Title : Cutting Edge
Date : 11-6-1997
Series : Upgrade #02

Summary: # 2 in the Upgrade Series which is a The Sentinel AU set in the future. Jim needs Blair's help to rescue a fellow officer.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor do I make a claim on them. These characters are the property of Pet Fly Productions and UPN. Original characters are the sole property of the author.

Upgrade #02
Cutting Edge
By YS McCool

Jim walked into the elegantly appointed bedroom and shook his head at the lone occupant in the large canopied bed. The sheet barely covered the nude man lying on his side. Blair wasn't asleep, but he was pretending to be. Jim crossed the room, a little self conscious in the quilted, dark red robe that Hawthorne, Blair's butler, had given him to wear.

"Doc, if this is a test to see if I know whether or not you're awake, the answer is yes, you are awake," Jim announced, but not too loudly.

Blair groaned. "I can't be awake, I'm not even alive."

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, Chief, you're alive. Death would be a lot less painful."

"Go away," Blair mumbled as he pulled the sheet up over his head.

Jim gently shook the bed's occupant. "Chief, I need you to get up."

Blair sat up letting the sheet tent him, moaned pitifully, and begged some unknown god to make his head stop hurting. Jim tugged down the sheet and placed a glass of tomato juice in the good doctor's grasp. Blair had to use both of his hands to hold the glass steady.

He looked up at Jim with large, bleary eyes. "What happened?"

Jim smiled, letting the memories of the night's debauchery, most of which starred his friend, go through his mind. "Before or after you started dancing on the table?"

"I danced?" Blair asked, sounding confused.

"It was quite ahh..." Jim reached for a word that would convey his meaning and not force his friend to die of shame. "Provocative," he offered.

"What?" Blair asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Jim stood up and wiggled his hips in a poor imitation of Blair's far more sensual movements. "You said it was the fertility dance of a Polynesian tribe called the--"

"Oh my GOD!" Blair winced at the noise he had made.

"We were riveted," Jim admitted. "Who knew you were so... coordinated."

Blair hung his head in shame, allowing his thick hair to obscure part of his face. "How did I end up dancing on the table?"

This part almost made Jim laugh. "Not enough of us could see you on the floor, so when some of the guests complained that they weren't getting their share of the action, you got on the table."

Blair cringed. "Captain Barrows must hate me for ruining her retirement party."

"I doubt it," Jim said soothingly. "You're taking her to her grandson's Bar Mitzvah."

"I am?" Blair asked, eyes wide.

Jim nodded. "I think you have dates with almost every single woman who was there."

Blair groaned. "Now they'll all think I'm some sort of Playboy. What was I thinking?"

"I think the booze was talking at that point," Jim suggested.

Blair sipped at the drink in his hands. "How did I get home?" he asked after a moment.

Jim chuckled. "I wrapped you up in a tablecloth and carried you out before you took the microphone from the singer. I was soundly booed for my action." He was also nearly beaten by women who had left the party and returned with their recording equipment. He decided to leave that part of the story out.

"Oh, Lord," Blair moaned. "Carried out like a sack of potatoes."

Jim decided to lighten things up. "It was a very near thing, Chief."

"What was a near thing?" Blair asked, still sounding miserable.

"Linda and Laura Henderson were about to come to blows over who got to take you to their brother's wedding." Jim used his hands to outline a very feminine, actually ultra feminine shape, which the twins had in spades. Ellison had butted his head against those ladies' defenses and had only ended up with a headache for his trouble.

"I have a date with one of the twins?" Blair asked, sounding impressed with himself. He made the same feminine motion, but with only one hand. "*The* twins?"

Jim grabbed Blair's date book off his nightstand. He electronically flipped through the pages. "You have a date with both of them."

"Oh, Lord," Blair repeated.

"I'm impressed myself. I've never gotten anywhere with either of them, but I never did a nude fertility dance on a tabletop in the middle of a retirement party at one of the nicest pubs in town." Jim tried the hip shake again but was unable to roll his stomach muscles in sync with the extra heavy rear action. How Sandburg managed while drunk was beyond him.

Blair shakily placed the now empty glass on his side table and flopped back onto his pillows. "I'm a dead man."

"Only if you don't follow through on these dates. Those women are armed." Jim continued to flip through the pages of the date book while Blair prayed sincerely for deliverance from his agony. "Chief, I could make a fortune selling the phone numbers you got last night."

