“I can’t believe this is all mine! Let’s look at yours, too!” she exclaimed and was out the door as she spoke.
I put down her bags with some relief and followed her into my living space. As Master Raquel had promised, it was identical to Saraphym’s in every way.
“I think mine is bigger, much bigger,” I said.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “We’ll definitely need to do some shopping. It’s big but rather bland.”
“I kind of like it,” I said, and I did. It was peaceful in its own way.
“Sometimes you sound so serious, it’s hard to tell when you’re joking,” she said. Something caught her eye. “It looks like you have a message.”
A light was blinking on the terminal in the room. “Odd. Well, it’s probably just a ‘welcome to the station’ message.”
The message was text only and said, “Doctor Greymere, please come to Lyshell’s quarters right away. He needs your help.”
“I guess your decorations will have to wait,” I said.
“Doctor?” she queried.
“Apparently I went to college and earned a degree recently,” I said.
She grabbed my shoulders and said seriously, “Keeping secrets from me?”
“And from myself, apparently. We’d better go down there and see what’s up.”
54
05-14-0067 — Greymere
Lyshell’s quarters were in the same hall as ours, not far down the corridor. As we walked, I wondered if Master Raquel had reserved the entire corridor for the teams she intended to build out here. It would be convenient, and the area was new enough for rooms to be available.
His door was identical to ours, indicating that his room was probably the same inside. I rang the bell to request entry and took a step back, unsure of what might greet me.
A dark-haired woman in a nurse’s uniform answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“Sorry, I’m looking for Lyshell. Have I got the wrong room?” A nurse answering the door was a bad sign.
“And you are - ?” she asked.
Nurses, ever vigilant. “Greymere.”
“Oh, thank the Emperor!” she exclaimed, ushering us in. “I know you don’t officially arrive until tomorrow, but I didn’t know who else to call. They wanted me to take him to a psychiatric ward, but I convinced them to wait for you.”
Her words came out in a tumbling, breathless rush. Clearly something serious had happened.
“You must be Joan?” said Saraphym. She spoke softly, a little slower than usual. “Won’t you sit down? I’ll get you some water.”
Joan sat down and took a deep breath, smiling. “You must be his nurse; I recognize that calming tactic, though I never expected anyone to use it on me.”
“Saraphym, at your service,” she answered.
“First let’s clear something up: I’m not a doctor. We’re merely assisting Priestess Shea with Lyshell’s case.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Joan.
“It means we’re here to help,” said Saraphym, keeping her softer tone and offering the glass of water.
“Now, the last I heard was that Lyshell was scheduled to have a long, boring day of orientation today, and tomorrow pick up a friend who’d gotten lost. What happened?”
She took a long drink of water. “I’m not sure. I had the same impression of his schedule. When I got up this afternoon, there was a message waiting from Master Raquel. She merely said that she was concerned about Lyshell and asked if I would look in on him. I didn’t think it was an emergency, so I got ready for work first and then came here, planning to stay with him until I had to start my shift.”
She looked up at me. “Had I known how bad things were, I would have come right away!”
“It’s okay. I’m sure if Master Raquel had believed it to be serious, she would have said so,” I said.
She nodded and continued. “He didn’t answer the door, even though I could hear him inside. I - well, I used my medical bypass on the lock and entered. I’m not really supposed to do that except in emergency, but I was worried. When I came in I found him on the ground in his battle armor, and there was a lot of blood on it.”
“Blood?” I checked to be sure I’d heard that detail right.
“Yes. I hit the emergency medical call requesting help, assuming the blood was his, but thankfully it wasn’t and he was uninjured. He was having a panic attack, screaming ‘Get out of my head!’ over and over. I couldn’t talk him down, but with the help of the emergency responders I gave him a sedative and put him to bed.”
While we were talking, Saraphym found Lyshell’s armor. “This has definitely seen battle, but it doesn’t seem to be compromised.”
“Has the station been attacked?” I asked.
“No, it has been quiet here ever since the Battle Wizards showed up in force,” said Joan. She looked at the armor and then back at me. “Sorry, I should have done something with that.”
“No need. It just goes back in its bin, and the system will clean and repair it,” said Saraphym.
“What happened after that?” I asked.
“Once we got the armor off him, he fell into a deep sleep. Doctor Miguel wanted me to have him transferred to the psychiatric ward for evaluation, but I told him you’d be here soon. I’ve been sitting with him, waiting for the sedative to run its course.”
“How much longer will he sleep?” I asked.
“Hard to say; maybe a few hours, maybe less. It affects everyone differently, and he has no medical history to speak of.”
“Not as a human, at any rate,” I said.
Saraphym put the armor in its container and started the repair and cleaning process. The box glowed softly and a slight hum indicated it was working. In a few hours, the suit would be as good as new.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine, mostly. The hospital assigned me to watch him and assist you when you arrived. I’m sure they realized that was what I was going to do anyway,” she said.
