The Nightingale Circus (3 page)

“We came up with another solution,” Rake said
in answer to her silent question. “We replaced the femur with a
metallic, shorter one… so, one day, if the need arises, you can
have it grow to the right size without another surgery.” He pointed
at a fine line that crossed one of the extremities. “Here. With the
proper code and charge, it will elongate … like the stilt men?” He
made eye contact for a brief moment. “There will be pain when the
flesh and muscles extend so you mustn’t do it unless you’re decided
to keep it that way for a long time. Do you understand?”

Cielo gave a slow nod. She couldn’t imagine
why she’d want to do that.

Since Rake refused to continue without a
proper acknowledgement, she nodded again. “Okay.”

A cheerful whistle interrupted the staring
contest, and Spinner entered the room, holding something behind his
back. “Aww, you started already? But I wanted to be here when you
explained—never mind … I’ve got something better!” He produced an
adjustable crutch and showed it to her. “Isn’t it pretty? You’ll be
up on your feet in no time.” A big smile split Spinner’s face in
half, and he waved his free hand. “Come on, up, up! Let’s try
it!”

Showing no sign of excitement, Rake
methodically detached the sensors and straps that kept her
connected to the chair. Once she was free, he removed all the
objects that could get in her way and signaled for Cielo to lower
her feet on the floor.

The limb was stiff and unresponsive at first.
Cielo had a fit of panic at the thought that they had screwed up
somehow, but despite the sluggishness, the leg smoothly executed
the command. She felt the hard floor under her feet, both of them,
though the right thigh remained numb and distant.

“Lean on this.” Spinner handed her the
crutch. “Careful, the leg is heavier than what you’re used to. You
need to find a new balance and get used to it before doing any
sudden moves.”

“You need to strengthen your muscles,” Rake
said. “Walk along the corridor from one end of the car to the other
several times a day. You don’t have anything better to do until we
set up shop again in another town anyway.”

The words might have sounded harsh, but they
were true. She had no particular occupation in between shows.

Cielo first leaned her weight on the good leg
then tentatively tried to balance it with the use of the other one
and the crutch. The injured leg was indeed heavier and felt
partially asleep, but the pain didn’t increase when she moved it or
leaned on it. She let out a small sigh. She could do this. The
worst part was over, and the first step was a small victory by
itself.

“Wonderful!” Spinner clasped his hands. “Come
to the factory. We want to show you something.”

One step after another, Cielo crossed the
room. Spinner led the way while Rake walked next to her, ready to
catch her. She was out of breath long before making it to the
adjacent room but kept on walking out of sheer stubbornness.

Cielo’s hand was shaking on the crutch when
she stopped in front of the large workbench. An unfinished cage
made of golden wires lay on it, and inside, the silhouette of a
bird swung on a delicate chain.

“Meet … the Nightingale,” Spinner said.

* * *

Two days later, the train stopped in a
station outside another town. The crew marked the perimeter of the
fair with yellow tape on the other side of the tracks and erected
the massive blue and yellow striped tent right in the middle.

As usual, the news spread quickly, and before
nightfall, the fair was bustling with lights and life. They would
make a lot of money from the sales of food, trinkets, and games,
and even more money from the tickets after the first show.

Cielo cast a glance towards the big, flashy
sign near the entrance that announced The Nightingale Circus was in
town. Not one of the visitors from the constant stream passing by
bothered to give her a second look. She smoothed her simple,
sequined dress that flowed around her legs, making the limping
stand out even more, and with the help of the crutch, she entered
the tent. From there, smiling secretively to herself, she found her
way to the sound booth backstage.

After she locked the door behind her, she
turned on the monitors. Various shots from the inside of the arena
filled the wall, including one of the golden cage hung close to the
top of the conical roof. In the packed seats, the audience was
getting restless. It was time for the show to start. Cielo drank a
sip of water and cleared her throat.

