Chapter 14
Aura
“Aura, please report to the maintenance bay at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”
Though I have no physical need to breathe, I heave a sigh at the sound of Wyl’s voice on the ship’s intercom.
I have been avoiding any unnecessary contact since he regained consciousness, but if he is in the maintenance bay, he likely requires my help.
Wyl, though intelligent, does not have a sufficient understanding of how to conduct basic mechanical repairs.
The object he is trying to fix will surely incur more damage if I do not intervene.
Earth humans have a word for how I felt at Wyl’s complete lack of empathy for my emotional state: humiliation. I allowed myself to be emotionally vulnerable in front of him, and he failed to appreciate or even acknowledge those emotions.
At least when I am around him I can turn off my auditory processors. His empty apologies are easier to tolerate when I do not have to hear them.
Getting to the maintenance bay takes some time, but since Wyl stated to come at my earliest convenience, I assume the problem is not urgent.
My leg is not self-repairing at an adequate rate.
It might have if I had not given so much circulatory fluid to Wyl, but that could not be avoided.
Unfortunately, android systems do not regenerate in the same manner as organic lifeforms. Wyl, for instance, has not required additional transfusions because his body regenerates its own blood; my circulatory fluid must be manually refilled.
Since my levels are not currently sufficient for nanite repair, I have shut down circulatory flow to the damaged part of my leg.
This makes walking more difficult, and my sensory input from that region is unpleasant.
I believe the humans call it “pain.”
When I arrive at the maintenance bay, I am shocked to see Wyl standing next to … a gurney from the med bay.
Concern for Wyl’s health immediately rises to the surface, superseding any anger I might feel. His injury must be serious to require a gurney, though I cannot comprehend why he would waste time bringing the gurney to the maintenance bay, of all places, if he needs medical assistance.
All pretense of refusing to speak vanishes as dread sinks in.
“What happened? Where are you hurt? Get on the gurney, so I can assess you.”
He has the audacity to smile—smile!—as he pats the surface of the gurney. “It’s not for me; it’s for you.” Wyl gestures at my leg. “You need medical care, too, in case you haven’t noticed.”
My anger resurfaces at the realization that he tricked me into coming here and speaking to him.
I scoff and cross my arms over my chest. “Who is going to repair me? My model has been banned since before your birth, and you do not have any biomechanical robotics training that I am aware of. You will likely do more damage.”
“I may not be trained in XR-17 repairs, but I can read a manual just as well as the next guy.” He picks up a standard-issue repair kit and sets it on a table next to the gurney, where a few specialized tools also wait.
Some of the items I recognize as tools specific to android repair, and I marvel that a man who barely a week ago could not differentiate an R-hook from a J-hook somehow managed to select the proper tools on his own.
I take a few hesitant steps towards the gurney. “There are no manuals remaining for my model.”
“That’s not true.” Producing an older data unit from his pocket, Wyl again motions for me to get on the gurney.
“There’s at least one copy left, apparently.
I found it in my new quarters. Everything anyone could ever want or need to know about you is on this unit, from inception to creation to moments before your engineer left Jupiter’s Joy with the rest of the crew. ”
Closing the gap between us in a rush, I reach for the data unit, but Wyl holds it out of my reach. “Uh-uh. Repairs first; then you can look at the files.”
Suddenly, I no longer find his height attractive. “That is not fair.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the deal I’m offering. If you want to know more about yourself—from your creator’s own mouth—then you’ll let me fix your leg.”
“That is cruel and manipulative.”
“No more than your silent treatment.” His expression softens, and the irritating mockery leaves his voice.
“Aura, you’ve forced me to watch you limp around in obvious pain for days, and you wouldn’t even give me a chance to apologize for being an ass.
You haven’t left me many options for reconciliation, so when I found this data unit, I had to improvise. ”
I hesitate to reply. Does Wyl truly wish for reconciliation?
“Just give me this chance. Let me fix your leg. I won’t be able to replenish your synthetic blood until we get to Klymani Prime, but I can at least get started on rerouting the wires you cut out to stitch me up. Won’t fix everything, but it should restore functionality and decrease the pain.”
So, he noticed. I had hoped I hid the limp well enough to be subtle.
After undressing and setting my uniform on a counter nearby, I climb wordlessly onto the gurney with Wyl’s assistance. I close my eyes, lie back, and wait.
“Aura?”
“Yes?”
Wyl clears his throat. “I need you to sit up. It’s a digital anesthetic, so I have to insert a probe into a port on the back of your neck.”
I frown as I follow his instructions, lifting my hair to allow him proper access. “Why are you using an anesthetic? I tolerated the removal of my wiring and fluids well enough, and I have tolerated the injury thus far. I do not require it.”
“I don’t want you to hurt any more than you already are.”
His fingertips brush the back of my neck as he inserts the probe, and my body reacts to his touch as though I am not still irritated at his previous actions.
My circulatory device pumps faster, and my pleasure sensors activate again.
I shudder in spite of my attempts at self-control.
I should not enjoy this. Not when I am angry at him.
To Wyl’s credit, he does not touch me unnecessarily. Once the probe has delivered the code to temporarily shut off my pain receptors, he removes it and steps back, giving me room. “Okay. You can lie back down. There shouldn’t be any pain while I work on your leg.”
Nodding my understanding, I once again recline and close my eyes.
As Wyl removes my bandages, I feel only slight tugging where the material has adhered to my wound—no pain or discomfort.
Though I have changed Wyl’s wound dressings on a strict schedule, I have not been as diligent in my own wound care.
A foul odor permeates the maintenance bay when the dressing comes off, indicative of a strong bacterial presence.
With my circulatory fluids diminished, there are likely not enough nanites present to fight off any foreign germs that might have infiltrated the wound prior to bandaging it.
Even with current filtration systems, bacteria are often still present on space-faring ships, and Jupiter’s Joy’s systems are more than a decade old.
Since I am composed of a combination of organic and synthetic materials, there is plenty of sustenance for bacterial growth.
“Whoa!” Wyl audibly gags as his sense of smell catches up to my olfactory sensors’ moments later. “Aura, shouldn’t your nanites take care of this infection? You told me they had antibacterial properties or something.”
“They do, in great enough numbers.”
I wait for a response. Several seconds pass before he speaks again.
“I’m sorry, Aura. I truly am. Had I even thought for an instant that you’d be hurt by my stupid pride, I would’ve told you about me getting shot as soon as it happened.
” His voice sounds thick, strained, like he is struggling with some strong emotion.
“Hold still. I’m gonna get some antibiotics from the med bay.
Maybe grab some antibacterial cleaning products as well from the supply locker.
I suspect you’ll need both to clear this up. ”
His footsteps recede, and I lie there on the gurney, suddenly concerned for my recovery.
Perhaps Wyl is not the only one whose pride was self-damaging.