Nika batted his helping arm away. “Josune, I want to talk to you about a way that might ease the burns.” She pulled Josune up and away from the table.
Roystan started to follow. Nika glared at him. “You stay here. Haven’t you heard of client confidentiality?”
He sat down again. “Sorry, Josune.”
Snow slid out in his stead.
“I know more about burns than you do,” he pointed out.
“True,” Nika agreed, and let him follow them out.
Josune didn’t care. Her head was going to fall off, or implode, she was sure of it. She was glad of Snow’s supporting presence behind her.
Nika stopped in the next passage. “But I know a lot more about bioware than you do, Snow.” Her voice was brisk and professional. “Can you make it to your room, Josune?”
Could she? Josune wasn’t sure.
Nika nodded, as if she’d expected nothing less.
“You keep watch,” she said to Snow, and pushed Josune against the wall. “Let me see your eye.”
“It’s fine.” It was red-hot, raw pain.
Nika’s touch was inexorable. “This is going to hurt. If you scream, Roystan will come running. Is that what you want?”
She couldn’t even hear now. Or not much. She wanted to die.
“Cover her mouth, Snow.”
“What?”
“She’ll start screaming in a minute.” Nika stripped off her own top and shoved part of it into Josune’s mouth. “Bite on that.”
Josune bit down gratefully.
“What are you going to do?” Snow’s voice rose.
Nika pushed back Josune’s right eyelid. “Did you use the bioware?”
“No. I don’t know.” It came out unintelligible through the gag. She shook her head. If she had, she hadn’t meant to.
“It’s frying your brain. This is going to be messy. I need to cut the connection. Snow, do you have any tools on you?”
Josune felt the movement that was Snow shaking his head. A tiny movement, but that caused a wash of agony that blinded her. She wanted to die. Anything would be better than this. She bit down harder.
“Damn. Get Roystan. He’ll find something.”
“Wait.” She had to take the gag out to say it so they could understand. “Tool belt.” Nika was halfway to an engineer. She might be able to use some of the fine electronic tools there.
“Thank you.” Nika seized on it gratefully. The rattle as she sorted through it sent knife bolts through Josune’s head. She pulled out the snippers Josune used for delicate work, and some tweezers.
“You can’t use that on her eye. Stop.” Even Snow’s words were agony. “What are you doing?”
“If she wants a functioning brain I can.” Nika shoved the shirt back into Josune’s mouth, prized the eyelid open again, and cut, in one quick movement.
The pressure in Josune’s head stopped. She cried with relief. Tears mixed with blood. Her legs gave way and Nika guided her down to the floor.
“You’ve cut her eye.”
“You can fix a slashed eyelid with a genemod machine. You can’t fix brain damage.” Nika took her now damp and bloodied shirt back from Josune and put it on. “See if you can stop the bleeding.”
Snow was almost crying too as he crouched in front of Josune and tended her eye. “You are a butcher. I’m so sorry, Josune. I didn’t know what she was going to do. She’s stark raving insane.”
“Snow.” Josune tried to calm him down. “She had to do it. I was crazy with pain.”
But Snow didn’t hear her. Not until Nika said, over the top of them, “Snow. Never go to pieces in front of your client. They need to be able to trust you, and if you fall apart like that, they won’t.”
“I’d rather fall apart than do that to them. Even if I did look trustworthy while I was doing it.”
“Snow.” And the modder finally listened. “Nika helped me. She’s right in what she did.” Josune knew she was, given the agony that had been spiking into her head.
“I don’t know why you’re defending her.”
“It was a white-hot soldering iron in my skull. It needed to come out.” Now she was one big pain all over, but her head was blessedly painless. Comparatively.
Nika found the nearest first-aid kit and pulled it open. “Roystan doesn’t stint on the basics.” She sounded approving. “Here.” She handed over a wad of gauze, which Snow carefully applied to the eyelid.
The blood dripping down Josune’s face was sticky.
“Getting thicker. Good.”
Nika handed over plaster. Snow applied that, too.
Josune wondered if he knew he was deliberately keeping his body between her and Nika. To protect her?
She looked past him, to Nika. “Thank you.”
Nika nodded and looked at her critically. “Lucky you’ll be in a machine soon. If we let that heal by itself you’ll end up with a scar, and an eye you can’t close.”
Snow scrubbed at his own hands, where the blood was. “She has no tact either.”
15
NIKA RIK TERRI
Nika washed as much blood off her shirt as she could and wrung it out. She wasn’t much on hand washing. It dripped and was clammy on her back, but the only other clothing she had was the business suit she’d used to travel up to the Hub—which she knew would be a bad choice to wear.
Once she was as clean as she could be, she made her way across to Josune’s cabin. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Josune lay limply on the bed, still in her blood-spattered clothes.
Snow wasn’t there. Was he up with Roystan? What would he be saying?
Nika sat on the edge of the bed and used the back of her hand to test the skin around Josune’s eye.
