A/N: People in books and movies, particularly action heroes, frequently shrug off multiple broken ribs. This is both ridiculous and dangerous – none of these he-men ever die of a punctured organ.
20
Xen forced herself to stop laughing after a few seconds. It hurt her chest, and anyhow, Charon seemed to be reacting oddly again. His temperature was rising as he looked at her. She wondered what he was reaching for in back of his belt.
Maybe he needs to reload his shotgun. Things are more serious than I think they are. I'm not thinking clearly. And something is wrong with my eyes. She could feel her inner eyelids flickering in and out with her pulse, totally beyond her control.
"Find Changeling," Xen said.
"I am here," said Changeling's voice, and a moment later the packbot suddenly appeared up among the rocks as her stealth field vanished. Xen watched, shivering, as the bot dropped over the edge of a small precipice and settled into a steady hover at ground level. She glided serenely forward, easily circumventing the dead super mutant. The other corpse was somewhere behind them. Xen found herself strangely undisturbed by this.
"Run first aid subroutine," Xen said.
Changeling hummed. "Pupil response is consistent with concussion. The involuntary nictation is probably a response to head injury as well. Thermal scan indicates a possible subdural hematoma. Please hold still." Xen sat obediently as Changeling dropped the cargo net and brought an arm around with a gleaming needle at the tip. She chose not to watch it approaching her forehead. It stung, but the pain was hardly noticeable when compared with her increasing headache. It dwindled away as the stim began to heal her, leaving her dizzy and weak. The deep ligature marks in her wrists were partly closed, but she felt them seeping. There was a hiss as Changeling rotated out the empty stimpak for a full one.
"Administering second dose," Changeling said, and poked her again. This time the pain went completely away. Xen felt the wounds in her wrists slide shut, the bruises on her body fading. She sat up straighter as her mind cleared. Charon's temperature was normal again, except for four roughly parallel bars of increased heat in his lower chest. She might have imagined the change, except that his face was now naked of flesh. Muscle and tendon shifted around his dull eyes, a perfect anatomical diagram. He stared at the ground, apparently awaiting instructions.
"Stimpaks cannot recover your lost blood, however," said the packbot. "And hemolymph does not have identical clotting properties with human blood."
"I know," Xen said. "Scan Charon." She felt tired and ill, but she was able to control her inner lids now.
At least I haven't had any post-traumatic flashes. This was terrifying, but it wasn't like anything else that's ever happened to me – not like the Raiders or the Doctors dying. She laughed at herself, silently and internally only. Ha. I'll probably have flashbacks to this.
"Thermal scan indicates probability of broken ribs," said Changeling. "Other injuries are limited to tissue abrasion and extensive bruising."
"Oh," Xen said. "I wondered what the hot spots were. Treat him." Charon raised his head.
"I have stimpaks," he said.
"Save them for an emergency," Xen said.
"If dat is your order," Charon said. He did not resist as the packbot's arm approached the side of his neck. Xen watched curiously as tissue crept back over his cheeks and brow. It was dry and brown as parchment, but he looked less vulnerable with it there.
Changeling rose slightly in the air and rotated, scanning the hollow. "The Meta-Human's injury is not consistent with infliction by shotgun rounds," she observed.
"No, that was me," Xen said. "I found this gun in the pile of things they left." She waved weakly at the big pistol where it lay on the ground. She couldn't imagine picking it up again. "Help me up, Charon."
The Ghoul stood up gracefully and offered her a leather-gloved hand that was much larger than her own. Xen took it and was pulled gently to her feet. Charon waited quite calmly as she clung to his forearm with her other hand, finding her balance. He had no sleeve on his left arm. It was warm and very dry, like paper held up to a light. Xen felt as if her head were floating above her shoulders.
Blood loss, like Changeling said, she diagnosed silently. I'm not going to be able to walk out of here tonight.
"You appear to have hit a half-inch target on the first shot with an unfamiliar weapon," Changeling said.
"It seemed... really... big all of a sudden," Xen said. "Everything sort of slowed down. I thought it was because of the head injury." She let go of Charon's arm, then had to grab at it again to keep from falling over. Her head bumped against his biceps.
Good thing Changeling already stimmed me, or that would've hurt, she thought, apropos of nothing. His arm is about as soft as a bot's chassis... My mind is wandering still. I don't like my chances of getting anywhere like this.
"Changeling, are we safe here?" she asked.
"Affirmative," said Changeling. "If a third Meta-Human were nearby, it would have attacked us by now. And in any case, space is inadequate for a larger group."
"Wait," Xen said, suddenly recalling an earlier point in the conversation. "Charon?"
"Yes," the Ghoul said. Xen stepped carefully away from him so that she could look up at his face. She could keep her balance all right, now that she'd had a minute to equilibrate.
"You said you have stimpaks," she said.
Which I should have known already, because I overheard him talking about it, but there's no reason to bring that up.
"Yes," said Charon.
"Why didn't you use them on yourself before?" Xen asked. "Why did you wait?"
"I had no instructions t'do so," Charon said. "I could not derefore use a medical asset for my own benefit."
"A medical asset," Xen said. "So that doesn't include the flamer you used back in the subway."
"Dat is correct."
"So if you couldn't use them on yourself, why were you carrying them?" Xen asked.
"In case of injury to you when t'robot was absent or incapacitated," Charon said.
"So why didn't you use them on - " She stopped. "You were going to use them on me. You were reaching for one when Changeling got here, weren't you."
