Page 93 of Elanie & the Empath
“It does not,” Mal replied.
“Good.” Pulling the wire free, Maximus stripped the protective coating off with his teeth, then twisted it together with another wire. “Did you know, Dr. Semson, that gen-1 bionics were the only generation designed specifically for the military? Many of them are still used in that capacity, although that is highly classified information.”
I watched in awe as the master mechanic’s hands flewnimbly over Mal’s circuits. “I thought gen-1s had mostly been decommissioned. Orrecommissioned, apparently.”
“Most were, this is true. But many gen-1s are collected, hoarded, hidden in the basements of the mega-rich, collecting dust in cargo holds of Imperion warships. There are rumors that an entire battalion of gen-1s was stolen by Kravaxian raiders during the Asteroid Belt Wars.” Maximus raised a cryptic brow. “Never to be seen again.”
“Why?” I asked while the nano-optic lights surrounding Mal’s spinal column blinked white, green, blue.
Maximus twisted another set of wires together, and the lights flared bright red.
“Ooh.” Mal shuddered. “That tickles.”
“Sorry.” Maximus patted Mal’s shoulder. “We’re almost done.”
“Done with what?” I asked, my annoyance blooming. I didn’t know how much time we had before Gol expected Mal back with the clean laundry, but I doubted it was enough for…whatever this was.
“Gol disabled most of Mal’s more unique functions years ago.” Maximus reached deep inside Mal’s body cavity, cursing as he searched around. “But he didn’t destroy them, the swell-headed, short-sighted fool.”
“What functions?” I turned back to the door, expecting Gol’s thundering footsteps at any moment, wondering how badly being squeezed to death by huge green arms would hurt.
“Ha ha!” Maximus’s cackle echoed off the washing machines. “There she is.” His wrist flicked and twisted, and a deep, humming buzz filled the room before falling away to rumble as a low, droning purr.
“Oh, my.” There was a digital tremble in Mal’s voice. “That feels very strange.”
Fed up, I grabbed Maximus’s shoulders and turned him toward me. “What is going on? What did you do to him?”
When Maximus opened his mouth, I thought maybe,maybehe’d finally fill me in. Then he sighed and said, “There are some truths we are not ready to accept.” He squeezed my shoulder. “This may be one of them.”
I threw my hands into the air. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
Maximus grunted, struggling to pick up Mal’s backplate. “Quit your insufferable whining and help me. This is a heavy bastard.”
Grabbing the plate, I held it in place while Maximus secured it, covering up Saints knew what he’d just activated inside the gen-1.
“Maximus, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“Stars,man! You’re as persistent as a ghostfly. Fine, fine.” He flung out his hand. “But help me up first.”
I took his hand and slid my other arm around his hunched back, feeling each one of his ribs under his shirt as I helped him to his feet. Then I watched for long, agonizing seconds while he carefully brushed off his pants, then stretched out his back with a lengthy, strained groan. When he was done, he stood in place, arms at his sides, silent. Until he blurted out, “What are you staring at?”
If not for my neck, my head would have popped clean off. “You have got to be kidding. I’m waiting for you to tell me?—”
“Oh, that’s right.” Tapping his temple, he admitted, “It’s not what it used to be up here.” He pulled out his worn, wooden stool and sat on it, his joints creaking and lungs rattling. “Brace yourself, Portisan. But Thura, despite Gol’s insistence, was actually my idea.”
“It was?” Mal asked, his yellow eyes expanding. “He did not tell me this.”
I only stood there, mouth hanging open.
Rolling his eyes at my shocked expression, Maximus said, “I met Ralph Golgunda four decades ago on the bigger planet of the Aquilines.”
“Ralph?” I asked, incredulous. “His name is Ralph?”
Maximus scoffed. “Your name is Sem. Do you really think Sem Semson is any better than Ralph?”
I closed my eyes and ground out, “My name isn’t… Sem is a nickname. My first name is?—”
“Don’t care,” Maximus cut in. “Gol was my second-in-command during my tenure maintaining House Lysero’s Royal fleet, with the help of several hundred other bionics on our crew. We all worked together for years, sunup to sundown. We grew close, like family. Until one of our own was accused of sabotaging the queen’s personal aircraft. Of course, it wasn’t sabotage. It was only fatigue. A simple mistake. Not surprising with the hours the bionics on my crew were forced to put in. Regardless, and without anything resembling an investigation, let alone a trial, the Royal Aquilinian Guard fed her into an incinerator.”