“Have you eaten?” asked Saraphym.
“No. I had planned to eat with Ly,” she said.
“Go and get some food. We’ll page you if anything develops,” I said.
“But — ”
“Do I have to use more calming tactics on you?” asked Saraphym.
She smiled. “I know, I need to keep my strength up for him and all that.” She sighed and stood. “Yes, of course you’re right. I’ll get some food for all of us and bring it back.”
“That would be great. Nothing fancy, just whatever our standard meal plan provides,” I said. I didn’t want her spending money on us, especially when we got our main meals free, but I knew she needed something to do. Taking action of some kind helps people to cope with the stress of waiting.
“That’s what I normally get. Okay, I’ll be back shortly,” she said.
As she was walking out, Saraphym turned to me and said, “Wings, how will I know what is safe to eat here?”
I thought I saw Joan hesitate slightly at the door, so I merely said, “I’ll help you,” out loud. Privately I sent, “Careful, remember where we are.”
“Oh, I know, but even if she heard us she’ll assume I meant food; any normal person would.”
She was probably right and no doubt I was being paranoid, but paranoia had kept me alive. “I’ll teach you, but while she’s gone we need to check something.”
I went over to Lyshell’s terminal and logged in with my account. Officially I was on the station as a special assistant to Master Raquel from Shea’s office, and that gave me extensive access. “Joan said she used a medical bypass to get in, which means all the internal recordings would have come on. So let’s see what happened.”
We watched as events unfolded, but learned very little more than Joan had told us. The most interesting part was how quickly he had calmed down after they’d removed his armor. It might have coincided with the sedative taking effect, but the timing was too precise for that.
>
“Hey, I found this with his armor,” she said, showing me a datapad.
“That looks like Resden issue.”
“Definitely too primitive a model for Wizard Kingdom issue, and he doesn’t strike me as the kind who would settle for old technology.”
“That he is not, but what would he be doing with it?” I asked. The datapad was missing its power supply and was probably locked. A power supply would be easy enough to come by and I was pretty confident I could defeat its security, but I set it aside to ask about later.
“Perhaps we should call Master Raquel?” suggested Saraphym.
I disabled all the medical recordings, sealed the video of the events that had occurred in this room, and encrypted it to be sent to Shea via a priority channel. “Good idea.”
It wasn’t long before Master Raquel answered and we exchanged greetings. “How is Lyshell?” she asked.
She looked older than I remembered, but that didn’t seem possible. I’d seen her only a couple days previously and she couldn’t have aged so fast; it must be a trick of the light.
“Joan gave him a sedative and he’s asleep. What happened today?” I asked.
She briefed me on the battle with the cyborgs. “When we returned, he seemed distraught. I thought he might have overstretched himself, so I told him to go home and get some rest. When he had departed, I called Joan and asked her to check on his progress.”
“How is Stones doing?” I asked.
“He will make a full recovery. Lyshell administered one of Shea’s potions during the battle, so he was already improving when we returned. Ramsong’s men took him for medical treatment, and I expect he will be released by tomorrow morning.”
So he wasn’t worried about his friend, then. That was one possibility removed. Of course, that left me with no ideas but at least I’d eliminated the wrong ones.
“Am I to understand that something else occurred since I last saw him?” she asked.
“Yes, he had a really bad panic attack. I packed up everything we know to send to Shea, but I’m not sure when it will get to her.”
“I will ensure that it reaches her tonight. What happened? I understood you to believe that active duty would be beneficial to him.”
“It should have been. When he wakes up, we’ll know more,” I said.
“How is Joan coping with this situation?”
“Her training saw her through. I think she’ll be fine.”
“Good. Well, if he needs tomorrow off, that is fine. Contact me in the morning with a report,” she said.
With that we finished the call. “Nothing to do now but wait.”
“We could shop for some decorations,” noted Saraphym.
55
05-14-0067 — Greymere
Phym made good on her promise for the next hour and pored over catalogs, looking at various household items. “Here, this throw rug would look good in the main room.”
“Phym, why are we throwing rugs?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “I wonder if we can hang a chandelier.”
“The ceilings don’t seem high enough for that,” I noted.
“Hmm. Maybe we can raise them?”
“Only if midgets live upstairs.”
“Oh, good idea; do you think we can request that?” she asked.
I smiled. That’s my angel. “I’m not sure. Do you have any shrinking spells, like those witch-doctors in the old movies?”
“Did you just call me a witch?”
“No, I called you a doctor.”
She looked over her shoulder and gave me the evil eye. “Good, because if you had done, you’d need a doctor.”
I smiled innocently back. She was, after all, a Battle Wizard and could make good on that threat.