Blair placed the pillow over his face. "It's not funny, Jim. I'm supposed to be a pillar of the community." Jim snorted at such a notion. "Or at least, I'm supposed to conduct myself that way," Blair continued.

"Don't worry about it, Chief," Jim soothed. "You did more in one night to make everyone more relaxed around your enormous brain, than you have in the last month of coming around to the office."

"I have?" Blair asked softly.

"Oh, yeah." Jim placed the book back on the nightstand. He lifted the pillow from Blair's face. "Now, we need to get moving. You're supposed to pick up your credentials today."

"Can I call in dead?" Blair asked as he tugged at the covers.

"No," Jim said firmly, keeping his grip on the covers.

"Please?" Blair begged.

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top?" Blair tried.

Jim dropped the covers. "Blair, this is important to me. You have to have your credentials if you're going to ride with me." Jim twisted the tie to his robe nervously. "Or are you through studying me?"

Blair sat up, wobbled, grabbed Jim's arm to steady himself, and cleared his throat. "Jim, you're not some test subject. You're my friend." Blair crawled out of his bed and made his way to the shower. He emitted a muted howling noise when the water hit him.

"Blair, are you all right?" Jim called.

"No," Blair said weakly. "Have Hawthorne fix me something subtle for breakfast."

"Okay," Jim said before heading downstairs.

====<><><><>===<><><><>====

Jim held the door to Blair's Authorized Personal Vehicle for the doctor. Normally he would have taken his off-duty flycycle to work, but that meant that Blair would have had to hold onto him for the ten-minute non-emergency travel time, and Blair was in no condition for that ride. So they were taking Blair's car. His status as a medical doctor assured him that he would always be able to get clearance for a personal vehicle.

"Good morning, Sir," the car said. "I have you listed as a third authorized driver. Please insert your license." Jim did as he was instructed. "Please note the following slow speed zones and construction avoidance areas. You are authorized to travel at all levels."

'All level clearance? Blair must have pretty good contacts or being a medical doctor was more important than I thought.' Jim wondered what kind of altitude Blair's fancy sedan could maintain at full speed. Not that he was planning on using the man's car as an auxiliary Pursuit Vehicle, but you never knew what life had planned for you. "Ready to go, Chief?"

"Yeah, just quietly please." Blair donned his dark glasses and hunched down in the seat.

"You don't drink much, do you, Blair?" Jim asked.

"Just wine with dinner and an occasional beer," Blair responded so softly that only a sentinel could have heard.

"Beer, ahhh, I miss beer," Jim said wistfully.

"Cutting back?" Blair asked.

"I can't stand the taste anymore," Jim explained. "Since my natural senses have kicked in my favorite beer all but gags me."

"Have you tried one of the micro brews?" Blair asked.

"Too expensive," Jim stated. Finances were always a consideration now. His 'all natural' habit was a budget-buster.

"Not necessarily. I know this wonderful little restaurant where you can sample the local micro brews. It's quite reasonable." Blair checked his date book. "How about next Thursday? I don't have a date next Thursday."

"That would be great. Thanks."

Blair continued to read through his date book. "Ah, Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't Lt. Rodriguez a guy?" Blair asked, sounding somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes."

"I have a date with him?" Blair asked, sounding mystified.

"He has a sister who is a lieutenant in the Counter-Terrorist division. She was at the party. I think she was the one who put you up on the table," Jim explained. "I might have to shake her down for your pants, too."

Blair puzzled. "Big lady is she?"

"About 6'3", I'd say." Which made her taller than Jim.

Blair's eyebrows almost went into his hairline. "That's a lot of woman."

"Definitely," Ellison agreed. "I'd take my vitamins if I were you."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Despite humiliating myself and my commitment to date most of the female officers, I had a good time at the party," Blair assured him. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Anytime, buddy, anytime. You'll be high on the guest list from now on," Jim promised. "The guys want you to teach them that dance."

Blair laughed despite the pain.

====<><><><>===<><><><>====

Blair sat down in the Records department and began filling out the forms for his credentials. He had been filling out forms from the time he could hold a stylus, and he had started school at the tender age of two. He was reading at a college level before third grade.

He was lucky--he had two scholarly parents who had the money and the inclination to allow him an unconventional education. He was privately tutored and was able to test out of his primary educational requirements. Having tutors meant that when he wanted to study the rainforests of Brazil when he was seven years old, the family packed up and moved without interrupting his education. They lived in a small hut for almost nine months.

