Hybrid (3 page)

Dom looks sad for a moment, but then the blank expression reappears and he steps away from the bed. “I have to go.”

But Sai doesn’t want him to, not yet, not with the parasite in her, not before they’ve sorted themselves out. “Where are you going?”

He glances at her, the colors in his eyes whirring for a few moments. “I have to go to Central. There are things I need to take care of.”

“You seem...different.” Because he does, and not just from her accident. There’s something off about him now.

Dom shrugs. “Not different, just not damaged.”

“You won’t rainbow anymore?” Sai asks, relieved at the prospect.

“Not like that.” He half-smiles and heads to the door, then pauses without looking back. “Do you think, maybe one day, you’ll forgive me?”

The tone in his voice wrenches at her, and tears well in her eyes. He’s waiting, poised at the door for an answer. “Definitely. One day.” It’s all she can choke out.

His shoulders relax, and he murmurs a quiet “thank you” as he exits the room.

Even though the sun isn’t up yet, Sai can’t sleep, and she stares at the door for a long time. One day can’t come soon enough.

The salad from Joe’s tastes fresh, with a slightly salty grit underlying the tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce. The green leaves shine rebelliously against the mostly white and light grey surroundings, and the red of the tomatoes pops like artificial blood against the backdrop. Both are almost a distraction from the fact that Sai’s still in the infirmary. But it does taste better than anything she’s had since she woke.

“So,” she asks as she munches her food, “how did they rearrange the Mobile to fit in the larger hospital wings?”

Iria shrugs and chases her food around the plate with her fork. “You know, Mathur. A bit of tweaking here, a bit of tweaking there, a few families moved around, a few shoved onto another Mobile, and—voila! Enough hospital space for about seventy-five people.”

Sai raises her eyebrows, her mouth too full of food to speak.

Iria barely manages to keep a straight face, but the smile still doesn’t make it to her rather apathetic eyes. “There’s another section over on the opposite side. Takes up half as much space and houses the criticals.”

Sai straightens up and blinks. “How many people did we lose?”

“More than anticipated.” Iria’s words are soft, tinged with sadness, and her usual brightness is dulled.

Sai puts down her fork and reaches across to put her hand on Iria’s, balancing precariously on the edge of her bed, the sudden weight of her legs nagging at the back of her mind. “Iria. What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” She focuses on her food and laughs. The sound crackles a little, like splintering glass, frail and insubstantial. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Sai chooses not to speak and instead just sits back with her hands on her lap, one eyebrow raised, waiting for Iria to look up. It doesn’t take long.

“What?” she says, a rare scow marring her face.

“You’re not being yourself. Talk to me. Please? Maybe I can help.”

Iria barks out a harsh laugh this time, filled with self-derision. “That’s your problem, Sai. You always help. Even when you shouldn’t. You put everyone in front of you, and we almost got you killed...” She pauses, sighing so deeply her chest rises and falls in an exaggerated manner. “I almost got you killed.”

“Is that it?” Sai asks, unable to keep the incredulousness from her tone. “That’s what you’re so upset about?”

Iria blinks at her, mouth open in a half-pout, obviously not expecting that reaction.

Sai presses on, her tone low and guarded, because she knows it’s still a fragile topic and breaking down isn’t going to help Iria right now. “I was going to check that call either way. With or without you, I would have had someone in that slot. Your being there did nothing to make this—” she gestures at her legs “—happen.”

“But I...” She takes a deep breath and fixes Sai with a determined stare. “I insisted on coming with you. I should have been able to protect you with my shields. I—”

“Protect me from what? A plummeting elevator?” Sai watches Iria, “Not possible. Your shields can’t hold out against that sort of gravitational pull. You weren’t distracting. I was just too tired. Frankly, I should have sent someone else.”

Iria’s tone is stubborn. “But you couldn’t have.”

Sai shrugs and sets her jaw. “I could have done a lot of things. I could have demanded a more detailed scan or scanned it in more detail myself before getting in the elevator. I was tired, on a bit of a high from the adrenaline, and to be honest? I was feeling a little over-confident. Please don’t blame yourself.”

