Zeph sat awkwardly on the hospital bed, cradling his left arm. His face and neck felt like they were on fire, and his vision was still cloudy and prone to sparks and rainbows. He hadn’t felt this bad since his stint in the Navy ended more than eight years ago, after things went pear-shaped aboard the Montbretia.

“Where’s my dad?” He asked the nurse as she walked in.

“He’s in the room just next door,” she said. “Nurse Massey is taking good care of him.”

Zeph nodded. Nurse Massey was his mom, and if anyone could be trusted to give the best care to his dad, it would be her.

“Here,” said the nurse. “Close your eyes for a moment. I’m going to apply some Dermagen.”

Zeph nodded and closed his eyes obligingly. The next moment there was a cool, almost icy sensation as the nurse began spreading the thick substance over the burns on his face and neck. The cold intensified abruptly and he gasped, and then suddenly it felt hot.

“Focus on my voice,” said the nurse firmly. “Focus here, not on your skin. It’s going to be pretty uncomfortable for a minute, but trust me, it’ll feel much better after that. Just stay with me. No, keep your hands down, away from your face. That’s it. Take a deep breath, just like that. Again, and hold it, this time. Hold it, count to three, there we go…two…three…and exhale. Nice and slow. That’s it, you’re doing great.”

The nurse wasn’t lying. Zeph’s face was a symphony of heat and cold, itching and pulsing. He could almost feel the nanites at work, though he knew that was just in his head. It was all he could do to focus on the nurse’s voice as she rattled off her schtick.

No, that wasn’t fair. Zeph knew she was sincere, and he did appreciate her help. So he gritted his teeth and took those deep breaths, and held them, and exhaled slowly. After the longest minute of his life, the agony abruptly abated.

He realized he was sweating.

“Better?” Asked the nurse, who must have noticed he was no longer grimacing.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling dazed.

“Ready to try it on your arm?”

He’d totally forgotten about his arm. He looked down at it, at the shredded and blackened tatters of sleeve, and the ugly red burns on the skin. The pain suddenly blossomed, as if angry at having been ignored, and he gasped.

“Don’t worry,” said the nurse. “It’s always the worst on the face. You handled that like a champ. Here, hold out your arm and we’ll do this a little at a time. Where does it hurt the most?”

Zeph shook his head, uncertain. “Umm, maybe there, on the inside of my forearm?”

The nurse gently took his left hand and turned it palm up, exposing the soft skin of his forearm. The skin looked blistered and angry.

“Okay. Just like before,” she said. “Deep breaths. Close your eyes, if that helps you. Focus on something else.” Then, she began spreading the dermagen on his forearm.

The cold, and the heat, and the itching returned, but she was right: it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been on his face. In fact, compared to the pain of the burn itself, it was almost a relief. Still, he gritted his teeth and tried to think of anything else until the discomfort abruptly ended.

“Ready to do the rest of your arm?”

“Yes, please,” said Zeph.

Within minutes his arm was pain free, the new skin glossy and smooth. He touched his face and felt the same thing there.

“It’ll take a day or two for the nanites to fully reknit the skin,” she said. “Keep it dry, and out of the sun.”

“Thank you, very much.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Massey.”

Zeph looked around. “How’s my dad doing?”

“I’ll go check on him,” she said. “What happened, anyway?”

Zeph opened his mouth to tell her, when the door to the room opened and an enormous man ducked in. He was nearly seven feet tall, and markedly obese. His police uniform was more wrapped around him, than worn.

“Don’t answer that question,” he snapped. “Nurse, you’re excused.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir.” She left quickly and closed the door behind her.

“Zephaniah Massey?”

Zeph nodded. “Yes, sir. But please call me Zeph.”

“Zephaniah Massey,” said the officer, as if intentionally ignoring his words. “You should know that you and your father are currently under suspicion of illegally constructing weapons of mass destruction.”

“What? I—”

“You will speak only to answer my questions. Do not attempt to interrupt me. Do not attempt to overpower me.”

Zeph looked at the enormous man. He could have swallowed Zeph whole and would hardly have been larger for it. Overpower him? Zeph could have laughed.

The officer eyed Zeph suspiciously a moment, and then nodded when Zeph didn’t try to speak.

