AMP Siege (15 page)

Three weeks after the surgery had been completed and the physical therapy begun, I took my first unassisted walk down the hall outside of the infirmary. When I had reached the elevators at the end of the hall, I turned back towards my physical trainer and waved goodbye. The elevator door closed before he could catch up to me.

My walk was awkward, but manageable. I nodded at several of the
Suppressor
's crew who came down the hall past me. I turned the corner into Frig's lab and was shocked by what had been accomplished. The room and all it contained were exactly as they had been before the damage had been incurred. Everything had been replaced except for the antenna modulators.

I clomped my way into the room as I spoke. "Looking good! Other than the modulators, I can't see anything that's missing."

Frig turned towards me. "I am glad to see you out on your own, Sir. Although, I thought that was not to happen for another week."

I replied, "Yeah, well, I was never one for following all the rules. I saw an opportunity to run, and I took it!"

The trainer that had been working with me soon rounded the corner. "Mr. Grange! The doc is going to skin me alive if he finds out I let you out of my sight!"

I laughed as I replied, "Just hope he doesn't put new arms and legs on you. Getting skinned alive sounds like a picnic after going through this. Just give me five minutes to catch up with my friend here, and then you can haul me back up to the prison you call an infirmary."

The trainer stepped back out into the hallway.

I turned to Frig. "So, we still don't have the demodulators?"

Frig sighed. "They are proving difficult to reproduce, Sir. Each of the tests I have conducted has resulted in a signal disbursement that is an order of magnitude lower than before. I am almost certain now that Jesse, one of my techs who was killed, had done some personal tweaking of the connection impedance. The two circuits require a perfect match for a proper power signal to build."

The antenna had been removed, leaving the connection circuit exposed. "Call me dumb if you want, but I thought a demodulator was used to deconstruct or pull out a specific signal. Why are we demodulating at this point in the circuit?"

Frig gave a somewhat stunned expression. "Ordinarily, Sir, I would have jumped at the opportunity to call you dumb. That question, however, was anything but unintelligent. The desired signal at this connection is stripped from the transport signal, passed into the antenna array, and rebroadcast, with a focal point providing a peak recombination of the waves at an exact location in space. The peak power that comes together at that point is the mechanism that literally tears open the wormhole. The additional power and frequencies provided add stability as well as wormhole size and endpoint location."

I replied, "Ah, yeah, OK. So, if I get this right, the signal travels down the different antenna, and then rips a hole in space?"

Frig smiled. "That is exactly what happens, Sir! Has George been tampering with your brain as well?"

I gave a sarcastic smile as I turned back towards the hallway. "Just tell me that you can fix this thing. It's critical that we have it to use."

Frig replied, "I will do my best, Sir."

The trainer escorted me back to the infirmary floor, where I continued with my physical therapy. Before I knew it, two months had passed. As I jogged on a treadmill for a twenty-kilometer run, George entered the room.

George spoke. "How is my machine feeling today? Any more discomfort in that right shoulder?"

The shoulder had been my only problem. Several bonds of the Tantric layer to the bone had not taken correctly. George gave me repeated technical explanations that were always over my head. I eventually told him to just spare me the details and fix it. He did.

I replied, "Shoulder is feeling great today. That one binding issue that I was having seems to have been resolved. And I would like to offer you kudos on the mobility. I am way more flexible than I was before. My hips, shoulders, and even my spine bend like I'm some nimble little ten-year-old girl gymnast. My reaction control is almost back to where it was before we started this whole thing. I tell you, Doc, if things continue to improve, I'll be wondering why we don't all do this."

George nodded as he tapped away on his display pad. "I said you would be pleased once we got past the recovery period. Rita brought me a complete set of improved power cells for each of those limbs. I would like to swap them out today and begin testing of their hardiness and longevity. She indicated that if they perform as tested in the lab, you should see a threefold increase in duration. We will have to keep in mind that those arms and legs are also a little more power hungry than the ones York has, but we should still see a sustained heavy-workload period of two months or more."

