Chapter 9

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The door was exactly 3.092 seconds away from Quip if she blurred. Turning the handle and opening the door would take approximately 2.938 seconds, but it was quicker than the bashing the door open, which, with her limited and immature strength, would take 5.9854 seconds, which, factoring in his currently superior speed, would leave Alec 1.290 seconds to grab her before she escaped. Even though he might let her go, Max was lingering somewhere in the hall, and Quip was not confident that she would be able to get past the female X5.

"So, Quip's an interesting name," said the doctor as he pressed a stethoscope against her chest. He was a normal human, over thirty years old, not in the best of shape. He could probably run around 9 miles an hour at his fastest, a speed that would be easily outpaced by her blurring. "How'd you get it?"

Quip glanced at Alec and then back at the doctor. "I chose it."

"Hey, only after I suggested it," said Alec, smirking back at her. He was poking around in the cabinets, opening and closing the doors to investigate. "You wanted to stick with numbers, remember?"

Quip shrugged. "I'm used to numbers."

She zeroed her eyes on the opposite wall as the doctor chuckled. "It would probably be a lot easier if everyone just went by numbers," he said, "Then we wouldn't have all these repeat names. It'd definitely make things simpler around here." He moved the stethoscope around and placed it against her back. "Of course, if everyone had a name as unique yours, then we wouldn't have to worry."

Quip did not reply even though she felt like he was trying to make a joke. She kept her eyes on the wall and tried not to think about anything. Blanking her mind had usually worked back at Manticore; it was easier to let them do things to you when you weren't thinking.

"Hey, Quip, could you lay back for me? It'll be easier for me to examine your wound if you do," said the doctor.

She gripped the edge of the table before slowly swinging her legs up and lying back on the table. The florescent light beamed down on her, and she felt exposed, like she always did back at the labs.

The doctor lifted up the right side of her shirt and peeled back the bandaged that Alec had put over the wound. Her fingers curled, and she had to force them to lie flat. The doctor was gentle as he touched the sides of the bullet hole.

"It could have been worse," he said, "This should only take a few stitches." He turned and started rummaging around in a drawer in the counter behind him.

"Good deal," said Alec. He smiled at her, but she couldn't manage to smile back. She just wanted to get off the table and bolt for the door. However, superior orders were keeping her in place, and it didn't seem likely that she would figure out how to override her training any time soon.

The doctor turned around and laid a few things on a stand beside the table. Quip made a point to look at the ceiling and not at whatever he was doing. "This might sting a little," he said, "I know you've got enough infection-fighting agents in your body that you probably sweat anti-bacterial soap," that got a snort of laughter out of Alec, "but I'm OCD about disinfectant. Do you mind?"

Quip bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Okay, so he was sort of nice. That didn't mean she wanted to talk to him though. She sniffed as he wiped something wet and cool against her side; it stung for a minute but it wasn't anything bad.

"If you don't mind me asking," said the doctor, "how did this happen?"

"She isn't going to talk—" Alec started, but she cut him off. She didn't want to answer, but her mouth opened anyway, forced to by her training. 'Always answer doctors truthfully. The Truth. Truth.'

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