Assessing Survival (2 page)

“Scans indicate shattered internal organs. You have blown your kidneys, and your spleen is ruptured. This is going to get worse before it gets better.”

She nodded, and they settled her on a gurney. “Make sure that you check on Lucky. I am worried about a brain bleed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As they rushed her and the others down the hall, she lay back and spoke to Morry. “I need a full report on the survivors the moment that I make it out of triage.”

“You aren’t in any position to be giving orders, Stitch.” Morry held her left hand as they were in the lift, heading for medical.

“I know, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to try. How many made it?”

Antony cleared his throat. “Eight are still alive, but we are expecting to lose two.”

She watched as he stiffened. He was getting an update on his internal communicator. “We are down to six, including you. Don’t make me redo the count, Stitch.”

She chuckled and lay back; the pain wasn’t too bad, but then, it wouldn’t be with her spine broken and her body numb below the waist.

They hadn’t mentioned it, but then, there had to be a reason that she wasn’t feeling the pain of the crushing damaged caused by the blast.

When they arrived in medical, every staff member was on deck. She was moved from the gurney to the scanner, and she was subjected to the same treatment that she oversaw on a daily basis.

She felt the shock and insecurity that came when others discussed her fate, and she had no say in it. She tried to offer her expert opinion, but they sedated her. It all went downhill from there.

“Assessment Officer Carter, please move your toes.”

Stitch didn’t recognize the voice, but it didn’t matter. She twitched her toes for him.

“Excellent. Well, you came through the adaptation just fine. You went into shipping shock. Glad to see you are with us.”

She opened her eyes and looked around. It took her a few tries to speak. “Not the station.”

The doctor working on her paused. “You are awake.”

“You told me to move. Did you think I was sleeping?”

“No, I was counting on the processors to make your body move. I was using the master frequency.”

He made eye contact with her, and she blinked as the features registered. “I know you. Captain Blue.”

His dark-brown eyes warmed with pleased surprise. “Yes.”

“Lung damage and a wounded leg. They replaced the leg, throat, vocal system and, of course, the lungs.”

He was wearing black military garb and had a series of scanners at his disposal. The med scanners were battlefield issue, and Stitch had a very good idea of where she was.

He chuckled. “I am surprised. So many folks go through that station.”

“I am at Alpha Base.” She looked around and saw rows of beds, half filled.

“You are still excellent at assessment, I see. As the order forces all cyborgs to be on the front lines, you and the other survivors were shipped out to the stations and holding border outposts. It took some doing. Custom adaptations had to be created for each of you.”

“A sizing problem, right?”

The captain pushed a button to raise her up into a sitting position.

Stitch lifted her hands to check her hair, and one of those hands was silver. “Well, that is different.”

“They had to keep you in hibernation with your jacks in place while they waited for your adaptations to be assembled. You are wearing the most modern implants available.”

“Kidneys, spleen, and any other organs?”

He nodded. “Your intestines managed to recover during your surgeries.”

“Can I see my file?”

He nodded. “As you are taking over our triage assessment team as soon as you are up and running, yes.”

He handed her the flat screen, and she extended it out of the two cylinders. Her stats were displayed, and her new silver hand moved as easily as her flesh one while flicking through the information.

She had died twice, her system had gone septic and additional nanites had been injected to give her enough to be compatible with the adaptations, as well as bolster her immune system. Her broken spine had been fixed and the impulses from her body rerouted around the damage.

Major organs had been replaced with the newest and most organic implants available. She had been held in hibernation while they had built the parts. She had been out of commission for two years.

“What happened to the others?” She looked up at the captain.

“They are scattered across the front. You ladies have skills, and we need more fighters, as well as admin specialists.”

“Did they find out who planted the bomb?”

“They did. It was the War Opposition Front—those idiots who wanted to hand over Earth and beg for mercy from the Splice. They didn’t know that mercy would never be coming from that front.”

“What has happened?”

“We sealed the Earth. A defense net of weaponized satellites was launched three months ago. It has repelled one Splice attack, but now, they are gathering in numbers. It won’t be long before they crack through.” He grimaced.

“What is being done about it?”

Captain Blue shrugged. “Whatever we can do. We are trying to cut them off.”

Stitch nodded. “Great. When can I get out of bed?”

“As soon as you are ready. Sit with your legs over the side and slowly get up. If you feel weak, fall back. The bed is designed to hold fully tricked-out cyborgs. You won’t even make it tremble.”

He stayed near her while she moved her heavy legs to hang over the edge. It was difficult, but once her body knew what she wanted, it cooperated. She waited until she could swing her legs to her heartbeat, and when she was ready, she stood.

Her balance was off. They hadn’t installed a counterweight along her left arm. Stitch twisted and slowly bent. When she straightened, she looked at Captain Blue. “Okay, where can I get some clothes?”

He stopped staring at her naked body and blinked. “Uh, in your quarters? We don’t have a lot of call for clothing in your size.”

“Find me a t-shirt, perv. I am not here to entertain you.”

“I had to assess the connections.”

“Yes, and now that is done and there is no medical reason to keep me in here anymore, I am not going to sprint through the halls like this.”

The captain inclined his head and left her to get her a t-shirt.

Well, that is where Stitch hoped he was going. He could be leaving her on her own.

She flicked the screen out and went looking for her friends. Lucky, Lacey, Windy, Cracker and Alphy were all reported as on active medical leave. Their locations were not listed, but they were alive.

Stitch nodded and noted something amusing. Her rank was now that of major. She outranked the good captain, and he was hoping she didn’t know it.

After their procedures, all cyborgs were promoted to sergeant or higher. Her rank must not have sunk in yet.

