Blaedergil's Host

by C. M. Simpson

Right. Weapons. But we were also heading into a contaminated bio-zone for a bunch of diseases that—if I had understood Tens and Delight—didn’t really have a cure. I wondered what Mack was going to do about that.

  He didn’t respond, and I realized that, for the first time in a long time, I had my head to myself. It didn’t feel right.

  I remembered them taking my implant out—and being there when the operation was over—but I didn’t remember a thing about being given a new one. That was something that would need to change, before the mission—and then I’d need time to get used to it.

  And all that meant another operation, which meant I’d have to be unconscious, which meant...

  I stopped halfway across the room, and Mack glanced back.

  “What?” he asked, but I shook my head.

  “Nothing.”

  He stared at me for a moment longer, and then turned back to the counter.

  “What weapon do you prefer?” he asked, expecting me to follow him over, and go through the selection process.

  I didn’t. I stood where I was, and took a breath.

  “A hand-las with variable settings, one stunner, a darter, and a sweeper.”

  It wasn’t the reply he’d expected, and he glanced back at me.

  “Any particular brand?” he asked, “And do you want them gift-wrapped?”

  That last bit was pure sarcasm, and I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s my wish list,” I told him. “You can fill it as you like. Brand doesn’t mean much to me. Odyssey trained us on a variety, and I don’t have a preference, as long as it works the way I expect it to.”

  Mack raised both eyebrows, and then shrugged and turned back to his Supply Officer.

  “What can you do me for, Steppy?”

  The man leaned out so he could see past Mack, and I caught sight of him for the first time. He was rangy and narrow-faced, with a disreputable moustache and goatee that did nothing to hide the hard curve of his mouth. I’d seen that kind of hardness before, and wondered why Mack had a killer manning his supply store.

  I let my gaze travel over him, and then took a good look into his eyes. He obliged me by meeting my gaze.

  His eyes were a brown so dark it was almost black—and they were creased at the corners—but the hardness I’d seen in the angles of his face, and along the lines of his mouth was evident in his eyes, as well. I took a step back, and watched them narrow.

  “What’s the matter, girl? Not scared of old Uncle Stepyan, are you?”

  I shook my head. Scared didn’t quite cut it. The expression in his eyes engendered the same terror in me that the idea of returning to Ghoul’s lair had done. Mack pivoted so he could get a good look at me, and I took another step back.

  “Come on, Cutter. We’re only getting equipment. Stepyan won’t hurt you.”

  I looked at Mack, and then turned my gaze back to the Supply officer. He wouldn’t, huh? I shot another look in Mack’s direction, and saw him glance past me, as I heard the door cycle open. Tens’ voice in my ear, followed the weight of his arm draping across my shoulders.

  “He had the same effect on me, when I first met him,” he admitted.

  I startled, and tried to step out from under his arm, but he wrapped his hand around the shoulder opposite him, and tugged me toward Mack and the waiting Stepyan.

  “I think she’s worked it out,” he said, and I watched as Stepyan held out his hand.

  Mack passed him a cred stick, and I froze, pulling Tens to a stop beside me.

  “Worked what out?” I asked, as I felt Tens readjusting his grip.

  Mack held up a hand, and gave me his sternest look.

  “Courage, Cutter,” he said. “You need to choose your weapons, and then we’re going to Medical so you can get a new implant fitted.”

  He paused, so that all that could sink in, watching as I assimilated it, and tried to get my fear under control.

  “Which gun?” he asked, when I’d taken a couple of breaths and nodded.

  Gun?

  Stepyan laid a half dozen out on the counter in front of him, and Tens dropped his arm from around my shoulders. I closed the space between me and the Supply Officer in a few paces, and looked at the range they were offering.

  The Glazer was a good piece in most situations, but the thing I liked most about it was the amount of ammunition it carried—that, and the fact I could switch between lethal and non-lethal modes fairly quickly.