I brought the treadmill to a halt. "Can they be recharged in the field like York's?"

George replied, "They can. In addition, that plate at the base of your spine that you have repeatedly asked about—it will be receiving two power cells of its own. They will be configured in a balanced assembly that should provide backup power for an additional week, should you manage to exhaust any of the other cells."

I stepped off the treadmill and tossed the dry towel I had thrown over the side of the display onto a chair. "Wow. Twenty kilometers at a heavily inclined run, and I am not sweating. My heart rate, it is only elevated about 5 percent. That took no more effort than sitting in the pilot's chair of the
Swift
. You done good, Doc. Better than good, really."

George spoke. "If you would care to step over here to the leg press, I would like to proceed with a strength test. I'm setting the resistive weight to five hundred kilograms."

I pulled my head back in mild shock. "Five hundred! I don't know, Doc, the most I have pushed before has been half of that."

George replied, "The upper limit of the system we installed was seven hundred kilograms in the lab. When I say seven hundred, that is where a catastrophic failure occurred. I feel confident that five hundred kilograms can be repeatedly pressed without overworking the bonds."

I set myself into the machine, grabbed the handles, pressed my shoulders up to the pads, and gave George a nod. "Ready when you are."

George replied, "Give me one moment as I put your system into diagnostic mode. Each of those joints has a sensor that will relay stress data to my display. This will be the first test with a subject who has the reinforced Tantric skeleton. The results should be interesting. You may begin whenever you are ready."

I lifted the load slightly to engage the resistive weight. I found the pressure to be more than I could handle, and I sank slowly down to the minimum stop as my neck muscles flexed and the veins in my forehead popped out.

When the weight hit the stop, I looked up at George. "What, what happened there? I lifted the two fifty OK. Why could I not stop that from going down?"

George tapped away on his display. "Hmm. Either the stress numbers those joints are putting out are flawed results or the Tantric layer fused into your bones is much stronger than I predicted. If these numbers are correct, your framework should be able to tolerate double, and perhaps even triple the load. This is quite interesting. I will have to give this data a thorough review."

George turned away as he studied the numbers on his display. As he walked around the corner going out into the hallway, I raised my hands into an open-palmed gesture.

I spoke in a loud voice as I looked at the door. "What the...? Hey! Can I lift this weight or what!"

George returned and stood in the door. "I apologize, Don. Yes, you should be able to lift that weight. Your legs are capable. It is only your brain that is holding you back. You will have to focus, as your memories are telling you that it is too much weight. Believe that you can, and you will. Enjoy your afternoon, Don. I have much to do."

My trainer entered the room as George walked away. "Back on the leg press, I see. Wait, five hundred kilos? Did the doc clear you for that?"

I grabbed the handles and grunted as I attempted to lift the weight. "He... said... I could... probably... do triple."

The weight did not move. I again tried with no success.

The trainer spoke. "Those legs should push that weight without issue. It's the rest of your system that will fail around seven hundred kilos."

I replied, "We just did a test, and George said I should be able to do double or possibly triple that. I just want to do these five hundred kilos right now!"

I again strained as I attempted to push with everything I had. My head shook as if I was having a seizure while my neck wobbled and the veins on my forehead once again popped out.

I yelled, "Arrrrggghhhh!"

The weight lifted only slightly.

I again yelled and pushed with everything I had, and the weight moved a tiny bit further. "Arrrrggghhhh!"

I dropped the weight back down the centimeter it had moved, allowing it to bang hard on the minimum stop.

I firmed my grip and again yelled as I pushed with an intent that I had never before felt. "Arrrggghhhh!"

I next heard a snapping metallic clang, and the resistive weight machine bucked violently as I pushed the weight up to the maximum stop. The trainer pushed the Off Safety button, freezing the weight in place.

