Alex was left with a choice with options that he didn’t particularly like. With Eleya’s backing, he was sure that Amara’s unsettling behavior would be kept in check when it came to actually trying to find the problem that Alex believed existed. There was the matter of letting a foreign government have access to top-tier hardware, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to do that. From a legal standpoint, anyway. As a moral point he found himself indifferent. It was just a machine. Just code. It wasn’t worth the trust he’d put in others, and that others had put in him.
That was informed by his current belief that the Confederation - or at least a subset of the Confederation’s intelligence community - had his wetware modified to spy on... well, likely everything around him. Every word spoken and heard, perhaps everything he had looked at. The questions this thought raised twisted his stomach into knots, that cup of coffee coming to rest in his throat. Admiral Argueta had made it clear that he wasn’t to act as a spy. He thought Carbon was just a Shipmaster at the time, as well. Did they know she was more than that? That she would have access to the Empress because they were related? Given the flight time between Schoen and Earth, they must have known which ship was inbound at the time, and who it belonged to.
Why else would they turn him loose with such a flimsy set of instructions? Ingratiate yourself and learn about their culture. Sure. Here’s the most obvious bait in the world, the exact thing you want, have all you can eat.
Alex gritted his teeth, annoyed - no, he was mad. Angry, for the first time in a long while, at the institution that had lied to him, and himself for falling for what should have been an obvious setup. Cheeks hot with a flush at the humiliation of how eagerly he had walked into it.
He pulled his shirt off and folded it up, handing it off to Carbon. “Let’s get started. See if Zenshen can’t come up and act as a translator for me, or have Neya find those one-time use translators that were in my bag. If the research team here needs help getting anything ready, I can’t think of anyone better for that than you.” Alex forced himself to unclench his jaw and smile a little, pulling Carbon into a hug.
She squeezed him back tight. “It is just one item, we will get it finished before you know it.”
“Two items. Gotta get the PIN and the driver.” He kissed the top of her head and sat on the surgical bed, almost eye to eye with her for the first time in what felt like a long time. The thin layer of padding was the same stuff they used for crash couches, a dense gel that conformed to the body quickly and didn’t interfere with blood flow during high-g maneuvers or long periods of rest. It should be comfortable, at least. “Shouldn’t be a problem for someone who can fix a waverider drive.”
“We will see, but I will do everything to ensure it is expedited.” She returned his smile, soft and sad, before turning to the Administrator. Carbon spoke in slow, carefully chosen Tsla, bright blue eyes boring into Amara.
The Administrator’s smile faded a little, his spine straightening up and he agreed to whatever she was saying a few times. They went back and forth for a few minutes, getting things cleared up.
“He says they will begin with diagnostics on your near-field communication nodes first, as they are least likely to be damaged as they figure out the hardware interface. Someone should be here to translate before they finish with those.”
“They don’t have the software side of things ready, do they?” It made sense. Clearly they had experience working with Human technology - they had repurposed the translator chips instantly, for all intents and purposes. But this was an entirely new system to them, and one not meant to be slotted into any number of places for convenience. It had controlled access restrictions and layers upon layers of obfuscation and defense. They wouldn’t have any experience with it unless they’d been harvesting pilots. “What else did you tell him?”
“They have some ideas where to start. I told them you are an expert on using the implants, not programming them. I hope that is accurate?” Carbon approached him, reaching up and carefully removing his piercings. “As for what I told him... I simply explained how important you are to me.”
“Yeah, that’s my skill set.” There was something missing from what she had said, though, given how long they had been speaking for. Amara’s reaction was a bit too rigid for something so innocuous, as well. “That was an awful lot of words to say that you care.”
Carbon tilted her head just a touch as she looked at him, lips pulled into a subtle smile. She slipped his piercings into a pocket, a little amusement that he had caught that in her eyes. “I also mentioned that as far as I am concerned, your lives and well being are inextricably linked while you are in his care and anything that should happen to you can easily be visited upon him.”
“Suppose it never hurts to be cautious with untested technology.” He was pretty sure she didn’t actually mean that. But the mad scientist vibes the Administrator was giving off were pretty damn easy to pick up, if Tsla’o even had such a concept. “Make sure they’ve got one of the new Human medkits for me, too.”
