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spiderparlour"We've been through this five times already--Sit. Stay."
The manic whined, but crumpled down into a heap on the table. Finally! He could start fixing it now.
"There! Good. Stay there. Nasty bugs put a hole in you, but you put more in them, right? Made them bleed."
It cackled, the noise descending into a hiss as he cut the charred polymer armor from around the wound in its thigh. "And you did it so well. We've got more of their whispering little lenses now. More kuva. Drip by drip of it, we'll bleed them all."
The wound was exposed now, synthflesh and original both leaking and full of dirt and shrapnel. He could float most of that out with the right chems, but those stung, and he didn't have restraints for manics on this transport. He could knock it out, or--
"You're the one... that likes hiding under the sequencer while I work, right? All the little tubes that go hiss?"
It made an affirmative gurgle, warily eyeing the tools he was shuffling around.
"Well. Stay still while the fixing hurts, and then you can hide under the bench here." He pointed to a shadowy corner of the makeshift laboratory. "Nobody else is allowed to do that!"
The manic twitched, then swiped its little claws at the air, giggling excitedly. "Good! Now--Still. I'm hunting bits of Narmer shell in your leg."
-♅-
The manic was now curled up under the workbench while he wandered back and forth, alternating between tuning up his combat hands, and dissecting a bit of Narmer brain. The surgery had been a good distraction from the boredom. Returning from raids always took forever, but forever was stealthy. Take a light attack ship with vassal transponders, slide in through Narmer defenses, wreak havoc, punch out, then drop the rail part-way and wait to see if anything came crawling after.
That kept the flotilla safe. Kept Narmer away from his few remaining tubes, from his new projects. Away from his army, scavenged from the drekar and outer system fleets and the scraps he'd scraped off of Earth and Mars as everything fell apart.
And he was a patchwork of repairs and cunning workarounds now. His faceplate was scratched and pitted with battle damage he hadn't had a chance to smooth out. Bits of synthetic muscle were sleeved in armored polymer, holding in a soup of repair nanites and raw material in lieu of real fabricator-printed replacements. And on the organic side, he was going to need a new kidney soon. Squishy little thing was complaining again.
"So much to do, and not enough me to do it," he sighs. "Once this is all over, gotta make another pair of arms."
The manic whined, but crumpled down into a heap on the table. Finally! He could start fixing it now.
"There! Good. Stay there. Nasty bugs put a hole in you, but you put more in them, right? Made them bleed."
It cackled, the noise descending into a hiss as he cut the charred polymer armor from around the wound in its thigh. "And you did it so well. We've got more of their whispering little lenses now. More kuva. Drip by drip of it, we'll bleed them all."
The wound was exposed now, synthflesh and original both leaking and full of dirt and shrapnel. He could float most of that out with the right chems, but those stung, and he didn't have restraints for manics on this transport. He could knock it out, or--
"You're the one... that likes hiding under the sequencer while I work, right? All the little tubes that go hiss?"
It made an affirmative gurgle, warily eyeing the tools he was shuffling around.
"Well. Stay still while the fixing hurts, and then you can hide under the bench here." He pointed to a shadowy corner of the makeshift laboratory. "Nobody else is allowed to do that!"
The manic twitched, then swiped its little claws at the air, giggling excitedly. "Good! Now--Still. I'm hunting bits of Narmer shell in your leg."
-♅-
The manic was now curled up under the workbench while he wandered back and forth, alternating between tuning up his combat hands, and dissecting a bit of Narmer brain. The surgery had been a good distraction from the boredom. Returning from raids always took forever, but forever was stealthy. Take a light attack ship with vassal transponders, slide in through Narmer defenses, wreak havoc, punch out, then drop the rail part-way and wait to see if anything came crawling after.
That kept the flotilla safe. Kept Narmer away from his few remaining tubes, from his new projects. Away from his army, scavenged from the drekar and outer system fleets and the scraps he'd scraped off of Earth and Mars as everything fell apart.
And he was a patchwork of repairs and cunning workarounds now. His faceplate was scratched and pitted with battle damage he hadn't had a chance to smooth out. Bits of synthetic muscle were sleeved in armored polymer, holding in a soup of repair nanites and raw material in lieu of real fabricator-printed replacements. And on the organic side, he was going to need a new kidney soon. Squishy little thing was complaining again.
"So much to do, and not enough me to do it," he sighs. "Once this is all over, gotta make another pair of arms."