And there it was. Clear as day in front of her. Regardless how much she might like to blame Dom or the GNW for causing the reset or Bastian for stupidly keying the trigger to her face and not just her name or... The list could go on, but it all boiled down to her own decision. If she hadn’t gone in the first place, if they’d just gotten out instead and set a plan in motion to scan the other location, if she’d even just gone through Johnson’s memories in more detail—then none of it would have happened. Now she just needed to convince herself of it, and maybe Iria, too.

Iria opens her mouth a couple more times and then settles back against the wall, stabbing the barely touched food on her plate. “Fine. But I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.” Sai leans back in her chair, her own food suddenly not as appetizing. “I thought there’d be more criticals.”

Iria raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any idea how long you were out, do you?”

Sai suddenly feels a little lightheaded. “A while...”

“You were out for weeks, Sai.” Iria crosses her arms and glares mildly, but the twitch at the corner of her lips puts Sai at ease. Maybe the talk did them both some good.

“We weren’t supposed to lose anyone.” They’d lost Trikel and that still stung, despite not knowing her for long. “I should have known we were starting a war.”

“Sai!” Iria focuses on her, brow pinched. “We didn’t start the war—we’re finishing it. They started this when they first began testing that damned drug. You know it, I know it, everyone who isn’t controlled by the GNW propaganda net knows it.” She pauses for a second, eyes serious again. “You know how it works. The suggestion that everything is fine, like a dull haze, holding their emotions at bay, encouraging them to accept events passively because everything is okay.”

Sai shivers, suddenly cold. “I can’t even imagine that loss of faculty, that loss of controlling what I’m allowed to feel...”

“Exactly.” Iria smiles, regaining some of her usual cheery composure. “Now cut it out before you ruin my lunch.”

Despite herself, Sai grins. “Fine, fine, think only of your stomach. You should. It’s gotten a little rounder than I remember.”

“What! How?” Iria splutters indignantly, her food forgotten momentarily.

Mid-step, her leg’s weight multiplies impossibly, dragging her off-balance, sending her stumbling for the safety of the rail against the wall. Sai ignores the gasp that escapes Aishke, effectively pretending the other girl isn’t in the room with her. Not like she’s been much help anyway, but at least they’ve both seen each other at their most vulnerable. It’s quid pro quo.

Sai’s head pounds, and she relaxes for a moment despite the tightness banding her chest, shifting her leg back into place to properly support her. Focusing on the joining points, triggering the synaptic connections back down through her spine, she feels the whirr and the click, and the leg is once again a part of her body.

Sweat beads her brow, causing small rivulets to cascade down her face and cling to her eyebrows. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, recovering from the sheer pressure caused when her legs won’t sync up with her brain. Despite the click, Sai’s head doesn’t quit, and none of the healing techniques Dom showed her seem to be working. The blinding pain makes the bright room far too white, and she clenches her eyes to try and shut out the offending glare. But it stabs against her the backs of her eyes for several seconds more.

“Sai?” Aishke’s tone is timid, but there’s something else there. A small but strong hand grips under Sai’s elbow, lending support and perhaps a little commiseration. “We should get you back to your bed.”

All good intentions,
always
good intentions. But the constant need to rest has gone on far too long. It’s been a damn week since she woke up! Sai sucks air in with exasperation and counts to five. “No. I’m sick of going back to bed. I can’t take a bed around the Mobiles with me, and I certainly can’t get done what needs to be done while sitting in one.”

“But you need...” Aishke pauses, and if I Sai didn’t know better, she’d think the other girl was counting to ten. When she speaks again, her voice is harder. “You need to rest. You’ve been doing this for two hours already.”

Sai blinks her eyes open, instantly regrets it, and shuts them again. She rests the side of her face against the cool, plastic-like fabric of the wall. “Two hours already?”

