She could see the wisdom of it; she needed weapons if she was going to fight Concordance. Right now, she had nothing.
“One more fleck,” she said.
“But be absolutely sure this is what you want. You could live out that life of quiet happiness on just about any world you could name.”
She shook her head. “No, I really couldn't.”
She thought he'd laugh, smile sadly at her endearing boldness. He did neither. Instead, he nodded slowly, accepting her words, seeing something of what they might entail, perhaps.
He said, “Revenge might be a long way off. It might take generations of patient detective work before we understand the truth.”
“Then, I shall die knowing I've played my part.”
He rose to stand before her, considering her as a father might a daughter. “I shall have to work hard to curb your impetuous impulses, stop you leaping to attack any Cathedral ships you encounter single-handedly. But I'm very glad. I would have missed you more than I would have thought possible.”
She nearly smiled at him. “Good. Now help me back to bed. I'm fucking exhausted.”
He hauled her to her feet and hooked a shoulder beneath her right arm to support her on the journey back.
She leaned on him, letting him take her weight. “You thought I was going to ask for death, didn't you?”
“Partly, yes, but I also know you're not one to give in. Your father was the same. I've watched you for too long, your tissues and organs refusing to give up when they really should have. There should have been many more than twenty-three deaths.”
“I did give in, more than once.”
“That's allowed. The important thing is that you're here now.”
Alone again in her room, she studied her naked body in the mirror. Half of her, the natural flesh, was a ghostly white, almost translucent in its thinness. She'd been out of the light of suns for too long, buried away in the Refuge. The other half of her, the part Ondo had added, was purple black, space black, the substrate upon which he planned to seed the growth of her skin. Except, it wasn't pure black. If you looked into it closely, there were tiny flecks of silver shimmering deep in there, like half of her body was wrapped in the night-sky.
She held up her hand, masking the artificial half of her face so that she could imagine, almost, that she was still the young woman who'd lived on Maes Far. Her features were gaunt, her cheekbone prominent, but she could glimpse herself as she had been: the familiar smile, the faint constellation of freckles.
With an effort, she pulled her hand away to take in her full appearance. More than once the sight of what she'd become had choked her with tears of rage. Ondo had sculpted her artificial half to match her natural in shape, but it was a hideous parody of her true self. Except, except: now, studying herself, she began to see herself differently. The artificial epidermis was purely functional, not intended to look appealing, but it was more than that. The shiny, almost liquid flesh was beautiful. She turned from side to side, considering herself from all angles as she might if she were trying on new clothes. She touched the point between her breasts where the natural and artificial met. It was completely seamless, but her fingers registered the change in texture, the change from mammalian skin to biomechanical substitute. Her new skin was incredibly durable, but also more sensitive by far than her natural.
Both were smooth and hairless. Her artificial dermis contained the normal number of analogue hair follicles but she was able to switch their production on and off at will, just as she had executive control over the functioning of much of her biomechanical systems. She had instructed her finger and toe-nails to begin growing, but it would be months before they reached the length of her natural ones and required cutting. She could let her artificial hair grow in all the normal places across her body, but she'd chosen to deactivate that completely. People from her culture on Maes Far had habitually flaunted their body hair, emphasising underarm or pelvic wisps as a display of sexual maturity. She'd still had half a head of long hair when she arrived on the Refuge, the black locks she'd inherited from her father that her mother had loved to brush. Rather than look like a hideously burned doll while her new hair caught up, she'd chosen to shave it all off. She was glad she had, now. Her new appearance suited her, emphasised her. Half had survived, but in a sense everything was new. This was her, now. A different person.
That evening, when he knocked gently and came in to check on her and administer fresh pharmaceuticals, she said, “I've also decided I don't want the artificial skin. I wish to remain as I am, half and half.”
He didn't look at her as he studied the readouts attached to her battery of sensors. “You'd be marked out as a renegade on every Concordance world you showed up on. You know they consider artificial augmentation deeply offensive, an insult to Omn's perfection. A convenient way of suppressing enhancement technology, in my view.”
“I don't care,” she said. “This is me, now. If absolutely necessary, I'll wear a temporary skin to hide my true appearance, but only on occasions when I have no choice.”
“You have more chance of surviving if you fit in.”
“I don't want to fit in; I'll live my
