Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [13]
“I wish I had died,” he said flatly.
She shook her head. “You may feel that way,” she said, “but your body doesn’t. It could have let go at any time, but it never did.”
He tried to think that over, shook his head. He gestured at his legs, his gnarled hand. “What happened to me?” he asked.
“Your body reacted badly to the muscular enhancement injections and the thyroid implant,” she said. “Basically your muscles grew in ways and directions that we couldn’t predict and then tried to crush or twist the bones beneath them. We were able to use the carbide ceramic ossification process to stabilize and strengthen the bones and to stop it before it became too severe, but as you can see we had better luck with some limbs than others.”
She watched him and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she went on.
“Unfortunately, what that means is that there’s a constant tension between your muscles and bones. It’s like your body wants to tear itself apart. That may manifest itself as pain within the bone itself, as muscle pain, or as both. The pain may be intense, almost unbearable.”
“I know,” said Soren.
“With medication, the pain will be bearable. Some of us believe that as your body adjusts to its new state that the pain might diminish or go away entirely.”
“Is that what you believe?” asked Soren.
“Do you want me to be honest?” Dr. Halsey asked.
“Yes,” said Soren.
Dr. Halsey sighed. “No,” she said. “I think the pain will diminish but I don’t think it’s likely that the pain will ever go away.”
He nodded, his lips a grim line.
“On the other hand,” she said. “You’re stronger than even we imagined. The straps on the operating table were strong, with a titanium microweave through the cloth. They were over-engineered to hold any of the other Spartans in place, but they weren’t enough to hold you.”
They were silent a moment. “How many of us are left?” he finally said.
She shrugged. “More than half,” she said. “Almost half of you are dead. With another dozen or so, the modifications didn’t take.” She reached out and touched his arm again. “I’m sorry, Soren,” she said.
He refused to meet her eyes. “I made the choice,” he said. “I have nobody to blame but myself.”
A moment later she stood and, without a word, left. Soren stayed where he was sitting on the floor, staring.
SIX
___________
A week later he was out of the brig, released on his own recognizance. Some of the other Spartans, he saw, were in as bad or worse shape than he. Fhajad had uncontrollable muscle spasms and was confined to a wheelchair. René and Kirk had had the same difficulty that he had, but their bones were so twisted and deformed that they were now floating in gel tanks, unable to move on their own. A few others were even worse, kept in isolation chambers, comatose and always on the verge of death. Somehow he didn’t find it comforting to think that their fates had been worse than his own.
After a few weeks the pain seemed to have diminished a little, though they kept him drugged enough that it was hard to say. The drugs did help with the pain but he hated the confusion they caused within him, the sense he had of having to plow through ideas, of not being able to finish a thought. That started to get as frustrating to him as the pain had been.
He slowly began to scale back the medication, palming a few of the pills each time he was given them, then more and more. The pain was strong and intense, but definitely slightly less than when he’d first awoken. He found he could stand it. I can live with the pain, he tried to tell himself. What I can’t live with is not being able to think. Sometimes, though, he would make an imprudent twist or just move wrong and find himself on the verge of passing out, his forehead beaded with sweat.
He kept at it. Everything felt rawer to him, but yes, he could stand it. His head was clearer in a way, though the pain, like the drugs, could make it difficult to