  “That one,” I said, pointing, and then I saw the Zakrava beside it. “Oh. Pretty.”

  I had it off the counter, and was turning it over in my hands, before any of them could react. After examining it, closely, I looked up at Stepyan, all fear of him forgotten.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, and didn’t regret the near-worship in my tones.

  The hardened lines in his face softened in an instant, and he smiled.

  “You know them?”

  One of Ax’s disreputable lady-agent girlfriends had owned one. She’d lent it to me for a day, in return for my silence about their off-base rendezvous—and I’d fallen in love with it—especially after taking Ax down on the practice range a few dozen times. I didn’t mention any of that to Stepyan, or the suddenly attentive Mack and Tens.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “I’ve used one, once.”

  I sighed.

  “I had to give it back. It was only on loan.”

  When I looked up at him, again, I couldn’t keep the hopeful tone from my voice.

  “Do I get to keep it?”

  Stepyan scowled, and looked from me to Mack.

  “I think this is one of those things you’ll need to earn,” he said, and Mack nodded.

  “But I get to use it on this mission?” I asked, and they laughed.

  “You do, but both it and you have to come back at the end.”

  I eyed the Zakrava. That little piece was worth all the trouble that returning would mean, and I suddenly didn’t care they were making it a condition of coming back.

  “Deal,” I said.

  The Zakrava was like the Glazer, in that it had lethal and non-lethal settings, but, where the Glazer had a set type of ammunition, the Zakrava had settings for both darts and solid slugs. It also had a way of compensating for the recoil that I hadn’t worked out. That wasn’t a problem for me; as long as I could get it repaired when I needed. I didn’t really care how it worked—just as long as it did.

  Even with the Zakrava and the Glazer, I wanted another side-arm.

  “Why?” Mack wanted to know, and I risked a glance at Stepyan.

  He rolled his eyes, but pointed to a Blazer 54, like the one Bendigo had favored.

  “Seriously?” I asked, and he nodded.

  “It’s not pretty, but it fills in the only gaps you have left.”

  “Except for the ones that can only be filled by a blade,” he added, and I grinned.

  “That was my next question.”

  Beside me, Tens sighed.

  “Honestly, Boss, she’s as bad as he is.”

  “I figured they’d get on.” Mack’s voice was dry. “Just remind me not to bring her down here, too often—and never to let her down here on her own.”

  “How else is she going to practice?” Stepyan wanted to know, asking the question a fraction of a second before I did.

  I think it should have bothered me that the killer in disguise could answer Mack’s obstructionism the same way I would have, but I already knew I was heading down the path he and Delight had already taken. Maybe...

  Thing was, I liked living the quiet life, but I got bored, too. If Mack left me alone, long enough, I think I might head back on board the ship of my own free will after a year or two of being ‘ordinary’. And that was something I was definitely not going to tell him.

  I dragged myself into the here and now, and made myself concentrate on the selection of blades Stepyan laid out on the counter. I took the four that would fit in a joint scabbard along my belt, and then looked at the two that needed bo
ot sheaths.

  “Do you have something in my size?” I asked, and Tens snorted.

  “Talk about a kid in a candy shop.”

  “Yeah, well, we have to head to Medical after this, so...”

  “Kind of like a lollipop before the doctor’s visit, huh?”

  I ignored the pair of them. While I didn’t want to think about the need to go see the Doc, I wasn’t going to let either of them spoil the shopping trip. Stepyan reached under the counter, and pulled out a pair of boots.

  “Like these?” he asked, and I felt my breath catch.

  These were exactly like the pair I’d lost when I’d gone into Ghoul’s complex with Bendigo. I snuck a glance at Mack, and found him staring intently back.

  “That pair has knife sheaths,” he said, and I looked quickly away, as I felt my eyes start to prickle.

  “Take a look,” Stepyan added, passing them to me.

  I’m not sure what made him choose that moment to intervene, but the distraction was exactly what I needed in order to get my emotions under control. It also helped me hide the confusion I felt over Mack providing them. After all, it was just a pair of boots, right? It’s not like it was flowers and chocolate.

