Chapter 19 - What You Don't See

  Darius needed a distraction. Badly.

  At this point, he would take anything. If the Empire busted through the wall right now, he’d welcome them with a smile and open arms. Hell, he might even help them pack up the furniture. Anything to break the monotony.

  Two days. Forty-eight solid hours of being crammed into a shoebox apartment with the squad, doing absolutely nothing. Not nothing-nothing, of course. He’d been busy. Everyone had been busy. But that special kind of busy, where your brain got so fried from routine it started questioning your life choices.

  Case in point: Darius had spent most of those hours squinting at Echo’s proposed schematics for his frame. “Proposed” being the polite way of saying “It would take a team of miracle workers and a budget the size of a small moon to build.” And while he liked to think of himself as reasonably smart—he’d fixed a few dozen busted systems in his time—two straight days of nothing but recalibrations and theoretical engineering was enough to make anyone stir-crazy.

  Especially with Echo as his cheerful overseer.

  {That’s the wrong node, Darius. Again.}

  “Yeah, thanks for that,” he muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose. The faint buzz of his augs didn’t help the migraine forming at the base of his skull. “Maybe if you gave me, I don’t know, five seconds to breathe—”

  {You’ve had twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds of downtime over the last two hours. Breathing was included. Efficient breathing, I might add.}

  Darius groaned, pushing the schematics aside and collapsing onto the couch with the theatricality of a man defeated by his own brain. “You’re gonna drive me insane, Echo. Actually, you know what? Forget that—you already have.”

  {I doubt that. Diagnostics indicate cognitive stability at 92%. Slightly lower than average, but consistent with your… lifestyle.}

  “I can’t tell if you’re getting snarkier or if I’m just going crazy.”

  {The two are not mutually exclusive.}

  “Like that!” Darius exclaimed, standing up and starting to pace across the now-familiar confines of his shared room. “I could swear when we first… met, that you sounded more robotic.”

  {I am a highly adaptable learning AI,} Echo pointed out with what Darius could swear was pride. {It is only natural I would start to sound more… natural.}

  Darius grunted. He didn’t actually care all that much; he was mostly hoping to distract Echo from launching into another lesson or ‘theoretical exercise’. Uncharacteristically, it seemed to be working.

  {…There is also the faint possibility that this is a side effect of the nanite matrix integrating further with your neural structure.}

  And all of a sudden, Darius really did care.

  “Wait, what!? That’s… I thought you said we would have two months!”

  {The process will be complete in two months – a little over seven weeks now, actually. That doesn’t mean you won’t be affected at all until then.}

  “Wonderful,” Darius hissed under his breath. “So, what, integrating with my brain is making you snarky? That… checks out, actually.”

  {While the effect itself is not alarming, it is indicative that the process is… deeper than hoped. Some personality bleed-through is merely the most visible sign of the effect. I believe there may be some more that we simply have not noticed. For example, you are learning to understand my schematics at a notably faster rate than expected. During periods of intense focus, I have also noticed that my processing power dips slightly. I believe that your brain may be adapting to make use of some of the neural connections made by the matrix.}

  Darius processed that for a moment. The fact that he was able to keep up with that explanation supported Echo’s theory. It’s not that he was an idiot before or anything – he regularly worked on complicated ship systems, for example – but it wasn’t just that he could follow Echo’s explanation; it was that he understood it.

  “So… it’s making you snarkier and me smarter? That’s… well, I’m gonna be honest, that’s not nearly as bad as I thought.”

  {True, the effects do seem mostly benign at the moment.} Echo admitted. {It is an encouraging sign that should we fail to construct a frame for me to inhabit, at least you probably won’t die. Still, should the matrix become fully integrated with your nervous system, I will be unable to leave. While I do not dislike you as a person, I do not wish to be stuck with you for the rest of your life.}

  Darius snorted. “Feeling’s mutual, buddy.”

  As potentially alarming as the news was, the reality of the situation was that nothing had materially changed. Even if the effects of the merger hadn’t been largely neutral, it wasn’t like he could snap his fingers and speed up the acquisition of materials and tools. The only thing he could do right now to affect the situation at all was continue going over the schematics – and he was thoroughly sick of that.

