Nerila checked the controls on the last biostorage stasis unit. Like the others, it was at optimal. Like the others, it would keep the corpse inside exactly as it had been at almost the moment of death, give or take the time for transport and the autopsy.
Except unit 3, Nerila thought. Helmi Alpassi. Not quite as she was at death.
About six inches shorter, for one thing.
She turned to leave, saw an unexpected figure in the doorway and felt her heart-rate kick into overdrive in the second it took her to identify her visitor. Fisk.
"Gonna make you wear a bell around your neck," she said, aware her voice was shaking.
"Sorry," Fisk said. "You looked busy."
Nerila shrugged. "Administration, mostly." She around at the stasis units and back at Fisk. "Probably not the greatest idea for you to be down here, Fisk."
He followed her gaze. "I wanted to talk to you. Your tech said you were down here."
"What about?" she asked. "No, wait. Come on."
When she took his arm to draw him with her out of the room and towards her office it was a couple of seconds before the bicep beneath her fingers relaxed and he acceded to her urging. Nerila got him into her office with the door closed before she said anything else.
"How are you feeling, Fisk?" she asked, pointing him at the visitor's chair.
"Fine." He shrugged as he sat, ran one hand over the fuzz beginning to show on his scalp. "Like nothing worse happened than a bad haircut."
"Mmm hmm?" Nerila fished a scanner from her drawer and pointed it at him. "Headaches? Dizzy spells? Sleeping okay?"
"No. No. Yes."
The scanner gave her readings in the normal range. Pulse a little fast. Nothing that she wouldn't expect to see in a fit and healthy young man under a fair bit of stress. "So what did you want to talk to me about, Fisk?"
He hesitated, looked down at his hands, and then met her gaze. "Cloning."
"What about cloning?" Nerila asked gently and evenly.
"That body ... my body. Is it possible ... can you clone that brain? That pattern?"
"No, Fisk. Cloning only works on a living brain. Otherwise we would have. Back-ups are the sec-" She stopped.
"Second best option?" Fisk finished for her.
Except unit 3, Nerila thought. Helmi Alpassi. Not quite as she was at death.
About six inches shorter, for one thing.
She turned to leave, saw an unexpected figure in the doorway and felt her heart-rate kick into overdrive in the second it took her to identify her visitor. Fisk.
"Gonna make you wear a bell around your neck," she said, aware her voice was shaking.
"Sorry," Fisk said. "You looked busy."
Nerila shrugged. "Administration, mostly." She around at the stasis units and back at Fisk. "Probably not the greatest idea for you to be down here, Fisk."
He followed her gaze. "I wanted to talk to you. Your tech said you were down here."
"What about?" she asked. "No, wait. Come on."
When she took his arm to draw him with her out of the room and towards her office it was a couple of seconds before the bicep beneath her fingers relaxed and he acceded to her urging. Nerila got him into her office with the door closed before she said anything else.
"How are you feeling, Fisk?" she asked, pointing him at the visitor's chair.
"Fine." He shrugged as he sat, ran one hand over the fuzz beginning to show on his scalp. "Like nothing worse happened than a bad haircut."
"Mmm hmm?" Nerila fished a scanner from her drawer and pointed it at him. "Headaches? Dizzy spells? Sleeping okay?"
"No. No. Yes."
The scanner gave her readings in the normal range. Pulse a little fast. Nothing that she wouldn't expect to see in a fit and healthy young man under a fair bit of stress. "So what did you want to talk to me about, Fisk?"
He hesitated, looked down at his hands, and then met her gaze. "Cloning."
"What about cloning?" Nerila asked gently and evenly.
"That body ... my body. Is it possible ... can you clone that brain? That pattern?"
"No, Fisk. Cloning only works on a living brain. Otherwise we would have. Back-ups are the sec-" She stopped.
"Second best option?" Fisk finished for her.
"Sure," Fisk said. "Sure." He hesitated again. "So, you can't put that pattern - those memories on a new clone?"
Nerila shook her head firmly. "No. Not possible."
"If you can't put it on a blank clone, could you put it on an active one?"
"An active - " Nerila sat back in her chair. "No-one writes a neural pattern over an active clone. A living person."
"But could you? Write it ... " Fisk tapped his temple with one finger. "On here?"
"Not only do I doubt I could, I wouldn't." Nerila leaned forward, folding her hands on the desk. "Fisk, the injuries ... the pattern would be badly damaged."
He shrugged, and said with a tight smile. "I'm backed up. Living proof right in front of you. And damaged or not, there are things in that brain that aren't in this one. What happened."
"Fisk ... no. It's a bad idea."
"A worse one than sitting around doing nothing when there might be a way to find Pilot?"
Nerila sighed. "Look. I know it's frustrating. But - "
"You don't know." Fisk's voice rose for the first time. "I've watched that feed. The XO thinks I can pick something up that Ami didn't understand, but there's nothing. Whatever I heard, whatever they said, it's not on the recording." He clenched his fists. "It's in the brain of that body down the hall. So help me get it out."
"It's not medically possible." She smiled to soften it. "I'm good, Fisk, but I can't raise the dead."
"Can somebody else? Station medical? Pilot's Sansha friends? Some experimental procedure?" Fisk smiled tightly. "I'll volunteer to be the first guinea pig."
"I really doubt it," Nerila said. "I really, really doubt it."
"Will you ask? Will you find out?"
Nerila hesitated.
"Pilot's been gone a week, Nerila," he said. "A week. You know what can happen to someone in a week?"
"You're asking a doctor that?" she snapped.
"Then ask. Find out. Ask Ami's CMO. Ask on station. Ask the big research corps."
Nerila shook her head. "It's a bad idea. It's worse than bad."
"Just ask, Nerila." Fisk put his hands flat on her desk and leaned forward. "We all owe Pilot. Just ask."
Reluctantly, Nerila nodded. "I'll ask. No promises past that. But I'll ask."
She saw him relax, then. I promised to ask, Fisk. That's all.
The words died on her lips.
Doesn't matter how loud I say them, she thought. He'll hear what he wants to.
What he needs to.
Whatever I say.
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