He studied herbal medicine in the Hunan province of China. Blair studied Cyber-chip manufacturing on the planet Corazon. He studied violin in Berlin, Earth's not Coventry's city. He was an only child and highly indulged.

When he was ten, he began taking college courses. He was presented his first degree in cybernetics before his twelfth birthday. By the time he was 21 he had three PhD's-- Cybernetics, Anthropology, and Biology, and he was beginning his residency in Micro Surgery. At 24, he was hired as the assistant chair of Anthropology at the Rainier Institute, his alma mater. Three months after his 27th birthday, he became the department chair--the youngest in their history.

Filling out his educational background on the forms took more time than anything else.

Two minutes after filling out the forms, he was holding his new credentials, still warm from the machine. His picture made him look even younger than he was. 'Oh, well. Can't be helped.'

He made his way to the Retrieval department and sought out Jim's desk. He was greeted by many of the female officers there, and he put faces to the names in his date book. Even drunk he had an eye for beauty.

Jim stepped out of Simon's office to greet him. "Hi, Chief. You finished quickly."

"I have no fear of paperwork," Blair announced.

"Good, you can help protect me from it," Jim teased.

Blair smiled and sat down. "Do you have any assignments today?" He placed his badge on his belt.

"Not yet, but that could change in an instant. That's the nature of Retrieval." Retrieval did not investigate, go undercover, or greet the public; they tracked down the accused. Not just any accused, but the dangerous, likely to bolt and be heavily armed types. If there was a hostage situation, you called in Retrieval when negotiations were no longer possible and you wanted the hostage taker taken out. When the criminal had nothing to lose and no reason to negotiate, that was when Retrieval was called. It meant big cases, lots of press, and enough collateral damage to make insurance agents scream in their sleep.

Jim helped Blair familiarize himself with the computer setup. Blair used it as an opportunity to train Jim to use his own brain as a faster and better data storage device.

"I'm telling you, Jim. They have yet to build a computer that can stand against what your brain can do on its own. Take this stylus." He held up the stylus. "The size, color, make, model, and weight of the stylus is stored in one location on your chip. Your personal experiences with styluses and your preferences for a brand are stored in your brain. The chip would have to interface with your brain and submit the technical information about the stylus. Your brain would then have to interpret what it received, pick what it wanted to use, and then retrieve what it needed from your personal experiences."

"So?" Jim prompted.

"Jim, the chip can only give you bits and pieces which your brain has to interpret. Using what you were born with will give you a better, clearer, and *whole* experience. Trust me." Blair smiled.

"Trust you." Jim placed his hand on Blair's shoulder. "That's the funny part, no matter how hard this has been, I do trust you."

Blair ginned and nodded. "Good."

It was almost lunchtime when they got the signal that all officers of every department feared--"officer down". Simon's briefing was quick and to the point.

"A citizen just called in an officer down, satellites have confirmed shield and name." He swallowed. "It's Ken Foley." There was a sharp gasp from the officers.

"No," Blair whispered.

"He's still alive, but he won't stay that way unless we secure the area. Pick up is at 87th and Main, the Diamond Exchange. Move people, and bring him home," Banks ordered.

Blair raced to his car and got his med bag. Until the area was secure, no emergency medical care would be allowed at the scene. That was the law and it made perfect sense. Why give the criminal more targets, drugs to steal, and hostages to take? Blair wasn't worried about that, he was worried about Ken.

Ken Foley had been his champion, even more than Jim, since he had first started coming to the office on a regular basis. While Jim had at first been somewhat embarrassed that he needed special help, Foley had been utterly delighted to meet someone with Blair's educational background. Since Blair had no clearance to use the departmental computers until he received his credentials, he often spent down time talking to Ken or the other officers so he could get a feel for Jim's work environment.

Foley was almost as tall as Simon, but more slender, if you could call a man who weighed well over 200 pounds slender. He was dark-skinned, kept his hair short, had extremely dark brown eyes, and was so handsome that if Blair's father ever ran into him, Ken would have been stripped naked and posed for one of his father's paintings.

Ken was fascinated by Blair's travels, he had a world map that they were slowly filling in with all the places Blair had traveled to. They also kept a Human Sphere planetary guide, which listed all of the planets currently visited by man. So far, Blair had been on 18 of the 27. Sandburg planned to ask Ken and his sister, Michelle, to accompany him on his next trip, which he hoped would be off-world. Michelle showed great promise as an academic, and Blair planned to offer her a scholarship from his private foundation.

