Spilling Guts

Part 126 - Red Tape and Smoothies

While Louis failed to keep up with his paperwork, Cetz cut red tape left, right, above, and below. Reinventing a cold storage device involved new software, fabrication, testing. Manpower, overtime.

Money. Which there never seemed enough of when it came to testing medical patents, but when it came to weaponry and military upgrades there was plenty.

He also required approval. Watch Mission Control had all the files and reports of how dangerous the Devil's Neckbrace had been in the wrong hands. But they were willing to approved the release of the patent within the hour.

Rather eager of them, thought Cetz. He prayed Tzarkoff would keep the plans away from Doctor Harrison.

Cetz had cut the red tape but he could feel gunk left behind on his hands.

Getting approval from Megan and Teegan was less easy. He didn't need to it put a new Devil's Neckbrace in production, but he wanted it. He didn't want them to feel like he was stabbing them in the back. Or poking them. Megan's retaliatory range had increased thanks to her crutches, and she looked ready to swing one at his head when he told them he wanted a Watch-made Devil's Neckbrace.

First he mentioned that a new device could possibly help rehabilitate previous victims.

"It's still putting the full patent file out there for anyone," said Teegan.

"Not just anyone," Cetz tried to reason. "Our people."

"Our people haven't been the best lately," grumbled Megan.

"This one has," snapped Cetz.

Megan and Teegan looked at each other, doing that silent communication thing that he wished he could do better.

"You are doing this for a specific person," said Megan.

"Yes."

"Someone we know," hedged Teegan.

"Yes." Please don't make me name names. I don't have doctor patient privileges, but I don't want to spread too much without Will and Louis' permission.

But he could glance over to Main Tech. They saw Louis hunched over a patent, using a smaller stack as an ottoman, and the desk across from him empty.

They got the unsaid message. With some extra "time off" negotiated in. Not that Megan or Teegan ever took extra time off, dedicated that they were to their cases, but they wanted the option. Megan mentioned a school play and Teegan an afternoon with her partner.

The harder task was Grant.

Grant crossed his arms and leaned back in his computer chair/throne. The small gifts and "sacrifices" (snacks) for his "resurrection" (nap) were in a basket by his main computer. He hadn't burned the midnight oil breaking down the Sleeper System; he had been "sipping the one a.m. blueberry slushie". And his lips, wrinkled in a pout, were still neon blue.

"I got this project less than a day ago, and now I have to share?"

"We need all the help we can get," said Cetz. "And we need it fast."

"I have to work with someone outside my Hive?"

"Doctor Fatima Nasrallah is the Head of Comp Tech for Watch Three. She's nothing like the people at Watch One. Also..." Cetz presented a tall, thick, golden, monstrosity of confection, a hybrid between smoothie and milkshake, topped with whipped cream and crumbled honey cookie crumbs, and golden raspberries.

Grant grinned and accepted the Golden Gaytime. "So when do I meet her?"

"In two hours. My office. Screen call. Try not to sugar crash before then."

***

Grant did not sugar crash into a nap until an hour after the video call. But Will had crashed back into nightmare land twice. After Hayman, Rachel took a turn at his bedside, keeping him company in his lucid moments and keeping him stocked with tea, cough drops, and tissues as a cold took potshots at his health. Twice, when his hands shook too much, she sent texts to his mother assuring full of assurance that "it's just a cold, mom." When Will wasn't awake, she made a list of things needed to fabricate a new Devil's Neckbrace. They could not just refurbish the old shell with a new Sleeper System. It belonged back in cold storage. Preferably next to the butterscotch ice cream dots.

And the punching plate is still in the BT lab. All that calibrating and I don't know if we'll ever be able to complete the test.

"It's late."

Rachel jerked up from her notes to see Cetz at the doorway, headset off. The clock above read 6:40PM.

"How did the talk with Watch Three go?" she asked.

"Better than I expected," said Cetz. He edged into the room and took a seat behind Rachel, drawing her away from the sleeping figure in the bed. "Grant and Doctor Nasrallah had a rhythm set up by the end of the video call. I now have to send her a Golden Gaytime smoothie. The Head of Watch Three offered their fabrication engineers if Nate and Franklin need help.

"Meanwhile, Louis is asleep at his desk. Beni and Reese behaved and did not draw on him this time. And Olivia has screenshots of Louis carrying Will in his arms as her new desktop."

Rachel snorted. "Somehow that last one surprises me the least."

"I've already told her to delete it off her work computer. What are you working on?"

Rachel tilted her notebook. "What we need the new Neckbrace to do, and what it might look like."

Cetz frowned. "It looks like al dente spaghetti."

"Hayman said it looked like a jellyfish. This is the Neckbrace without the metallic casing or body sensors. Bunch of wires and a computer."

"Some of the spinal sensors could become wireless," offered Cetz. "Fabrication won't take that long. It doesn't need to look good. It just needs to work."

The machines by Will's bed beeped. Rachel got up and gently unclenched Will's fist, reattaching the monitor on his middle finger. "Programming is the biggest task. How long until Grant has something we can use?"

Her tablet flashed as the Sleepy Beanie recorded another dive into to dreamland. Cetz noticed and picked it up, scrolling the past history of Will's attacks.

"I want to say a couple of weeks," said Cetz. "How long can Will hold out?"

Rachel judged the dark circles under Will's eyes, his blood oxygenation, his breathing, a dozen tiny signals to a person's health. Would she have to text Will's mother with bad news sooner rather than later?

"He'll hold out as long as he needs to," said Rachel. "I'll make sure of it."