  Mack was equipping me, not courting me—and that’s all it was. I turned my attention to seeing if the boots fit. It was no surprise when they were hand-glove perfect.

  Once I had the boots sorted, Stepyan stowed everything into a small duffle bag, and passed it across to me.

  “That’s all, for now,” he said. “I’ll send Mack a timetable of when I’m free for training, and he’ll let us both know which sessions you’re allowed to take.”

  I nodded.

  Typical. I’d been on board long enough to agree to a second mission, and the man was already organizing my life. There was really only one thing I could say to that.

  “Thanks.”

  I took the duffle, and looked at Mack. He pushed himself away from where he’d been leaning on the counter.

  “Medical?” I asked, feeling the first wrinkle of panic curl through me.

  I stamped it down, as Mack regarded me with thoughtful eyes.

  “Medical,” he agreed. “Can you make it?”

  I nodded, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, all too aware of Tens coming alongside me. I forced myself to focus on the boots, and the slim, leaf-bladed daggers fitted inside them. When my mind wandered towards panic in spite of it, I thought of the Zakrava.

  That was one sweet piece. I wondered where Stepyan had sourced it... and on whose orders.

  Mack came to a halt, and pulled me from my contemplation. I looked up, just as the doors to Medical opened in front of us. My mind stopped as the implications hit me, all at once, but Mack moved through them, and I followed forcing myself not to think.

  I wondered what Doc would make of my new boots.

  Would he like them? Or would he be annoyed that I’d found another way to hurt someone—and hide the tools for doing it. I guessed that, in the end, it wasn’t his choice to make. It was mine. Looking around the clinic, I wondered where he was, almost leaping sideways into Mack, when he spoke.

  “Hello, Cutter. Not causing any trouble for a change?” he said from beside me, and I felt the sting of an auto-injector, heard the hiss as each needle drove home.

  “What the Hells, Doc!”

  “You like it?”

  I couldn’t say I did, but the words weren’t being cooperative. The world tilted me into Mack, and Tens helped him catch me. Well, that was short and sweet. I wondered what it would be like to be able to sense a move like that coming—because I figured I would, once the implant was on-line.

  I closed my eyes, as Mack lifted me.

  “Where do you want her?”

  13—Recovery

  “How do you feel?” Mack’s voice greeted me as I surfaced, but it sounded from inside my head, and I heard nothing with my ears.

  “Yeah. Fine, Mack,” but even to myself, I sounded like I’d gone ten rounds with the Ghoul.

  “Nuh. You sounded much worse after just one round with him,” Tens interrupted, and I sighed, tried to find my voice.

  “You gave me another party line, huh.” It wasn’t really a question, but Delight chose to answer it anyway. From inside the implant. Cheeky bitch.

  “Sure did, sweetie.”

  Typical!

  “When are we going?”

  “We’re a week out.”

  That last answer was from Mack, and then Doc Oskar came bustling in.

  “Right. The three of you need to get right out of her head—and out of here!”

  They went, and I didn’t blame them. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of that tone of voice, either. When the door had closed behind the last of them, Doc turned to me.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, and I realized I was lying face-down.

  I pushed myself over onto my side, so I could see him. It took me a minute to be able to focus on his face, but I tried for a smile, when I succeeded.

  “Hey, Doc. What day is it?”

  “Same as it was when you arrived here.”

  “Oh... good?”

  He smiled at that.

  “Yes. Good. You’re recovering quickly. Mack is pleased.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Doc raised his eyebrows, and then scowled.

  “Of course, it matters, you ungrateful imp. You have a mission to prepare for. The more time you have before it, the better prepared you can be—and if I catch you wasting a single second of that time, I’ll kick your tail, myself.”

  It was my turn to go wide-eyed. I’d never heard him say anything in Mack’s defense, before. I was both glad, and worried by the depth of feeling he’d shown—but, before I could say anything, Doc leant down, putting his face close to mine.