The lights went low, pulsing in soft, warm
colors. The orchestra attacked the first note. Cielo’s voice filled
the arena in a gentle caress. Tonight she would sing about
perfection. She’d make everyone believe the Nightingale could only
be someone as perfect as her singing and not a crippled girl with a
badly mended leg. Her heart soared. The broken leg had saved her
life. She was free.

The pain hit Spinner everywhere at once when
he came back online. He ran a quick diagnosis on what still worked
in his system and winced. Or tried to. He was still losing blood
through two major wounds in his thigh and upper torso, though it
had been a while since the injuries had occurred. He couldn’t tell
exactly how long because his internal clock had stopped working
along with most of his enhancements. The newest implant was a bust.
The last blast had fried it, paralyzing him. He couldn’t move from
the neck down. He couldn’t connect to the command center either.
That explained why he was still trapped underneath a pile of metal
and mangled corpses instead of lying on a hospital bed. They
probably thought he was dead.

He should have been. During today’s exercise,
a platoon led by a telecharger had fought the new bot, a prototype
that the army was proud of. This one was already considered a
success, ready to stand up to the enemy’s army. Only the bots
weren’t supposed to blow up that easily, not on the training field.
It had taken away with it sixty men, plus one telecharger whose
worth surpassed his weight in gold. Not good at all.

Despite his hazy brain, Spinner tried to
remember everyone’s location just before the blast. Maybe he wasn’t
the only one lucky enough to survive. Hard to tell since his visual
sensors didn’t work properly.

“Rake … are you there?” His voice came out
hoarse, but his jaw worked enough to produce the words.

A groan came from his left. “I wish I was
dead.”

A relieved sigh escaped Spinner’s lips. Life
wasn’t so bad if his best friend had survived.

“Any idea what happened?” he asked.

“Another screw up of our wonderful
scientists.” Rake’s gruff voice was strained.

“What’s the status?”

“I think I broke my back. I can’t move,” Rake
said.

Tough luck, but not unfixable. A month of
rehabilitation would do. It meant they weren’t going to be shipped
to the battlefield together this time around. Bummer.

“Any tingling?” Spinner asked.

“Yes…” Rake said.

“Me too. It’s not the back, it’s the
implant.”

“Right … I can’t think straight. It keeps
firing inside my brain.” Rake groaned again, possibly another
failed attempt to extract himself from the pile of mangled bodies.
“Can you move at all?”

“No.”

“Then we’re stuck until the cleaning team
gets here,” Rake said in an unhappy voice.

He hated not being in control of his body
more than anything else. Spinner shared his feelings, but with a
more moderate disgust. That was what all of the enhancements were
for, to ensure their survival. And they had gotten them through
several campaigns, more than most people still alive had ever
survived. This was a disgrace.

“Twenty years in the service and this is what
we get,” Rake said, “rotting under a pile of corpses. Do you know
I’m turning forty this year? I think I’m ready for retirement.”

Spinner frowned, taken aback by the avalanche
of words. Rake spoke little, and he never complained. That was
Spinner’s department.

“We could apply for early retirement when we
return to the base,” Spinner said. “I doubt it will get approved
but…” He hesitated. This was going to sound like treason, but if
anyone was still alive around them, they would have spoken by now.
Truth be told, Spinner was fed up with fighting in this endless
war, too. “If we survive the next charge, we can
not
report
back and disappear from the field. If we leave our ID implants
behind, they’ll write us off as died in action, and we’ll be
free.”

Rake groaned.

Easier said than done. Surviving another
charge couldn’t be taken for granted just because they had been
lucky so far. Chances were at least one of them would die in the
next fight. Well, there was nothing they could do at this point
other than to wait.

“I’m going to reboot,” Rake said. “This noise
inside my head is driving me nuts.”

Spinner sighed. He’d thought about doing it
too, but the total lack of stimulus, even if only for a few
seconds, was disorienting.

“Did you hear that?” Rake whispered.

“What?” Spinner instinctively lowered his
voice.

“Someone’s … whistling.” Pause. “We’re not
alone.”

