27
“I’m beginning to mark time by our checkups,” Randigold said to Rev as they waited at the clinic.
“As long as they keep coming back negative, I’m good with it.”
“I’d rather not have to be here at all. It gets my stress levels up there. The worst part is this, after they’ve done their scans.”
Rev understood that. He didn’t like to have the rot hanging over him. He could put it aside for most of the time, not thinking about it, but when he had to go through testing—or when the karnans had theirs as they did last week, for that matter—it just brought it all to the forefront.
The fact that getting any augments heightened the risks of getting the rot had been part of their initial briefs, but that was far down the road in thirty or forty years, so it was easy to ignore. Then, with Cali Hu coming down with it almost two years ago, coupled with the fact that the IBHU Marines were now checked every six months instead of the normal one year for regular augmentees, well, what weren’t they being told?
“It’s just routine. They paid far too much on creating us not to keep close tabs,” Rev said with a confidence that he didn’t feel.
Randigold looked at Rev and shyly said, “You know, while we’re waiting like this, I tell Cruella to sing songs for me. Kids’ songs.”
Rev chuckled. Randigold called both her battle buddy and her IBHU—which Rev thought was strange in and of itself, but certainly in keeping with her unique personality—Cruella de Vil, and the idea of anyone, or anything, with that moniker singing kids songs was rather ironic, in his opinion. “Whatever floats your boat, Eth.”
“You don’t think that’s weird?”
“Why would it be weird? I have Punch tell me jokes sometimes.”
Only that wasn’t really true anymore. Thinking about the change in his battle buddy was something he tried not to do. He might be being paranoid, but he didn’t know for sure that his very thoughts couldn’t somehow be picked up.
But now that he was reminded of the change, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was like a song earworm.
Trying to sound casual, he asked, “You see much change in Cruella since she got neutered?”
“Neutered? That’s what you call it?” Randigold said with a laugh. “No, not really. All she can’t do is record what I see or hear. Why should that change her?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Why would it? Stupid question.”
And it was a stupid question. Punch had changed after Bluebonnet Meadows, not after being neutered. But a stubborn part of him wanted to believe that it was the neutering that caused the change, and once he was back on New Hope, everything would be back to normal.
Sergeant Sign of Respect stepped out of the office. He gave his fellow IBHU Marines a thumbs-up, but in his typical taciturn manner, didn’t say anything else and headed out the door.
“That guy is weird,” Randigold said once the door closed behind the sergeant.
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Rev said with a laugh.
“I’m not weird. I’m lovably quirky.”
“OK, I’ll give you that.”
He raised his social arm, fist extended. With two prosthetic legs, a prosthetic arm, and half of her face covered by a metallic mask, there were too many choices for the clink. He always left it to her. And, of course, instead of using clinking with her arm, she raised a foot.
Good enough.
They clinked and said, “Sibs in Steel.”
Quirky or weird, Rev wouldn’t have it any other way. She always made him smile. He loved his sib in steel, as a big brother to little sister.
The door opened, and a tech stuck her head out. “Staff Sergeant Pelletier.”
Rev stood. “Wish me luck.”
“Don’t need no luck, Staff Sergeant. You’re too ornery for the rot. And I say that with all due respect, of course.”
“Just because you say ‘with all due respect’ doesn’t mean it’s respectful. I be a SNCO, by golly-gosh, I’ll have you know, PFC. I be deserving respect.”
Randigold just blew him a kiss, and Rev laughed out loud as he turned and walked into the office while the tech looked at him like he was crazy. So, when he entered the office, he was still chuckling instead of fretting about his results.
Maybe I don’t need Punch to tell me jokes. I can just use Eth.
But he sobered as he stood in front of the doctor, the tech hovering behind him. Rev didn’t even know the man’s name, only that he was another Sieben employee and not a Union Navy doc. It seemed that every time, it was someone new. He hadn’t seen Doctor Chakrabarti, the Sieben head of the program, for three years.
This one had a forced smile as he stood and reached across the desk to shake Rev’s hand. “Staff Sergeant Pelletier,” he said, mispronouncing Rev’s name as “Pella-tar.” It’s good to meet you in person. I’ve been following your case since the beginning. Please, please, have a seat.”
