Asimov's Science Fiction: July 2013 by Penny Publications Page B

asked as she checked his carotid pulse.
    "Ortoff, help the nurse." Miroslav pointed at the bed with his cane.
    "You've hurt him badly," Godina said.
    "I don't understand," Cadet Ortoff said as he lifted the administrator up onto the bed. "What are you doing?"
    "It is not your place to understand, cadet! You will neither understand nor remember. Am I clear?"
    "Yes, Captain."
    "Then you are dismissed."
    As the young man left, Nurse Godina turned slowly to face Miroslav. "What are you going to do, Captain Ponomarenko?"
    Miroslav did not know; he thought he had gone mad. He had not formulated any plan, and was operating blind; he had no wish to press on, but could not bear to have this unnatural charade continue. Berezovsky would have to be removed—
    "You," he said, "are going to prep Berezovsky. Cadet Ortoff will not be graduating early, after all. It is time for the administrator to graduate."
    Nurse Godina's eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion and doubt. Miroslav wondered if anything he might say could convince her to help him. "Haven't therebeen enough early graduations?" he asked. "And enough over-conf ident fools, enough Rostropoviches, as a result?" He raised his fake arm for emphasis, though she could not know the reference. "He will be gone, and as him I will put an end to this."
    She glanced down at the administrator. "You always were quick to protect the underdog," she said. "And I didn't like him much back when he was Colonel Arsov.
    "But I am not practiced in the procedure. You cannot take his place. If it turns out I cannot do it... it will break many promises, made to many powerful people. Who will be left to protect me, if I attempt this and you do not survive?"
    Miroslav reached out and touched the nurse's arm. "If that worries you, you will just have to ensure that I survive."
    The preparations took less time than Miroslav had imagined. The supplies had already been brought down from the chemistry storeroom; barely five minutes later he lay down on the empty bed.
    As the nurse stuck him with the first needle, Miroslav said, "Please tell Nastas'ya that I am sorry."
    "Nastas'ya?"
    "Anastasiya. Miss Kozyreva."
    "Sorry for what?"
    "For everything," Miroslav said. And silently he berated himself for the tear he felt slide down his face, into his ear.
    "Slava?"
    Miroslav opened his eyes, but the light was too bright so he closed them again. Nastas'ya's voice sounded the same, which surprised him. Miroslav had expected Berezovsky's senses to be different... that he would hear things in slightly different registers, or perhaps perceive colors in new ways. It pleased him that Nastas'ya sounded as she always had. He smiled, and squeezed his fists tight.
    His right hand closed around Nastas'ya's. The realization took his breath for a second, then he registered the fact of having two fists.
    Miroslav opened and closed the fingers of his left hand twice more just to enjoy the sheer sensation of it. He opened his eyes again, a little at first and then enough to see the room around him. Nastas'ya sat on a chair to his right, holding his hand. She smiled at him, a little sadly.
    Miroslav lifted his left arm to look at it, and it was his same prosthetic limb.
    It moved in its usual clumsy fashion, barely following the path his brain directed for it—but it had just felt so
real.
My own mind turned against me, he said to himself. He said aloud, "It didn't work."
    "No, Slava," said Anastasiya. "Nurse Godina said the administrator's... injury... was too severe. He... it killed him, Slava."
    Miroslav's chest tightened, and he seized Anastasiya's hand as if to reassure himself that she was really there. Only after a moment did he realize that she was crying. Afraid she would pull away, he put his hand on her cheek and brushed away her tears with his thumb.
    She covered his hand with her own, closed her eyes, and smiled.
    A second later she looked at him again and asked, "What are you going to do, Slava?" When he did not answer