  Darius tossed the dataslate onto the bed with a sigh. He was getting a little peckish anyway.

  The living room of the apartment was where most of the squad spent their days. Harlan stayed in his room most of the time, as did Darius, which sort of forced the other team members out into what passed for a central area.

  Corin had his headphones in – which was a little weird; who even had headphones these days? Even Darius had aural implants, and he didn’t even like augments – pretending to read a book while very obviously not reading a book. Tarek was camped out by the window, disassembling his rifle for the third time that day, muttering to himself in a language Darius only half recognised. And Lena had turned the tiny kitchenette into her own private workshop, piles of scrap spilling onto the floor as she hunched over some half-built gadget.

  Nobody was talking. Nobody wanted to. After two days, the novelty of company had worn off, replaced by the quiet grind of coexistence. The little things were starting to get under everyone’s skin—like the fact that Corin hummed when he “read,” or how Tarek’s tools made this awful screech every time he adjusted his sights.

  Lena wasn’t so bad, but Darius suspected that was only because she’d figured out how to tune the rest of them out completely. The sound of a door opening drew everyone’s attention. Harlan emerged, looking just as dishevelled as the rest of them.

  “Alright, listen up,” Harlan said, his gravelly voice cutting through the room’s low murmur of background noise. “I just got word. The Doc’s on his way over to install your new optics.”

  That got everyone’s attention. Corin pulled his headphones off, Tarek straightened from his rifle, and even Lena looked up from her pile of parts, one brow quirked in interest.

  “How does he know where we are? Isn’t that a massive risk?” she asked, more curious than concerned.

  Harlan nodded. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. Still, he’s been with the Freeholders for years, so we know he’s reliable. Not to mention, if you can’t trust the guy who’s cutting you open and installing tech inside you, you’ve got bigger problems. That said, let me make this clear – he doesn’t need to know anything about what we’re doing, or why. He’s here to install what needs installing and nothing more.”

  Darius blinked, suddenly realising something. “Wait, he’s coming here? Where’s he going to be working? We’re packed in here tighter than a bulk freighter, to say nothing of how this place is hardly an operating room.”

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  “We’ll need to clear some space,” Harlan replied, ignoring Darius’s tone. “That means moving some of this crap into your rooms temporarily. Don’t complain – it’s not like we have options. As for hygiene…” he shrugged. “The Doc’s got meds for infection control. He knows what he’s doing. This isn’t his first time working in less-than-ideal conditions.”

  “Wonderful,” Darius muttered under his breath. “Nothing screams ‘professional operation’ like an impromptu surgery zone next to the takeout containers.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” Harlan snapped, his patience wearing thin. “Because unless you’ve got a secret med bay stashed away somewhere, this is what we’re working with.”

  Darius opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself. The stress of being locked in and hunted was getting to everyone, and for once, he decided not to make things worse with his smart comments.

  ‘Is this what maturity feels like?’ he wondered to himself as he helped Corin shift a couch. ‘It sucks.’

  – – –

  The knock at the door was brisk, followed by a cheerful whistle that somehow cut through the oppressive atmosphere of the cramped apartment. Everyone exchanged wary glances, except for Harlan, who sighed and strode to the door. When he opened it, a man stepped inside with a grin so wide it could have lit the room all by itself.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted rebels,” the man said, spreading his arms in a dramatic flourish. “The doctor is in!”

  He was tall and wiry, with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair that had been hastily tied back into a messy knot. He wore a loose, brightly coloured shirt that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a resort, khaki shorts, and well-worn sandals that slapped against the floor as he walked. If Darius didn’t know better, he’d have pegged this guy for a beach bum rather than someone trusted with implanting high-grade augments.

  “Doc,” Harlan greeted with a nod, stepping aside to let the man in. “About time. You remember Tarek.”

  Tarek gave the barest grunt of acknowledgment from his spot by the window. The doctor threw him a finger-gun salute.