Rev took the chair in front of the desk.
“Well, we’ve got the results back. Mostly good, I’d say.”
Mostly?
“Your SKRs are a little high, but they’ve leveled off from your last check. The Peshows, however, are still rising.”
“Is that bad?” Rev asked. He’d heard the terms before, but even after getting Punch to explain them to him, he wasn’t sure he had a firm grasp of what they signified. What Rev wanted was a simple “you’re good to go” or a “you’ve got the rot.”
Well, I don’t want the second one, but just say it so I understand.
“Not bad, but not good. But you’re still well within the accepted parameters, so I wouldn’t be too worried. We’re looking way down the road where that could be a concern,” he said, a huge fake-looking smile plastered on his face.
The guy was trying really hard to have a pleasant bedside manner, but it didn’t do much to calm Rev.
“What I’m going to do is give you an N-108F booster. They’re experimental, but they’ve shown lots of promise in the simulations.”
Rev had been subject to more than his fair share of experimental procedures, and they were the reasons he was susceptible to the rot. He wasn’t sure he wanted any more.
“They’ve never been tested on people yet?”
“Not this build. But it’s based on the N-108D. There were a few tweaks we made to address the Peshow percentage issue. You’re not the first IBHU to show the elevated readings.”
If the 108F was based on the 108D, then what happened to the 108E? Another “tweak” that went awry?
“Ms. Declatare has already prepared the injection. We’ll see what happens over the next six months, but I’m guessing that we’ll be pleased. Do you have anything for me before I turn you over to her tender ministrations?”
Yeah, can I refuse? And tender ministrations? You’re trying too hard to be funny or something. Why?
It wasn’t that Rev didn’t trust the staff of Sieben Intergalaxy . . . or maybe it was.
But he really didn’t think he had a choice. Sieben was contracted to the Marine Corps, and he knew the Corps had full authority to implement medical care as it, through Navy medicine, deemed fit.
“No, no questions.”
“Good. But if you have any, I’ll be here until tomorrow, and Ms. Declatare will give you our contact. Feel free to reach out.”
He stood and reached across the desk to shake hands again, the smile still plastered on his face.
“If you’ll come with me?” the tech asked, one hand firmly on his arm as she led him to the far side of the office where a small exam room had been set up.
What, you think I’m going to bolt? And if I do, you’re really going to be able to stop me?
But he meekly allowed her to lead him. She wiped down the base of his neck before she picked up the injector.
“OK, you’re going to feel a buzz, then some pressure,” she said as if he hadn’t had medinanos injected before.
She placed the mouth of the injector over his neck, then activated it. The skin under his neck tingled as the site was prepared, then the puff of pressure forced tens of thousands of the tiny medinanos into his body. Within ninety seconds, they’d be everywhere.
“There may be some tenderness at the site for an hour or so until your existing nanos can reduce the inflammation. If you have any side effects such as nausea, numbness, or loss of consciousness, please call me right away,” she said, handing him a small card.
“How can I call you if I’m unconscious?”
She just looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed.
Damn! No sense of humor?
“Uh . . . OK, I guess I’ll figure it out then.”
She led him to the door. He didn’t bother to say anything to the still smiling doctor who watched him leave.
Randigold looked stressed when he came out. Maybe the kids’ songs were losing their effect. Rev gave her the same thumbs-up that Sign of Respect did.
“Like you said, I’m too ornery for the rot.”
Instead of leaving, he sat down next to her and put his right, organic hand on her left, organic hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. From all reports, Randigold was fearless in combat. But this had her scared. Daryll had once told him that she thought with so many prostheses, she was more susceptible to the rot than others. It wasn’t true, Daryll also told him. It was the augments that created the risk, not the prosthetics. But sometimes, the brain believed what it wanted to believe.
After a couple of minutes, the tech opened the door and asked for her.
“You’re going to be fine,” Rev told her, squeezing her hand.
“Of course, I am. The rot doesn’t like quirky.”
Her eyes were not as confident as her voice.
Rev had been planning on leaving as soon as she went inside. But instead, he settled in to wait. Another ten minutes was a small price to pay to offer a little Sibs in Steel moral support.
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