I walked into what had once been Frig’s prized lab. The back wall remained charred and open into the next room and the room beyond. Only the thick outer hull of the Suppressor had managed to stop the destructive progress of the weapon that had come through the portal. Minuscule traces of tungsten had been found throughout the destruction. The meaning of its presence remained unknown.
I spoke. “How goes the cleanup?”
Frig did not look up; he continued to work from his squatting position as he replied, “The computers and the lab can be rebuilt. The antenna demodulators that resided within this room were completely destroyed. It will take some time and effort to rebuild them. Our greatest loss, however, was the three members of my tech team. They were invaluable to the operation and support of the wormhole system. It will take months to retrain a new team. Much of what we were able to accomplish with that wormhole was because of their efforts and input. They will be missed.”
I looked around the room. “Do we really need the wormhole right now? I mean, we are too far away to go through it. We can’t communicate with the Grid. Whatever we drop back there for that errant Human signal will just get destroyed. And the Gonta defense people replied with a resounding no to our comm request. What else could we use it for?”
Frig stood and replied, “We could make use of it to monitor if the Grid is being moved. What if, by the time it is once again functional, what if the Grid is gone? Our only hope of finding it is for us to travel into Colossun space. Even with the wormhole active, a scan of the known Colossus Empire would take many years.”
I looked at Frig; he was disheveled in his otherwise calm and efficient appearance. “When was the last time you slept?”
Frig was silent for a moment before offering a tepid response. “Five days ago, Sir.”
I cocked back my head. “Go hit the sack for a while. I’m sure we can keep things running around here. When you are done with at least a full day’s rest, come see me, and we will work out a schedule of what needs to be done. And Frig—”
Frig replied, “Yes, Sir?”
I spoke. “You look like crap! Hahahaha!”
Frig shook his head. “Years apart, Sir. And yet your wit remains stale.”
I waved Frig off as I got down to the task of assisting in the coordination of the cleanup effort.
As I continued to train my new leg, it became increasingly difficult to fully control. I would make a ten-meter one-step leap from my right leg to a one-meter flop on my face after mistakenly attempting it with my left. I was beginning to have trouble with my sense of balance.
Several days had passed, and Frig was back to his normal efficient and regulated self. I sat down in George’s office for a talk. “Can we detune this leg, or is there any other way to make my brain move the proper leg at the proper time?”
George smiled. “Yours is a common occurrence for single-prosthetic wearers. If your goal was to walk, or even to jog, with a normal gait, I believe you would do just fine. You, however, are an extreme case. You are active, and as such you need the balance that comes with evenly powered appendages. As I had initially recommended, you should have had both legs replaced at the same time.”
I sat back in my chair. “I’ve got to tell you, Doc, I still like my left leg.”
George replied, “As you also like your new right leg. It is of course up to you, Don, but my recommendation stands.”
I placed my hands on top of my head with my fingers folded as I leaned further back and looked up at the ceiling. “You already have my face and one leg, Doc. When are you going to stop?”
George stood as he walked towards his container of coffee. “Oh, you still have a lot that needs replacing, Don Grange. If I had my way, I would replace that other leg and both arms, and then I would add a reinforcement framework to your hips, spine, and shoulders. Your combat suit would consist of a torso cover and a helmet.”
I replied, “So, you would turn me into York. I see.”
George again smiled. “York is indeed a success story, Don. Do you know that she has not been in need of a single adjustment?”
I turned and looked out the doctor’s portal window into the cold black space beyond. “Doc, if York had a complaint about those arms and legs, she would keep it to herself. Who knows, maybe you got her set up exactly right the first time. You are pretty good, you know.”
George returned with a cup of coffee. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Don. I will have to admit that York is a unique case. Instead of allowing adjustments to be made, she instead chose to allow her brain to compensate for any deficiencies. Perhaps in a way, that has made her bond to those prostheses all the more real and all the more effective. Most of us, however, do not have the patience to go through that process.”
I sat forward in my chair as I took a cup of coffee as it was offered. “If, and I say if, if I had that full procedure done, how long would the recovery process take? One week? Two?”
George took a sip, savored the flavor, and then spoke. “Four, possibly up to six weeks. The framing around the spine has to heal fully before training can begin.”
I stood with my coffee in hand. “Six weeks! Well, how is it that York was up in a few days?”
George took another sip. “York’s body has learned to compensate whenever she makes heavy use of her limbs. The muscles along her spine have grown thick. It was something that I had not expected, and is probably the reason that she has not severely damaged her own skeleton. Also of note is the increased bone density level that she has. Her skeletal and muscular systems are both well above the norm.”
I took a long swallow, crumpled my plastic thermo-cup, and tossed it in an open recycler chute. “So, how long would a recovery be without the spine-and-shoulder thing? Just the arms and legs.”
George shook his head. “I believe you would kill yourself within a few months’ time. A broken back, severely torn muscles—you would be returned to me with irreparable damage. I would not perform such a transformation on you. You have a propensity for getting banged up and knocked about too much. That surgery would be ill advised.”
