Middletons prejudice spi.., p.25
Middleton's Prejudice (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 5), page 25
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but at least with you I know where I stand: you want a new ship, and it sounds like I might be in a position to get you one—once we know more about these Prichtac ships, that is.”
Her eyes lit up at the mention of a Prichtac ship, just as he had expected they would. “The Prichtac didn’t say you could give them away,” she said after a moment’s consideration, “plus it’s not like they’ll be hospitable for humans—these things live in sulfuric acid, after all.”
“It can’t be any worse than your last ride,” Middleton said pointedly, causing her to chew on her lip thoughtfully for several seconds.
“You’d really give me one of their ships?” she asked.
“I said I would,” Middleton shrugged, “and I do my best to keep my word. Besides, even with our particular issues, you’re still one of the few people I can trust—at least enough to know which way you’re going to go if things get tough.”
“You calling me a cut-and-runner?” she asked, her eyes flaring.
“I’m calling you a smart woman,” he countered, “who knows how to take care of herself and also knows a good deal when she sees it. You’re an asset, and a valuable one at that. I’d be a fool not to do my best to keep you in the fold for as long as possible.”
Her expression changed minutely, and then she reached over for his collar and dragged their bodies together before giving him what was probably the most fiercely intense kiss he could remember receiving. He returned the gesture with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and when they broke apart she fixed him with a smoldering gaze and said, “Flattery will get you nowhere…”
She leaned back and, with a quick series of moves so smooth he barely caught them all, undid the various clasps on her flight suit. A quick shrug of her shoulders revealed her naked, muscular body—a body which bore even more scars than Middleton’s. She lunged forward and kissed him again, and this time the exchange escalated until they were gasping for breath in each other’s arms in the co-pilot’s seat with their clothing strewn about the cockpit. It was the first purely physical sexual encounter he’d ever had, and if he was being honest it was more exhilarating than he had expected.
Thankfully, the autopilot managed to get them back to the Prejudice without anyone aboard the ship becoming any wiser.
At least…not yet.
Chapter XIX: The Healing Process
Fei Long awoke to dark silence. It took a second for him to register the sound of his own heartbeat, and when he did he knew that he was not experiencing any kind of hallucination. But that realization was little comfort as he slowly sat up on the hard surface on which he’d slept and seemingly felt the darkness all around him.
“You are…different. Not of the Dark, but not of the Light…” he heard an unfamiliar man’s voice say. “Who are you?”
That question seemed somehow familiar to him, as did the tone of the speaker as he asked it. But Fei Long shook his head as he felt another headache coming on, “I am Fei Long.”
“No,” the voice said sternly, “that is just an empty name. Who are you?”
“I…” he began as another headache took root in his skull. It was as though the pending agony waited at the edge of his consciousness, stalking him just beyond the range of his perception. But he would not cower in the presence of that strangely familiar presence, so he stiffened his spine and said, “I am Fei Long.”
“If you have truly forgotten who you are,” the faceless voice said contemplatively, “then you may yet survive. It would not be the first time such has occurred, but it is a rarity…how very interesting.”
“What is happening to me?” Fei Long asked. “Why am I—“ he cut short when another violent headache stabbed behind his eyes, robbing him of each of his senses in the blink of an eye.
“You wish to remember,” the voice somehow cut through the din of his overwhelmed senses, “that is good, because it is in your memories where you will find the answers you seek. But to remember the answers and to become what you will be, you must open your eyes to the truth…and Fei Long must die.”
Another wave of pounding, stabbing agony filled his senses as images flooded his mind. They were disjointed and incomplete, often blurring together with each other until they formed an incomprehensible sequence of colors and patterns. Those patterns began to divide themselves, like a pile of snakes writhing hypnotically, and soon every geometric line was straightened until they were arrayed longitudinally before him. It was as though he could see them from multiple angles at the same time, and for a brief moment he saw Zhongda’s face emerge from the blur of color and noise surrounding the briefly clear lines.
Like a mirror shattering against a mountain, the crashing echo of those lines bursting into an uncountable number of jagged pieces snapped him from the strange, dreamlike mind fog. His first realization was that he was not in an unlit room as he looked up at a ceiling-mounted light fixture which was quite clearly on.
He blinked in confusion as he felt his headache was no longer present. “What…” he began, trailing off when he saw a Prichtac standing…or ‘resting’ a few feet from him. “Where am I?” he asked the serene-looking creature.
A pseudopod extended from the creature’s body, and it held an identical translator rod to the one held by the representative—which, Fei Long supposed, this Prichtac may well have been the very same one. “You were restless,” the female voice came from the translating device. “We were concerned for your harmony, so We awakened you.”
“I…appreciate that,” he said hesitantly. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“Approximately three of your days,” the Prichtac replied. “Your biorhythms have been extremely unstable; your vital functions would have ceased seventeen times without Our ongoing assistance.”
Fei Long’s jaw fell open, “You mean…I would have died seventeen times without your help?”
