Augment

by C R MacFarlane

  “Yes.” His brother paled, rubbing his face in the same way Hoepe did only when he felt the worst defeat. “Doctor Guitteriez continues his experiments. I’m afraid what he did in Evangecore would be considered gentle.”

  “You are safe now.” Hoepe reached out and, not knowing what else to do, started to examine his brother.

  Leove stopped him. “I’m alright. There’s much to do.”

  “You were in that facility too.”

  “Yes, and I worry about your friend. Guitteriez is unstable. Many were submitted to experiments and never returned. He has no inhibition now, no remorse for killing any of us. If he was willing to let us all go to capture her, I hate to think what he has planned.”

  “Then this is very bad indeed.”

  * * *

  Sarrin slammed back into reality with a gasp. Cold water drenched her bones where she hung, still suspended from the machine.

  “No time for sleep.” Guitteriez thumped his cane on the ground.

  The machine shocked her. Level three.

  A vein across his forehead pulsed, his eyes as black as demons. “Why won’t you show it to me?”

  She fought a wail. Another shock, and this time she did cry out. She’d had it all, everything she wanted.

  “I can make it stop, Sarrin.”

  Blindly, she shook her head. “I don’t know what you want.” Spittle dribbled down her chin.

  Another shock. “You do know.”

  Pain shot across her temple, and she whimpered. Her training in Evagecore, the experiments on Selousa, nothing had been like this. The blue-orb machines pulsated around her. Despair withered her bones.

  She pictured Kieran — a friend. Pictured his easy smile and laugh. Remembered the way he tossed around his mis-matched puzzle cube and chatted with her about engine repairs. The way he hadn’t once asked her about fighting, and his easy acceptance — almost nonchalance — about what had happened when she attacked him after leaving the warship. She had liked it. She felt good and whole.

  Guitteriez sauntered forward, leaning on his cane. His face contorted into a taunting pout. “Poor, Sarrin. So trusting. So happy to toodle around the stars, tra-la-la. You didn’t think we would really let you walk away from Selousa.” He tapped her skull. “We’ve been following you, my dear.”

  Everything — Halud, Hoepe, Kieran — was not meant to be. Guitteriez had orchestrated it. A cruel temptation to loosen her mental barriers.

  “It was necessary to move you. They thought it wasn’t safe, but I explained. Explained what it is you truly want Sarrin, and then it was easy to manipulate you. You and your little friends skitter away enough times, your engine breaks, and you arrive at Junk. You see a long-lost friend, and you can’t help yourself. You have to help. Isn’t that what got you caught in the first place, helping your friends? The only risk was tying you to that wretched commandant.”

  Foolishly, Sarrin reached for her temple, hand catching on the restraints. Energy pulsed there, loud and clear. How had she not seen it before? Because she hadn’t wanted to. The signs had been obvious: the burst of pain when they infiltrated the warship, the ache each time the warship emerged; they were tracking her.

  “They say that the commandant is my greatest achievement, but you are, Sarrin. Did you know that?” He reached for her, tilting her chin, forcing her to look into his hideous scowl. “Your friend, the nurse, she begged me. Said you were just a little girl. But we both know better. You’re the answer, and I’m going to have it one way or another.”

  He pulled his hand away and the pulse tore into her, shrieking up her veins.

  “Show me! Tell me!” he growled.

  Another shriek, this time hers.

  He grabbed her throat, squeezing. “I chased you halfway across the galaxy. Dozens of my experiments set free, right into the arms of the hunter. I gave up everything.” His cane flew up, catching her lip and driving it across her teeth. He stared at her, panting. “Why did I do that? Because you’re it, Sarrin. You’ve always been it, from the moment you climbed that observation tower and cut my face wide open. You’re not leaving this room until I get what I want.”

  The pulse slammed into her full force. Bright hues of green and pink and blue glazed her vision. When she surfaced again, the echo of her own screaming and wailing slammed her in the gut.

