The morphine haze clung to Caleb's brain like wet wool. He dragged air through his dry lips, blinking against the harsh fluorescents. He pushed upward to stretch.
His right arm fought the movement. A rigid cast dragged his shoulder down, heavy and dead.
A chair scraped violently against the linoleum.
"Hey, easy man!"
A glossy pamphlet smacked onto the floor. Hiro hovered over the bed, waving his hands. "The nurse told me your situation. Don't break yourself."
Caleb lowered his good arm. The kid wore his oversized track jacket, looking entirely out of place in the pristine medical ward. Caleb forced his swollen tongue to work.
"The ice," Caleb mumbled, slurring the syllables. "You shot the dirt."
Hiro relaxed his shoulders. He picked his pamphlet off the tiles. "You watched my fight."
The sludge in Caleb's head began to recede, leaving behind the dull throb of his bruised ribs.
"I stopped by to wish you a speedy recovery," Hiro said. He gripped the metal bed frame. "I hope you try again next year. You took a crazy hit."
Caleb stared at the ceiling panels. He owed too much money to survive until next year.
"But," Hiro pointed toward the metal tray table. "It seems you have a gift."
A small box sat dead center on the aluminum tray. It was wrapped in red paper, sealed tight with thick black tape.
Caleb stared at the dark adhesive. The family debt. The paralyzed arm. The encrypted viewer who owned his broadcast.
His stomach violently contracted.
Acid surged up his throat. He doubled over, grabbing his midsection with his good hand. A tearing agony ripped through his gut. It felt like his organs were digesting themselves.
A hoarse yell tore out of his throat.
Hiro's pamphlet smacked the floor again. "Hey! What's wrong?!"
Caleb dug his fingers into the white sheets. "Food," he gasped. "I haven't eaten since last night."
Hiro bolted into the hallway.
Caleb curled onto his side, enduring the grinding cramps. Hiro returned minutes later, balancing a plastic tray loaded with three foil-wrapped protein bricks and a bowl of synthetic broth.
Caleb grabbed a brick. Tearing the foil with his teeth, he shoved the dry protein into his mouth. He swallowed the dense mass almost whole and drained the broth in three gulps. He didn't care about the taste. The hollow ache dulled, and the violent tearing in his gut subsided into a manageable throb.
He fell back against the pillows, pulling oxygen through his nose.
Hiro stared at him. "Remind me never to get between you and a buffet."
Caleb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He reached out and hooked his thumb under the tape on the small box. It ripped back with a harsh screech.
A silver auto-injector rested inside on dense foam. Green fluid glowed within the glass vial.
Hiro leaned closer. "Is that an Apex-brand combat stim? A single dose goes for fifty thousand credits on the underground exchange."
Fifty thousand credits. Caleb shifted his gaze to his rigid right arm.
"Will it fix nerve damage?" Caleb asked.
Hiro shook his head. "No. It just forces healthy muscles to ignore limits. If the motor pathways are burned out, injecting that will stop your heart."
Caleb closed the cardboard flap. He tossed the box onto the tray table. It hit the metal with a sharp clatter.
He froze.
If that glass cracked, his only ticket out of the disposal yards was gone. He threw the sterile sheets off, stepped onto the cold linoleum, and scooped the box up.
"At the very least, I can fence this," Caleb said, inspecting the glass vial through the cardboard window.
Hiro stared at him. The kid's mouth hung open.
"What?" Caleb asked.
Hiro pointed a trembling finger at Caleb's torso. "How are you walking? You took a direct hit from a prototype suit."
Caleb stopped.
He looked down at his bare feet, then at the rigid brace trapping his right arm. He pressed his left hand flat against his ribcage. He pushed his fingers hard into the skin.
No grinding bone. No sharp ache.
He dragged in a massive breath. His chest expanded smoothly. The tearing hunger he had just experienced... his body hadn't just been starving. It had been fueling a rapid rebuild.
Caleb stared at his hand, then back up at Hiro.
"My ribs are entirely solid," Caleb said quietly.
Hiro wiped his palms on his track jacket. He let out a strained, nervous laugh. "Okay. That's a funny joke."
