I Volunteered

In extreme survival situations where water is rationed or unavailable, ramen noodles have been boiled in beer, wine, cola, or even urine. We cannot recommend the last as a standard practice, although apparently the Rhizomat consider it a delicacy.
—1,001 Ways to Cook Ramen

"Ah, Mister Arkwright. Good timing."

Mel blinked twice as he stared into his apartment. Detective MacElroy had her coat and turban off, the brain bat pulsing on her naked scalp, sleeves rolled up to show thick forearms and a pair of blue surgical gloves, and kneeling in front of Cara. The broken-limbed brain slug host sat in her chair, head wrapped in what looked like aluminum foil, modesty preserved with a simple blue shift. Her brown eyes met Mel's as the detective navigated a small metal tool up her nostril.

Standing around the couch watching the proceedings were Jordan and Jenny, both still naked; Pat, who wore a shirt that said SLUGZILLA and showed a giant brain slug rampaging through a city and a pair of black jeans, cyberarm twitching spasmodically as they watched the operation.

"Best to step inside and close the door," the ghola Béibhinn said. She was in the kitchen, dressed in her hoodie and the kind of loose off-white cloth pants that reminded Mel of karate gi. Next to her was a backpack and a rolled-up sleeping bag. He stepped inside, aware suddenly of the two full condoms in his hands, and closed the door to the clank of cans.

"I'll take those, please," MacElroy held out her free hand. Mel glanced at Jordan and Jenny, who nodded. Mel stepped forward and handed the full condoms to the detective. The brain bat was pulsing gently, glowing patches visible beneath the skin. He watched as she placed the first condom between Cara's teeth; the brain slug host bit, tore, and slurped hard. The process was repeated with the second one. Béibhinn stepped forward to take the spent, torn condoms.

"This part is going to hurt," the detective said. Jenny and Jordan immediately stepped forward and laid their hands on Cara's neck and cheeks; Pat laid a hand on Jenny's shoulder and MacElroy's, forming a bridge between them. Mel shuddered at a crunch as the metal probe punched deeper for a moment. Bright crimson blood spurted out of the nostril. With steady hand, MacElroy drew the tool back—and attached to the end was a small black thing. Béibhinn was by MacElroy's side with a small black envelope; tool and device went into the envelope, which was swiftly sealed. MacElroy pulled out a tampon and carefully stuffed it into the bleeding nostril.

"There now. That sucked, but it should heal relatively quickly, although you'll need proper medical treatment if it gets infected," the brain bat said as she stood up and stripped off her gloves. She gave Mel a thin-lipped smile. "Questions?"

"Only one," Mel admitted. "What the fuck?"

The brain bat and Béibhinn chuckled.

"When last we spoke," MacElroy said. "I was unaware of our new friend here. I understand why you didn't mention her, good operational security. However, one of her cranial implants turns out to be a tracker, which suddenly activated, and that proved problematic and in need of immediate dealing with. So Pat contacted me and I became caught up on events."

"This bag is a Faraday cage," Béibhinn said, holding up the black envelope. "Prevents any signals from getting in or out. So they can't track it anymore. However, there is the small issue that the intelligence agency formerly employing Cara here now knows she was in this building. They don't know she's defected yet. So if they come here looking for Melville Arkwright—"

"—they're going to find you," MacElroy said as she rolled down her sleeves. The other brain slugs were still touching Cara. Mel wasn't sure if they were helping to share the pain or what, but all four looked unusually pale. "Now, we don't know if they are going to come looking, but presuming they do, that could be problematic for you."

Mel gestured at Cara. "Is she going to be all right?"

"Brain slugs are boneless creatures," the brain bat said as she buttoned her cuffs. "They're very good at growing neural tendrils to repair or route around damage to brain tissue or nervous systems; bone and other tissues, not so much. It's why her arms and legs are taking so long to heal. But she should heal. Humans are surprisingly good at that."

"Fortunately, you don't have much of an online presence at all, so Cara should be safe enough downstairs. Anyone who comes looking won't be looking for a shut-in crippled brain slug host," Béibhinn said. "The bad news is, that moving you isn't a real option either. If you suddenly skipped out on your lease, that would draw attention. Let them know we're onto them."

