“We often find after the toughest times that we are reborn with new purpose and spirit. What we went through did not break us—we are still here.”
—High Priest of Byzon Cahtroo Vaun after the Fourth Byzonian Holy War
The next day, Garrick and Eva stopped by to bring Zaina her new arm. High Scholar Fawndar had undersold their excitement. Eva squealed with glee upon laying eyes on Zaina. Her mentor, standing nearby, covered her ears and grumbled.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you’re all right! I was so worried about you at first, and then they said you’d need a new arm, and I thought—a new arm? I have original designs for every body part, and I mean every body part, so an arm’s no problem at all, but then that led to more questions, like, uh, ‘How did Zaina lose her arm,’ and—well, you know. I’m happy to see you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Eva,” Zaina said, though okay was a stretch.
“Of course,” Eva continued, “I’ve also been very excited to show you the finished design—when I saw where your arm was cut, I thought, ‘oh, that’s awkward.’ Right in the middle of the upper arm. But I’ve come up with a number of solutions. Problem is, due to Order restrictions on certain medical procedures on unconscious people—which, you know, I guess is a good thing—I had to wait until you were conscious to get this baby online.”
Zaina was already confused. “Can we have a cup of gamba, and then talk about all of this?”
Eva’s grin widened. They went inside, and Zaina sat by and relaxed as Eva made the machine sing, producing four perfect cups of gamba, and put one in everyone’s hands. Zaina appreciated the burst of energy—she felt refreshed going into the more complicated technical talk.
Once the small talk was over, Zaina said, “So—the arm. Please, try to put it in simple terms.”
“Right,” Eva said, grabbing the handle atop a small box she’d brought inside with her. She opened the top and reached within, pulling out a microchip with a few wires attached.
“This is the first solution, and probably the most straightforward and reliable. It’s a cybernetic implant that goes in your head—directly into your brain—and it’ll link up directly to your arm. You’ll be able to feel every sensation in the books, or even custom sensations, if you want. Of course, the downside to this solution is that it does require intensive brain surgery—but our android surgeons boast a very, very high success and survival rate, I mean like, upwards of 99.995 percent—so it’s not the worst thing in the world.”
Zaina grimaced. Brain surgery wasn’t an enticing idea. “No thanks, I’d prefer not to let drones operate on my head—what else?”
Eva reached back into the box and pulled out a small, thin metal cylinder with a long extension at the center of either side. “So, here’s option number two. This here’s a magnet graft—it has two parts, you see, the graft and the magnet. The graft here gets welded onto your bone, and the magnet locks into place on top of it; then, right on the other side there, is the standard connector for prosthetics. It’ll connect to and expand upon your existing nerve endings. Since this one can communicate with your brain, no need to drill a hole in your skull if you choose option number two.”
Zaina’s forehead scrunched up. “Welded onto my bone—is there an option that doesn’t involve surgery?”
Garrick shook his head. “Not a one, I’m afraid. There has to be some sort of way to make your neural impulses connect to the prosthetic, so some sort of cybernetic surgery is necessary, I’m afraid.”
Zaina sighed. She’d lost her planet, her friend, and now her arm, all to become a lancer—so be it. She nodded. “I’ll take the second one. I’ll be asleep for this, right?”
“Of course,” Eva said. “Now, let me show you how this works. This part,” she said, holding up one of the metal extension tubes filled with thousands of tiny, dangling wires, “will get welded into your arm bones up there, and your nerves will be connected to a microprocessor’s sensory data collection-chain system. This,” she went on, holding up a larger, more complex tube-like bit of metal, “is the cap and the arm-lock. The magnets inside will lock the cap’s underside to the graft. Then, to attach your arm, just slide it over the exposed extension and turn it ninety degrees to lock it in place. There are more magnets and locking bars on the inside to keep your limb on, and I made sure to coat it with deroxis so it can resist electromagnetic attacks.”
“Thank you, Eva,” Zaina said. “When’s the procedure?”
“You’ll go in tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be there when you wake up—it’ll be quick, bing bang boom. Surgery glyphs take five minutes tops for this sort of thing. It’s gonna be really cool—with the segmented compression system, it could actually enhance your lancer strength further. It’s pretty rad.”
“What about my magick?” Zaina asked. “Will I be able to use it with the prosthetic?”
Garrick stepped forward and said, “As far as we know, yes. We’ve made similar limbs before, and they’ve worked for every function required; if, for some reason it doesn’t take, we’ll make adjustments until you’re ready to go.”
