Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

scrambled to judge the distance between the nearest box and Mack.

“No,” I tried, but I felt more tired than the day seemed to warrant.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” the voice said, and I wanted to say something sarcastic in return.

Still couldn’t get my voice to obey.

The face lifted away, and I felt hands under my shoulders, and around my legs.

No! I wanted to shout, but I couldn’t make a sound, had to fight to keep my eyes open.

Mack’s hand twitched, his arm shaking as though he was trying to raise it, and I knew he was making a grab for me, even as he failed to move an inch. One of the men lifting me noticed, and laughed.

“You’ll be together, soon enough,” he said, and it was more mockery than comfort—which was what made the sudden flare of light at my wrist, and shattering pain that followed, almost funny.

I might have laughed, if I hadn’t blacked out completely.

9—Hard Negotiations

The clansmen weren’t amused—or so I discovered when I woke up.

Personally, I’d been hoping to see Doc... or Mack. Where was Mack? I twisted my head, taking in the almost comforting familiarity of the med-box walls. Even so, I needed out.

Why did I hurt so much?

“Mack?”

The seals hissed, as the med-box opened, and a vaguely familiar face looked in. It wasn’t Mack’s.

“You’re awake.”

“No, I’m dreaming, and you’re a fucking nightmare,” I retorted, unable to explain why I didn’t like him.

He scowled.

“Get out,” he snapped, and I laughed.

Damn. My chest hurt, and I wasn’t getting anywhere, let alone ‘out’.

“You and whose army?” I challenged, and then watched as the med-box morphed around me.

So much for this being a rural world with limited technology.

It made me wish I’d had time to do a bit of reading, before we’d gone on our “oh-so-simple” delivery run.

“Where’s Mack?” I asked, pushing into a sitting position, and sliding down onto the floor, as soon as the sides folded down.

Or, at least, that’s what I’d meant to do. I got the sitting up part okay, and swung my legs over the side, but I stopped when my left hand hit the mattress. My fingers touched the sheet, but something was wrong. Something felt wrong. Actually, I’m not sure ‘felt’ is the right word for it. I glanced down, and then I froze, gripping the edge of the bed as the room dipped and swirled, and I closed my eyes.

The man didn’t move an inch. He didn’t answer me, either. He just stood there, and waited, watching as I opened my eyes, and looked at the hand on the end of my arm. When I’d adjusted to the sight of it, I looked up at his face, and then back down at the five metal digits I’d clenched around the sheet. I wondered what would happen if I punched Mack with this... and then I remembered, and turned back to my silent companion.

“Where’s Mack?”

“You’re not going to ask what happened to your hand?” he asked, and I closed my eyes, again, swallowing hard against the fast-rising bile.

“Mack,” I repeated, gritting my teeth, and ordering my stomach to keep its contents right where they were. “Where is he?”

When he did not reply, I opened my eyes, and looked up at him.

This time, though, he was not alone. A doctor, dressed in the simple whites of doctors the universe over stood beside him—and I decided that this was not going to fly.

“Mack,” I said. “Where is Mack? The man I was with. My boss.”

I looked from one of them to the other, and then back again. When they did not respond, I pushed myself off the edge of the bed, and let my feet hit the floor. That almost ended in disaster.

I stumbled forward, and ended up running into the man who had woken me. He hesitated, obviously considering the idea of letting me fall, but I reached up and grabbed his shoulder with my unfamiliar hand, and gripped it tight to steady myself—and then I squeezed, the vibration of bones shifting beneath my fingers running up my arm.

I laid my other hand on his other shoulder and forced my body to straighten up.

“Mack,” I repeated, and watched his mouth open in pain.

Beside him, the doctor’s mouth dropped open, mirroring his master’s shock, as horror wrote itself across his face.

“Let go.”

As an order delivered by someone hurting that much, it wasn’t bad. I managed a grin, and gripped tighter. The sharp punch of pain in my gut came as a complete surprise, and my knees folded. I tried to hold on, but I just couldn’t.

“Put her back in a tank, and speed up the process,” said the man who’d greeted me, “and make sure her boss is restrained when I visit. That attitude has to come from somewhere.”

I was still smiling, when they put me under. Maybe I’d get some answers when I woke up, next time. Yeah... and maybe Mack would be there, and I’d be back on board the Marie, and Doc Oskar would be doing his very best impression of being upset.

One out of three was more than I had any right to expect.

“Mack,” I said, when I was awake, and free of the tank, once more, and I took a very shaky step towards him.

“Easy there,” he said, when movement alerted me to the others in the room.

“Easy,” he repeated, taking the towel from the approaching medic’s hands, and passing it to me, before guiding me over to the san unit at one side of the tank.

He turned to me.

“Clean up, and get dressed. I’m sure these ‘gentlemen’, won’t mind waiting.”

That last sentence was directed more to the well-dressed men standing on the opposite side of the room, than to me. I’d like to say that having a metal hand took me by surprise, again, but it didn’t. Somewhere in my sleep, my brain had assimilated the facts, and decided it could handle having a new hand as opposed to not having one, at all. Maybe Mack