Free Weir Codex 1: The Cestus Concern by Mat Nastos Page A

top of his forearm and began to slide it around. He could feel his mouth drop open, eyes tearing up as he stared a bit too long at the painful light of the high-powered torch.
    “Surface temperatures have reached thirty-four hundred and twelve degrees,” came the until-now silent computer voice in Mal’s head. It felt almost reassuring. “Nano-drones affecting cool down. All systems within normal operating parameters.”
    The metal ‘skin’ of Mal’s forearm began to move under the heat in the same way muscles move beneath normal skin, but the arc welder seemed to have no other effect upon it. No burns. No oxidization. No damage or carbon scoring at all. If anything, Zuzelo’s ministrations seemed to do nothing more than clean the dirt, blood and grime Mal had collected during his escape, and shine the metallic surface to an almost mirror-polish.
    “Holy…”
    “…shit!” finished Mal as his friend pulled the welding apparatus away and shut it down.
    Licking his lips, eyes glittering darkly, Zuzelo set the welder down and strode back over to Mal’s side with purpose. He dropped both gloves to the ground at their feet, took a deep breath and grabbed on to the gleaming chrome lower arm. Both men gasped out loud at the action.
    Zuzelo’s eyes went so wide Mal was afraid they were going to pop out of the man’s head. “It’s cool to the touch.”
    “What?!”
    “Yeah, it’s not even warm,” replied Zuzelo as he began to run his hand up and down the arm, tracing it’s every nook, cranny and groove. “It feels cold.”
    “That’s my arm you’re molesting there, Zuz.”
    Realizing what he was doing, David stopped and thought for a moment; staring hard at the man he rescued a handful of hours earlier.
    After a few long moments of silent analysis, Zuzelo spoke, a seriousness Mal had never heard before filled his voice, “I don’t know what they did to you, Mal, but that is some top secret government researched alien shit going on there. You’re an X-file.”
    Mal nodded.
    “So what should we do now?”
    “I have no idea,” the bald man answered, calloused fingers stroking his goatee thoughtfully
    “Big help you are, Zuz.”
    “What did you expect?”
    “Well, I was kind of hoping you had something in mind more technical than just hitting me with things to see if something breaks,” spit back Mal.
    “Like what?! You’re the first government cyborg I’ve ever run into, my friend.”
    Mal slumped down to the floor and held his head in both hands, weariness and frustration finally getting the best of him. He looked up at his friend and pleaded, “I don’t know what to do. They’ve taken everything. Help me.”
    Sighing, David Zuzelo scratched his head and nodded.
    “Let’s go up to the computer bay and see if we can’t access whatever internal systems you’ve got going on there. There’s got to be something in there making everything tick and maybe, just maybe, we can hack into it.”
    Zuzelo extended his hand down to his weary friend and backed it with the familiar, warm smile Mal had known for more than a decade, “C’mon.”
    As the pair headed upstairs towards Zuzelo’s computer room, he asked, “By the way, what do you think your fiancée is up to?”
    “Oh, shit…Kristin!”

CHAPTER 7
     
    Seated at the head of a large conference table, Gordon Kiesling was already three Vicodins into his headache by the time Representative Michael Fountain had arrived from Washington, DC. Stroking the bottle in the pocket of his still crisply-pressed pants, Kiesling felt the need to increase that number every time the Congressman interrupted the meeting with one his snide little comments. He may have been Washington’s liaison with Project: Hardwired, but Fountain’s attempted Columbo act was getting on the director’s nerves almost as much as his cheap gray Men’s Warehouse suit.
    Seriously, thought Kiesling to himself. Brown shoes with a gray suit? They should be allowed to kill the man on