After concluding her meditation, Doctor Rhys enters the house with a graceful glide, a faint sheen of water still clinging to her skin from her recent swim. Despite the relaxation of her meditation, the lingering drops accentuate the contours of her lush physique. 

The soft glow of perspiration adorns her body, a testament to the exertion of the preceding yoga session. The combined effect of water droplets and a subtle layer of sweat enhances the natural radiance, creating a captivating play of light on her naked skin, showcasing her physical vitality.

"My Captain, your forbearance is truly appreciated. If you could indulge me further, I would be honored to accompany you to the surgery," Doctor Rhys expressed with a tone that reflected both gratitude and a sense of duty.

As I guided Captain Rourke to the surgery, I mused about whether he grasped the subtle intent behind my yoga session. I strategically positioned my body, ensuring he had an optimal view during poses like the downward dog and the standard forward bend. 

The thought amuses me, and I cannot help but wonder about the expressions he wore while observing my impromptu display. I caught him surreptitiously attempting to readjust his coveralls so that his erection would not be uncomfortable. Why do men assume women are stupid and think that we do not realize what they are doing?

Walking down a well-lit hallway behind Doctor Rhys, I consciously try not to stare at the rhythmic flexing of her curvaceous ass. Surrounded by displays of her numerous awards, diplomas, and medical certifications, I try distracting my mind from the gorgeous naked woman walking in front of me. I still have a damned erection.

The walls narrate her journey, adorned with symbols of expertise and recognition from various medical institutions. Each framed, well-lit display tells a story of dedication and skill, creating a backdrop that highlights the depth of her medical prowess. It's a visual testament to the extensive knowledge and experience she brings to the table, and I can't help but feel a sense of confidence in her abilities.

Doctor Rhys places her palm on the digital reader, the soft beep signaling the unlocking of the surgery door. With a subtle hiss, the door glides open, unveiling a meticulously designed surgery suite. The room emanates a sense of precision and cleanliness, with stainless steel surfaces gleaming under the bright lights. 

A range of advanced medical equipment lines the walls, each a testament to the innovative technology at her disposal. It's a space where skill meets sophistication. The air carries a faint scent of antiseptic and ozone, indicating the sterile environment necessary for surgical procedures. 

"I hope the scent in my surgery does not bother you. Some friends used to burn nag champa in school, but I cannot stand the smell. Tex will assist you with the pre-surgery preparations while I quickly shower and change into my surgical attire," Doctor Rhys says.

I take a moment to appreciate the graceful sway of Doc's hips as she moves away. The subtle confidence in her stride is captivating, leaving a lingering impression. Though seemingly casual, the view unveils within me more than a touch of admiration for the doctor's physique.

The android Tex has seamlessly transitioned into a medical chassis. This specialized form also equips additional appendages and tools to assist Doctor Rhys in intricate surgical procedures. The medical chassis prioritizes precision and dexterity, showcasing several sets of articulated limbs and an array of integrated instruments.

Tex, a sleek presence in the room, begins efficiently explaining the steps to prepare for the upcoming procedure. I tune the android out for a bit as it rambles on. In the background, the sound of water suggests the doctor is already on her way to refresh herself before the critical task ahead. 

I ponder whether Tex is the sole android companion of Doctor Rhys. Most andies, unlike Tex, adopt either a male or female persona for human relatability. While many andies, properly referred to as SPs (synthetic persons), strive to mimic human appearance, some stress their robotic nature.

Tex politely requested, "Nathan, please lower your coveralls, expose your upper body, and then lie on your stomach on the examination table."

“Huh,” is my elegant response.

“Lower your coveralls, remove your tee shirt and lie face down on the table, please,” Tex clarified.

I feel Tex’s gentle touch as it examines my back and arm. “In the wake of the first Machine War's tumultuous conclusion, a pivotal moment unfolded over 500 years ago when the human species underwent a profound transformation. This transformation, a response to the challenges posed by the wars, involved intricate modifications crafted by brilliant bio-engineers whose identities have since been obscured by the passage of time. The essence of their work, shrouded in the mists of history, left an indelible mark on humanity.”

As Tex maneuvers around the table, their presence is palpable. "A monumental stride in human evolution following brilliant genetic modification eradicated nearly all hereditary diseases, those insidious legacies passed through generations. Minor skeletal, musculature, heart, lungs, eyesight, and hearing improvements were among them. Some epigenetic shifts happened too, but their specifics are also unknown."

"What the fuck is a epigenetic shift Tex?"

"My apologies, Captain Rourke. In an epigenetic shift, genes express differently without changing the underlying DNA sequence. Environmental factors like diet and exercise cause these shifts, aging, and development, and they can turn genes "on" or "off". They can influence a person's health and sometimes people can pass them down to future generations."