I again let out a yell as I stepped off the machine and flexed my prosthetic arms in a he-man fashion. "Yeeeeaaahhhh! I will not be denied! That... felt... great!"

The trainer then grabbed my shoulder and indicated that I turn back towards the weight machine. "Sir, look at that! The directional stops were set for down only! You sheared them right off!"

I looked down at the broken metal tabs that had held the weight down. "What? You are kidding me! No wonder my brain was about to come shooting out of my eye sockets!"

The trainer stood after inspecting the broken tabs. "Sir, forget about the five hundred kilos. I think you just surpassed your triple test right there. Those stops are designed to take way more than that machine can handle on the resistive side. Wow, Sir. All I can say is... that is impressive!"

I thanked the trainer for his assistance and stepped out into the hallway with a smile on my face. By the time I entered George's office, that smile had turned into a grin. I plopped down in a chair in front of George's desk.

George spoke without looking up as he continued to work on his display. "So, I guess that James showed you that the stop was applied. I'm sorry, but I sometimes do such things for amusement. I take it that you pushed up the five hundred kilograms?"

I leaned forward, looking upwards at George until I caught his eye. "Oh, James showed me that the down-only stop was somehow engaged. He was wondering who had set it. He also pointed out the metal tabs that made up the stop, after I had sheared them off! I broke the tabs off, Doc! They broke off like they were made out of cheap lead or something!"

George rose up in his chair. "Are you saying you pushed through the stops before standing that weight up?"

I replied as I looked down at my legs, "I'm telling you exactly that. And, I just wanted to say thanks for the A-plus equipment, Doc. I think I can get used to this!"

George shook his head. "So, what you are really telling me is that you broke the only resistive leg press that we have."

I sat back in the chair. "Look at what you built, Doc. I have faith in you that you can repair a leg press. Should I take this as a sign that my training is done?"

George returned to the work on his display. "You are done. Go and do as you will. Come by tomorrow, and I will drop in those new power cells."

I smiled and began to stand from the chair as George looked up at me. "Keep this in mind, Don: you are still made up of soft tissue. You may be able to push your arms and legs further, to jump higher or easily crush or break things that you could not crush or break before, but that soft tissue that makes up the rest of you is very limited in what it can take. Those tissues, including that soft brain of yours, will remain your weak points during combat or any other physically stressful event."

I replied, "So, that's it. You are turning me loose?"

George sighed. "Yes, you are free. Just continue to train on your own. After the new power cells, come back in a month, and we will test those reaction times again. The more you practice, the better your reactions will be."

I left the infirmary floor with a smile on my face as I made my way back to Frig's lab. I turned a corner and took note of York, who was having a conversation with another crewman.

As I walked up to Diane York, I spoke. "I finally finished my training. Doc says I am good to go!"

York replied, "Glad to hear it, Sir. It's like I have been telling everyone since I got these. They can't be beat. Everything I was able to do before, I am at least as capable of now, if not more so. I heard they were trying out new power cells? Have you been outfitted with them, Sir?"

I shook my head. "Doc says to come back tomorrow. Other than the wonders of our cyborg systems, how is everything going?"

York sighed. "Well, other than having worked through every form of entertainment we have available on this ship, I would say Captain Meecha and the other Gontas are getting very bored, Sir. I'm sure they are homesick for their own people and culture. Unless I am out there and fighting, the same thing happens to me. You can't wait to leave home to go out on an adventure, and you can't wait to get home afterward."

I replied, "Tell me about it. I haven't seen or heard from my wife in months. I wish we could get those demodulators working properly again. It would be nice to know if the Grid is still there."

I walked down the hallway to Frig's lab to find a still-frustrated Gambit banging his little fist on his desk. "These numbers should work!"

Frig stood and let out a long breath. I moved over to his station to have a look at the screen. A big red X flashed beside a long set of equations.

"I looked over at the demodulator circuit. Maybe if we give it a swift kick or something."