“They have a hospital on Atalante.” She’d checked. “Unfortunately, the only machines on station are Dietel FastTracks. We’ve booked one. While Carlos and the others are unloading, Snow and I will take you down.”
If Snow was talking to her. Later, they’d find a better machine and do a proper mod.
“I thought Snow might be here, protecting you from me.”
Josune managed a smile. It must have hurt. “I appreciate what you did, even if he doesn’t. He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”
Nika stiffened. Josune obviously knew.
“It’s not hard to guess. You get uncomfortable every time he mentions a certain name.”
She’d have to remember that, and modify her behavior. “Where are your shirts?”
Josune pointed to the cupboard. Nika took that as permission to open it. Josune’s cupboard was tidy, and mostly bare. There were no personal trinkets. Just two changes of clothes. She traveled almost as lightly as Nika and Snow.
Nika brought a clean shirt over. “Do you want to shower first?”
Josune shook her head.
Nika helped her sit up and deftly pulled the bloodied shirt off over Josune’s head. She slipped the other one on. There was nothing she could do to make it painless, so she made it fast.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Josune said. “At doctoring, I mean. Most modders don’t know how to heal.”
You had to know your tools, and the human body was the most basic, and most important, tool in a modder’s toolkit. If you didn’t know what could break it, how could you presume to change it? You had to be able to undo what you had done. Nika had seen irresponsible mods, dangerous mods, mods that had been supposedly irreversible.
“A good modder should be able to heal, even if it’s not their primary function.”
Simply being able to fix things didn’t mean you couldn’t improve on them, however.
“You’ll come out of the machine a patchy pink. We should make it a feature, so you don’t look like you’ve come out of a Dietel.”
“
Pink.” Josune looked down at her burned skin. “I suppose.” Doubtfully.
“Think about it,” Nika said. “We’ll get rid of the pink when we get to a real machine, although we can still use the pattern. I’ll draw you a design.” She’d talk the doctor into letting her take over the machine. Maybe she could hire it for the mod, so she could control it, rather than the doctor.
“We won’t have time. The quicker I’m in and out, the better.”
“There’s time to decide. Roystan said it will take two days to get there. You should get plenty of rest in the meantime. Your body’s in shock.”
Nika would come up with the design regardless of whether Josune used it or not. There was always room, even in basic repairs, for some style.
Josune touched her hand to Nika’s. “Thank you again. Do you ever think about anything except modding?”
Nika shrugged. “Not really.” It was all she had. “It’s what I live for.”
“I understand obsessions.” Josune closed her good eye. “I’ve lived one all my life.” Nika thought she was asleep until she whispered, “What do you have left when you start to doubt your obsession?”
“Loneliness.” An obsession ate your life, except you didn’t know that until you didn’t have it anymore, and you were left with nothing.
Josune opened her good eye again. “All I ever wanted was to find Goberling’s lode.”
There was far too much Goberling on this ship, in Nika’s opinion.
“But Roystan’s right. All Goberling ever wanted to do was find new worlds. He would have been happy with half, a quarter, of what we found.”
She wasn’t talking about what The Road had found. At least, Nika didn’t think so.
“What would I do when we found it, anyway? Retire?”
“You’d probably keep exploring.”
“Maybe I could sign on as Roystan’s crew. Settle down and work a cargo run.”
It wasn’t hard to see where that came from. It was clear Roystan liked Josune. It was nice to see that Josune reciprocated some of the feelings.
“Get fat on Jacques’s food.”
“If you do, make sure you drop in to a good modder regularly.”
Josune laughed, then sobered. “I can’t stay.” Her expression was a mixture of despair and determination. “I can’t shut out the noise, Nika. My crewmates. Until I fix that . . . I can’t drag Roystan into that.”
Josune didn’t need time alone in her room right now. She needed sanity, and people around her. She could sleep surrounded by her friends.
Nika stood up and collected Josune’s pillow. “Let’s go back to the crew room. Get you some coffee.”
“I’d rather stay in bed.” But Josune followed her out.
* * *
• • •
Snow wasn’t in the crew room. Nika thought about going back to his cabin and talking to him, but the others swamped Josune then.
“What happened to your eye?”
Maybe later, when Josune was settled.
“The bioware was giving me a headache, so Nika cut it out for me.” Which was the literal truth, but Nika was glad Snow wasn’t there to embellish the story.
Movement caught her eye. Snow, hesitating in the doorway. This might be awkward.
But it wasn’t. Snow entered, hunched in on himself, not looking at anyone directly—except at Josune, and that was the quick look of a professional for his client.
They made room for him next to Nika. He hesitated before he sat down. One day she would find out why he lacked the confidence to stand tall. He was good at what he did. He knew he was good. So why did he hunch in on himself all the time?
Nika chose the safest conversation a modder could think of. “I’m doing a design for Josune. Do you want to try one, too?”
She saw the interest quicken in his eyes and approved. A good modder should always be interested in the chance to design.
“Remember these things. She wants to be in and out fast. She wants to be repaired, and we’re using a Dietel, so she’ll come out pink.”