Jim's face was set in stone and, for once, Blair felt no need to chatter. His hangover was forgotten; his personal discomfort no longer had any meaning--he was only worried about Ken.

They arrived at the scene less than 45 seconds after clearing the roof of the Cascade Central Station. Four pursuit vehicles formed a protective wall around the downed officer. Blair hopped out and assessed Ken Foley's condition, while the officers kept the snipers busy.

Foley's wounds were bad, but not life threatening. Ken was just not responding. Blair checked Ken's chip and chip interface. They were on overload. He deactivated Ken's chip and sealed his wounds. No one interrupted Blair during this process.

Blair signaled that Ken could be moved. Foley was stirring and moaning as he was loaded into Hikawa's pursuit vehicle. The sniper opened up on the group while they were busy keeping Ken immobile as they laid him in the back seat.

Sandburg found himself covered in officers. He knew the officers felt that his status as a citizen meant he should be their number one concern, but he also knew that he was in far less danger than they were. Blair crawled under Jim's vehicle and pulled out the backup wave generator. The tamper alarm went off.

"Blair, what are you doing?" Jim demanded with a touch of near hysteria in his voice.

"I'm setting up a counter-jamming frequency," Blair explained as he snatched some of the redundant parts off the vehicle to use. "Ken's chip was scrambled. That's why he couldn't move."

"Shit," Hikawa spat. "Ken had the same update we had. God, we're screwed."

"How much range will this counter-jamming have?" Brown asked.

"About 20 meters," Blair answered as he reconnected the components.

"But, Blair, the sniper is at least 90 meters away," Rafe reported.

"It's all I can do." If Blair was going to keep doing this, coming onto active scenes, then he was going to have to start carrying more equipment. Stripping parts off the vehicles was not the way to go. He connected the last component and dropped the power cell into place. Every officer, except Ken and Jim, wavered as they adjusted to the interference.

"If we leave this bubble of protection, our chips will be scrambled, and we'll be helpless," Rafe noted.

"I'll go after them alone," Jim announced. The other officers were aghast. "They nearly killed Ken. We can't let them get away."

"I'll go with you," Blair volunteered.

"What about your patient?" Jim asked, pointing toward Ken.

"Ken is stable," Blair promised. "I wouldn't leave him if he weren't. He just needs to be transported out of danger."

"Chief--" Jim began.

"You need backup. That's me." Blair strapped on the body armor, a motion he had been forced to practice until Jim could call him in the middle of the night and he could get into it without a misstep. Rafe and Brown still checked him over while Hikawa laid down suppression fire.

They broke apart with an almost ballet-like motion. Hikawa, Rafe, and Brown kept the sniper pinned down with pulse shots while Blair and Jim rushed into the Diamond Exchange. As soon as they were inside, the other officers took off in their vehicles with Jim's vehicle, flown by Brown, holding the center position to keep the interference in effect for all three vehicles.

Amber Hikawa rushed Ken Foley to the nearest medical facility, while Henry Brown and Jason Rafe circled back and waited with Jim's AV providing their only protection.

Jim hated taking Blair into danger but, with no way for his fellow officers to perform, it was up to him and him alone. Ellison did need back up, he just wished that his friend didn't have to endanger himself. They took the elevator instead of the stairs. There were few elevators that he couldn't outrun, but they were looking at 23 flights of stairs, and Blair was carrying an extra 10 kilos of body armor. For a citizen, he was in excellent shape. There was not an ounce of fat on the man and he had excellent muscle tone. But as a Retrieval Officer... well, he'd be on probation.

"Thanks for taking the elevator, Jim," Blair said as the doors closed. "I know you wanted to take the stairs."

"No problem, Chief," Jim countered. "I can't have my backup collapsing on the stairs."

"I could make it. I wouldn't be much good after it," Blair admitted, "but I could make it."

"Thanks for what you did for Ken," Jim said, unable to put into words how grateful he had been for his friend's quick action.

"I'm a doctor," Blair replied simply. Again, the man had failed to understand what he had done.

"I know, but the law says that you can't be expected to administer aid at an active scene," Jim tried to explain.

Blair made a disgusted noise. "Jim, how could I explain that to his sister, Michelle? How could I explain that to the man whose face I shave?"

