Chapter 15
Wyl
Shit, shit, shit! I didn’t even think about Aura’s nanite supply tanking due to the transfusion she gave me.
My hands tremble as I draw up injectable medicine for organics—I’m putting that straight into what passes for her bloodstream—and I race to the supply locker for something to clean off her synthetic components.
I need to kill as much of the bacteria as possible before even starting on the actual repairs.
From what I studied in Aura’s manual, I’ll have to cut through some organic tissue in places to fix the synthetic damage. Definitely can’t do that as she is right now; the infection will only spread more.
I also can’t wait for the antibiotics to take effect. This will be a difficult enough undertaking as it is, but now that I’ve seen Aura’s open wound, I know I can’t delay any longer.
She should have done the repairs herself, not let this go and continue walking on it. Now the tissues and mechanics are even more damaged by misuse, complicating things. I still think I can fix it and prevent permanent injury, but I wonder why she didn’t do something sooner.
Then something she said before I started the procedure clicks in my mind:
“There are no manuals remaining for my model.”
She’s mentioned before that some of her personal files are incomplete. No access to things like her engineer’s complete biography, the ship’s full log, et cetera.
Aura didn’t repair herself because she doesn’t have a manual for her own systems. She knows enough about herself to know basic things, but when it comes to more advanced details, she’s clueless. It’s sobering to think about … and a little bit sad.
I think I know how she must feel. Raised by generic humanoid nannybots in an orphanage outside of my species’ home star system, I had to wait until I was old enough to scour the home’s database on my own for information on humans.
I grew up with Nomyni children, Ssylin hatchlings, and Jiinite larvae; often I considered myself fortunate that the nannybots, which were programmed by Nomyni engineers, had enough knowledge of human children to keep me alive.
Aura hasn’t had anyone to teach her about herself. Hell, she was inactive for over a decade—not even anyone around to flip a switch and turn her on! Was she conscious during that time, aware that she was totally alone?
Maybe I don’t know how she feels after all. Sure, I didn’t have my own species to teach me or play with me, but I had friends. They may have looked vastly different from me, but we kept each other company until we all gradually hit the age of maturity for our respective species and moved on.
For her? There was no one.
I shake my head to clear it as I grab what I need from the supply locker. No time to waste on comparing past histories; I’ve gotta fix Aura’s leg before the combination of the physical damage and the raging infection permanently handicaps her.
When I get back to her, I find her trembling from head to toe. What happened?
“Aura?”
She turns her head towards me, tears streaming down her face. “Wyl, am I going to deactivate?”
“No, doll. I’ve got you, okay? Just let me wash my hands and put some gloves on, and I’ll get you all fixed up.
” Setting my new supplies next to the rest of the tools, I jog to the sink in the corner and quickly wash as thoroughly as possible, all the way to my elbows.
Regret weighs heavily on my mind at the realization that Aura has enough organic components that I should’ve kept the gurney in the med bay and brought whatever mechanical tools I needed there.
Hindsight’s a bitch, though; I have to make do.
As soon as I’m gloved up, I inject the antibiotic directly into the biggest circulatory tube leading to the wound.
Her artificial vessels glow faintly as the foreign substance is introduced, making me worry that the remaining nanites would attack the antibiotic and destroy it, but thankfully her circulatory fluid calms down and settles.
Next up: cleaning the wound.
The bacteria in her leg have … thrived. Thick, greenish pus clings to nearly every surface inside the deep, jagged cut.
I irrigate the majority of it with sterile saline, flushing the gunk out to reveal the tissues and components beneath.
A few clumps linger, so I have to scrub those with special tools designed for both organic and synthetic tissues.
Thankfully, most of the remaining tissue is salvageable, though I’ll have to cut off some edges to clean them up and make reconnecting the interior and closing the opening easier.
Aura’s manual is surprisingly thorough. Her engineer, Pacu, included several subsections about emergency repairs, for which I’m extremely grateful. Thanks to that, I already have
different sizes and lengths of synthesized skin prepped to patch the exterior once I’m done.
Even though she shouldn’t be feeling any pain, Aura’s body still shakes as I work, making some of the finer details difficult to see and treat. Pacu’s diagrams and instructions don’t take a moving Aura into account.
“Aura? Is everything okay? You’re not feeling any pain, are you?”
“N-no. It does not hurt.” Her voice wavers, trembling just as much as the rest of her.
“Then what’s wrong? You’re shaking all over. If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, let me know. I don’t want you to think you have to suffer in silence.”
She takes a shuddering breath. “It is not discomfort. I am … frightened.”
Understandable. This probably isn’t something she ever expected to go through.
“Well, try to hold still. You’re not going to die, but if you keep moving, I’ll have trouble closing this up neatly.
