Dr. Kemp was silent for a moment before replying. “I don’t know. Metallization along the right arm appears to have halted at the shoulder, but I don’t know if it’s just waiting for the other limbs to catch up. There’s definitely intelligence involved, although whether it’s sentient or just A.I. is impossible to say.”

“And still no idea what the end game is?”

“No, sir.”

“What about isolating him? Is there anything we can do?”

“We don’t have any facilities for that. We can confine him to his room, of course, and that’s probably a good idea just for crew morale. But, ultimately, it’s a gesture more than a real precaution. The nanites are already out, and they’re demonstrably not impeded by walls.”

“Understood. It goes without saying that we cannot expect to return to Earth until this is resolved. Please prepare a full report for transmission to the ICDC. Try to minimize reference to the timeline, but don’t prevaricate. We don’t mind being portrayed as unwise, but we can’t afford any slightest whiff of criminality.”

”Yes sir.”

“Very well, then, Doctor. Keep me up to date on status. Thank you.”

17.Continuing Infection

17.Continuing Infection

Ivan awoke with no transition. One moment, blank, the next, full awareness. That was unusual at any time, unless an alarm clock was involved; he liked to take several minutes to segue from dreams to wakefulness. In this case, he was coming out of sedation. He remembered being put under after panicking about his arm.

His arm!

Ivan sat up without warning, almost knocking Dr. Kemp over. The doctor had apparently been reaching for his face or something, and came that close to getting clocked in the nose by Ivan’s forehead.

He lifted his right arm. Metal. His eyes followed the arm up to his shoulder. Metal, as far as he could see, even the shoulder. He turned to Dr. Kemp, tears forming in his eyes.

Then he saw his legs. And his left arm. A whimper escaped his throat and the world contracted to a bright point.

* * *

Ivan awoke again. And remembered.

He looked at his feet, at his hands. Metal. Dr. Kemp sat at the side of the bed, looking sympathetic. Ivan looked him in the eyes and said, “How bad is it?”

Dr. Kemp looked down for a moment. “Ivan, it’s not bad like cancer or a degenerative disease. You aren’t, as far as we can tell, dying. Or even unhealthy. You’re just…”

“Turning into Iron Man?” Ivan laughed, but even he could hear the note of hysteria.

Dr. Kemp’s face fell. Ivan felt bad for him, for a moment.

“Ivan, the conversion is continuing. At the moment, the only parts of you that are still flesh and blood are your head and torso.”

Ivan looked down. “Uh…”