"Two weeks ago, a Class-4 impaled me," Caleb said. His voice dropped to a flat murmur. "A tendril went straight through my chest. The doctors found nothing. Now this."
Hiro took a slow step backward. "Caleb, that... that implies something is inside you."
Before Caleb could answer, the medical door hissed open.
A nurse marched in, pushing fogged safety glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"Visitation is over," she said to Hiro. "I need to prep this patient for outtake."
Hiro looked at Caleb. "Will I see you again?"
Caleb shrugged his good shoulder. "Who knows."
"Thanks for the hit on Kikaru," Hiro said from the threshold. He offered a quick wave before the metal door clicked shut.
Caleb turned to the nurse. He twisted his torso, testing his healed core again. His ribs absorbed the momentum flawlessly.
The nurse stood in absolute silence. She reached behind her head and pulled her hair tie loose. Her auburn hair fell over her collar.
Her eyes were entirely glazed. A thick, milky fog swallowed her pupils.
"I have been watching you, Caleb," she said. The clinical tone was gone. The voice sliding out of her throat was smooth, steady, and entirely too familiar.
Caleb tightened his grip on the sealed box. He bumped the rolling metal tray table, shifting it between himself and the woman.
She reached into her hair, peeling a matte-black comms-chip away from her scalp. She tossed it onto the tray table.
"Keep it behind your ear," the smooth voice said. "The military scanners will read it as a medical augment."
Caleb stared at the device. "You buy my stream. Now you're hijacking medical staff to hand me a radio. What's the payoff for a disposal scrubber?"
The nurse tilted her head. The movement was sharp, mechanical.
"The military throws you away because they only measure what you are today," she whispered. Her cold fingers clamped suddenly onto his jaw. "I know what you are hiding in your chest. I know what it needs. Keep fighting for me, and I will feed it."
The rigid tension holding her spine straight collapsed instantly.
Her eyes rolled back. Her body went completely limp, pitching forward like a cut puppet.
Caleb tried to brace himself with his one working arm, but her dead weight slammed into his chest. His bare feet slipped on the linoleum. They crashed to the floor, Caleb taking the brunt of the impact against his back. The air punched out of his lungs.
The nurse gasped.
She pushed herself up on her hands, blinking rapidly. The thick glaze in her eyes dissolved into stark panic. She looked down. She was straddling a patient wearing hospital briefs and an arm cast.
A dark flush crept rapidly up her neck. She scrambled backward, her shoes slipping wildly on the polished floor. She snatched her fallen clipboard and hugged it tight against her chest, her breathing shallow and erratic. She began rapidly clicking her pen, over and over.
"Protocol 4-A dictates... dictates a minimum three-foot boundary with patients," she stammered, her voice shaking as she rattled off the manual to ground herself. "I... I tripped. You are not authorized to be out of bed."
"You passed out," Caleb said, resting his head back against the floor.
The nurse shoved her fogged safety glasses back onto her face. "The transport team is arriving in ten minutes," she said, her professional mask slipping back into place. "You are being transferred to the Central District trauma ward for six months of neural rehab."
A harsh siren blared through the ceiling speakers. Five minutes to Phase Two.
Caleb grabbed the plastic buckles on his medical brace. He ripped the velcro loose, peeling the heavy shell away.
His right arm was a horrific shade of mottled purple, tracing the edges of his bicep where the flesh had burned.
The nurse gasped. "Get back in bed!"
Caleb bolted past her. He snatched his stained canvas jacket from the chair, shoving his bruised arm through the sleeve. He scooped the steel capsule and the black comms-chip off the tray, pressing the device hard behind his right ear.
Fingers clamped onto his bruised bicep. The nurse dug her shoes into the floor, dragging her weight against him. "I will have you detained!"
Caleb casually flicked his arm to break her grip.
The raw kinetic force launched her backward. Her shoes shrieked against the linoleum. She skidded ten feet and slammed into the drywall, cracking the plaster.
Caleb froze. He stared at his empty hand. "Sorry."
Boots pounded around the corner. A Defense Force soldier and a security guard skidded to a halt. They stared at the dented wall, then at the dazed nurse.
She pointed a shaking finger at Caleb. "Stop him!"
Caleb turned and sprinted down the green arrow path.