Assessing Survival

• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Author’s Note
  
• About the Author
  

A woman under repair with a skill for assessing survival meets a previous acquaintance who is now more than a match for her.

In the year 2280, Earth has been at war for a decade. The Splice take the humans they capture and use them for parts. Sending bots in place of humans didn’t work, but taking the wounded and turning them into cyborgs has enabled Earth to push the Splice away from Earth. The combination of metal and man is turning the tide in a war that no one could have imagined.

Adaptation Base is where the wounded are recycled into enhanced warriors, and when a terrorist action takes out the administration, the newest cyborgs will have to take things into their own hands.

When Stitch comes to, her position as an assessment officer is still valid, but her new location on the front lines means a lot of adjustment. The men she had designed from the wounds out are now her team, and finding the one who had flirted his way into her heart—after all this time—leaves her vulnerable to his mechanical advantage.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Assessing Survival

Copyright © 2016 by Viola Grace

ISBN: 978-1-987969-16-0

©Cover art by Carmen Waters

All rights reserved. With the exception of review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the express permission of the publisher.

Published by Viola Grace

Look for me online at violagrace.com, amazon, kobo, B&N and other eBook sellers.

Assessing Survival

Mechanical Advantage Book 1

By

Viola Grace

Stitch stroked her patient’s hair back from his face, moving her hand as the scanner reached his head. The moment she could, she began the soothing touch again.

Her handheld terminal chirped when she got the scan results. “Sit tight, Private Matthews. I will see what we can do for you.”

His bright blue eyes had a colour that was startling in the ravaged expanse of his face.

His eyes were the only part of his face that was still intact. It was a miracle in and of itself. Most of the patients coming through had ocular damage.

“Rest easy. Let the painkillers do their work, and I will be back as soon as I have consulted with the doctors.”

He closed and opened his eyes slowly.

“I will take that as a yes. Don’t worry. You will live through this and come out on the other side.”

He closed his eyes and a tear trickled down his temple. She smiled softly and stroked his hair again. “Let us make you whole again.”

The nurse moved in and sedated him.

Stitch turned and headed to the conference room, where six doctors were on screens, ready to weigh in on the cyber modifications that Private Matthews was about to undergo.

Stitch settled in her chair and sat up straight. “Doctors, we have before you the case of Private Matthews. He has facial trauma. His left arm was harvested, and his right was crushed. There is damage to his torso that requires skin grafts and more damage to his lower extremities that cannot be repaired via the nanites.”

She tapped the file on her screen. “Now, tell me how we can put him back together and make it good.”

Stitch sat back and listened to the doctors discuss the available options. Arm and limb replacements were discussed. His jaw would have to be encapsulated while the nanites did their slow repair job.

She mentally thanked the egotists who used the nanites as medical care over the last century. The tiny robots made the cyborg program possible, and the cyborgs were making incredible strides in the war.

The Splice had attacked the space stations at first and then moved on to the first human colony. They didn’t want minerals or oxygen or any part of the world they landed on. They wanted the biological materials of their enemies to add to their own fused systems.

Humanity had thrown themselves at the intruders in their space and had been soundly beaten. When the battle-damaged started coming home, an ancient technology saved them. The doctors used the cybernetic implants and built warriors with weapons that stood a chance against their opponents and could not be taken from them.

In the previous century, those who were inclined used the nanite technology to fuse the metal to their skin and bone. It was a cosmetic freak show that had grown tiresome in a decade. Now, they were using that same tech to fuse weapons to flesh to remake wounded warriors into weapons once again.

With only one out of a hundred men making it back from the border that humanity was trying to defend, sending those who survived back into battle was their best bet.

Private Matthews had signed a reconstruction authorization, as had ninety percent of those who went into battle against the Splice.

When the doctors finally began to list solid points for connection, Stitch assembled the necessary components for the adaptation, and Matthews’s virtual scans began to take on the cybernetic components.

As the last of the possible components were added to the projection, she thanked the council of physicians.

“Your service to your world is appreciated. When the adaptation is complete, you will be sent copies of the medical files for your own perusal.”

The doctors thanked her, and the screens went blank.

Stitch called in the engineering officers on duty, as well as the transplant specialists and cyber mechanics. They all came from different parts of the station and began to work on the feasibility of the additions.

Cracker and Lucky were with the others. Lucky was looking at the cranial scans and judging the space left in his skull to implant control modules. Programming for all the limbs needed a solid place to work from. Closer to the spine was better. Using the body’s nervous system to relay the information meant they didn’t have to put in wires to do the work.

Cracker was checking the multitude of additions and nixing all but a basic few. The engineers fought her, but she stood firm.

“When they need maintenance, and they do, hiding those ports, jacks and servo systems under tissue drastically reduces the possibility of a fast repair and expedited turnaround. Keep it simple, make everything a multitasker, and get him up and running as quickly as possible.”