“Consider it done. I will bring the Sergeant and Neya into the loop and have them both report here. Between the two of them, they should have translation, security, and anything else you might require easily taken care of.” She slipped his hands into hers and gave them a squeeze, leaning in to kiss him. “Be well, Alex.”
He gave her a little wave and watched her depart with a couple of researchers that Amara had waved over as they spoke. Well, no time like the present. He got situated on the surgical table, face squished into the headrest. It was not designed for someone of his head size or shape, but the padding was particularly thick and it felt comfortable enough once it conformed to his face. Less comfortable were his arms, dangling off the sides of the table, also not designed for someone of his size. “Alright, let’s light this candle.”
There was not the sudden burst of activity that he had imagined, though a sterile field popped on and actual medical personnel did come over and start prepping him. Alex assumed they were, anyway, the pants he could see were the same purple the docs and nurses in sickbay had worn. Another pair of purple pants arrived, and they began adjusting the table, adjusting the facerest to get his neck in a more natural position, and unfolding a set of armrests that had been tucked away.
The first one started shaving his upper back along his spine, where the near-field wireless nodes were. A quiet buzz accompanied by cold metal sliding along his skin, and gentle suction to whisk the now loose hair away. He’d never been prepped for surgery before, despite having been operated on at least four times, depending on how one wanted to define being operated on. Not like this, anyway. Getting on a mediboard was a very straightforward affair.
His mind wandered as he got the worst haircut ever, the nurse only shaving away where the PINs would be inserted. Would you count each item implanted? Each part restored to functionality? Getting his new Amp, the Whisper, and the Immersion Translator would have netted him eleven, as long as the translator coprocessors counted individually.
It was sort of a fun exercise until he really thought about how much had been broken on the Kshlav’o. The pages of things left to fix after he’d been on there for a week. Hundreds if you deigned to count the individual repairs.
Cold liquid being dabbed along the freshly shaved areas brought him back to reality, the skin beneath going numb a moment later. The nurses working on him conversed between themselves. It sounded professional, not rushed at all. One of them left, the sterile field crackling as they passed through it. The one that remained stepped back, a hum coming from the ceiling alerted him that a surgical arm was underway.
It tapped his back, a bit more firmly than Alex particularly enjoyed, like a pen jammed into his skin. The nurse sighed with relief - not the most encouraging sound - and marked the spot just to the side of his spine where his number seven near-field node would be, embedded in the transverse process of the T4 vertebra. The arm then withdrew, and tapped the other side, where the number eight was.
The arm was calibrating as it went, the nurse working with it to notate where every socket was located. It was getting better rapidly as it worked its way up his spine and touched every spot that they would be inserting the interface needles. By the time it had reached his skull each tap was feather-light and barely registered to him.
Amara said something to him, Alex catching a ‘Sorenson’ amidst the Tsla. It was a question, and immediately followed by the sigh you’d make when you realize you’ve been talking to someone that can’t hear you.
“If you’re asking if I’m ready to start, I am.” It felt like what he’d asked, at least. “If it’s not, find me a translator.”
“Te.” He answered in the affirmative, then immediately started conversing with the researcher beside him.
Alex was pretty sure they ran the first interface into number seven. It was a gentle pressure, thanks to the numbing agent, the hum of the arm coming to a stop after a few seconds of pressing the needle through his skin and into the interface below.
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Then there was a brief flurry of activity, but it was very quiet. He could hear several of them talking - whispering, really - the conversation rushed and a little panicked. This didn’t seem great, or even good, for that matter.
Amara spoke to him again, so very calm and collected and the exact opposite of how he’d sounded mere seconds ago, and the arm pulled away.
The PIN had missed its mark and poked into his spine. Not by much, though, as it had been inserted into the bone. This was a guess on Alex’s part, but it was informed by the way the surgical arm stopped moving because the needle lodged in his vertebra wasn’t coming along, the hum intensifying as it increased tension.