“Mathur told me that if the weight started to wear on you, you’d pushed yourself too far.” Aishke’s voice is closer now, and a light tug on Sai’s arm yields an unwilling groan. “Come on. Sit down. You did better today than yesterday. And you’ll do better again tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Sai lets herself be led away from the wall, her new limbs stiff and sending back pain impulses to her brain. Maybe she did overdo it a little bit, but it’s the only way she’ll get back out there, back into the thick of things. She crawls into bed with Aishke’s help, and a soft whimper escapes her as she settles in and her legs whirr down. Relaxation hits them, and they have a sort of sleep mode, where she’s not consciously using them but they’re ready to go.

“You should rest now. Marlena will be in shortly.”

“Can you dim the lights, Ash? They’re killing my head.” The words sound slurred, even to Sai’s ears.

Aishke’s chuckle is soft and warm. “Done. Rest up. Everyone wants you well again, but no one wants you to break in the process.”

Sai keeps her eyes closed and listens as the footsteps recede. Positivity wasn’t going to work. Success was so far from possible because she’d already failed. “I’m already broken.” She tastes the statement on her tongue, like the tears she refuses to shed.

The words echo in the room with an odd finality.

“Go to a meeting, they said. It’ll be good for your legs, they said.” Sai mutters the words like a mantra under her breath, trying not to focus on the shaky connection all the other stimuli are causing in her implants.

The meeting room is packed. Crowds are too confining, and Sai breathes deeply to calm herself as she moves slowly toward the back of the room, more tired than usual, unused to the exhaustion.

Someone puts a hand on her shoulder, and she resists the urge to bat it away.

It doesn’t take long for Kayde’s voice to put her at ease. “Take Trikel’s old spot. She liked you.”

Sai smiles at the blonde and blinks away the tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. “I forgot.”

Kayde looks at her for a second and pats her shoulder once before retracting the hand. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“How many people do you think they can squish in here?” Sai mutters, concentrating on her breathing, on moving fluidly, on maintaining a sense of equilibrium as she sits down. She leans her steel cane against the table leg. It might not be strong enough to help her if both legs give out, but if only one does, she can use it for balance while she resets the connection.

Kayde winks, her bright blue eyes sparkling, and shifts her seat a bit closer. “Sorry. I’d rather be close to one person than penned in by many.”

Sai shrugs uneasily. She knows Kayde, so it’s easier to have her this close than most other people in the room, but it’s still almost too much right now. The proximity brings back shades of Nimue, and for a moment Sai feels a stab of regret at leaving her friend behind. She makes a mental note to ask Dom to keep an eye out for her.

“It’s okay. I need to give myself a bit of rest. Feeling a bit worn out.” Her joints are on fire, so much that she can feel the intricate meeting points swelling slightly in protest. But no one needs to know that—not anyone in here, anyway—and she sends a brief touch of healing through them.

Kayde’s eyes narrow. “Is this your first day out?”

Sai attempts to avoid her eyes, but Kayde bends down to be at the same level. “Yes. Technically.”

“Then just stay in your seat and don’t stress. You’re not superhuman.”

Sai can feel the heat rise to her cheeks, and she knows her friend is right. “I wasn’t planning on moving.”

“Good.” Kayde eyes her for a second, lips pursed. “You’re adapting?”

“Yes. No. I can walk.” Sai laughs uncomfortably. “They’re legs, and they’re still heavy.”

“You’ll get used to them.”

“Yeah, I’ll adapt.” She grins and keeps her voice low. “It’ll take a while, but hopefully I can be as close to proficient as I was with my own.” The room is filling fast, and Sai can’t help but fidget.

“Dom helping you?” Kayde’s voice has this lulling quality to it that makes Sai want to tell her all her secrets.

Sai looks down at her hands to avoid the pull of eye contact. “Sort of.” He’s not exactly a subject she feels comfortable discussing right now. Regardless of how much her head knows it wasn’t his fault, her heart still hurts, still resents. “Marlena, Mathur, and Iria are helping. Aishke, too. Even Jeffries wants me to live.” She straightens her shoulders. “How’s the Ebony coming?”