“Correct,” the Prichtac said serenely. “When one of Our members’ physiological functions become as unstable as yours have been, We conduct a communion so that the member’s experiences can be disseminated among the Host. We then recycle the member’s organic materials and produce a replacement member so that the Host may remain whole. We are most grateful for your returning of Our lost member to the Host. We also understand that your species places significantly higher value on the prolongation of individual members’ vital functions, even when doing so is deemed inefficient by the community. We have therefore dedicated this member to overseeing your tissue regeneration, which is nearing completion of the present stage of the process.”
“Really?” he asked in surprise. “But I thought you said I almost died seventeen times…how can I be that unstable and also be nearly healed?”
“Your tissues are comparatively rudimentary at the cellular level, but the interconnectivity between what you call ‘organs’ is significantly more complex than any physiological structures of Ours,” the Prichtac explained. “In order to facilitate a total regeneration of your damaged tissues, We have performed significant repairs to what you call ‘neural tissues,’ or your ‘brain’ organ.”
“What?!” he asked in alarm, very much concerned to hear that the Prichtac had been messing directly with his brain. He had known that was precisely what he had wanted them to do, but the reality of it was significantly more disturbing than he had expected it would be.
“There is no cause for concern,” the Prichtac said calmly. “We have not removed or replaced any of the individual cells present within your central nervous system; We have only worked against local inflammation and other destructive processes, thereby halting the previously ongoing degradation which is primarily affecting your limbic system. However, there are foreign tissues present which We are unable to remove or modify. These tissues are the primary causative factor in your neural degeneration and, while We have done what We can to stabilize your biorhythms, We cannot do more without first acquiring what you call ‘consent’.”
“Foreign tissues?” he asked warily. “What kind of foreign tissues?”
A holographic image suddenly sprang into being between Fei Long and the Prichtac, and it showed a photo-realistic representation of his body—emaciated and frail as it presently was. The outer layers of tissue melted away until only the nervous system remained, with its thousands upon thousands of individual nerves glimmering with a faint yellow light.
“This is your nervous system, comprised only of native tissues,” the Prichtac explained, and as she spoke another set of dark, red tendrils seemed to stretch out from just below his brainstem and move their way throughout his body. “And this is the foreign tissue,” she continued, and Fei Long could only watch with horror as the ‘foreign tissue’ seemed to have completely overlain every major tract of his nervous system.
The hologram magnified several times in rapid succession, until a single nerve cluster was visible at the base of his skull. The foreign tissue was wrapped around the regular nerves, looking to Fei Long like nothing so much as a predatory serpent coiled around his…well, around him.
“The foreign tissue is familiar to Us—” the Prichtac began, prompting Fei Long to snap his head around in surprise.
“It is?” he blurted. “What is it—where does it come from?!”
“We must apologize,” the Prichtac said regretfully, “but We are not permitted to divulge that information at this time.” Clearly sensing his disappointment, the slug-like creature continued, “However, We can confirm that the neuronal damage has been contained. This foreign tissue will no longer cause neuronal decay or annihilate your limbic system as it has done since its introduction.”
“Why aren’t you permitted to divulge that information?” Fei Long asked in frustration. “My life is at stake—worse, my mind is at stake. Who would prevent you from telling me about what is killing me?”
“Again, We must apologize,” the Prichtac said, its skin shimmering to a deep, blotchy blue color which represented regret. “We are not permitted to divulge that information at this time.”
Fei Long drew several deep breaths while he collected his thoughts. “So…this tissue is damaging my limbic system. That means it is affecting my memories, yes?”
“That is correct,” the Prichtac replied, its skin resuming its regular, translucent yellow. “There has been significant damage to this portion of your brain, as well as to peripheral systems,” she explained as the intertwined nerve cells were replaced on the holographic display by what could only be his brain. The various areas lit up with the colors of the rainbow, and the colorful patterns morphed and shifted in apparent real time as the Prichtac gestured to several areas which had gone completely black, “These portions of your brain have been irrevocably damaged. There is no possibility of retrieving the information contained within, or dependent upon, these cellular clusters,” the Prichtac said with what sounded like genuine regret. “However, with your consent we are willing to undertake the process of replacing these damaged clusters with new cells.”
“If you are suggesting that I allow you to put even more foreign tissue into my brain,” he said hesitantly, “then I have to respectfully decline such a…generous offer.”
“There is no need for trepidation; that is not what We are suggesting,” the Prichtac assured him. “We are suggesting the cultivation of your native genetic material in order to produce new replacement cells which will be identical to those which were destroyed by this autoimmune process. We have also taken a full neural map of your brain organ during your prolonged unconsciousness. As a result, We can precisely replicate the original structures if that is what you wish. Or We can simply remove the ablated tissues and replace them with fresh neurons which you may imprint with new experiential information according to your peculiar neurological processes.”
“Autoimmune?” Fei Long repeated, latching onto what seemed like the operative point of the Prichtac’s report. “You mean that my own body is destroying itself?”