"Who are 'they'?" Mel asked.

"Cara was kept on a need-to-know basis, on the grounds that the plan was for her to join the Greater Northwest Pacific Collective and anything she knew could have been compromised if her implants didn't work," MacElroy sighed as she began to re-wrap her turban. "But from what the hive mind gathers, they're a black bag unit attached to a grey intelligence agencies which is one of the constituent components of the United States Space Force. If that sounds complicated, welcome to the joy that is federal government bureaucracy."

"So . . . spies might come looking for Cara," Mel translated. "And if they do, they're going to find me. If I run, it looks suspicious. So what do I do?"

"You," MacElroy said, picking up her trench coat. The ghola handed the detective the black envelope, which disappeared into an interior pocket. "Need protection. So you're getting a new roommate. Someone with intelligence and combat training that can look after you, keep an eye on things. At least until this blows over."

Mel blinked. "New roommate?"

"That would be me," Béibhinn said with a grin, showing those slightly greyish gums. "I volunteered."

Mel looked at the brain slug hosts.

"You're okay with this?"

All four brain slug hosts looked at Mel and nodded in unison.

"The ladies are already sleeping with you in the big bed, so we'll move the rest of their stuff into your room, and I'll take theirs," Béibhinn said. "Already had a chat with Ms. Chin, I'm officially subleasing. We'll work out chores schedule and shit later."

For a moment, Mel wondered how all of this had gone down in the time it had taken him to ball Rachel into a sound sleep. Then he glanced at the kitchen clock. It was nearly one in the morning.

Mel watched as Pat took control of Cara's wheelchair and pointed her towards the door. He opened the door automatically, and MacElroy stepped out first, looking up and down the hallway before signaling Pat to follow. Leaving Mel alone with his roommates, old and new.

"So . . . what's with the cans?" Béibhinn said, pointing at the shoestring-alarm on the doorknob.

"Rachel, our girlfriend, lives in the apartment across the corridor. After she got the blue pearl, she started sleepwalking," Mel said, feeling oddly numb and off-kilter. This night had just given him emotional whiplash. "She's been crossing the corridor in the morning and trying to suck me off or mount me. So I put the alarm together to give us a bit of notice. We're trying to avoid unprotected sex leading to unplanned pregnancies."

"Low tech," the ghola said with approval. "Nice."

The need to pee gave Mel a minute of blessed relief and privacy. He took the time to wash his hands, face, and private, which after the night's fun with Rachel needed the attention.

Rache, Mel thought. How the fuck am I going to explain this to Rache? And Molly?

His girlfriend across the hall at least already knew about Cara. Explaining Béibhinn to Molly was going to mean explaining a lot of other things. Mel had said to himself that honesty was the best policy, but he was not sure how the heck she was going to absorb all this without thinking he was a dedicated freak or something.

Mel stared at himself in the mirror. The haircut with the shaved sides worked. His eyes looked tired, though. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking for. Some physical sign of deviancy, maybe. Instead, there was just his reflection. When Mel emerged, he found that Jordan and Jenny had moved their few belongings into his room—well, their room, now—and Béibhinn was rolling out her sleeping page atop the single bed.

"Get some sleep," the ghola suggested, and the naked women tugging Mel toward his bed reinforced the idea. As he stripped down and climbed into bed between them, Mel briefly wondered about closing the door, but it wasn't like there was anything for Béibhinn to see that she hadn't seen before.

As the darkness claimed him, Mel thought about how easy it was to accept and adapt to things, once they'd already happened once. He was fairly certain he should have felt more embarrassed. Yet as Jordan and Jenny nuzzled closer to him than usual, he felt less concerned about what Béibhinn would see than he was the way Jordan's fingers traced the outline of him through the fundoshi, her fingers stroking slowly and languidly, while Jenny teased his nipple.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "If that interrupted your plans for tonight. I'll make it up to you both."

Jordan kissed him then, just on the corner of the mouth, and fell asleep with a proprietary hand clutching his crotch.