They chatted for a while longer, helping ease Zaina’s worries about the impending surgery. For the first time in what felt like forever, Zaina was able to kick back and relax without too many worries. Guilt still weighed on her mind, and she was still a bit anxious about the procedure, but it was better than before. For the first time, she truly was home on Kaado.
-
The surgery went off without a hitch—true to Eva and Garrick’s word, the android surgeons were highly efficient, and Zaina was only unconscious for twenty minutes before she was woken up and given two doses of a painkiller she couldn’t pronounce to save her life.
The metal graft was sticking out of her stump; moving it was an odd sensation—not quite painful, but certainly uncomfortable and something that would take some getting used to. Still, it worked as intended. She had the cap and extender in her hut, and as soon as she was ferried home and told by a med-glyph to stay on bed rest, she secured the cap on the end of her arm and inserted the extender.
I wonder if it’ll hurt when the painkillers wear off, Zaina wondered as she moved the metal stub about, waving it to and fro. There was a knock at the door.
Zaina hollered, “Come on in!”
Eva and Garrick opened the door and entered, followed by Zaina’s mentor. Garrick had a strange, cylindrical backpack strapped to his shoulders. As soon as they were inside, Eva immediately went and fussed with the gamba machine, while Garrick unslung the backpack and pulled out a gunmetal gray, mechanical arm.
“It’s really pretty light,” he said, handing it to her. “Here, hold it.”
Zaina took it in her hand—it was light, as light as her armor. “How’d you make it so light?”
“Oh, a magician never reveals their secrets,” Eva called out while inspecting the gamba machine.
Zaina rolled her eyes. “So—insert the extender, then twist?”
Garrick nodded. “Roger that.”
Zaina turned the arm to look at the attaching end—sure enough, there was a hole that looked like it fit the strange, complex tower extending from the cap. She placed the arm on the extender and gave it a quarter turn—a small jolt of electricity coursed up her arm and into her shoulder, and with a hum, the arm was online. The noise died down as she lifted her new arm and moved each of her fingers, on the verge of crying.
She was getting used to the graft as she moved her new arm about; it was so well-embedded that it already was beginning to feel like a natural extension of her body. She pulled her strand-glove over her new hand and was still able to summon a bubble of light. For the rest of the night, everyone kicked their feet up, relaxed, and celebrated Zaina becoming a lancer. Even Xyrthe—who still didn’t know Zaina knew her name—had no comments to spoil the fun, instead sitting back and letting everyone enjoy themselves.
The future was bright, even if the path it took to get there was messy. Zaina had a mountain ahead of her as she learned how to be a lancer in earnest. She had no idea what to expect—but maybe expecting anything at all was a fool’s errand. Nothing in the Nova Rim was quite what she expected.
She smiled. Maybe it’s better to go in blind.
After another hour of merriment into the night, Garrick and Eva left. Starlight faded on Kaado. With the planet no longer on high alert, the skies were once more filled with transports of all shapes and sizes, hopping from island to island. The glow of their engines dotted the darkened skies, and Zaina took it all in, happy to enjoy the beauty of the moment. Her mentor remained behind.
“You know,” Zaina said when they were alone, “I never thought it was you.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, then softened—she sighed. “Thanks, rookie. If it means anything to you, I never thought it was you, either—the killer was too competent.”
Zaina ignored the petty remark, knowing what she said next would really get under her mentor’s skin. “You know, we’ll be going on missions once I say I’m ready—Xyrthe.”
Xyrthe’s eyes widened, and she groaned. “Oh, no—they told you my name, didn’t they?”
“They did, indeed,” Zaina said. She snickered.
Xyrthe rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever. You should get some rest for tonight, then we can spend the rest of the week shoring up your swordsmanship. I heard that heretic did a number on you.”
Zaina’s chest was flushed with a warm spark of hope. “You mean—”
Xyrthe sighed. “Yeah—I’ll show you the ropes, kid. Maybe. We’ll see how I feel about it tomorrow. For tonight, get some sleep—and wipe that fucking grin off your face.”
Without another word, Xyrthe stormed off. Contrary to her mentor’s last words, Zaina’s smile only grew.
In the end, Ovela had been wrong—Zaina’s destiny wasn’t with the Eldritch, bound by the Mark of the Recalcitrant; it was her own, and she was ready to seize it. She walked over to the panes of hyper-glass and witnessed the last gleams of light fall on Kaado.
Despite everything she’d been through to get here, she’d made it—Zaina was a lancer at last.
