CHAPTER ONE
HEARTWARMING
I shifted.
Something poked at my back, above my ribs. Had Lucy snuck into my bed again? I loved the girl, but sometimes she was all elbows and knees and a real pain to sleep next to.
Twisting a little, I found myself rolling onto my stumpy side, only to run into a problem.
I had an arm.
Or rather, a second arm.
Some of the sleep-addled grogginess faded as I turned onto my back and blinked up at an entirely unfamiliar ceiling. There wasn’t any cracked drywall above me. Instead, I could see a ceiling with recessed LEDs through the gauzy curtains of a four-poster bed.
There was no way in fuck I was back at the orphanage.
“What time’s it?” I mumbled as I looked around. I was still dressed. At least I had pants on, plus a jacket that left my stomach bare. My uncovered feet felt just shy of chilly.
It’s six forty in the morning. Your daily allotment of points has come in. Your total is sitting at 9,283 points.
I started a little at the voice that . . . had come from somewhere in my head. Memories came back. The museum, the sky tearing open, and aliens raining down around us. Getting impaled and becoming a samurai. Myalis guiding and trolling me. The kittens flying off to safety. A few interminable and stressful hours spent trying to save people.
“Crap,” I said as I sat up on the edge of the bed. I’d made a mess of the topmost blankets. My invisibility jacket was covered in alien blood and nonalien blood and a lot of dust and crap. It’s a miracle Lucy even let me into the room with it on.
Another memory returned.
“Did I sleep through sex?” I asked with mounting horror.
You didn’t get far enough to make your statement even remotely true.
“Fuck me.”
That is, in fact, what didn’t happen.
I groaned as I got up. Whisper, my stealth crossbow, rested against the wall next to the door. None of the kittens had grabbed it, at least. I still had my back-mounted guns and tail on, and a hand cannon tucked under my new cybernetic arm.
“I’m a mess,” I said.
I’d offer you a self-cleaning system, but the washrooms in this place are . . . adequate.
I took off my jacket and flung it onto a sofa. Someone would need to clean the sofa—someone who wasn’t me. “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s see if we can get some food first. And check on the kittens.”
The penthouse we had was divided into little rooms. Lucy had dumped me in the big suite the night before, but from the open doors I passed on the way to the kitchen area, the other suites seemed pretty damned luxurious too. The wide-open living area, with its sofas and curved television, took up a space longer than a bus.
Everything was done in marble and wood, with a pinch of gilding here and there. I would have called it ostentatious, but somehow it wasn’t. Obviously, they’d hired some decorators to make the place look like an old-money palace.
Nose and little Tim were knocked out on the couch, the TV playing some samurai cartoon on mute.
I elected not to bother them as I moved around an island bigger than my room back at the orphanage and yanked open the fridge. The damned thing was stocked. I grabbed some cereal of the colorful sort from one of the cupboards and an expensive glass bottle of genuine cow milk from the fridge door.
I poured myself a bowl of Longb’O’s for irony’s sake, then watched as all the little rings glowed on contact with the milk. “Neat,” I said.
This food provides literally negative nutrition.
I munched through a mouthful of sugary goodness. “Tastes great, though.” We could never afford the cool junk food back at the orphanage. I set the box on its side and watched the ads for neat toys scroll under a grinning image of a familiar samurai.
The bastard had been airbrushed—I just knew it.
“Cat?”
I looked up to see Bargain standing next to the island. He was a bit short, only his head visible above the benchtop.
“Hey,” I said.
He looked at me, shrewd little eyes taking me in. “What would you give me not to wake everyone up?” he asked.
Some things never changed. I smiled big and wide at him, pulled my Trench Maker from under my arm, and let the heavy handgun clunk onto the top of the island. “This gun can be loaded with any kind of bullet,” I said. “Samurai magic shit, you know? How much do you wanna bet there are some specifically made to deal with annoying little shits?”
“That’s a good deal,” he said before running off.
I think we’re going to have a weapons safety lesson in the near future.
“The safety’s on,” I muttered before returning to my cereal. I had the enviable problem of running out of glowing rings before running out of milk, which meant I was obligated to refill the bowl.