"Yes, I was," Charon said.
Xen just stared at him for a moment. He looked back with no indication of any emotion.
"Changeling," Xen said. "Do broken ribs hurt?"
"According to my first aid data bank, the experience of multiple costal fractures is excruciating," said the packbot in her cool, flat voice. "Pain is usually described as sharp or stabbing, and increases with rapid respiration, tension, or movement. With compound fractures, there is the additional danger that a detached fragment will puncture a lung or other organ."
"All that, and you were going to use your chems on me," Xen said. She shook her head slowly. "I shouldn't be surprised. The contract terms wouldn't allow you to behave any other way, would they? Not without orders."
"Not wit'out orders," agreed Charon.
"When I'm in danger, I need you to be functional more than I need to be," Xen said, thinking aloud.
"I can function wit' broken ribs," Charon said. "I have done so before."
Xen stared at him again.
"I'll bet you have," she said finally. "But even if Changeling is damaged to the point of total dysfunction, we can recover her chems. Show him the emergency button, Changeling."
The packbot rocked slightly in the air, displaying a narrow, deep recess on the bottom of her saucer shield. There was a very small button inside it, almost too small to see.
"It has to be pushed with something thin and sharp," Xen said. "But hitting it when she's powered down will eject all of her internal supplies. So stim yourself first next time, all right?"
"I will obey," Charon said.
Xen tried to think. Concentration was an effort. "Are there any other assets you have that you can't use without a direct order?"
"Not at t'moment," Charon said.
"Hm. But it's always possible you'll find something else useful, or run into something you can use that I can't..." Xen rubbed her drying hands on her jeans. "Can I order you to use your own judgment?"
"Dat is a very broad instruction," Charon said.
Xen raised her scanty eyebrows as she looked at him.
He just tried to warn me against giving him too much leeway. Changeling would never do that in a million years, because it's an emotional decision.
I'll bet I'm about to succeed in surprising him.
Xen smiled briefly. "I trust you," she said.
There was a flicker of heat in his face, there and gone in an instant.
Got you, Xen thought. I wonder if anyone has ever said that to him. Then she realized with a small pang, No one's ever said it to me.
"You are instructed to use your own judgment when deciding what assets to use offensively or defensively while under attack," Xen said. "This includes both those in your current possession and anything you might find in future. Tell me about them if you think it's important that I know. Otherwise, I'll let you do your job. Do you understand?"
"I unnerstand," he said.
"Changeling," Xen said. "Do you think you could do something with the bodies? And that?" She pointed at the bag of gory remains. "I can sleep with the bones here."
"Firing," said Changeling. The mess flared up briefly under the laser's heat, then disintegrated. A lingering smell of burned meat remained. The packbot turned to deal with the super mutants. Xen, correctly judging that this was likely to take a long time, wearily picked up the pistol and went to look at the pile of soiled clothes.
There were two other guns there, one long and thin-barreled and one smaller than the big revolver. It had a boxy shape and a thin muzzle.
"Charon," she said. "Can you tell me what these are?"
"You killed the super mutant with a .44 magnum revolver." The Ghoul pointed. "Dis is a sniper rifle, which fires .308 rounds. Dis is a semiautomatic .22 pistol."
"Sniper rifle," Xen said. "It's for shooting from far away?"
"Yes," said Charon.
"Tomorrow could you teach me to use it?" Xen asked. "And the .22? I think the .44 is too big for me."
"I could do dat," Charon said.
When she woke up the next day, dreamless hours after sunrise, he did just that. Xen watched and listened as he explained the parts of each weapon, what they were for, and how to use the safety catches and loading mechanisms. Changeling hovered very close by, monitoring them.
"The safety must have been already off when I picked up the .44 yesterday," Xen said.
"Dat is very likely, since t'person who had it was undoubtedly killed while using it," Charon said. "The sniper rifle has a scope. The .22 just has dis notch on t'barrel for sighting."
Xen sighted down each barrel. She had to leave her goggles on, but even so, she saw only a blur on the other side of the rifle's crosshairs.
"I can't focus through this," she said. "Can you?"
Charon took the rifle and held it up with a practiced motion. One rheumy red eye squinted through the scope.
"I can," he said.
"It must be my eyes," Xen said.
"Den it is probable dat you will not be able to use it," Charon said. As Xen turned to put the rifle down she heard him murmur, "Hardly an unexpected development." The enunciation was sharp, the accent clipped.
Xen turned quickly. "Who was that?"
"I do not unnerstand," Charon said. His voice was ordinary.
"Sometimes you talk to me," Xen said. "And sometimes there's someone else talking to you."
"Oh," said Charon. "You noticed dat." He didn't seem worried, but then, he never did.
"Hasn't any other employer noticed it?" Xen said.
"I have previously been ordered not t'speak except when spoken to by my employer," Charon said. "Dat is all."
"How long has it been happening?" Xen asked.
"For a very long time," Charon said.
Ahzrukhal said they brainwashed him, Xen thought. And none of the methods I've read about were nice. People develop all kinds of coping mechanisms when we're faced with trauma, don't we? Even I do, and I'm not all human. I seem to be learning to be my own scope.
"I see," Xen said. "Well, I'm not going to worry about it. They seem to help you rather than hurt you. Is that your perception?"
"Yes," said Charon.
"Then they must not be a bad thing. Show me how to reload the .22."