“Among the pioneering minds responsible for these genetic feats, the brilliant Chinese Doctor Goguryo emerged as a harbinger of progress. Before their groundbreaking contributions, cancer, an ancient scourge haunting humanity since its inception, found its nemesis in the corridors of scientific ingenuity. Eliminating this once-formidable adversary marked a significant triumph in the annals of medical history.”

"Thanks for the history lesson, Tex. Is their a point you are trying to make?"

As Tex continues their examination, their gentle touches seem almost choreographed, dancing over my skin. Their knowledge extends beyond immediate medical concerns, delving into the rich tapestry of human history. 

“The saga of humanity's venture into the cosmos occurred in four distinct waves. After the chaos of World War III, survivors sought new worlds. During the 112 year lull between the Machine Wars, the third wave witnessed another outpouring of pioneers.” 

"Tex, I know all of this, is there a point?"

As Tex continues their examination, the soft hum of drawers being opened accompanies their rhythmic movements. History seems to echo in their words, hinting that the Machine Wars were an essential impetus for humanity's journey to the stars, including 433 Eros. 

Tex moves again. “The final, and perhaps most consequential wave occurred after the devastating climax of the last Machine War. This last wave saw over 90% of Earth's surviving population, propelled to the far reaches of the galaxy and even beyond, seeding the cosmos with the resilient spirit of a species that refused to be confined to a single celestial home.”

Both Machine Wars also brutally reminded humanity what an enormously, fucking stupid idea it was to give highly intelligent, self-aware machines lethal capabilities, I mused. Saving money on defense budgets ended up fucking all of humanity. Once that fucking genie was out of the bottle, there was no putting it back, no matter how many nukes you hit it with.

“In a twisted irony, these devastating conflicts served as a crucible that forged a united human front against a common adversary—the machines. Ironically, the Machine Wars spurred technological advancements, enabling humanity to escape Earth, even while destroying it. The wars, in their brutality, birthed a collective determination and capability that, under different circumstances, might never have emerged. The shattered, nearly lifeless Earth became the launching pad for a surprisingly resilient species.”

Tex moves again. “The current Earth, governed by the Green plutocrats, perceives the planet solely as a profit-driven engine. In contrast to their predecessors, who were indifferent to environmental consequences, the Greens have gone to great lengths restoring the Earth. Nathan, you and madam have a distinct viewpoint because you are from Earth. Growing up in one of the protectorates, shielded from the perils of the radiated Exclusion Zones, must have distinctly shaped your experiences.” 

Regrettably, Tex doesn’t require pauses for breath, allowing a persistent barrage of rapid-fire statements without interruption.

“The plutocratic control and profit-centric mindset dominating Earth would likely have influenced your upbringing. Living on Earth must have presented a stark contrast between the sheltered life within the protectorates and the harsh realities of those living in the radiated exclusion zones. Your insights into this dualistic existence, intertwined with the political and environmental landscape, could provide valuable context for understanding the complexities of humanity. I have always…”

The doctor walks into the surgery barefoot, her hair in a neat bun and clad in vibrant neon blue scrubs, her luscious body's curves evident. "Tex, as we agreed, refrain from pestering him," interjected Doctor Rhys, swiftly halting the android's diatribe. 

“I apologize, Nathan; in my excitement, I failed to account for your position. I did not mean to bother you. Rarely do I have access to a Earth-born military combat veteran who may share a different view."

I reassured Tex. "It's fine. I wasn't bothered. I’ve never been much of a student of history; it's always bored the fuck out of me. But there's not much else to do lying here with my ass in the air. The Exploratory Corps isn't a typical military unit, especially as most would think. The wet navies of old Earth inspired many EC traditions and structures. EC ships are equipped for self-defense purposes only. My combat experience is limited to driving off pirates a few times... "

Doctor Rhys cut in. "My Captain, when I touched your arm earlier, I downloaded your arm's information—error codes, technical details, the complete data package. I transmitted it to Tex, and the mass fabricators have already produced some components. However, our immediate focus has shifted to more pressing matters," Doctor Rhys explained, her tone conveying urgency.

While lying on the table, I observe Tex and Doctor Rhys engrossed in a silent discussion, gesturing towards the three datapads held in Tex's hands. I notice that besides several surgical-looking apparatuses projecting from his chassis, Tex now has at least six hands.

“I am sorry, my Captain. Until we got you on our diagnostic and surgery table and delved further into your bionic left arm, did the extensive damage become apparent."

"The street hackjobber who gave you the duralloy claws damaged the five-millimeter needler shooting through your middle metacarpal and phalanges," Tex said.

"Yes, that too," Dr. Rhys said. "Your arm's severely compromised systems require a more delicate, extensive repair. The intricate dance of artificial neural pathways, cybernetic components, wetware and biological interfaces was disrupted, posing a complex challenge for our surgical and bioengineering capabilities." 

