Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [119]
“From your records, I understand you have a great deal of experimental tech implanted. How long has it been since you’ve had a checkup?”
Five turns, at least. In this world, anyway. In the Maker’verse, it only felt like weeks. Maybe months. Hard to say how gate travel will affect my implants down the line. At this point, however, almost everything about my future remains unknown. I’m not human; I’m . . . other. For the first time, I get how Jael must have felt—and I can almost see how he ended up a merc, willing to do anything for a credit, because there was nobody else like him in the universe, no one who understood.
“Not since before Doc died.” The words hurt my throat.
“I’d like to run some tests before you leave Gehenna, if you don’t mind. I’m concerned about your well-being.”
“How long will it take?” I don’t figure he’ll have good news for me. Doctors never do. So I’m understandably reluctant.
“Half an hour.”
That’s not long enough for me to make the excuse of being pressed for time. I sigh and hop onto the table. “Go for it.”
He scans me, pokes me with needles, and examines his findings with a curious expression; I don’t know how to interpret it. Finally, I can’t stand the suspense.
“Well?”
Carvati glances up, as if surprised that I can talk. “Some very interesting results, here. Apparently, thanks to your nanites, you’re no longer aging as normal people do.”
Shit. I’m like Vel now, doomed to watch the people I love die. That hits me like a ton of bricks. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means this is proprietary, unknown technology, and with its creator dead, there is no telling what your life span may be. Regular aging will kick in if the nanites ever go inert, but they appear to be self-maintaining and show no signs of breakdown five turns after their implantation.”
This isn’t news I wanted. Maybe other people would be thrilled to learn this, but not me. I’m shaking my head. “Can you take them out? I know there was some way to turn them off.”
“I can only surmise there was a signal device, but it was doubtless destroyed on Venice Minor.”
Along with Doc and Evelyn. Dammit.
“Is the rest of my tech playing nice?” I ask, quietly despondent.
“The nanites have repaired any deterioration, so yes. But I thought you would be happy to learn this . . . It’s better than Rejuvenex. In time, they may even repair the burn scars.”
Not my scars. Frag. I feel like punching something. I don’t want to be this less-than-human thing anymore. I miss the woman I was.
There’s no point in trying to articulate my point of view. “It’s complicated. Thanks for all your help, Dr. Carvati.”
“Feel free to look me up again if you ever have a lot of credits to spend and some impossible project to complete.”
At that, I smile ruefully. “Mary, but you remind me of Doc sometimes.”
He etches a salute. “I’ve started a foundation in his name, you know. Researching a cure for Jenner’s Retrovirus. If we ever beat it, I’m calling it Solaith’s Solution.”
Right now I want to hug him, as that was Doc’s favorite impossible disease; it’s so tough because it adapts to all treatments. It’s the smartest virus modern science has ever encountered. Mentally, I flash back to all the times I asked him to tackle some tough problem, and he would say with such asperity, Shall I cure Jenner’s Retrovirus while I’m at it, Jax?
What the hell. I do hug Carvati. “Thank you again. I’ll send a sizable donation if you give me the account particulars.”
In answer, he beams the details to my handheld, then I’m off.
CHAPTER 39
“What troubles you, Sirantha?” It’s Vel, of course. Even though he can’t wait to get off Gehenna, he still noticed my mood when I returned from the clinic.
We’ve made all the plans to depart in the morning: Hit, Loras, Argus, Vel, Zeeka, and me. For however long it takes for me to convince the bureaucrats on La’heng to embrace the cure, I will no longer be Jax the Jumper. Over the turns, I’ve been an ambassador, a navigator, a survivor, a prisoner,