Kayde grins. “Fantastic. Especially since you guys got me the pure source, not to mention an engineer who’s practically been chained to work with it his entire career. Thank you.”

Sai puzzles through her memory, scattered as that night seems. “I didn’t catch his name.”

“Petri.” Kayde glances around the room. The frown on her face darkens her bright blue eyes momentarily. “Seems we’re still waiting on Mason and Mathur. Petri can’t stop talking about you, either. In fact, after about a week, he couldn’t seem to stop talking at all. Really doesn’t seem to care if people answer, either.”

The tension in Sai’s shoulders eases up, and the pain in her neck recedes as the conversation progresses. “I know a lot of nice people that can be a bit annoying at times.” She gestures to Mathur as he walks into the room.

Kayde visibly chokes on laughter, her brown hair bobbing with the motion. “Pay attention or you’ll get us in trouble!”

Mason scans the room, closing the door behind him. His tall figure is cut so similar to his brother’s, right down to the wave of dark hair that tries to obscure his piercing eyes. “Great to see you all here,” he mutters, shuffling through a few small readers on the table before glancing back up.

“Well, we did it. We’ve shorted the GNW, not only of the Shine supplies they use to perform psionic extraction, but also of the prototype formulae from which they derive all of their inventory. They’ll need to recruit more viable test subjects and try to maintain the thought suggestion grid on whatever reserves they’ve managed to maintain.” He pauses and smiles grimly. “Well done.”

A light round of applause travels around the room, but Sai doesn’t join in. She doesn’t feel like they’ve won a victory because she knows with certainty that there’ll be retaliation. They’d be stupid to think there wouldn’t. And Mason’s next words echo her own thoughts.

“Keep in mind, the GNW will not take this lying down. They do have reserves, and while I’m not certain how long those will last, you can bet they’ll try to figure out a way to retrieve the pure source from us. While we may have won the fight, no one has won the war. We’re at a stand-off. I’m not sure how much longer it’ll last.” His shoulders drop, and just for a second, he mirrors the somewhat lost look Sai’s seen Bastian exhibit on occasion when he forgets to keep up his impassive facade. And just like Bastian, it’s gone after a very brief appearance.

Silence falls in the room, everyone bent slightly forward, waiting for Mason to continue.

“We still have a long way to go and potential confrontation to prepare for.” He glances at the last reader in front of him and runs a hand through his hair. “Sai will take Trikel’s old position once her grafts have adjusted. Mathur requires cooperation from all Mobiles and departments in order to coordinate the rehabilitation of the dominos. I’ll let him talk to you about that.”

Sai bristles a little at the announcement. No one consulted her, but in a way, she’d been expecting it. Even if it is similar to before Trikel’s death, it feels strange. But her irritation is lessened as she watches Mason closely. He sits, cringing slightly, a brief glimmer of pain crosses his face. She focuses on him, as the rest of the room rustles in their seats to wait for Mathur. Mason has never shown a weakness, never appeared so tired before. It’s like he’s sick. She slots the idea away for later, barely able to pull her eyes off him and give the next speaker her attention.

Mathur stands, the silver peppering in his hair more prominent than she recalls. Everyone’s gaze fixes on him. He doesn’t have Mason’s charisma, but he doesn’t need it. Everyone loves Mathur.

“My notes are very brief. Dom is scouting Central for word of retaliation. With security already heightened, we cannot rely on Bastian to get the word out. Dom will run communications. I will need to talk to all research officers and those of you who’ve studied the Domino Project in detail with me. I’ll meet with you all in three hours back here.” He pauses and smiles. “Any questions?”

No one seems to have any. Except for Sai, but hers aren’t questions she can ask him in the open. They are ones she needs to ask him alone.

The meeting adjourns, and Sai bids an absent-minded farewell to Kayde before dashing out of the room after Mathur as fast as her aching joints will let her.

