Thanks to all who have reviewed, and those who have come back.
OMG, I hope this chapter makes sense. It's past 2am. Thanks to Skerries for post-midnight critique on the logic of the filaments, among other things. Enjoy!
Slitter grinned.
"-two hundred fifty seven orbs, Müssala!"
He picked up a scalpel and, inspecting its sharp edge, wiggled his eyebrows at 75.
"It's necessary for the Program!"
Number 75 glanced from Slitter to the door, behind which the muffled voices shouted.
"That's an outrageous amount of money! Do you even know what this machinery does?"
"Of course I do, you vackting choidez-groping fool! I wrote the list!"
"Oooh, she's feisty," said Slitter. He chuckled. "Heh. Groping."
"You know we have a budget!"
In his arm-flailing rage, Erol activated the automatic doors. Slitter and 75 got a glimpse of the two in the hall, fists raised, before the doors slid shut again.
"It'll come to blows next," said Slitter. "Me, I'm bettin' on the woman. Usually you can't trust a woman for a fight, but I know Müssala."
"If you had read the progress reports I sent you, you'd know that 75 will require an upgraded Central Processor!"
"What's wrong with the one we've got now?"
"It's too weak! I could hardly roast your soft choidez on it!"
Slitter whistled.
"That's enough!" Erol's fist made contact with something metallic, and a high-pitched noise reverberated throughout the hallway. "OW! I've had enough of your insults, woman! We have a perfectly fine Advanced Central Processor in the next room!"
"That one is at least three years old. It will not do!"
"Yak yak, blah blah," Slitter turned away from the door. "I think we all know how this is going to end. The mighty commander's gonna get bitch-slapped some more," he glanced at 75, "just between you and me, I think he likes it- but he'll steadfastly refuse to give us the orbs we need for your continued painy painy pain. Shame." He grabbed the ECF. "It wasn't very nice of her to do E Factor without me," he poked at the screen, "and then make me do all the boring stuff." Slitter sighed. "Toxicity, toxicity…" He glanced up at 75. "E Factor of 8.1? Already? You're in for a hell of a ride, freak-to-be."
75 glared at him. For the nth time, he pulled against the restraints that secured him to a wheeled chair.
"By all means," said Slitter, watching the chains slide back and forth over 75's arms, "continue your attempt to escape. It's very amusing. Okay, 8.1 and your body mass, which I daresay will be decreasing shortly, times the incidence of usage, which, given the size of your HUUUUGE axis -making up for something there, buddy?- I'm guessing is somewhere around 17…" He squinted at the screen. "Enter data linearly, unless doing factorial recombination of percentage, in which case weight not is included. What the hell?" He scowled at the ECF. "To compute Toxicity, enter the following numerical values… I did! You stupid machine!" He pressed buttons with the blunt end of the scalpel. "I hate these freaking software updates."
"-well to hell with your damn he's the next one, I know it! I'm not medically trained, but I can tell that your methods invariably lead to your subjects dropping dead. We're not wasting any more orbs on your expensive death machines! I might as well go in there and shoot him in the head myself!"
"You will not touch him!"
"Heh. The Commander hasn't been touching you, has he?" Slitter frowned at the screen. "Screw this, I'm doing something fun." He tossed the ECF onto a counter and pulled on some gloves. "Do you know the look on someone's face when they don't know what's going to happen to them? Well, it's nowhere near as funny as when they do know." Slitter wheeled 75 over to a table. "We're going to play the mix and match game!"
He walked to the other side and faced 75. "Aaaannnd what's under this table? Why, a bucket o' real bones! How macabre!" He grunted and pulled a huge blue box up onto the tabletop. "Today we're going to find the ones that could've come from you! Are you ready? You look more confused than scared. Just wait."
Slitter reached in. The bones clacked and scraped against each other. "And the winner is… Subject 27! One of the slummers who was thrown into jail for lookin' at the Baron funny." He held the long bone up to the light. "This guy got shot in the other leg, which is too bad. We could've used a pair of good femurs." Slitter lay it down on the table. "We'll put this in the 'maybe' pile. Who's next?"
He shook the box and reached in. "Ahh, here we are. Subject 4, our first child," he held up a tiny bone, thin and white. "Nope, definitely too small." He placed it on the table. "That's the 'no' pile. If you see one of the 'nos' roll into the 'maybes,' speak up, hmm? Heheh. Lessee… no, no, maybe, no, definitely not, maybe…"
Ten minutes later, two piles of bones threatened to topple onto Subject 75, and the doors slid open. "Slitter!"
"Maybe, no, undecided," The technician didn't look up. "What, my luscious-"
"Why haven't you finished the E Factor calculations?" Müssala stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "Or was it too difficult?"