  He loomed over her. “A war is coming. And you’re the weapon we need. I told the nurse, I’m not cruel. I did what had to be done. She understood it, now tell me she didn’t die in vain.”

  “You don’t understand,” croaked Sarrin. But it was her that didn’t understand.

  “Level four,” ordered Guitteriez.

  * * *

  Hoepe studied his brother surreptitiously. There were minor differences: an extra fold in the lines by Leove’s mouth, darker circles under his eyes, a few days of stubble on his chin. But otherwise, entirely the same. Even the movements of his hands as he studied a data tablet, and the set of his brow furrowed in concentration.

  A knock sounded at the door to the infirmary.

  They had finished clearing the injured Augments from the corridor an hour ago, only the burned man still laying unconscious on the bench. But Hoepe’s heart jumped to his throat, fearing a new casualty.

  His brother must have had the same thought and also jumped to his feet, addressing the girl who stood in the doorway. “What can we do for you?”

  “Um.” She hesitated and looked between the two of them. “The engineer — the common you said we could trust, he’s —.”

  Hoepe shot to his feet. “What’s happened to Kieran?” If Kieran couldn’t fix the ship, they might all end up dead on this moon after all.

  “He’s okay,” she started, “But he’s acting strange. Seems kind of cracked.”

  “He is a bit odd,” Hoepe reassured her.

  “Well, he hasn’t slept. He keeps talking to himself. He’s asking for all these things we’ve never heard of, crazy things that don’t make sense.”

  Leove glanced at him. “Mental overwhelm, acute psychiatric break.”

  Hoepe shook his head. “No, not Kieran.” He turned to the woman. “Has he said anything dangerous? I’m sure it all makes sense.”

  “Perhaps we should go and examine him,” suggested Leove.

  The woman led the way to engineering. The gravity generators had been fixed, so at least they could walk on the floor normally, even if they still tilted slightly.

  The doors opened, and immediately Hoepe’s eyes landed on Kieran. His face was red, and he shouted loudly, firing order in multiple directions, walking up and down the engineering bay and reaching his hands in and out of different projects.

  “After Rami — Ramirez — got hurt, he came back and sat in his office. We were scrubbing the ion manifold when he suddenly came out and grabbed me. He said ‘the moon is magnetic’, and then he started all of this.”

  Hoepe raised a single eyebrow.

  Kieran leaned over an Augment’s shoulder, peering down at the data tablet they were working on. “Naw,” he said, taking the tablet, “it’ll work better if we counteract the ion thrust. I want you to spin it around.”

  “But that’s —.”

  “I don’t care what the protocol says, it’s gonna work better if it’s spun around.” He pushed the tablet back to her and strode away.

  The Augment stood stunned, then took the tablet to confer with another group. They too looked over the drawings and shook their heads.

  Hoepe glanced quickly at Leove and took a deep breath, marching forward. “Kieran,” he called out.

  The engineer turned, a manic and likely over-medicated smile spreading on his features. “Hey, Hoepe!” He did a double take. “And Leove. Who’s who?” Kieran started moving again, and Hoepe followed. “To what do I owe the pleasure. I thought you would have been up to your eyeballs in work.”

  “Well,” started Hoepe, glancing back. But his brother only shook his head and hung back. “I wanted to talk to you, actual
ly.”

  “Oh? What’s up?”

  “I came to see if you needed help.”

  “Super. There’s a lot to do. Annika could probably use some help scrubbing the ion manifolds.” He gestured to the woman who still hung by the door with Leove.

  “That’s not quite what I had in mind.” He steeled himself. “I need minute of your time.”

  “I’m a little busy, Doc.”

  His long legs kept stride easily beside Kieran’s frantic pace. He clenched his hands behind his back. “People have asked me to talk to you because they’re worried.”

  Kieran glanced at him. “Worried? I’m fine.”

  “I don’t know if that’s true.” He reached his hand out to feel his pressure nodes, but Kieran spun away too fast.

  “Yer right. I am a little stressed.”

  Hoepe nodded. “When was the last time you slept?”

  Kieran looked away.