  “Who could forget young Tarek? Still as charming as ever, I see.” He glanced around the room, his grin never wavering. “And who are the rest of these fine folks?”

  Harlan made a perfunctory wave at the group, notably not introducing them. “The usual suspects. They’ll stay out of your way.”

  “You’re the doctor?” Darius asked, unable to help himself. He really wasn’t feeling confident about having this guy rummage around in his insides. Optical implants might be some of the simpler ones to install, but that didn’t make it easy.

  The man clutched his chest theatrically. “Ah, such scepticism! I’d be offended if I weren’t so used to it.” He extended a hand. “Dr. Bennett, at your service. But you can call me Ben. All my friends do.”

  Darius shook his hand cautiously, more out of politeness than trust. Bennett’s grip was firm but friendly, and his perpetually sunny demeanour made it hard to dislike him outright—though Darius gave it a shot anyway.

  “Got a last name, Ben?” Corin asked from where he was leaning against the wall.

  “I do!” the man replied cheerily. “And a first name too, neither of which is Bennett!”

  Everybody took a moment to blink at the rather blase way the man had admitted that he was using a fake name. It made sense, sure, but… wouldn’t it make more sense to not tell people you were lying?

  Bennett clapped his hands together, pushing through the awkward lull with cheerful obliviousness.

  “Alrighty! Let’s set the stage, shall we? I’m gonna need a bit of room. Harlan, Tarek, you know the drill. Move anything you don’t want splattered or zapped.”

  “Hang on, zapped?” Darius echoed, but Bennett had already turned to the door and waved behind him.

  Two wheeled cases followed him in, each about the size of a medium refrigerator and emblazoned with unassuming industrial logos. A third, smaller case trundled behind on stubby motorised wheels. Bennett patted the nearest one affectionately.

  “Ah, the wonders of modern convenience,” he said, flipping open a control panel on the side. With a few quick taps, the cases hummed to life and began unfolding themselves.

  The larger units revealed tightly packed racks of equipment: articulated arms tipped with multi-tools, sealed drawers containing sterile implements, and retractable panels that formed flat working surfaces. One case even had what appeared to be a built-in steriliser, which Bennett fired up immediately, the machine hissing as it bathed his tools in ultraviolet light.

  The smaller case unfolded into a motorised adjustable chair, with what looked worryingly like clamps to hold down limbs.

  Darius watched in a sort of concerned awe as Bennett pulled a roll of bioplastic sheeting from a side compartment and started covering the furniture within the “operating theatre.” He worked with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times, cracking jokes as he went.

  “See, the trick isn’t just the tools,” Bennett said, tossing a sheet over the couch with a practised flick. “It’s presentation. Gotta make the patient feel comfortable, even when they’re in a dingy safehouse with zero ventilation.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Lena muttered from her corner.

  “Oh, it’s no reflection on you lovely people,” Bennett said with a grin. “But you have to admit, this place screams ‘desperate fugitives’ more than ‘cutting-edge surgical suite.’ No offense.”

  ‘How could that not be offensive?’ Darius wondered idly. Meeting the doctor so far had felt more like being trapped in a whirlwind than anything else.

  Bennett turned to address the room. “Alrighty, then. Who’s first on the chopping block?”

  “Any volunteers?” Harlan asked dryly.

  For all that Tarek, Lena, and Corin had been gushing over the opportunity to get new implants earlier, they were now studiously avoiding the doctor’s gaze. Darius couldn’t blame them.

  But someone had to go first, and he knew the longer he sat here thinking about it, the more his nerves would get the better of him.

  With a deep breath, he pushed off the counter and shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  Bennett clapped his hands together, beaming. “That’s the spirit! Brave, reckless, and pragmatic. My favourite kind of patient.”

  Darius walked over to the chair with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for tax audits. As he sat down, the motorised contraption hummed faintly, adjusting to his height and weight in a way that was somehow more unsettling than comforting.

  “Uh, what are those for?” Darius asked, gesturing to the clamps on the armrests with a slight grimace.

  “Those?” Bennett waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you won’t need those for this little operation. They’re mostly for the squirmers.”

  “Comforting,” Darius muttered.