The next ones to show up were the Twins, and while I was pretty cool with Alpha and Omega, the two of them took one look at me before squealing, “Cat’s awake!”
Before I could eat any more of my cereal, they were joined by bleary-eyed kittens spawned from all over. Spark and Tim came over, then Nemo and Nose and Bargain, who still seemed cowed. It was too bad the others weren’t.
I listened to their babbled questions for all of a minute before I felt a stress headache coming on. “Would you all shut up?!” I shouted.
That worked about as well as it usually did, which was not at all.
“Kittens, be quiet,” a soft voice said from behind the lot of them.
They clamped shut like mousetraps going off.
“How about everyone pull up a chair and we can get some breakfast?” Lucy said as she pushed Tim toward one of the seats around the island. It was a little awkward, what with her still holding on to her crutches under one arm.
“You’re going to cook?” I asked.
“Hell no. They have room service here,” she said. “I bet it’s better than those.”
“These,” I said, raising my spoon, “are great.”
She scrunched her nose at me.
“I actually met Longbow, you know,” I said, gesturing my spoon toward the box art. “He’s . . . kinda insane. Nice, though.”
“Showing off?” she asked.
I grinned back at her. “Just you wait,” I said with a purr.
She smiled right back. “I waited plenty last night, but someone decided to fall asleep.”
Much to my annoyance, a few of the kittens caught on and laughed at my reddening cheeks. “Oh, shut up, you guys. I had a long day.”
“Is that your excuse now?” Junior asked as she came around and took a seat on my side. She slid the box of cereal over, then huffed and got up to fetch a bowl. “You still owe me a knife,” she said as she fished for a spoon.
“Might as well,” I sighed. “Lucy, you wanna order that breakfast? Also, where’s Dumbass?”
“Sure,” Lucy said as she clacked her way over to an old-school phone on a pedestal nearby.
Nemo ran off, returning a minute later with one of my little drones clutched between both hands. It was Dumbass the First, sans gun mount.
I had the drones disarm when the children started playing with them.
“How responsible,” I said before clearing my throat. “All right, you little shits. This is Dumbass. It’s got some fancy medical scanner doodad in it. You let it scan you, and then Myalis, my wonderful brain worm AI buddy, will tell me how to cure the stupid out of you.”
If that were possible, wouldn’t you think I’d have tried to talk you into curing yourself a long time ago?
I saw Lucy pausing by the phone, and a few of the kittens were looking at the drone with wide, hopeful eyes.
“Th-thank you,” Bargain said.
“Oh, shut up,” I said. “You know I’m just doing it to impress Lucy.” Lucy snorted before picking up the phone.
Junior barked out a laugh next to me. “You’re a shitty liar,” she said. “And don’t think curing some incurable sickness will let you off the hook.”
I rolled my eyes while Dumbass got to work. “For . . . fine. Myalis, we got any knives available?”
You do. In your Sun Watcher Technologies catalog. The cheapest is a survivalist knife with an extendable monofilament blade. It will cost you five points.
“Perfect.”
A cheap plastic box appeared on the table before me, and I slid it over to Junior. Her eyes lit up as she tore the package open and pulled out a long knife.
“Monofilament blade,” I said. “Don’t kill yourself.”
“Awesome,” she said, and then her smile froze and she turned the knife around. “Wait, why’s it got a cat on the handle?”
I blinked and leaned over. There was, in fact, a feline on the handle. But it wasn’t a cat, it was a kitten. “I think it’s the button to retract the blade.”
“Why’s it shaped like a cat?”
“A kitten,” I said. “Just like you!”
She glared, which warmed my heart.
“All right! Time to pull a Jesus.”
CHAPTER TWO
A SLICE OF HAPPINESS
Times of peace aren’t uncommon. But they never really last.
—Deus Ex, June 2057
“What’ve you got for me?” I asked Myalis while looking over at Dumbass the First.
I suppose I could start with the youngest and work my way up.
“Sure,” I said. “So we’ll start with Nose, or is Spark younger?”
