Ghost of Jupiter (Jade Saito - Action Sci-Fi Series Book 1)
Page 28
One thing was odd, though. This Rueger guy had advised Henning not to look inside the crate.
Fuck that. They’d paid too high a price not to know what they were carrying.
At zero hours, zero minutes, and zero seconds, a mechanism within the crate engaged with a force Henning felt through his boots. After an obnoxiously loud and long hiss, a seam appeared and the lid lifted up a few centimeters. Some kid of gas or mist vented around the rim, and Henning waved his hands around to clear the air until he could see.
He waited for whatever was going to happen. Nothing. The crate just sat there.
He set his boots in a wide stance and gripped the edges of the lid. He tried to lift the top, but it didn’t budge. “You’re a heavy bastard, aren’t ya, mate?”
Henning circled around the crate, bracing his boots against the angled support between floor and wall. He bent his knees and engaged his considerable muscle. He pushed the lid, which slid away with a grinding squeal. Gravity caught hold once he’d pushed far enough, and the cover tilted and slid off. It slammed onto the deck with a deep, echoing bang.
Henning looked inside.
The crate’s interior was filled with some kind of gel-like substance. A young woman, completely nude, floated in the center. A medical holointerface hovered in a layer over her body, showing her pulse, some spikes of brain activity, and other data. Her left arm to the shoulder and her right leg below the knee were robotic prostheses, but not the simple versions those living in poverty might use. Instead, they looked perfectly in proportion with their real counterparts, like real limbs composed of layered metallic fibers of black or silver. Her toes, muscles, and even fingernails were present.
The closer Henning looked, the more augmentations he saw. She had a tiny access port near her ribs and a handful of others scattered all over her dusky skin. Her right scalp was shaved in an undercut. A closer look revealed it wasn’t just to be stylish—a minute data port was embedded above her hairline.
What the hell was the purpose of that? What had happened to this girl? Why replicate lost limbs in such detail? None of this made any sense. The technology to regrow tissue, bone, skin, and entire limbs had been developed centuries ago, and most internal medicine was handled through nanotech and wireless communication, so the presence of physical ports was a bizarre anachronism.
He reached through the hologram and opened one of her eyes with his fingers. She was entirely submerged beneath a thin layer of goo that squished when he touched it.
The young woman was unresponsive, and the eye beneath her lid was artificial. Layers of finely machined metals made up the iris and pupil. The iris contracted in response to the light, but she made no move to indicate she was awake or aware.
Henning frowned. “What the fuck?”
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