Jim had no answer for that. He also couldn't have left Ken Foley lying in the street unattended just because the law said he could.

When they emerged on the 24th floor, Jim felt rather than heard a strange noise that made his skin crawl. He didn't realize he had stopped moving until Blair was shaking his shoulder.

"Concentrate on the sound of my voice, Jim," Blair whispered in that comforting teacher tone of his.

"The jamming device is up here, I can feel it," Jim tried to explain. It should have been a sound, but he felt it instead of heard it.

"Do you feel nauseous?" Blair asked.

"No, just... unsettled. It's like placing your hand against a huge bass drum that someone else is beating." It was a sensation you could understand, but had no control over.

"It's called subsonics," Blair explained. "Dial down your sense of touch."

Jim mentally selected the old-fashioned dial marked Touch and lowered it from 4 to 3. He immediately felt better. "That's better," he reported as the creepy sensation diminished. He scanned the area. "The two suspects are at the end of this corridor. I know you won't stay behind, but stay behind me at least."

"No problem," Blair promised. "I have all those dates I can't miss, not to mention a healthy fear of well trained women who might think I was playing with them."

Jim smiled despite the dangerous situation they were in. Blair was a very unique person.

He turned his mind back to the problem at hand. They would be out of contact with their outside support since Jim couldn't contact them directly chip-to-chip and any communication they made might be overheard. The closer they got to the suspects, the more the jamming signal became a sound. "Can you hear that?"

"Just barely," Blair answered softly. "It's more of a hint of a sound than a true sound to me."

Jim raised his hand. The jamming had been stepped up, and the suspects were moving closer. He turned up his hearing to track them. Blair kept his hand against Jim's elbow as a grounding point. The feel of the contact with another body and Blair's heavily botanical scent kept him from over-focusing.

The first suspect led with his pistol as he emerged from the room. Amateur. Jim disabled the man's arm, and his gun went flying. "Get the gun," Jim shouted to Blair.

Blair grabbed the gun and held it awkwardly. 'No gun experience,' Jim noted. When it seemed there was no end to his friends well of skills, they found a gaping hole in the man's abilities. Jim would have to do something about that.

Jim slammed the first suspect into the second suspect, whose gun went off, blowing a large hole in the ornate ceiling. Chunks of plaster and ceiling fixtures fell to the floor. Blair smartly ducked under a desk, as his body armor did not protect his head.

When the second suspect tried to dash past him, Blair snagged her ankle with his foot, and she tumbled to the floor. Jim disarmed her, dragged her to her feet, and cuffed her to the first suspect.

"You can come out now," Jim said to his friend. Ellison called in for a dust off. He and Blair marched their suspects to the roof for pick up. Jim gravely intoned the suspects' rights under the laws of United Earth.

When Rafe's vehicle left the roof with a blast, it sent all the loose debris and dust swirling. Jim had to grab Blair before he was blown off his feet.

"Oh," Blair coughed, "that's why you call it a 'dust off'."

Jim smiled. "Yes." They headed back to the elevators.

"Jim?"

Jim punched in the code for the first floor. "Yeah?"

"You're not mad at me because I wouldn't use the gun, are you?" Sandburg inquired, his large green eyes solemn.

"Mad? No, Chief, why should I be mad?" Jim asked. "It was painfully obvious you don't know a thing about guns."

"My work rarely calls for anything past a paddle for unruly students," Blair quipped.

Jim suddenly had the image of Blair going after his students with a paddle. It was pretty funny, and Jim could make a lot of money selling tapes of the events. "No, Chief, I'm not mad at you. You kept your head and acted with intelligence. From what I saw, you were much more likely to shoot yourself than one of the suspects."

"Thanks," Blair said quietly.

Jim touched his friend's shoulder. "I would like to teach you to handle one, though."

"I don't want to carry a gun, Jim," Blair protested. "I'm a doctor, not an RO."

Jim nodded. Guns and med kits rarely mixed. "I just want to teach you to handle one so that if the situation comes up again, you won't accidentally hurt yourself."

"Okay," Blair agreed. Just like that, their conflict had been settled. That was good, as Jim's next avenues of argument would have strayed into the emotional rant. Not a very useful tactic to use against the good doctor.

====<><><><>===<><><><>====

Ken Foley, feeling hale and hearty, stepped into the Retrieval unit office and was immediately surrounded by his friends and co-workers, but the man he wanted to see was hanging back a bit as if he had no right to hug Ken. "Blair?" Ken hugged the smaller man fiercely.

