The captain nodded. “Alright then. You just better not be bullshitting about that fee, Navárez.”
3.
From Falconi’s cabin, Sparrow escorted Kira directly to sickbay. Vishal was waiting for them, dressed in full hazard gear.
“That really necessary, Doc?” Sparrow asked.
“We shall see,” said Vishal.
Kira could tell that the doctor was angry; through the visor of his helmet, his expression was pinched and tight.
Without being asked, she hopped onto the exam table. Feeling a need to smooth the waters, she said, “Sorry for breaking containment, but I didn’t think there was any risk of the xeno spreading.”
Vishal busied himself gathering the tools of his trade, starting with an old and clunky chip-lab that had been stored under the sink. “You can’t know that for sure. You are supposed to be a xenobiologist, Ms. Yes? You should have had the sense to follow proper protocol.”
His rebuke stung. Yes, but … He wasn’t wrong, but at the same time, she hadn’t had much of a choice, now had she? Kira kept the thought to herself; she wasn’t there to start an argument.
She bounced her heels against the drawers built into the base of the exam table while she waited. Sparrow remained lounging in the doorway, watching.
“What exactly is it you do on the ship?” Kira asked her.
Sparrow’s expression stayed flat, emotionless. “I pick up heavy things and put them down.” She lifted her left arm and tensed her biceps and triceps, showing off the muscles.
“I see that.”
Then Vishal began by asking Kira a long series of questions. She answered to the best of her ability. In that, she didn’t hold back. Science was sacred, and she knew the doctor was just trying to do his job.
At Vishal’s request, Kira showed him how she could harden the surface of the Soft Blade in patterns of her choosing.
Then the doctor tapped the control screen of the medibot mounted overhead. As the machine moved toward her, the mechanical arm unfolding like metal origami, Kira flashed back to her cell on the Extenuating Circumstances and the S-PACs built into the walls, and she flinched without meaning to.
“Hold still,” snapped Vishal.
Kira looked down and concentrated on her breathing. The last thing she needed was for the Soft Blade to react to an imagined threat and tear apart the medibot. Captain Falconi most definitely wouldn’t be pleased with that.
For the next two hours, Vishal tested her in many of the ways that Carr had, and perhaps a few more. He seemed very creative. While the medibot hovered about her, poking and prodding and running every diagnostic in its extensive programming, Vishal carried out his own investigation, peering into her ears, eyes, and nose; taking swabs and scrapings for his chip-lab; and generally making Kira uncomfortable.
He kept his helmet on the whole time, visor closed and locked.
They spoke little; Vishal gave her orders, and Kira complied with a minimum of fuss. She just wanted the ordeal to be over.
At one point, her stomach rumbled, and she realized she still hadn’t eaten breakfast. Vishal noticed and, without hesitation, provided her with a ration bar from a nearby cupboard. He watched with sharp-eyed interest while she chewed and swallowed.
“Fascinating,” he muttered, holding the chip-lab to her mouth and staring at the readings.
He continued to talk to himself from then on, cryptic utterances such as: “… three percent diffusion” and “Can’t be. That would—” and “The ATP? Doesn’t make any…” None of which helped Kira’s understanding.
Finally, he said, “Ms. Navárez, a blood test is still necessary, yes? But the only place I can draw from is—”
“My face.” She nodded. “I know. Go ahead and do what you have to.”
He hesitated. “There is no good place to draw blood from head or face, and many nerves that can be injured. You showed how the suit can move at your command—”
“Sort of.”
“But you know it can move. So I ask: Can you move it to expose part of your skin elsewhere? Perhaps here?” And he tapped the inside of her elbow.
The idea caught Kira by surprise. She hadn’t even thought to try. “I … don’t know,” she said, honest. “Maybe.”
In the doorway, Sparrow unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it in her mouth. “Well, give it a shot, Navárez.” And she blew a large, pink bubble until it exploded with a sharp pop.
“Give me a minute,” said Kira.
The doctor sat back on his stool, waiting.
Kira concentrated on the inside of her elbow—concentrated as hard as she ever had—and with her mind, pushed.
The surface of the suit shimmered in response. Kira bore down harder, and the shimmer became a ripple as the fibers of her second skin melted one into another to form a glassy black surface.
And yet the Soft Blade remained fixed to her arm, shifting and flowing with liquid brilliance. But when she touched the softened area, her fingers sank through the surface, and skin contacted skin with unexpected intimacy.
Kira’s breath caught. Her heart was pounding from strain and excitement. The mental effort was too great to sustain for long, and the instant her attention wavered, the suit hardened and returned to its normal, striated shape.
Frustrated and yet encouraged, Kira tried again, driving her mind against the Soft Blade again and again.
“Come on, damn you,” she muttered.
The suit seemed confused by her intentions. It churned against her arm, agitated by her assault. Kira pushed even harder. The churning increased, and then a cold tingle spread across the inside of her elbow. Centimeter by centimeter, the Soft Blade retreated to the sides of the joint, exposing pale skin to the chill of the air.
“Quick,” said Kira from between clenched teeth.
Vishal scooted forward and pressed his hypo against Kira’s elbow. She felt a slight pinch, and then he withdrew. “Done,” he said.
Still fighting with all her might to keep the Soft Blade pulled back, Kira touched her fingers to her arm, to bare skin. She savored the feeling; a simple pleasure that had seemed forever lost. The sensation was no different than touching the suit, but it meant so much more. Without the layer of separating fibers, she felt far more herself.
Then the effort proved too much and the Soft Blade rebounded and again covered the inside of her elbow.
“Hot damn,” said Sparrow.
Kira let out her breath, feeling as if she’d run a flight of stairs. Her whole body tingled with an electric thrill. If she practiced, maybe, just maybe it would be possible to free her whole body of the xeno. The thought gave her the first real sense of hope she’d had since waking up in quarantine on the Extenuating Circumstances.
Her eyes filmed over with tears, and she blinked, not wanting Sparrow or the doctor to see.
With the blood he’d collected, Vishal ran still more tests, muttering to himself the whole while. Kira zoned out while listening to his fragmented comments. There was a spot on the opposing wall—a spot shaped like star anise or maybe a dead spider that had been squashed beneath a flat-bottomed glass—and she stared at it, her mind empty.
…
With a start, Kira realized that Vishal had fallen silent and that he’d been silent for some time. “What?” she said.
The doctor looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “I do not know what to make of your xeno.” He made a slight back-and-forth wobble of his head. “It’s like nothing I’ve studied before.”
“How so?”
He pushed his stool back from the table. “I would need several months before I could answer that. The organism has…” He hesitated. “It is interacting with your body in ways I don’t understand. It shouldn’t be possible!”