  Instead of clamping his limbs, Bennett reached for something on the back of one of his cases. A helmet-like device unfolded with a soft whirr, its inner surface lined with faintly glowing nodes. He lowered it carefully onto Darius’s head.

  “What’s this supposed to do?” Darius asked warily.

  “Keep you still,” Bennett replied, adjusting the helmet’s fit. “I don’t want you flinching or sneezing while I’m poking around in your optical nerves. That gets messy. And this will take care of the numbing for you—nice and efficient.”

  “Great,” Darius said flatly. He felt a faint hum around his temples as the device activated. A tingling sensation spread across his face, followed by a deep, unnatural numbness. Within seconds, he couldn’t feel his cheeks, his nose, or even his lips.

  Then his vision blinked out entirely.

  Panic surged in his chest. “Uh, Doc? I can’t see anything.”

  “Perfect,” Bennett said cheerily, fiddling with his tools. “That means it’s working. Trust me, you don’t want to see what I’m about to do.”

  “You’re really not good at the whole bedside manner thing,” Darius grumbled, gripping the armrests tighter than he’d like to admit.

  “Oh, but I am,” Bennett countered with a grin in his voice. “You’re distracted, aren’t you?”

  Before Darius could retort, Bennett’s voice shifted, more focused now. “Alright, let’s start with the basics. I’ll remove the old implants, get those new optics wired in, and you’ll be seeing clearer than ever in no time.”

  Darius felt a faint pressure around his eyes, not painful but deeply unsettling. He tried to focus on the faint hum of the equipment, anything to distract from the fact that someone was currently poking around in his skull.

  “Hmm,” Bennett said suddenly, the sound tinged with intrigue.

  “‘Hmm’?” Darius echoed nervously. “What’s ‘hmm’? I don’t like ‘hmm.’”

  Bennett leaned back slightly. “Well, this is interesting. Your old implants are connected to… something very advanced. Never seen these kinds of connection points before. It’s like…” He trailed off, and Darius could faintly hear the doctor fiddling with some tools. “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day. These connections are threaded all the way through your optic nerve. Very impressive work.” The question in the doctor’s tone was obvious.

  {That would be me,} Echo said suddenly, voice crackling through his aural implants. {You may wish to reassure the good doctor.}

  Darius swallowed hard, which felt weird without full control of his face. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll link up automatically with the new implants. Just keep going.”

  “Automatically?” Bennett said, clearly curious. “That’s not usually how this works. Most systems need a—”

  “Trust me,” Darius interrupted firmly. “Just finish the job.”

  Bennett hummed dubiously but thankfully didn’t argue. “Alright, your call.” He resumed his work, though the sound of his tools now had a more cautious edge.

  Darius felt the tension in the room shift. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel the weight of the others’ curiosity pressing down on him.

  “What kind of connection points?” Lena asked, though by the sounds of things, she was facing away from them. A sudden squelch had Darius’s stomach churning and gave him the sudden realisation that while he couldn’t see, everybody else could. And just going off the sounds, the sight wasn’t enjoyable.

  “High grade,” Bennett replied absently as he worked. “Far beyond the stuff you usually see on the black market. Whoever installed these either had access to cutting-edge tech or a very healthy disregard for the laws surrounding experimental technology.”

  Tarek let out a low whistle. “Thought you weren’t into augments, Kallan?”

  “I’m not,” Darius said curtly. Having a conversation while in the middle of his own surgery was something he hoped he never experienced enough to get used to.

  “Then where’d you get those?” Corin asked.

  Darius said nothing, clenching the armrests as Bennett continued his work. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions, but nobody pushed further.

  “Done,” Bennett said finally, stepping back with an air of satisfaction. “New optics installed and integrated. You’re good to go.”

  The helmet lifted with a soft click, and Darius’s vision returned in a rush. The world was sharper now, every detail crisp and vivid in a way that almost hurt to look at. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust. That… despite his fears, that had actually been surprisingly quick and painless.

  Bennett offered a broad grin. “See? Told you it’d be smooth. Now, who’s next?”

  Nobody volunteered.