Stitch piped up. “Don’t forget his voice. He needs his voice back.”

Cracker grimaced and put the vocal enhancements back in place. “I have yet to meet a man whose voice was worth listening to.”

Lucky smirked, “You are hanging around with the wrong men.”

The other men in the room looked offended. They were older and unfit for duty on the border. Many of them had grandsons on the front lines. Most had lost someone.

For hours, they redesigned Matthews, until finally, they had something that would enable him to enjoy the life that had been returned to him as well as the power that would make him into a living weapon.

“Do we have a consensus?”

Stitch looked at every face in the room. The recordings were still active.

“Aye.” Six voices spoke at once.

With a few flicks of her fingers, she sent a copy of the file to the supply office, the equipment locker and the medical team. The pattern was set. They just had to put everything into place.

Acknowledgements came from each department, and Stitch sighed in relief.

“Procedure is confirmed and underway. Broadcast of progress will be forwarded after Matthews is on the road to recovery.”

She turned off the recording modules and got to her feet, stretching and twisting. The specialists on the main floor looked up at her, and she nodded. “Get to it. We need him back in action by the end of the week.”

Lucky was waiting at the base of the stairs that led up to the crow’s nest that let Stitch communicate and monitor everything regarding the design.

“So, are you coming tonight?”

Stitch chuckled. “Of course. We have the private room off the mess hall. We can have as much fun as is allowed by Extra-Earth policies.”

“You know how much that fun is?”

Stitch shrugged. “Ask Alphy. She knows everything.”

Lucky grinned. “I am sure she will tell us if we get out of hand.”

“Without us even asking.” Stitch gave her a one-armed hug. “Well, go and setup the control modules for Matthews. He has a lot of potential.”

“Off I go.” Lucky headed for the door, bumped into it and then righted herself to continue onward.

Stitch wondered how her friend had made it through life without countless breaks and major damage, but she always managed to skate through with only light bruising and a cheeky grin.

With her duty to Matthews completed, she headed back to the med bay and sat with him as he was prepped for surgery. He looked at her, and his eyes were calm.

“Don’t worry, Matthews; when you wake up, you will be able to speak again and your recovery will speed past.”

He blinked slowly, the pure blue eyes clear and understanding.

The docs came for him, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead before he left.

She watched him go, knowing that the nanites would repair his skin and muscle eventually, but when the implants were set in place, the little bots would graft him to the metal. Lucky’s programming would see to that.

She checked her schedule, and there was nothing left for her to do until the next medivac came to the station.

Only a dozen survivors had been on the last flight. There were more than twelve bays to redesign the warriors, but they went unused.

Stitch returned to her office and filed her reports. It always felt odd to sign her whole name, but
Assessment Officer Stephanie S. Carter
had to appear at the bottom of every report.

She checked the chronometer and kept working. Five hours until the party. She might just finish the paperwork on time.

Stitch watched as Lucky opened another parcel from the assembled ladies.

The newest member of their group smiled shyly as Lucky opened the box. Twenty girls laughed and gasped as the silky lingerie was put on display.

Lucky gasped and shoved it back in the box. “I am not going to wear that.”

The supply officer, Lacey, smiled, “It is worth its weight in microchips. The silk was taken off a Splice ship and was brought back by one of the salvage teams. It was crafted on another world.”

Lucky pulled it out again, and Stitch smirked. Lacey had come in three months earlier and already had a reputation for getting anything you could want in a surprisingly short amount of time.

The girls all marvelled at the exotic nature of the gift.

When the gifts had all been handed over by the one who brought them, there was one package left.

There was something odd about the box. It was wrapped with gleaming paper and a big, floppy bow. It was so girly as to be a caricature of a gift for a lady. There was a note tag dangling from the box.

Lucky picked up the box and examined the bow. “Huh, it says,
From Your Secret Admirer.
”

Stitch was moving as Lucky tugged the tag free. She thought she screamed, “Get down!” but she couldn’t be sure.

She tackled Lucky as the bomb in her hands exploded.

Stitch felt the searing pain in her back and her arm. She tried to move her right arm, but she couldn’t. Lucky had blood streaming from her head, and her hands were scorched, her breathing was even and Stitch counted the breaths to make sure she was still functioning.

She leaned up on her left arm and looked around. Over half the women were dead and several more were on their way to it.

Cracker was next to the com and whispering, doing a head count of the survivors.

A moment later, there were medics streaming in and doing triage on the damaged ladies.

Half of the administration of the transformation and repair station had been wiped out in the explosion. This was definitely war.

Stitch grunted as the medics lifted her up. “Hey, Antony, Morry.”

“Damn, Stitch. You are going to be one of your own patients.” Antony tried to keep his gaze bright, but there was worry in it.

“Remind me to play poker with you, Antony. You look extremely worried.”