putting her back into stasis?” Michelle asked.
“No.” Logan’s eyes glimmered as he looked up at her. “We’re waking her up.”
She stiffened. “What? Tonight? I thought it was still going to be a week or more before she’s ready.”
“A week before she’s ready for long-distance travel,” said Logan. He bent down to connect a set of sensors to the child’s head. He’d been removing and reapplying those sensors all week, after every operation. “But we’ll begin the awakening process tonight. I want to make it slow and gradual. Her system has gone through enough shocks—I’ll do my best to make this as smooth a transition as possible.”
“She’s going to be conscious, then?” said Michelle. “For the next week?”
She hadn’t been expecting this. She couldn’t keep an awake, sentient girl down in this dungeon, but she couldn’t bring her into the house, either, and—
Logan shook his head. “Awake, but still heavily medicated. It will be a couple of days before she’s cognizant of her surroundings, and Garan has agreed to stay with her and begin working with her to build up her muscle tissue. If the tank has done its job correctly, and the new wiring has synthesized properly with her system, then I hope she will be capable of walking out of here in a week’s time.”
Walking. After all these years, the princess was about to be walking, and speaking, and awake.
Michelle stepped closer and peered into the girl’s face. Her brown hair was slick with the gel that had harbored her since she was only three years old. Her face was gaunt and her frame lithe, almost bone-thin. She hoped Garan would feed her a big meal when he welcomed her into his family.
She was only a child, and there were already so many hopes and expectations heaped on her shoulders. Michelle suddenly pitied her.
More than that, she realized she was going to miss her, this child who had caused her so much worry. Who had been a constant fixture in her life for so long, and who would leave now and never even know Michelle’s name. Never know who had cared for her for so long.
“All right,” Logan murmured. He had attached a portscreen to the side of the tank and was staring at it. “I’m going to initiate the procedure. It will be a few moments, but we should soon begin to see signs of life independent of the machinery.”
There was a hum from the base of the suspension tank.
The girl didn’t move. Not a breath, not a flinch.
Michelle glanced up at Garan, who was watching the child with eager curiosity. “What are you going to call her?” she asked.
Garan turned to her. “Call her?”
“You can’t very well call her Selene. I was wondering if you’d chosen another name.”
He stood up straighter. His expression took on a look of bewilderment. “I honestly hadn’t given it any consideration.”
“Michelle is right,” said Logan, still inspecting the portscreen. “We will need to give her an ID chip, too, if we expect her to fit in here on Earth. It will require some history for her—a family, and a believable story for how she became a cyborg. Enough to keep away any suspicion. I have some ideas already, but you are welcome to assign her a name, as her guardian.”
Garan’s gaze dropped to the child again. His brow was furrowed. “I’m not good with naming things. My wife chose the names for our daughters. I don’t think it even occurred to me that I might have a say in it.”
Michelle licked her lips behind the face mask. “I have a thought.”
Both men glanced at her.
“What about … Cinder?”
There was a hesitation, and she could tell they were doubtful about the name. She lifted her chin and explained, “It’s an unassuming name, but also … powerful. Because of where she came from. She survived that fire. She was reborn from the cinders.”
They turned as one to look at the girl again.
“Cinder,” said Logan, rolling the name over on his tongue. “Cinder. I like it, actually.”
“Me too,” said Garan. “Linh Cinder.”
Michelle smiled, glad they had been easily swayed. A child’s name was not a decision to be made lightly, but she felt it was the perfect name for her. And now the princess would have a token to take with her. A name that Michelle had given to her, like a parting gift, even if she never knew it.
Cinders. Embers. Ashes. Michelle hoped that whatever strength had allowed this child to survive the fire