"Can... I have... some... water?"
Peyton was gratified when a cup was instantly lifted to his lips in response to his request. He tried to reach up to hold it, only to find his wrists restrained. Fighting off panic as he had been taught to do, he sipped long on the straw that slid between his lips. The moment the water hit his stomach, his mind cleared enough to start running diagnostics on what he was ingesting. A nearly one hundred percent answer that it was just filtered tap water returned fairly quickly. It reassured him that he was not in immediate danger and the quick answer meant his diagnostic programming was still in place.
So now on to the next dilemma. Had he been captured by a military unfriendly? He tested his restraints discreetly as he sipped again.
Kyra saw her captive struggle, winced inside, but pushed away her guilt. "Easy there, Captain Elliott. I can't take the chair restraints off until I've made a full determination of your condition. You're not going to be harmed any further. Most of the physical pain is over for good as well."
Peyton was quiet for a moment while his neural processor scanned her words for meaning and tone. Again, nothing alarming returned. "Your explanation is accepted for now. Where am I? I sense no others in the facility except us."
"This is not a normal medical facility. You're in my home. I'm helping you resolve a problem with your cybernetics that couldn't be addressed elsewhere. How do you feel? Can you determine the extent of your damage?"
Kyra pulled the cup away from his mouth and set it aside. She checked the readout on the homemade EEG machine that she had wirelessly connected to his neural processor. So far, so good. Peyton showed no escalating signs of mental or physical agitation. There were some minor signs of fear, but even blind and partially paralyzed, the man gave no real indication of being overwhelmed. An accelerated pulse was the only clue she had that his human side was becoming aware of his incapacitated situation.
"Try to relax, Captain. You've suffered a recent head injury," Kyra explained. The statement wasn't really a lie from her point of view. Plus it was to her advantage to keep him as calm as possible.
Peyton made himself relax and ordered his neural pathways to report any strange anomalies. They fired and leapt over all circuits unhindered. Hiding the shock of his newly discovered freedom, he hastily ran the cyber doctor's requested checks.
Would he be able to lie about the controller being dysfunctional? Could he hide such a thing from a cyber medic?
"I am currently functioning at ninety-seven point three percent efficiency on most systems. I can't open either of my eyes though I read no damage to the implants. It seems to be my eyelids that lack the ability to perform as I desire. Based on the lack of nerve sensitivity below my hips, I would say my legs are also paralyzed. Genitals are still responsive. Paralysis appears to be partial."
Kyra patted his hand. "Any paralysis you detect should be temporary. At least it was in the others."
"What others?" Peyton asked.
"Others who have suffered your same level of damage," Kyra said softly, giving nothing away. That would come soon enough. "May I check your vitals and draw some blood?"
She watched Peyton wrinkle his face with confusion. When was the last time anyone asked the man's permission to do something to him? Probably before his cybernetics were installed.
"Captain? May I do my checks?"
Peyton frowned. Why did the doctor's softly asked questions make him angry at her and at himself? It was highly illogical. His genitals twitched and provided a potential explanation. Her scent was alluring and distracting. Plus her voice caused him to have a strong physical reaction to her.
"I'm a soldier, not a medic. Proceed as necessary, Doc. By the way, when did I get a cybernetic heart? No injury in my service records merits that replacement."
Kyra swallowed nervously. The discrepancy between his human memories and his cybernetic data bank was already beginning to make itself known. "The heart transplant didn't happen during your normal military service. Several years ago a woman stabbed you with a kitchen knife. You wisely left the knife in place until help arrived. To fix you, they had to replace your human heart with a cybernetic one. It must have been traumatic for you. I'm not surprised you don't have immediate recall of the incident."
"Traumatic?" Finding the word amusing, Peyton laughed at her term. "I'm a Marine, Doc. Traumatic shit is the least of what I signed up for, right?"