I believe that Nose is the youngest, judging by the scans Dumbass has taken.
The kittens were all gathered around the kitchen island—even Lucy, who’d returned from ordering breakfast with a sly smile on her face. Daniel had spun around on his chair and waved me hello before deep-diving into his phone.
Nose and Spark were both standing near the edge of the table and looking at me without blinking.
Nose—and that is an awful name I’ve no doubt you had something to do with—seems to suffer from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It’s at the third stage. It’s rather surprising that he can still function moderately well. He has a few other conditions, mostly centered around his nasal cavity and esophagus.
“Nose is a tough little shit,” I said.
Nose nodded seriously. “Yeah.”
“Got a cure?”
Obviously. A Nano-Regenerative Suite should be sufficient to cure the ailment.
I grinned. “Don’t keep us waiting, Myalis. And tab it all up for me in one go at the end.”
A box appeared on the island, small and cheap. Inside was an inhaler with a tank the size of a soda can and a red button on the top. Its front was shaped like a rather basic oxygen mask.
Spread out the use over the course of the day. Tell Nose to drink a lot of water and have a big, varied meal later. He’s got a few nutritional deficiencies. In fact, all of them, you included, do. There are also traces of heavy metals in your blood and in some of your organs, and some nitrates, plastics, and a few other chemicals that I suspect were used as fertilizer and pesticides. It’s fortunate humans are so resilient, or you’d all be tumorous masses by now.
I slid the inhaler over to Nose. “Take a puff every hour or so. And then eat a lot tonight. Oh, and down a couple of glasses of water, all right?” I’d need to get some sort of detox thing for all the kittens later, but that could probably wait a day.
“Yeah!” he said before taking the inhaler. Everyone watched as he took a deep breath from it, then coughed a few times. “Tickles.”
“It’ll get better,” I said. “Spark, you’re up next.”
“All right!” Spark said. “Hit me up, Doc Cat.”
Spark has an interesting one. It seems like a sort of prion disease. I suspect he came into contact with something while very young. It has mostly kept to his parietal lobe, reducing his ability to feel touch.
“Right,” I said. “It’s why he’s called Spark: he likes licking power outlets.”
“I don’t!” Spark protested. “It just feels weird.”
A simple Neuro-Regenerative should do.
Another box, this one with a red plastic nib and drawn instructions on the side to place it against the crook of the arm. “Can you figure it out?” I asked.
“I’m not an idiot,” he said before fumbling with the injector. He didn’t even wince as he pulled back his sleeve and jabbed it in. “When’s this going to work?”
It will take approximately an hour for the first signs of regression to show. Six for a complete cure. Also, he’s far too thin. I suspect that he can’t feel hunger pangs at all.
“Give it until this afternoon,” I said. “And eat more. You’re too damned thin. Tim, you’re too thin too.”
Tim here is missing a leg. That much is obvious. Otherwise, he’s in decent health.
“Tim’s new to the kittens,” I explained. It was kind of shitty that being new meant he hadn’t collected a bunch of problems yet.
“Will you regrow my leg?” he asked.
“Do you want a new leg or a prosthetic?” I asked, wiggling my metal fingers around.
“Can I have one like yours?”
“Only if you want to lose an arm,” I snarked back. It earned a few laughs, which was nice. The mood with the kittens was about as high as I’d ever seen it. “But nah, just a normal samurai-grade prosthetic. Mine can fire rockets. Yours . . . won’t.”
“Aww,” he said.
His current prosthetic is rather pitiful. I’d suggest a Sun Watcher replacement. There are some that are inexpensive, require little to no maintenance, and are far superior to what he has without needing complex neural links. They can also expand over time so that they won’t require replacing for some years. I’d also suggest a skin irritation cream.
I tapped the table. “Come on, Myalis, don’t keep us waiting.”
Tim’s new leg came in a little case, and next to it came a small jar of some sort of cream with instructions printed on the side. “Spark, Nose, wanna help him put it on?”
The three rushed off with the couches in the living room, with Tim demanding they be careful with his new leg.
“Bargain,” I said.
