was.”
“I know,” said Taz. I tell myself that every day. It didn’t
make it any easier to see it.
Rosie was watching her with an irritating kind of
understanding in her eyes. “Taz,” she said, rubbing her
belly thoughtfully. “Do you love him?”
I do, of course I do, she wanted to shout it, but it was so
hard when all she could see was his shame, his crumpled,
broken form, the pain in his eyes. I love him. She tried to
form the words but they wouldn’t come.
“He needs me,” she said instead. It was the truth.
Rosie looked at her, hard. “I happen to agree with you,
Lieutenant. You’re the only person Up has to lean on right
now. If you were reassigned-” she broke off, tapping her
fingers on the arm of her chair. “I won’t discharge you.”
“You – won’t?”
“Not yet – not until you ask me to. I’ll leave instructions
for my replacement. I still have some pull around here.”
A weight, a great smacking big one, fell away from Taz’s
shoulders. “Thank you.”
With a good deal of effort, her doctor stood. “Now, we
should both get some sleep. I hear you’re helping out with
Up’s physio in the morning – and I’ve got a lot to do before
this little one comes.”
Up felt better this morning. He’d managed to shake off
the nurses and dress himself in his G.L.E.E. issue sweats,
and his breakfast had remained in his human-robot hybrid
stomach. He pulled himself taller as he entered the physio
centre. In daylight it was almost a cheerful place, a large,
bright space with weight machines and treadmills, the hot
tub in the corner. He was moving slowly, but if he really
concentrated, he could almost walk without a limp. Almost.
Taz was waiting for him, and she was the only one there.