“Correct. The foreign tissue has been previously observed to cause this response, which in all recorded cases results in the permanent cessation of organized neural activity within the afflicted member’s nervous system,” the Prichtac explained unflinchingly.
“So…I am going to die from this,” Fei Long said with finality.
“This is incorrect,” the Prichtac said calmly. “With the consistent application of Our regenerative process, your neurological processes will continue at their present capacity for as long as adjacent tissue structures upon which your ‘brain’ organ depend remain viable.”
That was nothing short of a relief for the young man to hear. “How often will I need this…process to be performed?”
“We will perform this process for you once during each of your days,” the Prichtac explained. “An interval of three days between regenerations will ensure that permanently damaging degradation resumes, while the probability of permanent damage is thirty two percent if the interval is two days between regenerations.”
He nodded as he wrapped his mind around the idea of requiring consistent ministrations from the alien creature. He was far from disgusted by the proposition of frequent interactions with it—in fact, he was excited and curious about the possibility—but the concept of essentially living on life support was one which he had never previously faced.
Then he remembered something else the Prichtac had said. “This…destructive process is ongoing, right?”
“Correct,” the Prichtac agreed happily.
“And you’ve stopped it, yes?” he pressed.
“Correct,” the Prichtac repeated, though this time less eagerly as its skin shifted to indicate heightened anxiety.
“And you’re familiar with these ‘foreign tissues,’ though you’re not allowed to discuss them in detail, right?” he continued, and the Prichtac’s skin pigmentation darkened to indicate its anxiety was approaching genuine fear.
“We should not discuss this matter further at this time,” the Prichtac said with what sounded like genuine fear. “The Host has achieved consensus on this matter; this member will accompany you and tend to your condition for as long as is needed. We sincerely hope this will satisfy your needs, and We ask that you do not pursue this matter further at this time.”
Fei Long held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Of course; you are right. I genuinely appreciate your help and will do whatever I can to reciprocate your assistance. I will refrain from pursuing this line of inquiry…at this time,” he added surreptitiously.
“That is satisfactory to Us,” the Prichtac said, its skin returning to its base color and translucency.
“Ok,” Fei Long said, gesturing to the hologram of his brain which silently rotated between them, “can you explain where these damaged areas are located, and what kind of symptoms they might account for?”
“Certainly,” the Prichtac said, and for the next several days Fei Long was taught more about his own brain that he had ever learned—or perhaps just more than he was aware he had forgotten.
Chapter XX: Settling Disputes
“Captain,” Hephaestion’s voice came over the com-link, “there is a situation which requires your attention.”
“I’ll be right there,” Middleton responded after snatching the link from its bedside table. His quarters were far from luxurious, measuring eight feet by twelve feet while being dominated by bunk beds on either end of the room with the door situated between them. Fortunately, there were enough berths that most of the crew had private berthing assignments.
And that made the presence of the companion—who was both the Prejudice’s newest crewmember and its new helmswoman—now sharing his quarters a subject of much discussion among his crew. He stood from the bunk and Patterson sat up, asking, “Will you need me on the helm?”
“It didn’t sound like that kind of situation,” he said as he donned his pants. “But just to be safe, keep a com-link nearby.”
“Sleeping in wasn’t an option back on the Unit,” she said, stretching luxuriously on the bunk as Middleton donned the rest of his uniform. “I’ll never pass up the chance for a few more minutes of rest.”
“Someday you’re going to have to tell me about your life on that ship,” Middleton said with a disbelieving shake of his head. “I’m sure you’ve got stories worth sharing.”
“I’ll tell if you will,” she said playfully, but when their eyes met he saw a measure of intent which belied her tone and posture.
“Meaning?” he asked after a moment’s pause.
“Meaning,” she scoffed, “that there aren’t many human military organizations out here in the Gorgon Sectors—and fewer still with such putrid fashion sense.”
He looked down at his uniform and couldn’t help but snicker, “These were the Admiral’s idea. Not exactly the snappiest color palette, I’ll grant you that much.”
“I don’t recognize the heraldry,” she said, eyeing his shoulder patches. “What language is that, anyway?”
This was one of the situations he had anticipated several weeks earlier, and he had taken considerable time to craft his reply. “It’s Confederation,” he replied, knowing that it would take very little in the way of data mining to reveal that much.
“Confed?” she repeated incredulously, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “You expect me to believe you crawled all the way over to this part of the galaxy in this ship—a ship which your Chief Engineer clearly doesn’t have a handle on?” She shook her head shortly, “At least wield a proper lie if you won’t speak true.”
“It’s the truth,” he said heavily, “we’re Confederation, and we were…brought here by something.”
Her brow arched, “You make it sound like you had no choice?”
“We didn’t,” he said, remembering the last few moments prior to the Prejudice’s unthinkable jump across the galaxy. He lowered his voice and stepped closer, causing Snake Eyes to lean forward fractionally as he said, “I don’t know much about it, but my Science Officer told me it was Ancient technology that sent us here.”