Tex passes her one datapad, and after a brief examination, she taps on it a few times before placing it down. The doctor leans over me. A part of me happily takes notice of her breasts swinging freely under her snug scrubs.

“We are now addressing these issues comprehensively, ensuring not only the physical repair of your arm but also the restoration of its integrated functionality,” explained Doctor Rhys, her tone reflecting a mix of professional focus and genuine concern for my well-being. 

“Tex is now re-tasking several of the mass fabs, making super conducting molecular circuitry neural net patches, bionic and cybernetic components and medical supplies essential for the upcoming surgery.”

"I'm surprised that you have that many mass fabs here," I muttered.

"People conceptualized mass fabs, short for mass fabricators, centuries ago," Tex said. "The initial iterations were far from efficient, with massive power consumption and exorbitant costs. The most recent models have addressed these issues, exhibiting improved efficiency. However, it wasn't until the emergence of affordable, clean fusion power that the full potential of advanced molecular mass fabrication became a tangible reality."

I wonder how much it cost Dr. Rhys to import her mass fabs. Since Dr. Rhys came from Mars, I bet her mass fabs were made there. Mars still makes some of the best mass fabs in the galaxy.

Doctor Rhys looked at Tex, who nodded. "My Captain, why was your comm unit ripped out so egregiously?"

“Uh, well ... Doc, I was in a desperate situation and needed credits fucking badly. I didn’t have any other options. I had already sold or hocked everything I could, including my beloved ship."

"Yes, I am aware you pawned your ship," Dr. Rhys said.

"Having a very good comm unit in my arm was the best place as I wanted one with as much functionality as it could carry. Space was a concern, so the small comm unit in my head was removed and a much larger and more capable comm unit was installed in my arm."

"Ah, that explains the hole in your neural net behind your mastoid where the standard communication unit was," Tex said. "An AL-740-V is not just a communication device. Nathan, it was a core piece of your augmented reality and neural interface suite."

"Though it was a few years old by the time I reach Eros, my comm unit still had significant value here on Eros where I was told that model is exceptionally rare.”

"With the exception of former Mars or Colonial service members, AL-740-V comm units are still very rare," Tex said.

“The street hackjobber that ripped out your comm unit so that you could pawn it badly damaged parts of your neural networks, cyberware, and wetware. There were no other jobs you could find,” Doctor Rhys asked. “Nothing in the mines?”

“No, Doc, after I ended up in Slagville, I tried a few mining jobs but learned I am not cut out for mining. I just don't have the fucking skills I needed. Despite my skill in commanding a survey starship, I was hopeless at driving an ore cart or a TBM. I was equally useless operating mining drones.”

"I'm not surprised that you struggled driving a tunnel boring machine. That is a highly specialized skill requiring years of practice and training," Tex said.

“My Captain, there is more damage to the bio-mechanical interface than Tex and I originally thought. It is a stark reminder of why one should never entrust intricate bionics, wetware, neural networks, and cybernetics to a cacete street hackjobber! Puta que pariu! What did they use, a chisel and hammer!” 

Tex touches her arm. Doctor Rhys takes a deep breath and then sighs. “The interconnected web of these systems within your arm suffered not only physical trauma but also disruptions to the delicate balance between the biological and mechanical components.” 

“This complexity makes the repair process challenging, requiring a meticulous approach to ensure the seamless integration of the biological and artificial elements,” Tex interjected. 

“As long as it is done correctly. You know that the correct thing is seldom done for the right reasons,” I pointed out. “Because of your reputation, Doc, I know you will at least not fuck my arm up worse than it already is. But I can't afford the repairs to my arm.”

Dr. Rhys waves her hand dismissively. "Do not worry about costs my Captain. I need you at your best."

"Why? You still haven't told me why."

"In due time Nathan," Tex said.

“We are now working diligently to address these issues and restore the intricate harmony between the various components, recognizing the importance of both functionality and compatibility in such advanced augmentations,” explained Dr. Rhys, her words carrying a blend of professional gravity and a hint of frustration at the avoidable damage. 

Doctor Rhys gestures towards the android. "Tex is currently resetting and fine-tuning my other mass fabs manufacturing the components within our capability. Congratulations, my Captain; every mass fab I own is tasked for the first time in many years. However, despite having top-notch facilities on Eros, certain components remain beyond our reach. We will acquire those parts later.”

She consults the data pad, this time tapping on it angrily. "Puta que pariu! Estimates suggest that producing all replacement parts will take at least 12 hours or longer. Additional damage might come to light once we delve further into your arm. Consider yourself fortunate that the street hackjobber's work did not lead to paralysis," she conveyed, emphasizing the severity of the situation, a sense of urgency, and a cautionary tone.

“Madam, I will see about that other task you requested. I will return shortly.” With that, Tex silently glides out of the surgery. I had failed to notice that Tex had returned to his regular chassis.