“Very good. I am Officer Toa Sapani. I am legally obligated to tell you that I carry a recording device on my lapel that is recording this interrogation. If you do not consent to this recording, you have the right to be transferred to a secure facility where the interrogation may proceed with multiple witnesses, including two of your own choice. Do you consent to the recording?”

“I…uh, yes. Yes, I do.”

“Very good. Mr. Massey, I understand there was an explosion aboard your vessel while you and your father were sailing. Please describe to me the situation as clearly and succinctly as you can.”

“Uh, yes, sir. Officer. My father and I were about a mile off shore—”

“Which direction?”

“Um, to the west. Almost directly west, in fact.”

“Very good. Continue.”

“So we were out sailing, planning to do a bit of fishing. I recently returned home from a stint with the Explorers, and—”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Massey. I don’t need your life story. Yet.”

Zeph suppressed a scowl, and nodded. “Yes, sir. We were in the boat, fishing, when my father’s line caught on something. A fish, we assumed, but it was heavy. I set my own pole down and helped him to pull his catch in. As it got closer, we could see that it wasn’t a fish. It was…roundish? Definitely metallic. There were several dozen short protrusions on its surface, too. My dad’s hook had apparently snagged on a few of those.”

Zeph paused and looked at the officer, curious how his story was being received.

“Continue,” said the officer with a gesture.

Zeph sighed. “So, yeah. We pulled it close and together we hauled it aboard. It was heavy, maybe thirty kilos or so.”

“Thirty kilos? How did you catch it in the first place? Surely the water isn’t so shallow that far from the island?”

Zeph shrugged. “I have no idea, officer. I haven’t had a chance to consider it much, honestly. Maybe it—”

“Do not speculate,” said Officer Sapani. “Just give me the facts, please.”

“Yes, sir. So, yeah, we managed to get it aboard. I turned around to find my pad so I could take some pictures, and then there was this explosion. It caught my left arm—” Zeph held up the arm with the new skin--“and the left side of my face and neck. I was knocked down, and stunned. When I got back up, my dad was on his back, unconscious, and badly burned.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, I checked my dad quick. I was afraid he was dead, but he was still breathing. The ship was in a sorry state, but was still seaworthy, fortunately. I turned us around and headed to shore as quick as I could, and then some passersby helped us get to the hospital.”

Sapani eyed Zeph in silence for a long moment. “Tell me more about this thing you claim to have found.”

“I don’t ‘claim’ to have found it. I found it.”

“Do not contradict me. Simply answer the question.”

Zeph wanted to say that the statement was not a question, but he figured the officer wouldn’t appreciate the distinction. “Fine. It was about as big as a kick ball—” he held his hands about 30 centimeters apart—“and heavy, much heavier than it looked. Um. It was a gray, metallic color. The little protrusions, or nodules—or whatever they were—they were just a centimeter or so long, cylindrical, and stubby. Probably a centimeter in diameter, too.”

“Anything else? Any other details?”

“Honestly, I didn’t get a very good look at it. As soon as we had it on board I went to get my pad. I just have that picture in my head, as I described it. My dad might remember more—”

“We will interrogate your father as soon as he is out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Why—”

“Do not make me remind you of the rules of this interrogation, Mr. Massey.”

Zeph clamped his jaw shut, but seethed inwardly.

There was a knock on the door, and Sapani turned around and opened it. Another officer was there. “Sir,” said the other man. “There are four more wounded that just arrived.”

“From the same boat?”

“No, sir. A different boat. Same thing, though—they say they brought something aboard and it exploded.”

Sapani took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you, Stefan.” He closed the door then and turned to Zeph.

“Apparently there was another, similar incident just now,” said Sapani. He paused a moment and eyed Zeph. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, for now—but there’s a part of me that wonders if you’re just part of some larger conspiracy, and you’re learning how to work with some new explosive.”

As no question had been asked, Zeph sat in silence. Sapani nodded in approval. “You are well-disciplined. That is good. For now, though, I think I need to go to where you found this metal ball, whatever it is. Do you remember the place?”

“Roughly. I could probably navigate to within a hundred meters or so of the place.”

“That will do. How is your arm?”

Zeph raised an eyebrow. Concern? From this officer? “Well enough. The nurse just said I need to keep it—and my face—dry and out of sunlight.”

“We can arrange that. Come. You will show me where you found the object.”