Under the Knife

Sebastian’s instincts had told him that jumping on his back was the thing to do: to buy time for him to recover his senses so that he could assess the situation, to temporarily throw Cameron off his game, maybe get him in some kind of choke hold.

He could have tried the conduction gun, which was tucked into its holster over the small of his back. But his instincts reminded him that he had just gotten his ass handed to him and that he could barely see straight, let alone aim and get off a clean shot.

With a surprised grunt, Cameron staggered backward, with Sebastian riding him piggyback, away from Wu and the auto-surgeon. Riding Cameron like a bull at a rodeo, the professional part of Sebastian’s brain wondered why the hell Cameron hadn’t beaten him to death when he’d had the chance. He should have. Because Sebastian had survived shit far worse than this, and he wasn’t planning on giving Cameron any more chances at gaining the upper hand.

Christ, he was strong! Cameron jerked Sebastian this way and that until his teeth chattered. Holding on to him much longer would be impossible. A choke hold was out of the question.

But then Sebastian’s instincts spoke to him again.

Clinging to Cameron with his left hand, Sebastian reached up with his right and clawed at Cameron’s head behind both ears.

There.

Behind the right one.

As he’d suspected.

Then Cameron threw him off, and Sebastian landed hard on the ground several feet away.





SPENCER


Furious, Spencer spun toward the dark-haired man and approached him, trying to ignore the pain in his right knee, which had gotten worse. Much worse. Maybe something he’d done while tackling the two men.

Spencer stopped and frowned. The dark-haired guy was clutching a small circular object in his right hand. As Spencer watched, he threw it down and ground it into the floor with the heel of his boot.

“Wireless connection reestablished. Operative systems online,” the robot said.

What?

Spencer whipped around. The red light on the robot’s central cylinder, which had been flashing red a moment ago, was now green.

Spencer’s hand flew to his right ear.

The EEG patch was gone.

His hand came away bloody. The dark haired guy had ripped it off his skin while riding his back. He was so jacked up, he hadn’t noticed.

“Resuming laparoscopic appendectomy protocol.”

Two beeps sounded, and gears whirred ominously from within the arm holding the scalpel to Rita’s abdomen.

The scalpel resting on her skin.

No!

Spencer launched himself toward the fail-safe, but his injured knee (damn, but it was really starting to hurt) slowed him down, and the button seemed so far …





RITA


What the hell is going on?

Rita had heard Delores shut down and felt a surge of elation. Then she’d listened, confused, as Finney and Sebastian conferred, had felt Sebastian examine her body (so meticulous and practiced, like a doctor) and remove the EEG patch Spencer had given her from behind her ear (what has that got to do with anything?).

She’d listened as Delores had started back up, and then, mercifully, shut back down. Then she’d heard grunts and scuffling.

She perceived the metal of Delores’s blade, pressed up against her abdomen, in alternating tactile waves timed with her breathing: sharp, but without enough pressure to break the skin, as the ventilator forced her abdomen up into it, dull as her lungs pushed her abdomen back down.

Sharp. Dull. Sharp. Dull.

“Resuming laparoscopic appendectomy protocol,” Delores said.

Oh God.

It was crueler that she should anticipate deliverance, only to have it stripped away. Maybe that’s what Finney had intended all along.

Two beeps, and gears whirred from within the arm holding the scalpel to Rita’s abdomen.

It’s happening Oh God it’s really happening I’m getting operated on DELORES IS OPERATING ON ME …

The scalpel bore down and slid across her abdomen, and her skin began to part in its wake, like fiery red lips opening.

Finney had been right.

She wanted to scream.

But she couldn’t.





SPENCER


… and then Spencer slammed the red button on the side of the robot with the heel of his palm.

“Emergency stop initiated. Systems shutting down.”

With a gratifying mechanical hiss, the scalpel retracted away from Rita’s belly, leaving only a small, superficial incision above her navel, from which streamed a slim rivulet of blood.

Relieved, Spencer glanced at the sandy-haired guy, prone and still, lying in the same spot on which he’d dropped, his chest falling and rising slowly. Meanwhile, the dark-haired guy, his face a bloodied mess, was watching him from the floor on the other side of the dimly lit room.

Something about this guy made him nervous.

Without taking his eyes off the dark-haired guy, he reached back and grabbed the Swiss Army with the scalpel: wrapped his enormous catcher’s mitt hands around the slender robot arm and yanked as hard as he could.

Dolores protested with a shriek of tearing metal. The arm broke off at its thinnest part.

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