Page 36 of Night in a Waste Land

She’d expected Lance to be scrubbing at his hair the way he did when he was frustrated, staring off into the middle distance, his jaw tight.

His jawwastight, but he was staring ather. Hands balled into fists at his sides, body tense all over, muscles pulling his jacket taut in the arms and chest.

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help but read his expression. She’d seen it directed at her before – though Beck had hidden it so much more cleverly, at least at first; when he’d let it bleed through, it had been tinged with a predatory, animal intensity. Lance’s hunger, by contrast, was edged with a sharp sadness, desperation evident in every tense line of his body, in the way his throat jumped as he swallowed.

Rose whipped back around, and kept walking, heart knocking wildly at her ribs.

~*~

Three junior Knights bearing guns, stun batons, and with Wraith Grenades dangling like clusters of grapes from their belts, stood behind Morgan, all stricken and nervous; Rose swore she could smell their fear sweat. It was ridiculous overkill, but on order of Captain Bedlam.“The first time a conduit gets invited to walk down these hallways, do you think I’m gonna let her have free reign?”she’d asked with a condescending snort. Morgan wore heavy, silver-and-lead cuffs, anklets, and even a torc. The chains clanked and slithered every time she moved, and the image she presented was absurd: the slight, unthreatening body of a teen girl swallowed up by all that metal, gun barrels pointed at her back.

Rose felt a hot spike of anger on her behalf, a surge of aggression that surprised her. Lance hadn’t beenwrongwhen he’d said she hated conduits.

But Morgan was different.

And as for Lance…well, she’d managed not to make eye contact with him today, so that was something. She didn’t count on the situation lasting, though.

They stood in the med bay, one curtained-off part of it, Gold Company, Captain Bedlam, Morgan, and her escort. Gallo was sitting upright on a bed, rotating his left arm, working the awkward, articulated fingers of his new prosthetic: a matte black carbon fiber creation, its waterproofed panels lifted to allow Dr. Hodgkin access to the wiring inside.

“Hi, Morgan,” Gallo called, waving with his flesh hand, offering a smile.

Morgan smiled back, that faint, mild curving of her lips that left no one in any doubt that there was no longer a human at the helm inside her body – but which was pleasant and reassuring all the same. “Hello.”

Dr. Hodgkin said, “Well, if we’re gonna do it, let’s do it.” An effective tension-cutter.

Rose had the keys for the cuffs, and she started unlocking them – all of them, even the torc.

“You’re takingallof it off?” one of the guards asked with alarm.

“The lead dampens her energy flow,” Rose said, her tone matter-of-fact. She’d already discussed this with Bedlam, and she wasn’t going to justify anything to a green kid with an itchy trigger finger. “She’s going to be touching a man’s nervous system: might as well make sure she’s firing on all cylinders.”

Lance made a noise, a little grunt of muted emotion. Rose darted a glance toward him, before she could catch herself, and his gaze slid away before it could lock with hers. His jaw looked carved from granite this morning.

The torc came unlatched, and Rose handed it to one of the guards, along with the rest of the chains and cuffs.

Morgan touched her throat, briefly, and flicked another small smile. “Thank you,” she said, softly, just for Rose. Then, head lifted to a proud angle, her movements slow and deliberate – no sudden moves for the scared kids behind her – she headed toward the bed, and Gallo, and the doctor – and Tris.

He stood on the far side of the bed, on Gallo’s good side, hand resting at the edge of the pillow, right by Gallo’s head. He watched Morgan approach with stern trepidation, and he gripped the pillow tighter, knuckles paling. Worried, protective, ready to intervene, if he thought he needed to.

Gallo looked only hopeful, though. “What do you think?” he asked, brandishing his prosthetic. “Kinda has aTerminatorvibe, don’t you think?”

“Pretty badass,” Rose agreed.

His smile slipped. “It’s slow, though. Dr. Hodgkin said it would get better, but…”

“You’ve only had it attached for a day,” the doctor said. To Morgan, he said, “We attached the nerve hookups last week, and it takes time for them all to heal and start working properly. This is really too soon to have the arm in place,” he said, with a disapproving glance toward Gallo, who only grinned up at him.

Morgan gestured to the arm. “May I?”

Gallo shifted it toward her readily. “Sure. That’s why we’re all here, right?”

Morgan didn’t answer. She took the opened, carbon fiber limb into her small, neat hands, and studied it a moment, rotating it by degrees. Then she stilled, fingertips pressed to the cool metal. Her eyes slipped closed. “The nerves are hooked up to electrodes: living, human flesh tied to machine.”

“The technology continues to advance,” Dr. Hodgkin said.

“It’s primitive,” Morgan said, tonelessly. “Crude.”

“Well,” Hodgkin started, affronted.

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