I spoke. “Well, we aren’t going anywhere fast here, Doc. I suppose you should go ahead and give me the works. I guess that once a cyborg, always a cyborg; a little bit more on the electromechanical front won’t hurt.”
George smiled as he crumpled his own coffee cup. “Oh, I never said it wouldn’t hurt, Don. But, don’t you worry, I will do my best to keep the pain down.”
I returned half a smile. “You scare me sometimes, Doc. I don’t know whether you are just being honest or if you are just pulling my chain.”
George replied, “What is life without a little mystery? Enjoy the remainder of your day, Don. I will see you here first thing in the morning.”
My final day with real arms and a leg passed quickly. I awoke four days later with Frig standing over my bed. I could only see his feet, as I was facing the floor. There was no mistaking the unshod greenish feet of a Gambit.
Frig spoke. “So, Sir, how does it feel to be 60 percent artificial?”
I replied with a still-groggy voice, “I can’t feel anything yet. How do my legs look?”
Frig smiled. “Your legs? You do not have any legs, Sir. You have two stumps that have been prepared for prosthetics, one that is already healed, and another that is healing.”
I attempted to roll over and was surprised by the restraints that held me in place. I grasped for something to grab hold of but could not find a grip.
I continued, “Well, how about my arms? Do they look natural?”
Frig chuckled. “You have no arms either, Sir. The doctor removed them yesterday.”
Still in a somewhat confused state, I asked, “Why did I have my new leg the next day and now I have nothing?”
Frig squatted close to the floor and looked up at me. “Sir, the operation has only just begun. Your remaining leg and your arms were removed yesterday. This morning, George reinforced one of your hips. He will do
the other tomorrow. Following that, he will open your spinal cavity. You will receive the initial spinal support structure, followed on the next day by a Tantric coating of your bones. When the coating has sufficiently bonded, an exoskeleton of sorts will be wrapped around your spine. That must then heal for three days before the work on your shoulders can begin.”
I grumbled, “Tantric, huh? Doc didn’t mention that little tidbit.”
Frig replied, “He was uncertain about its use at the beginning. Gy came through with a few suggestions, so George felt it was a worthwhile experiment.”
I again replied with a half-awake question. “Experiment? I don’t remember signing up for any experiment. Where is the doc? I would like to have a word or two with him.”
Within minutes I was again fast asleep; my questions remained unanswered. Twice more I was awakened during my stay in George’s infirmary. Each time I was groggier than the last. When I finally fully awoke, George was standing over me.
George spoke. “How are we feeling?”
I blinked my eyes in an attempt to clear away the fog. “I feel like I just got rumbled by an angry Borak. Would you be so kind as to remove my straps, Doc? I have a wicked itch on the end of my nose.”
George reached in and lightly scratched. I attempted to wiggle my face, only to find that my head had been strapped down as well.
I spoke. “Hey, I remember something about Tantric mentioned. Some experiment. What gives?”
George smiled. “It was something that I have been wanting to do for a while. With quad prosthetics, there is a tendency to damage the spine and the muscles if the limbs are overexerted. I theorized that if the bone could be reinforced with a thin layer of Tantric, the risk of damage due to an overexertion could be minimized. Frig happened to mention my theories to Gy. I don’t know why I had not consulted with him before; he is our Tantric authority. Anyway, I wrapped your bones in Tantric. If all goes well, you should be able to endure more than any Human has in the past. I am speaking purely from a skeletal perspective, so don’t think superhuman strength.”
I replied, “So, why can’t I move my legs or arms, Doc?”
George picked up a display chart and poked at it with a single finger. “I don’t see why we can’t have those fitted to your torso in about three more weeks.”
The comment had me fully awake. “Three more weeks! How long have I been out, exactly?”
George set the chart back on a side table. “Well, there were a few complications, and we added a few new items such as the Tantric hips, spine, shoulders, and skull.”
I broke in. “Wait. What? Skull? You never said anything about my skull!”
George again smiled. “I will have to admit to taking a few liberties with you, Don. You were hardheaded before; you are now the hardest head. I reinforced your upper and lower jaw, the bridge of your nose, and right at the base of your nose above the teeth. Your skull, running from just above your eyeballs, around each side, and up and over the top, has a Tantric layer, as well as the rest of the bones in your body.”
George continued, “You see, Gy was able to sinter the Tantric into flakes, and then mix it with a calcium carbonate coating. That allowed us to literally paint it onto your bone, creating a strong bond. With the proper electric current, the Tantric then reconnected to itself, forming a near-perfect layer. Gy is now trying to figure out if he can do something similar for our ships.”
I sighed. “So, I’m a Tantric mess is what you are saying.”
George replied, “What I am saying is that you have one tough framework that is holding you together. If I could figure out some way to protect your soft tissue, you would be one scary soldier.”
I spoke. “So, I’m stuck here for another three weeks, huh. How are you planning to keep me properly entertained?”
George smiled as he pressed a button on an IV line. “Entertained? That won’t be necessary. Good night, Don Grange. I will be seeing you in three weeks. I have a few more nips and tucks to make before then.”
