Jennings turned to Chief MacNeil. “Technical analysis, Chief?”

MacNeil leaned forward, enthusiasm written plainly on his face. “The metal composition of the subject’s new limbs is not continuous. Rather, it is composed of a number of what we’re calling nanites—individual machines, somewhat smaller than a human cell. They are not identical, instead consisting of non-periodic shapes consistent with Penrose Tiles, but a three-dimensional version. They link together, forming what could be described as a mesh. Flexible, but extremely strong. And self-healing. Attempts to scrape off a sample have been frustrating, even if ultimately successful. The units flow around the tool and re-form behind it. We finally had to rig up something that would bite off a chunk and sequester it.”

“There is no apparent central control unit, or any indication of conscious intelligence. Despite this, the infectious agent seems to behave in an intelligent, coordinated manner.” MacNeil jerked, seemingly realizing that he was straying into speculation. And stepping on Kemp’s turf. He looked over at the doctor before continuing.

“The substance that was separated from the subject during the initial amputation had made its way through the ship in very close to a bee-line back to the subject. It apparently avoided critical systems and components, which would indicate an understanding of our ship’s design, at least on a general level.”

Now came the less honest part. Kemp knew that MacNeil wasn’t happy with this plan. None of them was.

“We placed a beacon on the asteroid where the anomaly was found. Identification number is in the notes.”

It was a lie of omission. Kemp doubted they’d have been able to persuade MacNeil to lie outright on the record. But not mentioning the part where they moved the asteroid, or the part where they waited almost a week before activating the beacon, was apparently at least tolerable.

Captain Jennings looked to Kemp again. “What is the status of the subject, Doctor?”

“He is now metallized up to mid-chest. Only above that line is he still human. The process shows no signs of stopping.

“The metallized body is still providing blood to his head, proper levels of hormones, oxygen, glycogen, and so on; and is cleaning the blood of toxins and waste in a manner indistinguishable from a normal body. I consider it a positive that the infection is putting so much effort into keeping the subject alive.”

“Prognosis?”

Kemp shook his head. “It would be rank speculation, Captain. We don’t know if the process will continue, although it looks like it at the moment. We don’t know if Ivan Pritchard will continue to exist as an individual once the process is complete. The subject is understandably concerned about that question, himself. It’s not unlike facing the possibility of imminent death. I’ve seen the same reactions from people about to undergo dangerous surgery that they might not survive. Imagine going under with the fear that you might simply never wake up.”