Endgame (Sirantha Jax 6)

“She’s beautiful,” I say.

Xirol stares at the screen. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“Why, because I’ll be so different?”

“No, because you’ll look La’hengrin.”

He’s right, I realize. The fine features and the shape of the eyes are right, but since the doc’s created a composite, I’ll look even more native, the epitome of all feminine La’hengrin qualities. Yet she’s not me. It shouldn’t matter, giving up this so-recognizable face, yet it does, a little. Since Vel needs me to explain the change in the legate’s behavior, I’ll do it, no question. Odd. I didn’t expect it to bother me at all. But I’ve been Jax so long that I clutch over giving up my identity, even for Vel. Then I set aside my reservations.

“Will that be a problem for you?”

Xirol shakes his head. “Look, I know you have a thing for me, but you’re just gonna have to accept that it can never be.”

“Alas, I know. You and Bannie, right?”

To my surprise, color washes his handsome face. “Shut up.”

The doctor isn’t interested in wasting time. “You have the choice between red hair and blond.” With a few taps on his handheld, the screen responds, splits, showing me what the woman looks like with both colors.

“What do you think?” I ask Xirol.

“If I say I like redheads better, will you tell Loras I’m after Farah?”

“What would Bannie say? She’s a brunette.”

“Brunette isn’t a choice on the table,” he points out.

“True.” I glance at the surgeon. “Break it down for me. I’ve always had dark hair.”

“Well, 45 percent of the legate’s companions have been redheads; 55 percent were blondes.”

“So he likes both. No brunettes?”

The doctor shakes his head.

“Asshole.”

“Quite. He likes them young, too, so you’ll need a course of Rejuvenex along with the procedure.”

Dammit. Anger sparks through me. These days, I don’t age much, or at least, not like other people. Now I have to reverse the turns I’ve already earned? I like my laugh lines and little crow’s-feet. They give me character. When I get this new face, this smooth, young face, nobody will ever take me seriously again.

And March? He’ll hate this so much. I already look fifteen turns younger. People will think he’s a dirty old man. Granted, in this day and age, it can be hard to tell how old someone truly is. I knew a couple with a seventy-turn age difference between them, and it truly wasn’t noticeable.

Xirol grins. “This must be a dream come true for a withered old thing like you.”

“Fine,” I mutter, realizing they’re waiting for a reply.

The doc arches a brow. “You seem displeased. Most women would love a fresh start. The Rejuvenex will perk everything up, tighten your skin—”

“I know how it works.”

Obviously, he doesn’t understand my complaint, so he asks, “What about your hair? I don’t handle that aspect myself, but I can have an esthetician come in. There is one I trust.”

Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I want to keep my hair. I haven’t been this upset since I had to shave it all off. But that won’t work. My coarse, curly hair doesn’t suit this face. But otherwise, I don’t know what I’m talking about; let’s be honest.

Aloud, I wonder, “Maybe I could combine the two. Red with pale streaks? Strawberry blond?”

“Red with pale streaks would be hot.” Clearly, Xirol’s expert opinion will make all the difference to the success of the mission.

But the doc agrees. “Yes, deep auburn with highlights would be most pleasing.”

“Bring your friend in and add it to the bill.” I pause. “Can I keep my eyes?”

“They’re gray…” A few taps for analytical comparison, then he nods. “Not as common as blue or green, but not so remarkable that you need new irises.”

“I was thinking more about lenses,” I say, horrified.

Xirol shakes his head. “That’s disturbing. You’ve seen how we live…so before a couple of turns ago, I didn’t even know people could get new faces. New eyes. It’s kind of…creepy.” He’s unusually serious, but I nod my agreement.

It is creepy.

“No need for either.” The doc doesn’t notice my reaction. “I’ll also need to remove those scars. They’re unmistakable. Memorable.”

The nanites nibble at them, slowly. Doc suspected in time they would heal; but I can’t wait for nature to take its course. People have told me before that it’s a simple laser treatment to take them away, make my skin perfect and unblemished. I always resisted because I felt like it would be a betrayal, erasing Kai from my body. I carry him in my flaws just as I do in my memory. It’s time to let him go. He wouldn’t want me to wear his death in my skin. He’d want me to remember his life; that’s the sort of man he was.

Despite my tight throat, I answer, “That’s fine.”

“Do you want me to remove the tattoos? They’re fairly recognizable as well.”

“No,” I say. “Leave them. I’ll wear something to cover them.” I glance at Xirol. “Is that a thing here? Do the Nicuan ever collar their La’hengrin to show possession?”