The topical anesthesia didn’t do shit for having his T4 rotated in place, neither did tensing up and trying to jerk his spine away from the surprise pain. “Stop. For fuck’s sake, stop! Stop.” Pretty sure that was the word for stop, but the angry tone and waving arms should make it pretty clear what he meant if it wasn’t. Adrenaline spiked and a string of the most creative expletives Alex could muster punctuated the needle separating from the bone. He was sure he heard a twang as it went.
The quiet thrum of a datacenter’s worth of servers were the only thing making a sound after Alex stopped. Ah, right. He technically had the authority to destroy their lives - literally or metaphorically - with the combo multiplier of being from an alien species that was supposed to be barbaric. They didn’t know he wouldn’t just... erupt into violence at the drop of a hat. Probably. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, the sharp pain ebbing slowly.
Alex held up a hand and put on his single most tactful voice possible. “Let us wait until a translator gets here. Withdraw the arm all the way, I am going to sit up.”
Another quiet conversation, and the arm retracted further, parking with a quiet clack. He did as he said he would, sitting up on the table and sliding down to let his legs dangle off the end. The nurse looked absolutely freaked out. Covered head to toe in the purple version of Tsla’o surgical scrubs, only a pair of eyes visible through protective lenses. Those eyes were wide as dinner plates, the gentle tremble of the tablet he was holding indicating that he was white-knuckling it. Alex gave him a little wave and a thin smile. “Hey.”
His first instinct was to pop his phone out of his pocket and complain about this to Carbon. This was a bad idea, of course. This clearly hadn’t been intentional, but she might not see it that way. Having Neya bring his tablet up so that it could also be checked over for spying equipment was a good idea, though, and he could see if she was on her way yet. Alex dug the little phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen, then remembered that he couldn’t actually read or type Tsla.
Mostly. Alex knew how to navigate to the messaging app, and could even discern Carbon and Neya’s names... But that was about it. He cussed under his breath again and hit the lock button, then put it away.
Waiting was just as boring as one might imagine. He kicked his feet idly and tried to make small talk with the nurse. “So, uh... You work here? With the Resource Integration team?”
The nurse had calmed down a little bit. He nodded in agreement, but that was all he did. Must have had a translator, or just didn’t want to disagree.
“Are the hours good? Humans work like six or eight hour shifts, usually. Couple of breaks in there. Not sure how it is for Tsla’o.” Had he always been this bad at just chatting with someone? It would probably help if the someone wasn’t afraid of him and could for sure understand what he was saying.
Administrator Amara stepped into the sterile field, fur puffed up slightly from it. He brandished his own tablet and held the screen up for Alex. We have called a surgeon in. The Sergeant has contacted us and stated she will be here in about forty minutes.
“Wait, you all were cutting on me without a surgeon? Is there even a doctor - like a medical doctor here? It’s not just a bunch of scientists poking me with surgical equipment?” Technically there wasn’t any cutting to be done, no, but those surgical arms could clearly do some damage. Yes, the handful of times he’d needed calibration work done with his first Amp didn’t require anyone that was medically trained. They were using equipment that had gone through generations of refinement at that point, though.
Amara and the nurse went through a gamut of emotions that said that they were in fact cutting on him without a surgeon, there was no doctor of any sort present, and yes, it was just a bunch of researchers stabbing him with surgical equipment. He pulled the tablet back and began scribbling something else to be translated.
“Wait, wait. That came out a little harsher than I intended.” It hadn’t, in all honesty. “I’m just alarmed by... Everything that I just said. Particularly with prototype equipment. It would be prudent to have experts on the use of the machines on hand, and someone trained on the ins and outs of the living body. It is my understanding that the Tsla’o have not applied machines to themselves in this manner before?”
The next statement was more carefully applied, Amara turning the screen towards Alex again. Correct, on all counts.
“I’m not above saying that I got ahead of things too. I should have been more concerned about the functionality of this.” He gestured to the surgical arms looming behind him. “But I was preoccupied with thoughts of betrayal. So, while we have the time, perhaps you would double check to ensure we have all the experts we might need on hand?”
The writing resumed, the reply quick this time. Of course, my Lord.
Alex had thought the titles were bad when spoken. It was even weirder to see in writing. He gave the Administrator a little nod and Amara scuttled off, already delegating tasks as soon as he stepped out of the sterile field.