“Cat,” he replied.
Bargain has a few smaller issues. Chemical burns on the lower half of his body, a slight defect in his heart, and a minor case of cerebral palsy as well. The skin issues can be relieved with a cream. I’d advise the same for your own burns if you ever want to repair them, actually. The lung issue will require a Nano-Regenerative Suite. The cerebral palsy will require a Neuro-Regenerative. It won’t disappear instantly. He will need to exercise, stretch, and straighten his posture over the course of several months.
“All right,” I said. “Lay it on the table.”
The boxes appeared. Bargain looked at them, then up at me. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes.
“No more wheeling and dealing,” I said. “Not with me or Lucy.”
He nodded slowly. “And the others?”
“Do as you want with them, but be fair to the other kittens,” I said. “Oh, and you’ll need to stand taller and exercise to fix yourself up properly. And probably eat something other than the shit we usually have.”
“All right, deal,” he said.
“Nemo?” I asked.
Nemo popped her head up and blinked at me.
Very mild autism, some selective mutism, and a terrible diet. A Neuro-Regenerative would aid with the issues with her brain, but most of Nemo’s problems are due to a poor diet and some psychological issues.
I nodded and flicked the next box that appeared her way. “You need to eat better too,” I said.
Nemo nodded, smiled, then ran off to see Tim and Spark and the others.
You are aware that the Twins aren’t genetically twins at all, right?
“Yeah, they’re just missing the same bits,” I said.
The Twins—who did look like each other, with the same shitty haircut, brown hair and eyes, and too-pale skin—leaned forward at the same time. “We want rocket launcher arms,” they said as one.
“No,” I vetoed.
Two new, non-rocket-equipped arms later, and they were off helping each other install their new prosthetics and playing around with the features on their new arms over in the living room.
“Okay, so, for my final acts . . . Daniel, you’ve got some sort of muscular fucked-up-ness, right?”
“That’s the medical term, yeah,” he agreed with a grin.
Muscular dystrophy. Chemically induced at that. A simple fix.
I flung the next box over to him, and he saluted me back. “Thanks, love.”
“Don’t try.”
“How long until I can start dancing?”
Two to three days.
I snorted. “Your pasty white ass will never be able to dance,” I said. “But in a few days, you’ll be able to traumatize the kids by trying.”
He flipped me the bird, but he was still smiling. “We’ll see.”
And finally, we have Junior. She . . . is merely malnourished, with traces of contaminants in her blood that will pass eventually.
“Junior,” I said.
“Yeah?” she asked as she looked up from her bowl.
“You’re too fucking skinny.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
I felt a shy, tentative hand touching my shoulder. “What about me?” Lucy asked.
Lucy has multiple sclerosis. An easy thing to cure.
A fresh box appeared on the table.
Give her those. Then allow for a few hours to restore all of her cognitive functions. It might be mildly unpleasant. Afterward, she’ll need to practice walking and running once more.
“You’ll need to take these,” I said. “But they’ll make you feel all tingly.”
She smiled up at me. “Tingly, huh?” she asked. “Will you help me get rid of all my tingles?”
I leaned down and our lips met while I fiddled with the box with my free hand. I had the tablets out soon enough and was carefully pressing the single pill between her lips.
“For fuck’s sake, get a room,” Junior said. “Don’t do that in front of my cereal.”
Lucy and I happily complied, though it was a bit hard to make it back to the room with our faces practically glued together.
“Oh, oh man, it really is tingly,” Lucy said as she sat on the edge of the bed. “My feet are all . . . You know when your arms go to sleep and then they come awake?” She wiggled her legs, then wiggled them some more as she slid off the pajama pants she was wearing to expose two beautiful dark legs.
I got to my knees to capture one of her feet. Carefully, I massaged it, just a bit of pressure in the way she always liked. The pleased little noise she made said a lot.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss onto the top of her foot.
And then, before I could lean back, a pair of panties dropped down and came to rest around her ankles.
I looked up to meet Lucy’s bright eyes. “You said you’d take care of all the parts that tingled.”
“So I did,” I agreed.
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