance at his heartrate monitor displayed elevated but safe levels. “Cherice Coates. You're her flakkin' mother.”
Aaran let this bubble for a while, inviting me over to the door to banter.
“How long have you known that?” I asked, whispering.
“Just since I went to the mess. Called Cherice on a whim.” Aaran did not look especially pleased. Her eyes darted back and forth in memory and thought.
“What leverage do you think it will win?”
“Take a guess.”
I waited, having already given it some thought. “It's a game. He's not going to give in.”
“No he won't. So?”
“He is a conflicted loyalist and you want to know to whom he has paid tribute.”
“He chose a Pillar and I'm sure as the shield it's Phate's. What bothers me is the manpower. We had nothing on the Brainhaulers, but eight bombs on Talon and a hit on Mishan? Janus would have streamed us about the crew if she'd known. Worries me what else she's missing.”
“Janus was thorough.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Coates.” The defiant vibrancy was abandoning his voice. Aaran looked over at him, then back at me. “Coates!”
“What can I do for you, Pilcrow?” she acknowledged finally.
“I got one good thing in this scrap life, and its your daughter. She knows, I'm scrapped. Scrapped.”
Aaran tilted her head to the side. “We're all scrapped. This is salvage.”
“I was sayin' whatever you want I got it.”
“You got bionic equipment under that blanket? For what?”
Now he displayed a hint of shame, but it was a strange reaction to her words. “Don't tell her it was me. You didn't. She hates you. You don't want that kind of trouble.”
Aaran's expression hardened. It was personal. “I don't give you a thought, Pilcrow.”
He was nonplussed. “Why not? What's all this get me, anyway?”
“There's a doctor in this building who won't flinch if I slit you open right now. Talon wrote you off. Razor will replace you. You like life? Give me the Brainhauler addresses and codes.”
He made a face. “Hey. You have those. All in the copy you made while you were in my head.”
“Then you know what I need.”
He twisted his lips. “Janus has the codes.”
“You have the codes. Go the mile, stiff upper lip.”
He went quiet again. Aaran bowed her head for a moment, then looked up with an attitude of satisfaction. “Right. Now we get you planetside.”
Aaran made to depart, but Pilcrow protested that he owed her. I couldn't decide if she did. She stopped at the doorway and said: “She chose her path long after I had any right to tell her otherwise.”
Threads of Canor: Sector Bomb Page 10