  “And if you breathe a word of this to Mack, I will make you wish you hadn’t, because I have an entire medical center full of the sharp and pointy, and I’m not as tightly bound by the Hippocratic Oath as everyone would like to think.”

  Honestly, if I wasn’t still feeling tired from whatever they’d used to sedate me, I might have been afraid. As it was, I just stared at him, until he moved back out of my face, and then I stared at him a little bit more.

  “You’re going to need to lie back down on your stomach,” he said. “I have to check the insertion point.”

  I did? He what? Fine. Whatever. I rolled back onto my stomach, only flinching a little at his touch on the back of my skull. I listened as he talked about what they’d done.

  “We put this one in in the same area that the old one was. It gave us a chance to make sure there hadn’t been any seepage. This is healing nicely. I gave it a dose of nanites to speed things along, and dosed the site with some localized painkillers.”

  His fingers moved lightly over my scalp, and I realized I’d lost a bit of hair.

  Doc was already talking about it.

  “You’ve got a bald patch,” he told me. “If you want my advice, I’d say to suck it up and shave the lot off. You can use a wig to change your profile until your hair grows back. Your other alternative is to use the old comb-over trick, and arrange what you’ve got left so it covers the patch. Either method works.”

  He paused, letting me digest it, and then I felt him move away. He started to speak, again, as I turned slowly onto my side.

  “Personally, I think Mack would miss your hair, if you shaved it off. You might want to think about that, when you’re deciding.”

  Personally? Personally, I thought Doc should mind his own goddamn business! It was my hair, and I’d do with it what I wanted. In fact, I was tempted to shave it all off just because that would give Mack the most shits. At the same time, though, it was kind of cute that Doc thought it would bother Mack if I did—and that he thought enough of Mack to mention the fact.

  I just wasn’t sure what it said about me that I was going to take his suggestion and keep my hair, anyway.

>   In the end, I decided not to think about it. I just focused on pushing myself up into a sitting position, and keeping what I hadn’t eaten for lunch in my stomach. By the time I had a grip on that, Doc was back and offering me a glass of water.

  “You look fine,” he said, “but there’ll be no mats for a week, whether it’s to settle a dispute, or for training—and you should stay off the range for that long as well. Daggers is fine, but nothing else, until I’m sure that implant has settled. Got it?”

  Well, there really was only one answer for that. I did not want Doc mad at me—ever.

  “Got it.”

  Mack, however, had other plans.

  “You have to familiarize!” he snapped, and then repeated the phrase when I insisted he go see Doc.

  “Don’t make me take you to the mats,” he warned, and I grinned.

  “You’re not allowed to; doctor’s orders.”

  “We’ll see about that!” he’d said, and stalked toward Medical.

  I followed at a relatively safe distance.

  Mack did his usual act of storming into the Doc’s terrain uninvited, and Doc did his usual of reminding Mack where he ended up if things went wrong on a mission.

  “Yeah. In some asshole’s custody,” Mack retorted, and Doc reached out and smacked him upside the head.

  “And my care!” Doc snapped. “Or do you want to take that to the mats?”

  I’d never seen Mack back down so fast in all the time I’d known him.

  “The mats, Doc? Aren’t you getting too old for that kind of shit?”

  “You want to find out?”

  Mack raised his hands in surrender, and backed up a step.

  “Not particularly, Doc,” he said. “I just want to find out if there’s any wriggle room in the training restrictions.”

  Which wasn’t exactly how he’d phrased it, when he’d spoken to me. Doc’s response was almost instantaneous.

  “No mats for a month.”

  Funny. I remembered him saying ‘at least a week’. Apparently, Mack had been listening in.

  “I thought you said not for a week.”

  “I went back over her scans. Frankly, if the mission was something you could put off, I’d be telling you to do that, too. As it is, you are going to have to make sure she doesn’t get thrown around.”