“I’m sorry to say it’s a little more serious than that, Ms. Archer,” the doctor said, his expression grave and sympathetic. “Your implant sites have already deteriorated beyond the scope of reconstructive surgery.”
She froze.
“I’m afraid once your implants fail, that will be it. You will lose the use of the limb.”
Eris didn’t catch the rest of the conversation as she left the doctor’s office. Oh, she knew he had apologized profusely and that she’d tried to ease his concerns…. Yes, she’d always known it was a long shot… the damage was too old… she was aware there was counseling available... He’d tried to soothe her, saying at least she wasn’t active service anymore because one more trip in a suit would finally paralyze her… but she hadn’t been mentally present for any of it. Her only goal was getting the hell out of there before she could break down and scream.
Finally, she was free and clear, ducking down a side corridor. Once she was alone, away from the hustle and bustle of the station corridors, she leaned against the metal wall, closing her eyes. A single tear sneaked past her clamped eyelids. She breathed deeply, forcing the frustration and panic down.
She could do this. She had to. She’d known this day would come. Ever since the first of them had developed problems in the field with their armored suits, they’d all known this day would come. The day when their implants finally stopped, and they were nothing more than cripples.
She turned, her back against the metal, and leaned her head against the wall. She’d trained so long and hard to get into the Armored Infantry. To be one of the chosen few to operate a Scorperio portable tank suit in the field. Ironic really, that something designed to give a soldier more mobility in tough terrain would be the thing to remove hers.
Hearing footsteps coming down the corridor, she swiped quickly at her eyes and pushed upright to start walking. She nodded to the maintenance officer who hurried past, toolkit in hand. He barely looked at her, obviously intent on where he was going. Not surprisingly, something was always breaking on the station.
Continuing down the corridor, she headed for her office. Regardless of her personal situation, she still had a job to do.
For as long as she could still do it…
❖
Her afternoon had turned into a complete and utter shitshow.
First, a group of loaders had gotten out of hand down in the docking bay. One of the Tarkan-four crew had clipped someone from the Serenity, the other big cargo ship currently in dock transferring shipments. The “disagreement” had turned into an all-out brawl right there in the loading bay. She’d never seen a fight with loading exos before, but they’d battered the hell out of each other in the middle of the deck.
Then, just as they’d gotten that sorted out, there had been a domestic on the westside habitation ring. It had resulted in a fatality, which had amounted to hours of paperwork, and her afternoon plans to catch up on admin had hightailed it over the horizon. She couldn’t even bring herself to feel sorry for the guy whose corpse was rapidly cooling in the station morgue. His wife, one of the hull repair team, had caught him in bed with their neighbor. Given the wife was used to manhandling structural girders into place while out in deep space, the fact that she’d folded her cheating spouse into a human pretzel wasn’t a surprise.
She sighed as she headed toward the lift to the station crew habitation levels. Thanks to all the paperwork this afternoon, she had a shitload of work already lined up for tomorrow. Seriously, if anyone had told her how much paperwork there would be when she’d signed on as security chief for the station, she’d have run the other way. Fast.
“Hey, boss,” a voice behind her called out. She turned to find Officer Mills behind her, a broad smile on his face. As the newest member of the security team, he’d made no pretense of his interest in her, asking her out at least once a week in the two months he’d been here. She didn’t date. Not her staff, not anyone… not since her last lover had taken one look at the scars on her legs and shuddered. Oh, he’d quickly concealed the expression but not before she’d seen it. Now she could never unsee it.
So, even cute as Mills was, she’d knocked him back each time. It hadn’t dimmed his enthusiasm. She steeled herself for the expected dinner or date invitation, dragging up one of her many prepared excuses to the tip of her tongue. But rather than ask her out, he indicated the sports bag over his shoulder.
“Just heading to the gym to work out. I wondered if you fancied sparring or something?”
Okay, that was a little better than a romantic dinner. He was cute—tall, blond and handsome with a winning smile—but she didn’t date staff. That way led to issues with discipline and accusations of favoritism. But sparring… that wasn’t a date. Any other time she might have been tempted, but she was exhausted. The bone-weariness that pulled at her frame reminded her that allowing one of her staff to hand her ass to her on a plate, or worse, just face-planting on the mats wasn’t a good thing. It didn’t inspire confidence.
“Some other time, Mills?” She smiled to soften the blow. “Long day and tomorrow’s going to be even longer. Need to get some rack time.”
His handsome face split into a wide grin. “I’ll hold you to that! Night, boss. Sleep well.”
She watched him for a moment as he walked
