Free Aurora by David A. Hardy

healed remarkably well in such a short time. It just doesn’t look how I expected, somehow.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? What’s wrong with it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”
    Lundquist peered closer. With a look of relief, he said: “No, it’s nothing. Just my imagination, I guess. The scar tissue’s formed an unusual pattern, that’s all. Sorry to scare you....”
    * * * *
    Two more weeks went by, and Aurora persuaded Claude Verdet, who was also their life-support officer, to modify her spacesuit, removing the right sleeve and sealing the shoulder, preparatory to her first venture back out into the open.
    First, though, Lundquist had to make a final examination to be sure that the newly healed flesh would not be irritated by the wearing of a suit. This time his frown did not go away.
    â€œThere’s something very strange here, Anne. I thought it was my imagination that first time. But it wasn’t.”
    Aurora looked down at her exposed shoulder. “Come on, Doc. It feels fine now; just twitches a bit now and then, that’s all. And it looks OK to me. What could be wrong?”
    â€œI didn’t say anything was wrong , exactly. But what I thought were odd-shaped wrinkles in the scar tissue definitely look like five little...buds, now. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but.... Oh, hell, it looks as if, impossible though this seems, you’re growing a new arm.”
    Aurora laughed nervously, and looked uncertainly from Lundquist to Verdet and back. “Come on, you two! Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?”
    â€œNo, it’s not. I don’t know what to make of it. All we can do is see how you go on. I certainly don’t think you should worry about it.”
    Then Lundquist turned to the other man. “But I don’t think you should take the sleeve off that spacesuit yet—just in case.”
    * * * *
    Naturally, the story of the new arm became the main subject of conversation, with many theories being put forward to account for the strange phenomenon. Robert Lundquist favored the idea that it was something to do with the low gravity, or even that the long period of weightlessness during the voyage out had had some effect on the metabolism, somehow causing stem-cell regeneration. The problem with this theory was that it was in no way borne out by the zero-gee experiments that had been carried out in Earth orbit over many years.
    Bryan Beaumont, who tended to have a mystical streak, thought it must be due to some property of Mars. “Could be there’s something in the magnetic field; or maybe she’s ingested some Martian minerals—you all know how that dust gets everywhere, despite our precautions. Or the air itself, maybe?”
    His theories grew wilder. “Hey, perhaps there are micro-organisms in the air? Tiny little alien doctors! Or—what do they call them?—nanobots? Whatever it is, it just has to be to do with Mars itself. New limbs don’t grow, back on Earth. Well, not on people, anyway—only on lizards and things.”
    Lundquist, whose main role on the mission was as biologist, scoffed at the idea that some sort of microscopic form of Martian life could be responsible. But he had to admit that he was as baffled as everyone else.
    As for Aurora herself, she watched, bemused, as day after day the stump of her shoulder elongated and grew. At first it was soft and quite flexible, but as time passed it became more rigid and developed an obvious elbow joint. Tiny nails, like those of a newborn baby, appeared on the ends of the stubby fingers. It was weird, incredible, mind-boggling...impossible!
    Yet, knowing what the others did not know about herself, Aurora saw it as an extension of her own “strangeness”. As if in daydreams, memories of her younger days came back to her.
    * * * *
    She was sitting in the passenger seat of the old green Morris Minor. Her mother was driving. They were