She checked on the investigation of the bombing, and the WOF had indeed claimed responsibility. Several members had been prosecuted, but it didn’t answer the question that Stitch had. How had they gotten the bomb onto the station? Who had hated the girls enough to try and kill most of them in one shot?

She walked slowly down the hall with a man named Sergeant Trent escorting her. Half his face had been replaced with metal, and he had the easy gait of a long-time cyborg.

After five minutes of pacing silently, he said, “So, you are one of the survivors?”

“More or less. A dozen good women, skilled women, died that day. Part of me died with them.” She was grim about it, but it was true. She hadn’t had time to grieve, but it was coming.

“Your arm?” Trent gestured to the silver melded with her skin.

“My soul. I don’t know where my friends are or what kind of shape they are in. It has been two years for the world, but for me, it was just a few hours ago.”

“You have been out that whole time?”

“I have. I desperately need to brush my teeth, get dressed and find something to eat.”

“I will wait outside your door and take you to the commissary when you are ready.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Call me George. You held my hand while we waited for me to be prepped for surgery. You even cried a little when I told you I was scared.”

She had only cried for one patient. Her first. She turned to face him and looked into his human eye. “Oh my god. It is you.”

She reached up and stroked the scar over his eyebrow and followed it as it curled down to the corner of his eye.

He chuckled. “I remember that touch. You fought for me to keep the eye, and for that, I thank you. The Splice might be able to fool sensors, but they can’t fool human sight.”

It had been her first fight with the doctors. They had wanted to put in a full ocular prosthetic set and call it a day. She had argued to keep whatever they could. His skin had been torn, but the nanites had sealed it. It was cosmetic damage.

She smiled. “I am glad that I helped them to the right decision.”

“As am I. Your quarters are this way, Major Carter.”

She chuckled. “Call me Stitch. Everyone does.”

They started moving down the corridor again. “You are Stitch? Seriously? I never put that together with the woman I met during my stay at the station.”

“Put what together?”

“The guys who come from the station all have a crush on the woman named Stitch who stayed at their bedsides and fought to keep them as whole as was possible. That goes a long way with these guys. Many have family back home, and going back as a cyborg will be hard enough. The more of them that can stay human, the better.”

“That was the theory I was operating under. We tried to give them the best mods with the most useful applications and enough to make them feel as normal as possible.”

He nodded. “I know. How are you enjoying being on the other side of the process?”

“I wish I had had a Stitch of my own working with the team. I need a counterweight on my left side to balance the metal hand and forearm.”

“They will be able to manage that here. Alpha Base is fairly well equipped for repairs.”

She grimaced. “I want my team back. I don’t know what my role is going to be here, but I know I want my team.”

“You are going to have to make a new team. Yours is scattered across the system.”

They were in the living quarters now and catching quite a few amazed glances. The guys might have known she was coming, but seeing her was a separate matter.

“These are your quarters. Alpha Base doesn’t have separate rooms for females, so you are stuck with the guys. Don’t worry. We all respect the role you are going to play at the base, Major Carter. I mean, Stitch.”

“Yeah, I have been on bases before. Let’s see how long that lasts.” She had no illusions about what could happen if she let her guard down.

She looked for a way to open the door. “How does this work?”

“Oh, there is a bio scan. Step right up to the door.”

Right, of course. There would be no way for half of the population to use a palm scanner, and even less could manage an ocular scan. Even breath was out of the question. Having the scanner compare them to their med files was the fastest way.

Her door hissed open, and it was like being back on the adaptation station. Her room was exactly as she left it. Her terminal was a little more advanced but in the same place. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this feel like home.

“I will be out here when you are ready to get your meal.” George nodded and turned his back to the closing door.

She found her private bathroom and pulled off the black t-shirt. Her shower was quick, but she felt better after it.

A series of uniforms had been added to her wardrobe. She supposed that she should put one on.

Her lingerie drawer had only been manhandled a little, and she put on her bra and panties before sliding on the black cargo pants, tank top and button-down shirt. The boots were a little clunky but nothing compared to the battle gear that the guys had to put on.

She straightened, brushed her hair and scrubbed her teeth.

Stitch fastened her hair back in a bun and headed to the door. Time to get started; she had slept long enough.

The food at the base was just like the food at the station, but instead of the view of the stars, there was a huge planet looming above them.

Stitch could almost feel the pull of Jupiter and its hypnotic spot.

George sat across from her, and they ate their meals off stamped, metal trays.

Stitch’s meal had appeared after she let the scanner check her identity. That was when she knew that there was a chip of some sort in the new hand.

“The scanners will only give you what your body can handle. You are lucky. You seem to be on a standard diet.”

Stitch eyed the contents of her tray. “If you call this luck.”

She ate a few bites of what appeared to be stew that had already been chewed by someone. It didn’t taste too bad, so she dove in with a little more enthusiasm. It was something she was willing to get used to. There wasn’t really a choice.

Stitch made a list of things she needed to get done to her own body. As long as she was focused on something, the images of the party didn’t rear up in her mind.

George was quiet while she ate, and when she got to her feet with her tray, he simply directed her down a hallway.

“We just had an incoming ship when you woke up. If you are feeling up to it, would you take on your duties?”

“Sure. As long as I can put in an order for my counterweight while I am there.”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“You have no clue, do you?”

George chuckled. “You still have skills at reading people, so that is good.”

Stitch sighed and listened to the hollow thud of her boots on the deck plates. She could smell the recycled air, the metal everywhere and the unmistakable scent of men in every direction.

When she smelled blood, she knew they were close to the med centre.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her com unit. She checked that she had scanning authorization so that she didn’t get stuck with her foot in her mouth. Trying to scan a bleeding man without being able to check his file was a waste of time and possibly life.