There might be a scar, or a lingering impairment.
More limping, even after it’s healed.” I do my best to maintain a smooth, even tone to my voice, something calming despite the grim words.
“But hey, I’ve got it all cleaned now, so we’re in the home stretch.
I just need to rewire the remaining neural connections temporarily, reconnect the tissues, and patch the skin to get you through till we get to the outpost in the Klymani system. ”
“It might scar?” she asks. Her tremors have stilled, but her voice remains shaky. “I have made myself unattractive, then?”
“Huh?” Her line of questioning stops me in my tracks for a moment. Why would she care if she scars? “I only said your leg might scar; we won’t know if it does until it finishes healing. Besides, scars aren’t necessarily ugly. I have scars, too, and you’ve never complained about those.”
There’s a pause as Aura seems to consider my words. “Your scars give you character. Scans indicate the majority are from physical conflicts that you survived. This suggests strength and courage. Mine will be self-imposed. Cowardly.”
“Self-sacrifice is never cowardly,” I say quietly as I connect the neural pathways. “You hurt yourself to save me. In my humble opinion, that’s the bravest thing anyone could do.”
Again, Aura goes silent, long enough this time that I start to get worried.
I’m not working anywhere near any parts that could affect her speech or cognition, nothing that could stop her from responding—mechanically, electronically, or otherwise.
Since I know it can’t be anything I did while repairing her leg, it’s gotta be something I said.
I thought that calling her brave would help her feel better—Did I fuck up?
The eerie quiet in the maintenance bay unnerves me. I’d almost prefer the angry silent treatment over this mute terror.
“Hey, Aura … Why don’t you talk to me while I work on this? Tell me what you remember about your first activation. You know, things like … details about your former crew, things you remember about your engineer, your first impression of life. That kind of stuff.”
“Why? What is the purpose of this?
Sure, of course she’d want a reason. I try not to roll my eyes as I scramble to think up something. “Uh, it’ll help me focus.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aura frown. “Would that not distract you more?”
My goal is to distract her, but … “Just trust me on this.”
She sighs. “All right.”
For the next two solar hours, Aura regales me with stories of her brief life before we met. If she pauses, I ask a few follow-up questions, hoping to further keep her mind off of the procedure.
Not that I can tell if I’m going to have any success there. For all I know, androids can recite their history while simultaneously drowning in sorrow, regret, and self-loathing.
It’s not until I graft the last piece of fresh skin over her incision that I allow her to stop.
“Okay, Aura. I’m done. Thank you,” I say as I apply a sterile dressing to her thigh and ensure that the edges are nicely sealed.
Her monologue stops midsentence. “Should I sit up, or is there more to do?”
“That’s it. All I have left is to reinsert the digital anesthetic probe and turn your pain receptors back on. Unfortunately, there isn’t a way to leave it off in only that spot for an extended period, so if you want me to wait, I will.”
Aura shakes her head as she sits upright. “I will be fine with the receptors active.” Lifting her hair off the back of her neck, she offers a shy smile. “You may proceed.”
Reactivating her pain seems wrong, somehow.
I know there’s an evolutionary reason for organic beings to feel pain: We need to know where the damage is, how bad, and so on.
Aura could easily just run a system check if she wants to know the status of her wound, though, so why does she need to feel any pain?
I brush a stray lock of hair gently away from the port. This is almost harder for me than performing surgery on her. “Here goes …”
She inhales sharply as the probe does its thing, and I find myself wincing along with her.
“Sorry! Are you okay?”
“It is all right. My sensor logs have caught up, though it was all at once. Startling, but not intolerable.” Aura reaches for her clothes, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her.
“Wait! Your logs ‘caught up’? Does that mean you just felt everything I did?”
A flash of confusion crosses her face. “Of course. Did the manual not state that this would happen?”
“No!”
My stomach churns at the thought of living through that whole surgery all at once. Is that any better than experiencing it in real time? Try as I might, I can’t work out which I’d rather do if I were in Aura’s position.
She still seems perplexed. “What do humans experience when their anesthetic is turned off?”
“If it works right? Nothing! Our brains don’t register the pain for the time that we’re anesthetized, or at least if they do, we don’t remember it—and we certainly don’t remember it all in one huge surge of pain!
” I rake my hands through my hair and swallow back the bitter bile that’s rising in my throat.
“God, I can’t believe I did that to you. Why didn’t you say this would happen?”
“I assumed that you knew. It is standard procedure for digital anesthetic.” Aura frowns. “What did you think it would do to me?”
“Stop the pain. Prevent you from feeling it at all. Not … this!”
What Aura does next throws me for a loop.
Gently cupping my cheeks, she tilts my head towards her and delivers the softest, sweetest, and sexiest kiss of my life.