A flash of pure pain washes over his features. “Yes. When a Nicuan male takes a particularly beautiful female La’hengrin in a sexual shinai-bond, sometimes he dresses her in a jeweled collar that reflects his ownership. It discourages other nobles from making offers.”

“You sound like that’s personal for you.” Hard to explain, but his tone isn’t just general offense. It’s old pain.

“My sister,” he says softly.

He doesn’t need to say more. I picture a beautiful girl who looks like Xirol, collared by some bastard who uses her as a sex toy. And she has no recourse at all.

“Can she take the cure?” I ask.

“She died.”

No wonder he hates them. So many La’hengrin have stories like this. Each one hurts me, diminishes me. I won’t rest until they’re free. I can’t.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the doctor says quietly. “My countrymen can be pigs.”

I wonder if he’s ashamed of his heritage.

“They can be,” I agree.

“I’m doing what I can to help the La’hengrin. Speaking of which…I need you to lie back. The procedure, for obvious reasons, will take several hours. Even modern technology can’t peel your face off and instantly replace it with a new one.”

“I’ll be here, Jax, just in case he gets any ideas.” From Xirol’s expression, he thinks the doc is a little dodgy, and I appreciate his protective stance. He’s a good guy; Bannie is lucky to have him.

“Thanks, I appreciate you looking out for me.” The chair I’m sitting in angles back, flattening to become a surgical table. “How long’s the recovery period?”

“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” the doc replies. “It depends on your healing rate, of course, but I’ll provide medication for pain and cream to reduce swelling.”

I nod. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Not words a man ever likes to hear,” the doctor says, smiling.

His expression makes me laugh, as he intended, and I remember Doc. I miss him, as I always do. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Xirol says. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I want to say I appreciate it, and I’ll do the same for him sometime, but the hypo pricks me. Drugs flood my system, and I’m out.

When I wake, I’m somebody else. Of course, I can’t see the other woman yet. My face is still swathed in bandages, so I peer at the world through a narrow white framework. I’m numb, too, which is a blessing. This will hurt when the anesthesia wears off…though not as much as it would for a normal human. The nanites will have a field day, restoring me from the surgical procedure.

“Are you with me?” the doctor asks.

“Yep, I’m awake.”

“Good. I’d ask you some personal questions to be sure I didn’t scramble your brains with the laser scalpel, but I don’t know anything about you.”

Funny. Maybe the Nicuan nobles didn’t like his sense of humor. He didn’t take their consequence seriously enough, so he fell out of fashion, and now he’s doing full makeovers for the rebellion. He was focused and purposeful at first, but once he had all the info he needed, his bedside manner relaxed. That’s good for me.

“It’s safer that way.”

He nods. “There was an interesting anomaly during the procedure…I had to keep giving you anesthesia because your system shook off the drugs much faster than I’ve ever seen, even in species two or three times your size. Is there something I should know?”

Xirol steps forward into my line of sight, then. “As long as she’s healthy, Doc, you don’t need to know more than you already do. How you feeling, Jax?”

“Like I had my face cut off.” My words are slightly muffled, but Xirol laughs.

The doc accepts the rebuff. “Fine. I need to keep you overnight. Tomorrow, I’ll call an aircab…and you can program the destination yourself.”

Loras gave me Legate Flavius’s address before we split up, so I’m ready to catch up with Vel, find out what I missed, and do some recon. My head is fuzzy, though, so I’m barely coherent as the surgeon goes on, “I did the Rejuvenex treatment as well. I think you’ll like the results.”

Dammit. I don’t want to turn into my mother. I can’t stay focused; my head swims, and I wink out again.

In the morning, the doctor removes my bandages, and he stares at me, mouth half-open. Finally, he says, “You’re not human.”

It’s the kind of remark I’d expect from anyone who knew I’d been shot in the heart…and survived on an artificial pump until they could clone me a new one. The nanites don’t want to let me die. This physician is just going by my recovery rate, though, and the way I reacted to the anesthetic. And that doesn’t make me feel better about the tiny biotech running amok in my veins.

“I am,” I reply. “Mostly. The slightly not part doesn’t concern you. Destroy all my blood samples and medical records, any tests you might’ve done before you operated.”

Xirol steps toward the doctor; he doesn’t speak, just lends his presence to the request. “She’s La’hengrin, Doc. Adaptive physiology, accelerated metabolism. Can’t you tell by looking at her?”

Curiosity wars with compliance as the man considers. Xirol moves his hand to his weapon, flicks the strap away from his knife. The surgeon must know that Xirol will kill him before he can summon help.

Hoping to defuse the situation, I add, “If you don’t, you’ll have the resistance after you, as well as Nicuan nobles.”