Blood Pact

anyone who came close to being so single-minded. As far as he'd been able to determine, she had almost as little life outside the lab as their experimental subjects did, and considering that they were essentially dead, that was saying something. Even stranger, she honestly didn't seem to care that what they were doing would result in fame and fortune all around. "Well, in the interest of science, then, let's try to stay out of jail." He gave number nine a push toward the vehicle.

    Number nine lowered his head and the reflection of the stars slid off the artificially moist surface of his eyes.

Three
    "That is not a healthy heart.”

    Donald peered over the edge of his surgical mask and into the chest cavity. "Not now it isn't," he agreed. "Didn't smoke, didn't drink, and just look at it. Almost makes you want to go out and party.”

    With a deft stroke of the scalpel, Dr. Burke exposed the tricuspid valve and began to remove the shredded membrane. "I wasn't calling for moral commentary, Donald. Pay attention to what you're doing.”

    Not noticeably chastened, Donald emptied the hypodermic he held, drew it out of the corner of the eye socket, and picked up a smaller needle. The liquid in the chamber appeared almost opalescent in the glare of the fluorescent lights. "All right, boys," he carefully slid the point through the cornea, "time to go to work. Lift that curve, tote that bail, if you don't repair the iris, then you're in the pail.”

    "We can do without the poetry, thank you." Tight sutures closed up the incision in the heart. "If you've hydrated both eyes, help Catherine in the abdominal cavity. We've got to get those blood vessels tied off as soon as possible so we can get the nutrient fluid circulating.

    "Time is vitally important in work of this nature . . ." The lecture continued as Donald placed soaked cotton swabs over each staring eye and moved around to the side of the table. "Fortunately, the first step in the embalming process toughens the vessels, making them easier to work with at speed and enabling us to . . .”

    "Uh, Doctor, this is our tenth cadaver," Donald reminded her, suctioning away the sterile solution they used to force the embalming fluid out of the body. Catherine, who'd been suturing under water, shot him a grateful smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling up above her mask. "I mean, we know all this. And we did do six of the previous nine with our own little fingers.”

    "And you did do an excellent job. I only wish my schedule had allowed me to give you more assistance.” Dr. Burke was more than willing to give credit where credit was due as, at the moment, it didn't mean anything. She reached behind her for a tiny motor and an electric screwdriver. "That said, it never hurts to be reminded of how important the proper balance of moisture is to healthy tissue.”

    Donald snickered and in a nearly perfect imitation of the sultry voice in the commercial intoned, "How dead do you think I am?”

    Dr. Burke stopped working and turned to stare at him. "I must be more tired than I thought. I actually found that funny.”

    Catherine shook her head and fished out the end of another artery.

    A few moments later, they settled the bag of gel replacing the digestive system into place. Pearly highlights quivered across the thick agar coating.

    "We've got bacteria to spare this time," Dr. Burke pointed out as she finished attaching the artificial diaphragm's second motor. "I want those organs saturated.”

    "Saturated it is," Donald agreed. He accepted the liver culture from Catherine, frowned, and glared over her shoulder. "Stop that!”

    "Stop what?" she asked, bending to work on a kidney.

    "Not you. Number nine. He's staring at me.”

    She straightened and checked. "No, he isn't. He's just looking in your direction.”

    "Well, I don't like it.”

    "He isn't hurting anything.”

    "So?”

    "Children." Had Dr. Burke's voice been any dryer it would have cracked. "If we could keep our minds on the matter at hand?"
    She waited, pointedly, until they both began working before she released the rib spreader. "If it bothers you that much, Donald, Catherine can put it in its box.”

    Donald nodded. "Good idea. Make her put her toys away when she's done playing with them.”

    Catherine ignored him. "He'd be better left out, Doctor. He needs the stimuli if we want him interfacing with the net.”

    "Good point," the doctor acknowledged. "Sloppily put, but a good point. Sorry, Donald.