Before I could respond, the powerful sleep agent again had me unconscious. When I again woke from the dead, I had the arms and legs that I had been dreaming of. Again my nose itched, and again the restraints prevented me from satisfying that itch.
George entered the room. “Well, good to see you up. Tomorrow we begin your physical therapy.”
I replied, “If I am all done, why am I restrained?”
George laughed. “Sorry, Don. If we didn’t keep those straps on you, you would probably beat yourself to death trying to scratch your nose. Keep in mind, you don’t have control of those limbs yet. And I would add, training one limb is much easier on the brain than training all four.”
I spoke. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind coming over here again to scratch my nose, I would appreciate it. Hey, since you took the time to add all the extras to me, why didn’t you just go ahead and add on a couple extra arms?”
George nodded as he scratched. “Believe it or not, I have worked up the designs for that. It would be quite complex, requiring new muscles and tendons to be attached and new bones grafted. With the addition of the Tantric to the bones, we might just be able to support that extra set.”
I attempted to raise my hand to say stop, but my arms were still not functional. I instead settled on a wink and a nod.
Chapter 15
Three weeks after the surgery had been completed and the physical therapy begun, I took my first unassisted walk down the hall outside of the infirmary. When I had reached the elevators at the end of the hall, I turned back towards my physical trainer and waved goodbye. The elevator door closed before he could catch up to me.
My walk was awkward, but manageable. I nodded at several of the Suppressor’s crew who came down the hall past me. I turned the corner into Frig’s lab and was shocked by what had been accomplished. The room and all it contained were exactly as they had been before the damage had been incurred. Everything had been replaced except for the antenna modulators.
I clomped my way into the room as I spoke. “Looking good! Other than the modulators, I can’t see anything that’s missing.”
Frig turned towards me. “I am glad to see you out on your own, Sir. Although, I thought that was not to happen for another week.”
I replied, “Yeah, well, I was never one for following all the rules. I saw an opportunity to run, and I took it!”
The trainer that had been working with me soon rounded the corner. “Mr. Grange! The doc is going to skin me alive if he finds out I let you out of my sight!”
I laughed as I replied, “Just hope he doesn’t put new arms and legs on you. Getting skinned alive sounds like a picnic after going through this. Just give me five minutes to catch up with my friend here, and then you can haul me back up to the prison you call an infirmary.”
The trainer stepped back out into the hallway.
I turned to Frig. “So, we still don’t have the demodulators?”
Frig sighed. “They are proving difficult to reproduce, Sir. Each of the tests I have conducted has resulted in a signal disbursement that is an order of magnitude lower than before. I am almost certain now that Jesse, one of my techs who was killed, had done some personal tweaking of the connection impedance. The two circuits require a perfect match for a proper power signal to build.”
The antenna had been removed, leaving the connection circuit exposed. “Call me dumb if you want, but I thought a demodulator was used to deconstruct or pull out a specific signal. Why are we demodulating at this point in the circuit?”
Frig gave a somewhat stunned expression. “Ordinarily, Sir, I would have jumped at the opportunity to call you dumb. That question, however, was anything but unintelligent. The desired signal at this connection is stripped from the transport signal, passed into the antenna array, and rebroadcast, with a focal point providing a peak recombination of the waves at an exact location in space. The peak power that comes together at that point is the mechanism that literally tears open the wormhole. T
he additional power and frequencies provided add stability as well as wormhole size and endpoint location.”
I replied, “Ah, yeah, OK. So, if I get this right, the signal travels down the different antenna, and then rips a hole in space?”
Frig smiled. “That is exactly what happens, Sir! Has George been tampering with your brain as well?”
I gave a sarcastic smile as I turned back towards the hallway. “Just tell me that you can fix this thing. It’s critical that we have it to use.”
Frig replied, “I will do my best, Sir.”
The trainer escorted me back to the infirmary floor, where I continued with my physical therapy. Before I knew it, two months had passed. As I jogged on a treadmill for a twenty-kilometer run, George entered the room.
George spoke. “How is my machine feeling today? Any more discomfort in that right shoulder?”
The shoulder had been my only problem. Several bonds of the Tantric layer to the bone had not taken correctly. George gave me repeated technical explanations that were always over my head. I eventually told him to just spare me the details and fix it. He did.
I replied, “Shoulder is feeling great today. That one binding issue that I was having seems to have been resolved. And I would like to offer you kudos on the mobility. I am way more flexible than I was before. My hips, shoulders, and even my spine bend like I’m some nimble little ten-year-old girl gymnast. My reaction control is almost back to where it was before we started this whole thing. I tell you, Doc, if things continue to improve, I’ll be wondering why we don’t all do this.”
George nodded as he tapped away on his display pad. “I said you would be pleased once we got past the recovery period. Rita brought me a complete set of improved power cells for each of those limbs. I would like to swap them out today and begin testing of their hardiness and longevity. She indicated that if they perform as tested in the lab, you should see a threefold increase in duration. We will have to keep in mind that those arms and legs are also a little more power hungry than the ones York has, but we should still see a sustained heavy-workload period of two months or more.”
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