“I suppose we should get two of everything,” she suggested.
Shaking my head, I said, “Just concentrate on your place. If I need anything, I can come over.”
“You’re assuming I’ll let you borrow it.”
“You’re assuming I’ll need anything.”
Joan returned then, holding a large box. I took it from her as she came in; it wasn’t heavy so much as awkward. There were plates of food inside so the box had to be kept level, which was a difficult task while maneuvering it through a door and into the main room.
“Thanks; it’s a longer walk than I thought,” she said.
I placed it on the table and she passed out the plates of food. Each plate had a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and a roll: at least, that’s what the food looked like. It was all manufactured to contain the right mix of nutrients for each person, designed to look and taste like real food. Most people, myself included, never had an opportunity to try real food, so there was no way to know how accurate the taste was.
“You know, I never thought I’d miss my days as a prospect, but at least there we had real food,” commented Saraphym.
“I read up on the prospect stage when Lyshell joined. It sounded harsh,” said Joan.
“It wasn’t that bad, really. You live like a servant for a while so that you can understand what it is to serve. Having spent my life at the top of the corporate ladder, it was eye-opening, to say the least,” commented Saraphym.
Joan put her plate in front of her and took out two mytheran power packs, placing one on each of our trays. Saraphym looked at me and I read the question in her eyes. She was growing hungry, and not for food. I would have to spend some time later with her when we were alone and show her the power fields she could safely sip from in secret.
“I hope those are okay. I didn’t have a lot to go on from the official record,” said Joan.
I sipped a little power from one and smiled at Saraphym. “Go ahead.” Turning to Joan I asked, “How did you know?”
“Well, you both look just enough different from human, so I figured I’d better check your race before getting you food. I pulled your records. Did I get the right thing?” she said.
“Yes, these are fine. Our records should be sealed, though,” I replied.
“They are, but medical staff can see basic information such as species, so that we know how to treat you if you should need care.”
I sighed and leaned back without touching my food. That made sense and was a good thing in some ways, but it meant that our chances of remaining undiscovered were minimal.
Saraphym was drinking in the power. “It tastes so different to what Nemesis gave us.”
I nodded. “Different kinds of power have different flavors. Over time, you can use the taste to help you identify the source. For the moment, just enjoy the variety.”
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Joan.
“Not at all; it’s just that we hoped to avoid revealing our race,” I said.
“Why?” she asked.
I explained to her how our race was hunted mercilessly. “I actually left this region and joined the Wizard Kingdom partly to get away from that.”
Joan raised her hand to cover her mouth. “That is just horrible!”
“I have lost many friends who died helping me hide my race, so many that I had given up any thought of relationships until recently. Grandmaster Vydor and his people gave me, gave us, a new lease of life; a second shot at living normally.” I looked at Saraphym and smiled.
“Well, your secret is safe with me and I doubt you’ll have any trouble with the medical staff here,” she said.
“Don’t mind him, he’s just paranoid,” said Saraphym.
“Paranoia has kept me alive among the hunters,” I said. Wanting to change the topic, I gave Joan the broad details of Lyshell’s fight.
“Cyborgs?” she said, paling.
“Yes, Joan,” said Lyshell.
Joan was up in a flash to run to his side. He was in the bedroom doorway, leaning on the frame for support. “You shouldn’t be up yet,” she chided him.
“Help me to the couch, please,” he said.
Joan helped him sit down and took out a fourth plate of f
ood. “Here, eat something.”
“It was the armor, Joan,” he said.
“Of course! The nanofiber interface!” she said with obvious horror.
“What’s that about the armor?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a steadying breath. “Joan, please tell them what happened to you.”
“Only if you eat something!” she wheedled.
He nodded weakly and took a small bite of chicken. That seemed to remind him that he was in fact hungry, and he began to eat. He took small bites and chased them with water, but he was eating.
She settled in next to him, placated, and told us how the Cyborg Nation had tried to take control of her via her implants, which was why she’d had them removed.
Saraphym put her hand on Joan’s shoulder. “That must have been horrifying.”
“Are you saying the cyborgs tried to take control of Lyshell through his armor?” I asked.
Lyshell nodded. “At first I couldn’t figure out how I could hear them, see their plans and know their every step. It was only when Joan and the others took off my armor that I was finally free of their influence.”
Joan smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Your armor is equipped with nanofibers that interface with your nervous system to monitor your condition. They must have hacked in through that.”
“No one else was affected?” I asked.
Lyshell put down his fork and said, “Joan and I are different. We spent decades as cyborgs and our bodies still have some residual traits, especially our mental patterns. This seems to make us more susceptible to their influence.”
“That makes sense, but I will start our wizards working on shielding the armor from that kind of attack. I don’t think it would be safe to assume that only you two are at risk,” I said.
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 28