And so, Alex resumed menacing the nurse with superfluous questions. “So what is there to do around here after work? Like if you wanted to go on a date with somebody? Are there like, I don’t know, clubs or something? I’m not much of a dancer, not a great sense of rhythm, but I don’t mind the atmosphere now and then.” Would any of that make it past the cultural barrier? Did Alex care if any of it made sense at all? Would Carbon even be interested in going to such an establishment?
The nurse shook his head.
Maybe he didn’t have a translator. Maybe there just wasn’t any nightlife onboard. Alex could also be talking to the single most boring Tsla’o in history. “Hey, if I’m making you nervous you don’t have to stand here with me. I don’t mind. Probably just don’t wander off, they’ll need you again at some point.”
He stepped out of the field and slumped into a chair in the corner.
That was either the biggest coincidence in history or he had a translator. Alex sighed to himself, a little annoyed but trying not to judge the guy too much. He refocused his attention to other things he couldn’t control: Zenshen was forty minutes out. That by Tsla’o reckoning, of course, so it was probably closer to twenty-five minutes as he was used to it.
Fuck it, he was going to take a nap. The gel padding was comfortable, and while he was sure the lights would prevent him from actually getting to sleep he was willing to give it a try.
“Well damn, I haven’t seen a half-naked Human since the last time I hung out with the Marines.” Zenshen announced this loudly, standing just inside the sterile field and clad in the standard gray military uniform.
“The fu-” Alex struggled to sit up, bleary eyed and a little confused about how the Sergeant had gotten here so fast.
She laughed, a single sharp cackle that sounded like something a person who hung out with Marines would make, and reached out to grab his hand and pull him upright. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, was doing medical stuff myself. You know how docs get.”
“Yeah, no worries, I was catching up on some sleep I guess.” He exhaled and looked around, nodding his head at the Administrator. “You talk to him at all yet?”
“Amara briefed me, figured I’d let you sleep until they were actually ready to start up again.” She pointed out a couple of people. “A technician that specializes in maintenance of these surgical tools. The surgeon. She’s set up and mad about a couple of things. Something about the live sensor feed not being looped into the motion controls right, which apparently is why they stuck you. She’s pulling double duty as the medical doctor for you, but we’ve got an emergency med team standing by in the hall too - they are aware of who they’re here for and have Human supplies at the ready.”
“Oh, well. Sounds like a professional operation now.” He sighed again, a bit of relief kindled in his heart for once.
“About as close as we’re getting. You ready?”
“One thing.” Alex dug his phone out and unlocked it, holding it out to her. “Get in contact with Neya, find out where she is. I’m kind of surprised she didn’t beat you here.”
Stana held up her hand and shook her head. “I got her contact this morning, I’ll get on it once you’re underway again. Sound good?”
“It does. Let’s get going.” He pocketed his phone and flipped over, getting himself situated again. Staring back down at the deckplate.
Zenshen walked out of the sterile field and clapped twice to get everyone’s attention and started hollering orders like she was running the show. The nurses hustled back in as the background conversation settled down. They numbed his back again, and the robotic surgical arms returned to life.
With an experienced hand at the controls, things went so much smoother. He didn’t even feel the first pin until it had bottomed out in the interface, and that was a gentle pressure. The next one was a surprise, just as delicate but mere seconds after the first - the surgeon was running multiple arms at once.
Now that they had access to his hardware, albeit just the near-field communications ports, the quiet conversations he couldn’t really hear picked up intensity again. Alex understood the parts that could contact his Amp and the diagnostics interface as being carefully disconnected from each other - the window between the two portions was just large enough to slip numbers through, and sometimes even a decimal point. The team working on him could do little more than check for functionality and adjust a few transmission parameters. Enough poking around and they could get locked out of it, he supposed.
Either way, it was experience accessing the less important parts. He assumed they didn’t have any of that so far. This was learning that would make dealing with the higher security pieces easier when the time came.
As much as Alex would prefer they find nothing, that this would turn out to be some sort of bizarre misread of a hiccup from Lyshen’s jury rigged computer... He had talked himself out of any hope of that already.
Now all he wanted was a smoking gun, pointing at someone to blame.