Snow curled his nose at the mention of the machine. Did he realize he had done so? “My Netanyu would do a better job.”
At least he was talking to her. Nika settled down to her own design, keeping an eye on Josune while she did so. The engineer looked exhausted but no longer looked as if she wanted to die. She even smiled once at something Jacques said, and asked in reply, “How long will it take to unload?”
“Four hours if Roystan can sweet-talk them into extending us credit for a landing berth. Eight, maybe ten, if we have to do it ship-to-ship, with another hour out while Roystan takes you down. And we still need credits for your shuttle landing.”
Four hours. It wasn’t much. “If we have the funds, can we stay longer?” Nika asked. They didn’t know what supplies the doctor had on hand.
“Roystan doesn’t like loans,” Carlos said.
“It’s not a loan.” Although Roystan was the sort of person who’d take out a loan for one of his crew. Even if it lost him his ship. She’d talk to him in private later.
Josune started to say something. Roystan hushed her by putting a hand over hers, but he nodded at her.
That was a conversation Nika wasn’t party to. She turned to Snow. “Let’s see your design.”
“I want to see yours first.”
She handed it over. He passed his own back, then looked at hers in silence.
His design was good, but basic, with an eight-hour window for the whole thing, and clever coloration to blend in the pink.
She’d kept hers down to six, blending in the pink similar to the way Snow had, but adding a layer of darker dendritic branching as a feature, much like the burns themselves. She would have liked to make the skin glow as well, but that took more transurides than she had. She’d changed the hair—Josune’s old metallic blue-black wouldn’t work with the new look—and it now tapered from short on the right side to long on the other. The long side, she’d made a deep black. That was easy and fast. The shorter side retained the black underneath but had an overlay of pink to blend with the skin and dendrites, and a top layer of electric blue.
“This isn’t bad,” Snow said. “Although I’m not sure about the hair. You said color was out.”
“It’s last season. Josune doesn’t need to be cutting-edge. We do.” She looked over at the other woman. “I’ll cut your hair before we go. We can fix it properly after you come out.”
Snow pushed the design back. “It won’t work.” Was that a challenge she heard in his voice? “You need transurides to start the reaction on the skin.”
You never needed more than a trace of transurides. It was far too expensive to use more.
“As to that.” Nika reached into her pocket and pulled out the sliver she’d taken from Josune’s eye. “It’s damaged,” she told Josune. “Do you mind me using it?” It wasn’t just a transuride, it was pure dellarine. The best of the best.
Snow let his head drop to the table. She heard the thunk as it hit. “You’re a cannibal. Certifiably crazy.” He lifted his head. Grudgingly, he said, “But it might work.”
“Cannibal?” Roystan looked at the sliver in Nika’s hand.
She didn’t know if he recognized it.
“She reuses parts of people.”
“Snow. Your body is the best source of material for a re-mod. It doesn’t reject its own.” You could push through changes the body would otherwise reject when you used the body’s own DNA. Not that the transurides were a natural part of Josune’s body—of anyone’s—but a body didn’t reject transurides either.
Snow said, “Give me nice fresh mutrient any day. At least I know what I’m putting in then.”
* * *
• • •
Atalante Station was a good match for The Road. Way beyond its prime, stitched
together seemingly with random pieces of metal. It looked like an egg with spines all over it.
“It used to be one of the central places people went to get supplies, crew, passage,” Roystan said.
A former-day version of the Hub.
“But as the legal zone moved out, so did the hubs.” He smiled fondly as it came closer on-screen. “Now it’s limping along with a tenth of the people. But it’s got plenty of room, and the docking fees are cheap.”
“Is that why you came here?” Nika asked. They were seated around the table in the crew room again. They practically lived there.
Roystan brought up the image of Atalante again. “It’s our second home.”
What would it be like traveling permanently through space, with long stays at a space station as the only break?
“Won’t the company know we’re here?” Josune asked.
“I’m hoping they’ll think we’re still on our route, doing deliveries. They’ll come, of course, but we should still have enough time to fix you, sublease our load, and get out of here.”
“And then what?” Jacques asked. “Where do we go then, Roystan?”
“We drop Nika and Snow where they want to go.” He looked at Josune. “Then we find this safe station of yours, work something out.”
Josune gripped the edge of the table. She didn’t look at Roystan.
“We’ve no credits,” Jacques said.
“We’ll be fine, Jacques.” Roystan looked at Jacques, but his eyes moved toward Nika and Snow. “We’ll think of something.”
He had plans, but not for their ears. Nika didn’t mind. She was looking forward to having the sun on her back and being able to walk down the street again, instead of being locked in a tin box. In fact, she was looking forward to the station, for there’d be more room than there was on a ship.
Terrible medical facilities, though. She’d looked up the hospital when she’d booked the machine. Four Dietels and two of them out of commission. She wasn’t surprised. They were as old as Snow’s Netanyu. Nika hadn’t thought Dietels lasted that long.
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