"She's having a difficult foaling."She's having a difficult foaling. Look, Ken, I know you don't like to discuss it, but I need your psi." My psi? I don't have psi. "What psi?" "I thought... You're a clair, aren't you?" This wasn't a discussion to be having now. "No!" I said, holding up my hands. "Imaging implants. For the lab." "Good enough," she said. "You can see. I need you." "Okay, for what?" It was no longer a thing I wanted to hide, not if she needed it to save a foal, or the mother. "Tell me what you see. Damn, how could you people live without the right equipment." "We've never needed it, Miss..." "Oh, shut up." She was angry. "Okay," I said, putting my hands on the belly of the centaur. "You're close. It's...you're near a shoulder. It's still moving, but..." The microprocessors along my forearms translated the delicate sonic data into images for my brain. "A shoulder? Damn, it's breached. I'm going to try to turn it, grab a leg, preferably the rear hip. Can you guide me?" "I'll try. Uh, Brieanna?" "Yeah?" Her arm sank deeper into the centaur. "Isn't there supposed to be some sort of membrane about the foal?" "You mean there isn't? Eighty second count!" she shouted up towards the roof. Alan's voice came out, counting down. "You," she said, looking up at one of the centaurs, "get me the knives. if I don't get it, I'm going to need them." "Brieanna, you're near a foreleg. |