Crossover by Joel Shepherd Read Free Book Online

of equipment. The smoke smell lingered. Someone pulled the cable connection from the back of her skull, only to replace it with another ... she tried to send another charge up it, but the barriers were too strong, and in her present state she was unable to find the necessary frequency modulations.
    She could feel her arms now. Numb, now that the chemical dosage was being reapplied, but she could feel them all the same. She could feel her whole body, except for her left leg below the knee. Numb, but feeling. And she had those connections firmly secured now, she knew her systems well, and knew that once re-established, no chemicals would entirely displace them. She had adapted.
    Another burst of concentration and she had her voice back.
    "Where am I?" The sound was little more than a croak, but the words were clear enough. There was a silence, except for equipment shifting.
    "Hello Cassandra," said a male voice, after that slight pause. Bemused sarcasm. Coming from somewhere above and behind her. "That is what you call yourself, isn't it? Cassandra?"
    The buzzing sound resumed from behind, and something in her right knee tingled faintly, sensation running up and down her leg. It grew stronger, and not at all pleasant.
    "What are you doing to me?"
    "Joe, can you shut it up?" No audible response.
    "Tell me!" She could hear the fear in her own voice, bad as it was. The right leg sensation got even worse. Reflexes tried to move, but nothing happened. It was the drug, and the restraints. And that damnable cord in the back of her head, probing away. She hadn't the strength to hit it again. And it wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
    "We could gag her." Sandy realised that she was hardly even breathing, the oxygen was coming from elsewhere. And something in her knee gave way with a hard pop that she felt jamming through her teeth.
    "It's not a her," that same male voice replied. "No one calls it her. Got that?" More deep concentration, and Sandy gathered another breath.
    "What are you doing to my leg?" An unsteady rasp. Pain, then, of a deep, horrible kind, far from the superficial torment of skin and flesh wounds. Conversational murmurs, working conversation and something crunched agonisingly through her knee, the buffers overriding then, making it numb. Which told her it must have been very, very bad.
    Movement, then, to one side of her head, people walking. She rolled her eyes to that side as far as she could, unable to move her head. But in her excellent peripheral vision, she saw one of the lab-coated workers was holding something in his hands, placing it carefully onto a synthetic trolley surface ... the bottom half of her right leg, amputated at the knee.
    That, obviously, was why she couldn't feel her left foot either.
    Sandy screwed her eyes shut. Tears leaked through the lids, spilling onto her eyelashes. She tried to draw a deep breath but found it difficult. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.
    "Stop it," she croaked. No one listened. There was more conversation about other things, and the sounds of more equipment. "You can't do this. Please. Please stop."
    "I'm getting very sick of listening to that." Distracted, and bad-tempered. "Shock it."
    "We'll move faster on the barrier elements if she's conscious..."
    "I don't care, shock it."
    There was a white flash of energy, and more pain, and then darkness.
----
    Awoke with a jolt. And found herself in a living nightmare. Vision blurred in and out, and the antiseptic odour stank foully. A crushing pressure weighed upon her consciousness. She felt herself squashed into a small, cramped corner, forced by something incredibly heavy. She felt desperately for her elements, finding shards of broken code and jumbled, static-like mess. Her balance was shaky, and things floated.
    Sounds came to her as if from a great distance. Voices, once loud, then soft again. She fought the pressure, panicking, and made herself a little space amid the nausea, grabbing at the old, steady