"What did Erol say? No, maybe, maybe, no-"
"Commander Erol said you're not getting another orb until he sees some results," said Erol.
Slitter looked up. "Why, hello Commander."
"Save it, lab drone." Erol held up one hand. "I'm letting you know, as I am obligated to do by your employment contract, that if Müssala fails, you're going down with her."
Müssala narrowed her eyes.
"Going down, huh? Wouldn't mind that too much," said Slitter. He banged two bones together. "Bu-dum-bum! And he makes another socially abhorrent, yet witty, remark."
"This is a serious matter!" said Erol. "If I were you and I wanted to keep my job, I'd rethink my loyalties." He faced Müssala. "The Baron wants a demonstration by the end of the week."
"He'll have it. Now get out of my lab," Müssala spat.
"My lab, soon enough." The Commander turned and left.
Müssala swore. She twisted her necklace in her hands. "A demonstration? This week?"
"Demonstrations are fun! I like the parts where the people scream and I laugh maniacally and the Baron rolls his eyes, but you know, deep down, he likes it." Slitter threw all the bones in the 'no' pile back into the box. He sorted through the remaining ones. "I couldn't get the new program to accept the E Factor data," he said. "You didn't put the code in right. Next time, don't start without me."
"There won't be a next time," said Müssala, poking the screen with one finger. "This boy is the last one."
"Hrmm." Slitter arranged six bones on the table. "Hand-selected filament molds, made from the best stuff on the planet- one hundred percent recycled people. The environmentalists can't complain. Now, lets size you up." Slitter pressed the bones against 75's arms and legs. "Nope, too long… too short… too wide…" The boy edged as far as he could from them.
After a few minutes of approximation, Slitter slammed a few onto the tabletop. "And we have our winners!" The bones had been sawed lengthwise; he took the tops off each and laid the two halves next to each other.
"Slitter, we're going to have to do them all today." Müssala frowned, looking over Subject 75.
"Really!"
"Go get the filaments."
Slitter practically skipped into the next room.
"Boy-o, I don't envy you." Müssala inspected the inside of the bones. She cleaned them and put a thick layer of flexible plastic in each. "We have to insert a storage material for the dark eco. You'll be able to absorb it in small pieces until you have enough to perform an offensive maneuver. The long bones of the body are best."
Subject 75 blinked.
"You are going to be the Baron's ultimate weapon," Müssala said. The boy's eyes widened. "Ah, no one had told you yet, what you were doing here. You are a project, an object. An expensive one. It wouldn't be good if the eco floated around your organs."
"Yeah," Slitter pushed a cart with a large metal container on it into the room. "You should've seen the people we enhanced before we figured that out. Heh."
Subject 75 clenched his fists.
Müssala lifted the top off the container. Black steam rose and twisted around the ceiling, never dissipating. She wrinkled her nose. "Pass me the filament gloves."
"Gladly."
She pulled on the pair of thick plastic gloves, the inside netted with protective green eco. Müssala slowly dipped a hand into the container. This is a good batch, nearly weightless. "It's ready," she said.
Slitter held up the first two bone halves. Müssala pulled out a mass of fine black threads. It glistened in the lab light. A strong chemical smell cut through the air. Müssala pulled the threads until they were as long as the bone, and set them in the halves. Slitter grabbed the next bone.
They continued until the bones were filled with shining threads.
"Are we doing a cranial, too?" asked Slitter.
"No, we better not. That would be too much, I think." Müssala waved for him to take the cart away. She touched the threads. "Almost dry." She tapped the ECF screen and scowled at the half-done E Factor calculations.
"The implantation device is ready," called Slitter.
"Okay, boy-o," said Müssala. She rolled his chair away from the table and up to the suction bed. "You're going in there. Do not attempt to escape." She slowly unwound the chains from his legs. "Slitter! Get in here."
"Just a minute."
"Stay still," Müssala said. She kept one hand on her gun and undid the chains on 75's wrists.
The boy shot up out of the chair, spun around, smiled a little smile at her, and punched her in the face. "Hi-yahh!"
"SLITTER!" Müssala stumbled back, covering her nose, gun momentarily forgotten. "Vackting natz inkter!"
Subject 75 shook his hand furiously, frowning at the cuts on his knuckles. He glanced around the room.
"What was that?" Slitter called.
Müssala screamed in her own language, blood streaming between her fingers. Subject 75 spun and she sank to her knees to avoid the kick. The boy backed up and kicked again. Müssala grabbed his foot and pulled him to the floor. She pressed the gun to his throat. "Don't make me do this," she said. The boy glared at her.
"Woah!" Slitter poked his head into the room. "Am I interrupting something?"