  Hoepe sighed. “I know; we’re worried too. But you have to look out for yourself. You’re not built for days without sleep.”

  Kieran tensed, snarling, “Because I’m a ‘common’.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” Hoepe said.

  Leove stepped up beside him. “We’re trying to look out for you. People are upset about the things you’re asking them to do. I know these are all good engineers who know what they’re doing, and they’re telling us they’re confused.”

  “I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.” Kieran waved his hands in the air. “But I don’t have time to explain every little thing. I’ve been in an engine room my entire life, seen more than you could dream of.” He turned away, pulling out an auto syringe and injecting it into his arm.

  Hoepe frowned. “How many stims have you taken, Kieran?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let me see.” He took it from the engineer’s hands, turning the syringe. The cartridge was nearly out of doses. “Kieran, this is dangerous. You’re going to make a mistake. You’re going to hurt yourself or someone else.”

  He held a hand to his forehead, eyelids drooping shut for just a minute. But he inhaled sharply, eyes snapping open again. “We have to get her back.”

  A noise came from the engine room, and Kieran spun away, disappearing into the other room.

  The woman who had come to find them sighed. “At least you tried. For what it’s worth, I like Kieran. He does always have an explanation for what he’s asking, and it’s usually brilliant. But he’s cracked. This can’t continue.”

  Hoepe clenched the cartridge in his palm. “I know. Keep an eye on him. I switched his stim cartridge for a sedative. When he falls asleep, tuck him away somewhere quiet.”

  Her mouth hung open, but she closed it and nodded.

  Hoepe bent his head and retreated, Leove close behind him. “He’s a good engineer,” he said once they were in the corridor, feeling the need to justify himself.

  “I can tell you have a great deal of respect for him. Annika as well.”

  Hoepe stopped, his legs suddenly too heavy to carry on. He pressed his forehead into the wall.

  Leove waited patiently.

  “I’m afraid I just sedated our best chance at survival.”

  An understanding hum came from Leove.

  “This is far more than I anticipated. When the Poet told me he had found Sarrin and could get her out, I didn’t look at it. I didn’t think there would still be facilities or experiments. I just thought about seeing someone I knew again.” Leove maneuvered him gently, pushing him down the corridor with his arm wrapped around Hoepe’s shoulders. “I’m glad we were able to rescue you, but there are thirty badly injured Augments, a dozen commons, a wrecked ship, and Guitteriez and his warship wanting us dead.”

  “At least we are in it together.”

  TWENTY

  “READY, KIERAN?”

  KIERAN CLENCHED HIS jaw. “You don’t hafta treat me with kid gloves.” Immediately, he sighed and rubbed his jaw in his hands. Three days of digging in the lunar dirt, transposing thrusters from one section to another, re-routing conduits, and the ship was maybe ready to try to push off the rock. The FTL still hadn’t been repaired, but it could wait — Sarrin couldn’t.

  Anger roiled in his gut when he thought of Hoepe switching his stims for seds and the hours he’d lost, but there were far better uses of his time now. He turned back to the obviously-annoyed pilot, asking her to go over the heavily modified engine controls one last time, and she indulged him. Satisfied, he nodded to Hoepe. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

  “Take a rest.”

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”

  “You’ve earned some sleep, I think.”

  “I did sleep.” For three hours. Kieran clenched his fists and bit his tongue.

  “Not enough.”

  Realistically, he knew Hoepe was right. His body sagged and his vision had gone a bit funny, begging for sleep. But he couldn’t rest. Every time he closed his eyes, his imagination ran wild — what were they doing to her? “Let’s just get this goddam boat off this goddam rock.”

  It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that the moon was magnetic, and their shield, the pieces that were left of it anyway, could be rigged to generate a matching, repulsive magnetic field. At his order, the pilot fired each of the thruster groups independently, shaking the last bits of dust off the wings. He flicked a finger over the controls, and the magnetic field engaged, giving them enough boost to break away from the moon’s surface.