Grimacing, Spinner did his own rebooting. All
sensory input disappeared for an instant, leaving him hanging in a
void, and when the system came back online, he heard the whistling
and more. Someone moved across the training field, someone big.

He turned his head with great difficulty, and
the intruder entered his vision field. Spinner’s enhanced retinas
zoomed in on a big man, massive rather than fat, with a round, bald
head, a skin disease, and an unusual complexion, but the light was
too dim to figure out all of the details and what they meant.

The stranger advanced in no hurry between the
fallen bodies and debris, stopping here and there to inspect
things. Twice he kneeled and dug something out that he put in the
bag hanging on his shoulder. Spinner’s insides twisted. Was he
harvesting prosthetics? But how had he gotten into the training
grounds? The security was tight. The world’s future depended on
what they did in here.

Oblivious to the danger, the man walked
slowly but heavily, so no enhancements. It would have made a
difference if Spinner had been able to move, but the way it was,
all he could do was watch while the man hovered around the place
and eventually found his way to him until his large shadow loomed
over Spinner.

“Interesting,” the man murmured when the
device in his hand came to life.

Light flashed over his face, and Spinner
could swear his complexion was green.

He took one step forward.

“If you lay a hand on him, I’ll kill you,”
Rake said. His voice sounded menacing even when he didn’t want it
to be.

“Oh, another one … Is your friend conscious
too?” the man asked.

Since he had nothing to lose, Spinner said,
“Yes.”

“Hmm.” The man tapped his thick fingers
against his chin. “This is unfortunate…”

“Why so?” Spinner asked.

“I came here to see if I could salvage a few
prosthetics, but I expected everyone to be dead. I didn’t come
prepared … I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”

Did he mean he still intended on stealing
their prosthetics despite them being fully conscious? What kind of
cruelty was that? This wasn’t some war torn, abandoned country.
This was Berlin, the middle of civilization.

The man was speaking again. “That’s a nasty
cut.” He nodded at Spinner’s thigh. “Do you mind if I close it for
you? I have a strong aversion towards wasted potential.”

“Are you a doctor?” Spinner asked.

“No, but I’m familiar with the way the human
body works. And I just happen to have everything I need in here.”
He patted the bag by his side.

“Hey—” Rake said.

“It’s all right. He can’t make it much worse
… I think.” Spinner added as an afterthought.

“That is correct.” The man dropped the bag on
the ground and rummaged through it.

The pain in Spinner’s thigh increased, so he
must have found what he needed. Spinner couldn’t see because his
upper body was twisted to the left, his middle trapped under
contorted metal parts.

“May I ask you a question?” the man said.

“Shoot,” Spinner said between gritted teeth.
He was out of luck as the ad-hoc doctor wasn’t using any
anesthetic.

“Your prosthetics are different from the
others I found here.” He nodded back at the bodies. “And since your
colleague is the only other survivor beside you, I assume so are
his. Why is that?”

“We … fiddle with them. Tweak them,” Spinner
said. “Been doing it for years.” The army technicians had stopped
checking them because they deviated too much from the current
standards, but that was exactly what had saved their lives so many
times.

“You know how to work with prosthetics?” The
man sounded surprised.

“Yeah, we both do … there’s a lot of dead
time when in the army, and we filled it with studying stuff that
can be useful on the battlefield.”

“Spinner—” The warning in Rake’s voice was
hard to miss.

“Oh, shush. Who is he going to tell?” Spinner
asked with disdain.

“I assure you I have no interest in exposing
you,” the man said. “I have a few secrets of my own.” He grinned in
the pale light of the flashlight, showing a set of sturdy, yellow
teeth. “Actually—” he moved to dress the chest wound without asking
for permission, “—I could use men with your skills. If you ever
decide to drop the war business, I have a job for you.”

“Are you a factory owner or something?” Rake
asked.

“Something like that.” He smirked at himself.
“You can find me at The Nightingale Circus day and night … well,
except for the times when I’m haunting deserted battlefields,
looking for spare parts.”