"You were supposed to be here," Müssala said, her voice rising, "while I unchained the subject!" She wiped her face on the back of her hand. The filament glove glowed a faint green.
"Oopsies." Slitter pulled Müssala up and grabbed 75's wrists. "Just for that, we're going to inject your bones with acid and dissolve the marrows. Oh wait, we were going to do that anyway. Suuoooooo… lucky you, you got to punch someone first." He shoved the boy into the bed and turned the suction on. Subject 75 gasped as the force pressed the air from his lungs. "Got blood on your shirt," said Slitter. "That splatter's shaped like a bunny. Aww."
Müssala rubbed antiseptic on her face. The impact had sheared some of the skin off her metal-plated nasal bone. She grit her teeth at the sting. "Independence is not a desirable trait in a soldier," she said.
"He'll get over it," said Slitter. "Working with Erol, you can't help but start to liquefy your brain."
Müssala groaned and pushed the suction bed into the next room. The boy looked around with wide eyes, taking in the long mechanical arm suspended above him. Müssala fed the filament bundles into the machine. "Inject the liquefier."
"My pleasure." Slitter hefted an enormous syringe. The liquid inside was bubbly and clear. The needle was tipped with a metal bit. "This is gonna pierce all the way through," he said. He grinned. "Local anesthesia?"
"No," said Müssala, carefully putting a bandage over her nose. "I think he needs to learn what happens when he lashes out." She leaned over him. "When you accept that you are mine, the pain lessens." Subject 75 stuck his tongue out at her. "Heh! Do you know what that means in my country? Well, the answer is no. You're too young for me."
"Ooooh, really? What's it mean?" Slitter marked 75's upper arm, balancing the syringe against his shoulder.
It means you desire to rip the clothing off the one you face and blend his flesh with your own. Many times. Müssala paused. "Perhaps I will show you someday."
"Does it involve kinky Taetra things?"
"It can."
"Like spikes and pieces of Metal Heads no one would ever think to cut off-"
"Slitter! Inject the liquefier!"
"Okay, okay. Keep your skirt on. Or don't." He lined the needle tip up to the mark and shoved the needle in. Subject 75 yelped. "That's just the needle going into your skin, muscle, and severing some minor veins." He pushed down with all his weight. "C'mon, c'mon-"
Crack!
The boy screamed.
"That's the needle fracturing the bone," Slitter pushed the plunger down. Liquid streamed into the needle. The screams increased in pitch. "And that's the mild acid designed to eat your living marrow so we can shove a foreign substance in! But don't worry, it'll grow back." Slitter pulled the needle out. Müssala dabbed the puncture wound with gauze.
Subject 75 stopped screaming long enough to take a breath. He choked on it, spitting into the air. Müssala wiped his mouth, pulled the filament gloves off, and put her hand over his eyes. "Hurry up, start the machine."
"You're closer." Slitter had his tongue out, making two marks on 75's lower arm.
Müssala grumbled and pushed a few buttons.
"Beginning filament insertion. Please stabilize subject." The mechanical arm lowered one of the filament bundles over 75.
"Aww, let him watch," said Slitter. "It'll be good for him."
The boy gasped, his chest shuddering with staccato breaths. He grimaced under Müssala's hands.
"No. Too much shock."
Müssala pushed another button. Droplets of dark eco trickled down the arm onto the filaments. They absorbed it and concentrated into a thick fiber. With delicate movements, the arm wiggled the fiber into the needle wound. Subject 75 strained against the suction bed.
"Don't," Müssala said. "Slitter, hurry up! He's going to tear his own skin off." She pushed his shoulders down. Eyes uncovered, the boy saw the giant needle and screamed.
And screamed and screamed.
"Welcome to hell!" Slitter said cheerfully. "Only eleven more bones to go!"
"I've chosen a name for him," said Müssala.
"Oh? Since when do we give them names?" Slitter marked 75's forearms.
"Since they matter."
"What is it?"
"Shőkaul."
Slitter raised an eyebrow and leaned on the needle. "I assume that's crazy Taetra-speak for something?"
Crack!
"'Living agony.'"
"Subtle," said Slitter. "I like it." He pulled the needle out.
"Left tibia completed," droned the computer.
The boy screamed on.
GN: Shőkaul
G: M
R: Haven
Mother: EP?
Father: mutt
PE: Complete
E-F1: 8.1
EE: mp high
T: Pending
Tx: Pending
RDs: Pending
Notes: Filaments have been inserted successfully. Will begin eco transfusions tomorrow, provided subject hasn't rejected implants. Erol, you bastard, if you're really reading this, buy that new Advanced Central Processor or I'll kill you in your sleep. Blood cell counts to begin in three days. Recommend subject be isolated to prevent pathogen exposure until reestablishment of immune system.