After I had agreed to let Nisha use my supercomputer, I had to get the workshop ready for outside visitors. That meant, everything extraordinary had to either be covered or concealed in such a way that it looked like something more ordinary.

Luckily, most of the really sensitive tools, looked ordinary, the vacuum-chamber looked like the microprocessor-assembly it had previously been, only with more wires coming out, the nanite-printer-chest looked like, well, a metallic cube with two thick cables sticking out, one a heavy-duty power cable and the other a data-line to the supercomputer. Even when opening the chest, you only saw an empty chest with a very, very thick silver-baseplate, unless Galatea made the nanites, sitting in the chest, move. When not in operation, they just linked up as tight as possible and formed a solid mass, looking very much like solid aluminium. The nanite-mass was also about as rigid as aluminium.

Alternatively, the nanites could form up a loose swarm, taking on the properties of a fluid with a varying viscosity and fill the chest or they could even spread completely, using their flagella to create a silvery cloud, a nanite mist, and fill up a volume about fifty centimeters higher than the box, more was impossible without additional microwave transmitter to create the radiation-field they needed.

The energy-crystal banks had been placed in crates and shoved under my workbench, making them look inconspicuous and boring. All in all, the workshop looked very much like hundreds of other workshops on the island, quite a few of them even in this building.

The supercomputer had a barebones operating system, allowing it to operate at three-quarters capacity, making it still vastly faster than any normal personal computer but only just reaching the realm of a supercomputer. But it was only barebones, so likely Nisha or I would have to add some code or it would not be able to run the algorithm Nisha needed to figure out.

I was just adding some more function to the supercomputer when I heard her enter behind me.

“Hey, Nisha, give me a moment and I’ll be with you.” I called out, typing away on my keyboard.

Suddenly, I felt a hand painfully grip my arm and the world was ripped sideways. Pain blossomed in my right side when I was smashed into the wall. After a moment of disorientation, my mind started to work again and process what I saw.

In front of me stood Clark, his right hand clamped on my left arm and his eyes shining with an insane light.

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“You killed her, Metis! Now, I will kill you!” he bit out, the seething hatred in his voice almost making me flinch back.

I wanted to answer, but his other hand struck forward, seizing me by the throat and squeezing it shut. Without air, there was no voice. My right arm hung limp after hitting the wall, so I tried to kick him, hoping to get away from him. It was as if he ignored my futile struggle.

I felt myself get pulled back from the wall and for a moment, I managed to get a little precious air into my lungs. But the respite was short and ended with me getting smashed into the wall again. More pain, but, far more worrying, no pain from below my midsection. No feeling at all.

Either my eyes shut for a moment, or I had a brief second of unconsciousness but when the blackness lifted, the only thing I saw was a fist coming at my face. Still held at the throat, dodging was out of the question and the fist smashed into my face, driving it back into the wall and I heard a cracking sound.

Pain, and again, a brief second of blackness, only interrupted by strange pricks of light. I was seeing stars. Then, more pain, now in my left arm, accompanied by more cracking sounds.

My eyes fluttered open again.

Almost as if far away, I heard his voice, “She was mine, but you killed her. And that damned Skylar swept it under the rug.”

I felt my body jerk and judging by his movements, he had just punched me into the stomach, but there was no pain. Curious, how the absence of pain was able to worry me more than pain itself.

I was pulled back again and smashed into the wall again. Again, cracking, or maybe crunching sounds. But no precious air to draw in, no matter how my lungs tried.

I felt like I was floating outside my body, strangely light and unbound. I barely registered him picking up a screwdriver and ramming it into my chest. But there was pain. Somehow, the pain in my chest made me glad.

He let go of my throat, but no matter how much my lungs tried, only a tiny, insufficient trickle of precious air managed to find its way into them. My body crumpled, like a puppet with its strings cut, falling forward, barely managing to use my right arm to keep me from landing on my chest and driving the screwdriver deeper into me. While I was screwed, I was not a screw. Landing on my right arm hurt, but not as much as having the screwdriver punch deeper.

Suddenly, the world jerked again and more pain was added to my left arm as I was flying for a second. Sadly, I was not flying away, my flight was cut short when I crashed into the legs of my workbench.

I was lying on my back, staring upwards. At the edge of my vision, I saw Clark, his lips spread into a victorious sneer.

“That was for Alexandria, bitch.” his hateful voice reached my pain-addled brain and I would have laughed, if I could. I heard footsteps heading away from me, fast.

Blackness was slowly intruding from the edges of my vision. My right hand was still moving a little, more out of instinct than out of thought. I felt a thick cable in my hand and started pulling.

My vision was almost completely consumed by blackness, when something fell.

And my vision went away, only a bright light shining above me.