Mathur moves surprisingly swiftly for an older man. Her legs drag with each step, but she perseveres. Next time, she better remember that damned cane. The weight pulls at her head, and a slow headache starts throbbing in her temples just as her breath comes quick and short. Flashes of concrete walls mix in and out of the tent like drapings hanging from the ceiling. She pushes through with sheer force of will and grabs onto the door just before Mathur closes it behind him.

Panting, she tries to focus, but her eyes swim in pools of vague black worms until she clenches them shut and counts to ten. Even then, the tiny wiggly things assault her eyelids, with flashes of pain and Dom, there and not.

“Sai?” Mathur’s voice is soft, and she knows, even without seeing him, that his brow is crinkled in grandfatherly concern.

But she takes yet another deep breath to steady herself, refuses to pay attention to the shaking in her legs, and just grips the frame of the door tighter before opening her eyes and looking directly at the old man. “Just what is Dom doing, Mathur?” Sai asks quietly.

“I thought you did not care about my Dom,” he says, ushering her into the apartment.

“It’s not like that...” She realized it when he helped her before he left, but the words are jumbled in her mind.

“Then what is it like?” Mathur turns and gestures to his comfortable couch. “Tell me.”

“It’s like...” She sighs, straightens her back as best she can, and tries not to let the relief of resting her heavy legs reflect in her face. She glares Mathur squarely in the eye. “The dynamic has changed. I can’t quite reconcile that he not only caused the accident, he saved me as well. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

She holds up her hand to forestall the logic she knows Mathur is going to use. “Dom knows these wipes can happen intermittently. He should have been more prepared than this.”

“But it wasn’t a normal wipe, Sai. This time he collapsed.”

She shakes her head impatiently. “I know. He strobed.”

“That’s not what I mean, Sai.”

She crosses her arms and leans back against the couch, fighting the fatigue that threatens to overwhelm her. “Then what?”

“His communication channels were open for too long and influenced by things and thoughts he was never designed to try and absorb or relay. It shut his channels down, played havoc with his nervous system. Imagine you have no shields, if you will. Dozens of others constantly in your mind and the only way to stop it is to lose everything you have grown to be. Until a memory, a person,
you
triggered its return.”

“Oh...” Sai doesn’t know what to say.

“You have legs, Sai. You are still here to do what you need to do if you still want to do it.” Mathur’s tone is gentle, conciliatory even. “In the end, you will find your abilities increased.”

“You say that like it makes everything better, like what happened was inconsequential because you’ve fixed the damage. I was tired. I shouldn’t have gone, but I did. And yet, it doesn’t take away what happened. I’m not a machine, and I’m not an experiment!” She can’t help the shouting, the immediate angry pit that forms in her stomach.

Mathur blanches. “I do not think you an experiment, Sai. I am trying to show you that it is not perhaps as bad as you think.”

“We have war approaching. I can barely walk for longer than ten minutes at a time, let alone phase. I’ll be useless—and taking over Trikel’s spot like this? It’s insulting.”

“You need to be encouraging the cells to merge with your healing abilities. Did Dom not show you that?”

Sai shrugs sullenly, all the anger dissipating and leaving frustration in its place. “Yeah...he did.” She buries her head in her hands. “This all feels so foreign, and my legs are so much heavier than they were. It’s hard to move myself. So much more difficult to trigger them.”

Mathur smiles kindly. “They will ease up as soon as everything clicks.”

“It takes forever for things to click. There’s so much I have to relearn, and we just don’t have time.”

“You have to make time, Sai. You will just have to make time.”

She mulls her thoughts over in her head and plucks out the one worrying her. “Something isn’t right, and I’m not sure what it is. We’ve overlooked something.”

“Premonition, child?” Mathur raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I just know that I wanted to understand what Dom is doing...because I’m worried, regardless of whether or not I can show him that right now. He’s not...” She thinks back to the touch of his cool skin against hers, the presence of his mind, and the other thing in the back coaxing her to look away. “He’s not himself.”

He watches her for a moment, head cocked slightly to the side. “He is Domino.”