I did? And, of course Mack caught that thought and sent me a picture of myself.
“Holy Hell, Mack. What the fuck did I do?”
He stared at me, and it looked very much like he was gathering his thoughts, and trying to choose his words with care. After what felt like a very long minute, he answered.
“Oh, I don’t know, Cutter. Are you trying to tell me you don’t remember going ten rounds with a pissed off arach, while holding nothing more than a chair?”
“No.” I shivered, and closed my eyes, seeing the arach’s fangs right above me, feeling its claws on my wrists, watching it shake the chair to pieces… “No. No, I remember that part pretty well.”
And I shivered again, trying to pull my hands close to my chest and curl up into a ball. Damned tanks. They always pinned you in place until the bits grew back.
“Count yourself lucky,” Mack said. “That thing could have cracked your spine.”
I remembered coming off the stage
“I think it was happy just destroying my ribs,” I told him, and looked around the tank.
All I wanted was to run away. I couldn’t do that surrounded by glass and whatever gunk they had me swimming in. I was seriously glad they’d let me keep the implant live.
“When can I get out of here?”
Mack reached out and put a hand on the glass. If there hadn’t been a tank between us he’d have laid it on my shoulder.
“Soon, Cutter,” he said. “Doc will let you know.”
He faded out, and I wondered when they’d allowed teleportation from the Shady’s medical center, didn’t work out what that swirl of silver was until I woke up, again. Nans… and sedative, which had now worn off.
And I wasn’t in the tank, anymore. I was back in bed. Mack was still there, and this time Doc was with him. That had to be good news, right?
Just like not finding myself stuck in the tank was good news. It was kinda cool to be waking up between clean sheets, and fully dressed—and in absolutely no pain, whatsoever. While I’d have loved to know how they’d accomplished that, I figured I’d ask it later. In the meantime, I pushed the blankets back, and realized what I was wearing.
Well, fine then. I guess pajamas from the nearest replicator were better than my bare skin, right? I mean, they just had to be.
“Who chose pink?” I asked, sitting up, and watched Doc’s neckline color. “You did, Doc?”
He glared at me.
“Well, you are a girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Geez, Cutter. Don’t you ever stop bitching?”
Mack was in fine form, too.
I took a look around the room, and realized I wasn’t in the med bay. I was back in my own quarters. Alrighty, then. I guess I knew what I had to do next.
I slipped out of bed, and padded over to the closet, ignoring Doc and Mack as I went. Underwear, combat suit…. I guessed I’d have to get the armor from Steppy—and he’d better have charged it. I wasn’t dropping back down to K’Kavor without… I stopped, the reality all too clear.
My heart sped up.
“Where are we?” Because we sure as shit weren’t on the ship.
Sure, the room was laid out exactly like the one I had on the Shady, but it wasn’t the same. It had just taken me a few minutes to work it out. Doc held out his hand.
“Told you it would be less than five,” and Mack dug into his pocket.
They’d been betting on when I’d notice?
“Remember those tanks you helped Delight deliver?”
Oh. Yup. Guess they’d delivered the stasis pod, too, then.
“They did when I laid out the plan.”
“Thanks, Mack.”
“What for?”
“For setting me up to get the shit kicked out of me, again.”
He looked hurt.
“You were supposed to gear up the minute you got on that stage. I didn’t know you’d be so slow!”
“Girl needs to know when you’re going to use her as bait.”
“Girl so does not. Girl just needs to keep her weapons to hand like any other combat operative.”
“Yeah, Mack? Guess what? I’m not a combat operative. I’m a fucking retrieval specialist! We don’t tool up the minute we get out of bed, and we don’t sleep with our Blazers!” I took a breath, and then added, “unlike some.”
Mack curled his fists, and took a step towards me, only to be intercepted by Doc.
“Out!” Doc said, stepping between us, and looking at Mack. “I still need to clear her for operations.”
“I think she needs more time in the tank!”
Well, at least he wasn’t ordering me to the mats…
“Now, Mack!” Doc ordered, pointing at the door.
I carried my clothes over to the bed, and turned back to collect my boots and a pair of socks.
“And you,” Doc said, as I heard the door close, “stand your ass over here, and let me take a look at you.”
I went where he was pointing, putting my boots on the bed as I passed. Doc was already pissed off, and I didn’t want to piss him off any more.
“Strip,” he said. “I need to check your ribs.”
Fine.
I stripped, and he checked, but he didn’t stop at my ribs. He went over my spine, my shoulders, and my wrists, as well, and then he checked my hips, legs, ankles, and abdomen, although not in that order.
“What the—”
“Shut it, Cutter. I’m not sure there wasn’t anything that critter missed… except your attitude. That’s as nasty as it ever was.”
“Hey!”
“You’re fine. Get dressed, and go do whatever it is Mack tells you to. You do know how to do that, don’t you?”
And the man said I had an attitude. Had he checked in the mirror lately?
“Get dressed,” and Doc packed up his kit, and stalked to the door, “and try not to piss Mack off any more than you usually do. Man’s had a rough time of it.”
Mack had had a rough time of it? What, as opposed to growing things back in a tank because some asshole had used you as