  He slumped down to the floor, the adrenaline that had been supporting him now completely spent. “Think she’s still alive?”

  No one responded. Hoepe approached, features as angular and horrifying and grim as ever. “You should sleep, your adrenal glands are depleted.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t want to sleep!”

  “Shut up, Kieran.” Hoepe pushed him over, laying Kieran on the deck, and dug his long fingers into the tight knots across his back, twisting trigger points. Kieran cried out in pain for an instant, until the tiredness and Hoepe’s ministrations overtook him, sending him floating in a warm, quasi-sleep.

  * * *

  Dried blood streaked her nose and ears. Three days of this, and still Sarrin had not died. She groaned inwardly at the realization, laying where they had left her, crumpled in a pile on the floor. Her skin crawled where new procedural marks had been branded into her.

  In the last session, they had turned the machine up to five, and she had started hallucinating.

  Her dreams were of unusual ungulate creatures, taller than a man with four legs and single hooves. They had flowing hair on their necks and a long tail. Their eyes were kind and understanding. She sat atop one while it ran — across fields, though forest, through the surf on a sandy beach. It was flying, it was freedom. She was in the place of the Gods.

  She had assumed she had died. Finally. But cruelly, she woke up. Cold and naked and alone.

  The machines glowed around her, the weight of their negative emotion stream crushing her soul. She forced her body to be still, even as its muscles shook from hunger. Her hands she braced slightly in the air, keeping them from resting against the manacles, which now ran a constant electric current.

  A door slid open and Guitteriez entered. Step-step-thunk. The soldiers, fussing at their machines and outputs, snapped to attention.

  The shuffles came closed, and he poked her with his walking stick. Sarrin let her body roll, too weak to fight it, and he pushed until she flopped over, sending a shock through her wrists.

  “So, you are awake,” he snorted, wicked glee dancing across his eyes. “Good.”

  Her wrist shackles tightened and lifted her by her arms. The researchers attached their electrodes.

  “Do you have anything to show me?” Guitteriez said.

  If she could have lifted her head, she would have spit on him. Maybe vomit. It didn’t matter though, it would be over soon
enough. Her body had already gone long past its point of resistance. Her heart beat irregularly and she had no feeling in the lower part of her body — in most of her body.

  The monster had retreated far to the back corners of the room, where it watched her so she both saw through her eyes and saw herself through its eyes.

  “I didn’t think so,” he sneered, stepping back. “Let us resume.”

  Pain was a distant, corporeal sensation, far from the place she sent her mind. Soon, she would pass out and return to the dream world forever. She was satisfied. This was always how it was going to end. How it should end. Such a vicious monster could not be allowed to live.

  But the dream didn’t come. She phased in and out, but always came back to the same dark room, the same screams, the same pain.

  Guitteriez leaned back on his stool, studying her EEG, his hand gently manipulating dials. He played with her, keeping her teetering on the edge of torture and release. He would not kill her, it would not be so easy. He took great pains to make sure she stayed alive and conscious.

  He was a monster.

  Something stirred in her, dark and dense and angry. The monster lifted its head, snarling. Dark tendrils wrapped around her. It whispered until a growl left her own throat.

  She had tried for years to keep it in, while they fought to bring it out, never understanding exactly what it was. She had tolerated it, even welcomed the pain, ashamed and fearful for herself of what lay buried inside. But she feared she could not hold it much longer.

  The monster reminded her of all she had to lose. I am me and mine alone — words from one of the Halud’s poems jumped into her head. More words, the writings of John P this time: To fight is to live and to cede is to die. And Kieran, Don’t lose yourself.

  But if she stayed here, she had already lost.

  The monster shook, calling, promising. It vibrated until she could not control it anymore. Sagging, she closed her eyes and let it in.

  Bottled inside for decades, it could finally have its revenge. The scream built inside her, rocketing off every neuron and synapse. She was Sarrin, the girl who defied Evangecore. The girl who attacked and killed twenty-seven guards during a training exercise. Sarrin, when they isolated her and brutalized her and turned her into a thing.