Cecile lurched forward, her blanket falling from her body as she reached for something that faded just as her hand passed through it. Or had her depth perception not recovered yet?
“Friia, attend me.”
Friia in her long white dress walked over to the side of Cecile's bed. “Yes, Lady Penrose?”
“How bad was the damage? I recall removing a problem, then you cutting the station open with the Bolverk,” said Cecile, running her right hand through her hair.
“I've done what I can for the host body's brain. You'll have to directly take control of a few of the ruined sections.” Friia sent over her visual feed. “I have not replaced the ruptured eye yet\. I assumed you would want there to be visible damage for your announcement.”
“Correct! Seeing me like this should kindle a bit of fervor in the general public. I will need to get the damage around my remaining eye covered, though. Burns around it won’t send the message I want to.” Cecile gently traced the damaged tissue. “How is the situation developing on the bifrost?”
“You were correct, the remnants of the Veles Worker’s Front were behind the attack. While they haven’t officially tried to co-opt the strike from the Ofnir, they aren’t denying it when it does come up,” said Friia.
“Then we’re falling behind in the narrative.” Cecile swung her legs off the bed. “Bandages over the left eye and the hole in the back. Actively obscure the burns around my right eye during the broadcast, we don’t have time to wait on me to be properly presentable.”
“There may be some delay caused by active editing, is that acceptable?” asked Friia, opening a medic kit.
“It will have to be.” Cecile sat still as Friia began to change the dressing on her wounds, first removing the bandages. “When we have time after the announcement, we'll properly get this body patched up.”
Friia pulled out the blood and serum soaked gauze and replaced it with fresh material. “Plate in the skull, scalp graft over it. And the missing eye?”
“Leave it. The expanse is heading into a war, so install an eyepatch; it'll look heroic.” Cecile paused as Friia began putting fresh bandages on her. “But add a sensor suite in. I do like having depth perception.”
Friia packed away her kit. “Lady Penrose, in the event that there is another attempt on your life…”
“Yes, there will likely be more,” said Cecile, standing and going to dress.
“Are you going to be moving into a Hamr?” asked Friia as she assisted Cecile with her clothing.
“If it comes to that.” Cecile paused to let Friia help her into her dress shirt. “The next body isn't at an age I would want representing Penrose, so a Hamr is the next best choice.”
“You could use a volunteer if you're worried about the image of being more artificial,” said Friia.
“It isn't early days any more.” Cecile sighed and shrugged her jacket into place. “I could do that, but the selection process would inevitably leave some amount of evidence, and I’m not willing to be seen as I am. Better that I be seen as willing to use my own tech.” She touched the underside of her artificial eye. “Well, the tech I’m willing to sell to the expanse.”
“Public release of the Hamr line?” asked Friia, now assisting with Cecile's shoes.
Cecile waved a hand. “Not to the specifications that your model has. That would be irresponsible, dangerous. Better to keep them within standard human ranges where we can.”
Friia followed behind Cecile as she stepped toward the door out of her bedroom. “I have to ask, Lady Penrose…”
“Yes?”
The pair passed through the door into a hall.
“Would you be using the–”
“Yes, to properly put a mind into a Hamr it needs to be scanned first.” Cecile turned to face Friia. “Make yourself ready to conceal the burns around my right eye, I’m going to make my statement about the events of Breidablik.”
Friia opened her mouth, then assumed a neutral expression. “Understood, Lady Penrose.”
“Good. Have things ready to repair the hole in my head when I get back too,” said Cecile, turning and heading away from Friia.
Friia stared as Cecile left, her hands clenched and threatening to damage the artificial skin covering them. On the back of the Penrose founder’s head, through the gauze and bandages, a small spot of red bloomed. She sighed and released her grip. There was work to do, trust to maintain. She stepped back into Cecile’s room and sighed, then got to work.
______
Cecile stepped onto the edge of the center dais of a large circular room and turned to face the door she’d come from. Her hands trembled slightly, and the metal overhead parted; blast shields retreating and exposing the cosmos beyond clear transparent material. She adjusted her jacket as a camera rose in front of her.
“Friia, ready the feed. Begin the edit as well.”
“... Understood.”
Cecile watched and waited for the little green light that signaled the broadcast was about to begin. The plan had a few hiccups, but everything was under control; it just means the time table has to move up. As she watched the green light begin to blink, she couldn't help but wish the shot had hit her somewhere less jarringly obvious. Sympathy from the proles was useful, but it left a bad taste. Her vanity demanded the projection of both power and beauty.
“Burns are masked, and we'll be live in three… Two… One,” messaged Friia as the green light burned steadily.
Cecile stared into the lens of the camera. “Greetings, citizens of the Vangr expanse. I wish it was good news I was bearing. However, as you can plainly see, I do not.” She carefully pulled the the bottom edge of the bandage over left eye, enough for the audience to see the swollen and bloody tissue. “I narrowly survived an attack by Mobius Sci-tech on Breidablik station. The same cannot be said for many of the lower council for they and, most regrettably, Tejal Necker died during the assault.” She suppressed a shiver as a thin rivulet of blood oozed from the back of her head. “As it stands, I am in talks with Blivet Heavy Industries and Necker Pharmaceuticals as for how to handle the situation with Mobius. During the interim, and potentially for the foreseeable future, I am fielding additional defense forces for potential target locations.”
Friia kept the ring of burned flesh around Cecile's right eye concealed, but as she droned on it was becoming quickly obvious that her body was in no condition to stay standing too much longer. Powerful as she was, she had still lost a lot of blood. Her face had gone pale, and it was clear that she was pushing her injured body too far.
Friia stood and marched down the hall to where Cecile was doing the broadcast, and opened the door. “Lady Penrose, you need to finish soon. Your body is giving out.”
Cecile wanted to say no, to force her body to do as she wished. More blood mixed with cerebral fluid leaked from her wound the gauze in back was entirely soaked through. Friia was right about her body being in a bad way. She could force it to keep working… No, that was more suspicious.
“Friia, come get me once I finish my speech.”
Friia stepped forward, millimeters from entering the shot. “Understood.”
With the expanse visible though the dome behind her, Cecile let some of the weariness show before steadying herself a little. “Citizens of the expanse, know that the Penrose Foundation will not let this trespass lie unanswered.” She wobbled again, her legs threatening to give out under her. “Thank you for your time.” The broadcast cut out, and Cecile began to fall.
Friia rushed in and caught her before she could hit the ground. “We need to get you on IV and close your wounds properly, now.”
Cecile stared up at her. “The Hamr sounds better than it did in the bedroom.”
“Would it even work for you?” asked Friia, righting Cecile and helping her vertical.
“Hah, no. At least not like how it does for you.” Cecile coughed and a hunk of gauze full of clotted blood pushed out of her empty eye socket. “It would be just like when I take these vessels.”
“Now's not the time to talk.” Friia guided her back down the hall.
“I am fine, Friia.”
“Cecile, you push yourself too far.”
“Oh,” Cecile chuckled, “you're using my actual name.”
Friia sighed as they stepped into the bedroom. “I was… I am concerned about your wellbeing.”
“You're being foolish. I can't die…” Cecile trailed off as she sat on the edge of her bed. “And neither can you, or your sisters.”
Friia briefly let a scowl wash over her features. “Of course, Lady Penrose.”