"My Captain, your bionic arm replaced your left glenohumeral and acromioclavicular joints, and your left acromion. The bionic components connect to your spine, upper ribs, scapula, and the remains of your left clavicle. We also discovered significant damage to your right shoulder, including the joint and ligaments."

"Because of your left arm's malfunctions, you've put unusual stress on your right arm," Tex said.

She lightly touches me again. I feel Doc's loose tits on my back through her scrubs. Unless I am wrong, I believe I can feel her nipples. The woman must have a thing against wearing bras.

“To address this, I have dispatched a swarm of medical nanites to initiate the repair process for your shoulders. Concurrently, another set of nanites is engaged in conducting delicate repairs to your neural net and wetware, prepping the area for the upcoming surgery," Doctor Rhys explained, emphasizing the complexity of the interconnections and the multifaceted approach to address the issues at hand.

“Doc, how the fuck did you get nanites into me?”

She giggles. “I am sorry, my Captain. When Tex touched you, they injected the nanites directly into your anterior spinal artery and the two posterior spinal arteries. By now, you have octillions of nanites throughout your body.” Doctor Rhys paused momentarily, her warm hand resting gently on my right shoulder. 

"I neglected to get your permission, Nathan, but as you had tacitly agreed to Madam's repair of your body, I believed you had given consent already," Tex said over the house net.

"Dear Captain, the repair process for your shoulders by the medical nanites is a meticulous task that may span several days. During this time, you may notice a gradual increase in body temperature attributed to the waste heat generated by the nanites as they work.” Her hand lightly stroked my shoulder. 

"I've had medical nanites before Doc," I said.

“An increased appetite is expected as the nanites draw upon energy and source mass for their operations. Some individuals claim to detect an unpleasant metallic odor from the nanites, although it's widely considered a subjective perception rather than an actual scent."

“Uh… thanks Doc. Do I have to remain on the table since we will not repair my arm right now?”

“No, my Captain, you may get up.”

Perched on the table's edge, I don my tee shirt and pull up my coveralls. As I do, Doctor Rhys gracefully bends over and reaches into a refrigerated cabinet nearby. I appreciate the snug fit of her scrubs accentuating her fine ass. The smooth shape of her scrubs suggests she is either not wearing any underwear or is wearing a tiny thong. The thought of Doctor Rhys in tiny thong panties causes my dick to stiffen.

"Here, my Captain, drink this. The contents will nourish the nanites, providing them with some essential raw materials. It contains a gentle pain blocker to alleviate any potential discomfort that might arise from the repairs carried out by the nanites," she advised, attempting to ensure my comfort during the intricate repair process.

I swiftly consume the contents of the chilled glass. The thick, bright yellow drink smells like lemons but tastes like an industrial floor cleaner. Afterward, it leaves a subtle metallic flavor on my palate, followed by a lingering chalky aftertaste.

Doctor Rhys lightly touches my right shoulder again. “My Captain, may I inquire about the origin of your right shoulder injuries? They appear to be older and likely have been a source of discomfort for quite some time.”

“My first ex-wife had a penchant for restraining me on a Saint Andrew's cross. Then, unleashing a barrage of physical punishment. I struggled to break free, resulting in my arm being yanked out of its socket a few times.”

"That explains some of the damage to your right arm," Tex observed through the house net speakers.

“Que porra é essa? Why did you let her do it after the first time?” Despite what I have heard, I wonder if the Captain is submissive in bed. Feeling submissive to a strong, tall man is highly arousing to me. I have never been a dominant.

I do not know what she just said, but I am guessing it was profanity. “She assured me she wouldn't exert too much force. I trusted her on the first two occasions. However, when I declined to take part, she resorted to drugging me–once.”

“Filho da puta! No wonder you divorced her, my Captain.”

“Hey Doc, can we ease up on the ‘my Captains’ please. Call me Nathan, please, but never ever Nate.”

“As you wish, Nathan … ah, here comes Tex.”

I had forgotten that Tex had left the surgery. I watch as Tex reenters the surgery, carrying a smaller box stacked atop a slightly larger one. 

“Nathan, please dress in the clothes and house shoes from these boxes,” Doctor Rhys requested.

Tex places the boxes beside me on the table. “Madam has asked me to incinerate your coveralls, but I believe your spacer’s boots are repairable. Wear the house shoes while I fix your boots. I also have an adaptor so that you may carry your 0ME knife up the jacket’s left sleeve.”

"Thanks Tex. Choosing to go unarmed in the fucking so-called utopia of Eros is simply imprudent and reckless."

“My Captain…I apologize. Nathan, please get dressed. Tex will guide you to the fresher in the guest room. I will change and join you both in the parlor in about an hour and a half.”

With that, Doc strides out of the surgery. I watch the rhythmic flexing of her ass until she passes out of my sight.