I checked the external view, and found that most of the enemy drones had been wiped out. We had more than a hundred drones of our own flying in a defensive formation around the Square Deal, and the enemy ship was leaking air and reaction mass.
What caught me by surprise was the presence of a third ship. It was six hundred meters long, with the armored flanks and top and bottom turrets of a light warship. Its mass drivers were pounding away at the enemy in coordinated salvoes with our own fire, and there were hundreds of drones just starting an attack run on the enemy ship.
Well, so much for them.
“Do you know who the other ship is?” I asked Lina.
She smiled. “Yeah, that’s the Scarlet Fury, one of Hidden Dragon’s ships. The captain must have asked them to follow us out of port, just in case somebody tried something.”
“Oh. Then this isn’t just pirates?”
“Pirates don’t mess with the Square Deal, ma’am. We’ve got way more firepower than their usual prey, and the captain has a lot of connections.”
That made sense. So this was probably the yakuza again? They were being kind of reckless if they wanted to get Naoko back alive, but maybe they’d decided to just silence her instead.
Wait a minute.
“Lina, why are you suddenly calling me ‘ma’am’? I’m just Alice.”
“Because we’re still in a combat situation, and I finally figured out what a badass you are. If anything goes wrong I’ve got your back, but you’re in charge unless Thomas says different.”
I flushed. “Oh. Um, thanks.”
The acknowledgement felt a lot better than I expected. Like scratching an itch that had been bothering me for so long I’d gotten used to it. Maybe I was supposed to have someone to lead?
Yeah, that felt right. Someone to lead, and protect. Just thinking about it warmed my heart. Was that why I’d let Emla imprint on me?
I hadn’t protected her very well, had I? I’d have to do better than that, from now on.
There was a whole squad of warbots guarding the armored hatch that led into medical. Lina’s escorts peeled off to join the guard force as we passed through the hatch, and the heavy mass of armor slid shut behind us with a muffled thunk. It was a good twenty cems thick, and so was the bulkhead around it. No stray bots were going to get past that.
Dr. Misra was on us before we’d gone three steps. He led Lina to a treatment room, and had her lay me down on the padded exam table while he fussed over me.
“What were you thinking, fighting all those bots by yourself?” He said. “You’re lucky to be alive. I hope you’ve managed to tame your immune system.”
“Mostly. Um, I’m regenerating, but my damage control wants a power feed and about ten liters of medical feedstock.”
I let the medbay computer connect to my medical interface, and he pulled up a holographic display of my status. Wow, his screen looked a lot worse than the virtual display I was looking at. It showed my failed kidneys, half-cooked liver, scorched lungs and unsteady heartbeat in the red of critical injuries instead of the amber of minor impairments. No wonder he looked so worried.
He studied the display for a moment, and shook his head.
“In the future I suggest you leave the heroics to our security team, Miss Long. This is going to take hours to repair. You do realize the weapon that struck your shoulder would have easily penetrated your skull?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I didn’t let it hit me there, sir.”
He threw his hands up. “Combat morphs! Idiots, the lot of you. Very well, let’s get you put back together before you find another excuse to get shot at. According to this your system will accept fabricated cells now, so at least I can do something for you. Please set your implants to prep for immediate surgery, Miss Long.”
“What are you going to do, sir?”
“I’ll need to remove all this destroyed tissue, and provide healthy replacement cells for your repair system to integrate. At least the holes in your subdermal armor will make the surgery easier.”
The idea of being cut open made me a little queasy, even if it would help me heal faster. But the virtual display in the back of my head was saying I’d need a week to heal on my own, and that would be worse. I’d just have to tough it out.
“Yes, sir.” I sighed, and reached for my spacesuit’s seal.
“No, no, let the bots do that,” he objected. “No need to embarrass yourself. Just relax, girl. When you wake up you’ll feel much better.”
Oh, right. Normal people get to sleep through surgery, don’t they?
Apparently Mom was too paranoid to let my medical suite actually knock me out when it went into surgery prep. Instead my muscles relaxed and my brain went to sleep, but the rest of me was still online. Was I supposed to be watching the doctor, to make sure he didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to? I could see decently well even with my eyes closed, but that didn’t mean I wanted to watch the surgery bots cut me open.
Ugh. Creepy.
They peeled what was left of my suit off first, of course. Then some of the robot arms cleaned me, while others plugged me in. A tube down my throat gave me a steady flow of feedstock to fuel my repairs, and… hey! What were they doing down there? Ow!
Oh, right. Waste removal. How embarrassing. I really, really didn’t want to be watching this.
Then the laser scalpels went to work, deftly cutting little holes here and there so the manipulator limbs could get at the damaged tissue underneath. Every time they reached inside me I had to hold back a horde of attack nanites that wanted to descend on the intruders and devour them. My new field emitters itched to rip the surgery bay apart, and the part of my mind that had carried me through the fight was now busy plotting ways to escape.
Was this why I had to be awake? If I actually got knocked out somehow, was my body going to go into some wild fight-or-flight frenzy? It sure felt like it.
I reminded myself that this was for my own good, and suppressed the urges. I needed to distract myself somehow, but the milliseconds ticked by so slowly.
Eventually the surgical arms finished extracting the ruined remains of my left kidney, and started to slip a replacement into place. That made me wonder where it had come from. It takes a few days to fabricate replacement organs, doesn’t it? Was this some kind of generic thing?
I tasted it carefully as a horde of little tools and microbots connected it to my blood vessels. No, it was made of real cells, and they had my genes. If I focused I could feel my immune system carefully inspecting every cell looking for hidden dangers, but everything was exactly right. It was just like the kidney it had replaced, at least at the organic level.
Dr. Misra must have grown a set of spare organs for me after my first exam, just in case. Should I feel happy that he was prepared to take good care of me? Or nervous, that he thought serious injuries were likely enough to make that worth the bother?