Blair patted Foley on the shoulder. "Hey, Ken. You look great."

"Thanks to you," Ken reminded the man.

"I did what anyone would have done," Sandburg said humbly, and meant it, according to his biological readings.

"Not in the line of fire, Blair," Ken corrected. "No EMT or Med-Tech would have had the skills to disconnect my chip without damaging it or me. You saved my life and my career."

"You're a friend, Ken. That's what friends do," Blair assured him.

Apparently they also billed at a rate a first year resident would have considered dismal, but Jim had warned Ken to never bring the subject of money up to Blair. It would piss the man off.

Ken tapped his head. "Thanks for the new security protocols you installed on my chip."

"It's still an alpha test, Ken. It's not a miracle, just a new protocol." Blair squeezed the older man's shoulder. "Don't forget to fill out the reports for our research team."

Ken laughed. "It'll be the first paperwork I won't mind doing."

Blair watched Ken move around the office and greet everyone, ending with the Captain and his "official" return to duty.

"Hey, Blair, how's your date book for tonight?" Amber Hikawa asked. Amber was an exotic beauty who should have been in some grand salon being feted by the richest man or woman who caught her attention instead of risking her life every day as a RO. She had long caramelized brown hair, dark brown eyes, golden brown skin, and a figure simply being in top shape could not achieve.

"Sorry, Amber, I'm booked tonight," Blair apologized.

Amber pouted. She did it well. "Who is it? Maybe I can wrestle her for you."

Blair laughed. "Sorry, Amber. I *never* kiss and tell. We're still on for next week, right?"

"Right," Amber agreed.

Blair walked over to Jim's desk and began the paperwork for their last arrest.

Jim leaned over him and whispered. "What's the matter with you, Chief? Amber is gorgeous. We could eat dinner almost any night."

"I know, Jim. But friendship should mean more than that." He looked back toward Ken who was grousing about the amount of e-mail waiting on him. "Friendship should always mean more than that."

"Okay, Chief." Jim ruffled Blair's curls before sitting down to review the latest street intelligence.

====<><><><>===<><><><>====

Jim sat down in the family-run restaurant and scanned the menu. He was surprised to see that when Blair said reasonable, he meant it. Now, was he going to be able to get Blair to let him pay? ... No. Blair had invited him, therefore the younger man would *insist* on paying.

"My friend would like to try the Connoisseur's Assortment of micro brews," Blair announced to their server. "Jim, would you like to try the edible flower salad?"

Edible flowers? That was a new one. 'Better not be a coward,' Jim admonished himself. "Sounds colorful, Chief."

"Two flower salads and two spring waters," Blair announced to the server. "We'll be ready to order our main courses when the salads arrive."

The pretty waitress sped away after giving Jim an encouraging wink. 'Promises, promises,' Jim said to himself.

Ellison looked around at the families and couples in the firmly middle class place and tried to put them and Sandburg together. "So, Blair, how did you find this place?"

"I have a good friend who waited tables here while he was going to school. He recommended it to me," Blair explained.

Jim leaned back. Blair must have stayed up late into the night to think of things he could do to make sure no one could pigeonhole him as being one thing or another. Growing up with money hadn't isolated him at all. His fierce determination to save Ken, despite being under fire proved that.

His equal determination that Ken be able to reactivate his chip proved he truly understood what it was to be a Retrieval Officer. Ken's chip had been hopelessly scrambled. Reactivating it would paralyze the officer, just as he had been immobilized on the street. Who could move with all their senses bombarded with white noise?

Blair promised Ken that he wouldn't give up, and he didn't. Unlike Jim, Ken had no enhanced senses to train. His chip didn't work because he had been blasted by a jamming device that made the chip worthless.

One chip, one implant. That was the rule. No one had ever survived a second chip implantation. That's why when the first one quit working, the career was over. That was what Ken was looking at, the end of his career.

Then Blair came into Ken's hospital room with a new protocol and a plan. The chip was physically undamaged but its firmware was corrupted. Blair planned to reload the chip from the firmware up. This was a radical move. No one had ever tried that with the chip already in someone's brain.

Blair begged Ken to take a few days and think about it. Maybe later someone would come up with a way to descramble his chip, but if Blair failed now, then it was the end of it. He would have to sign a "not active" order and the chip would have to be removed permanently.

Ken thought about it, for an hour, then signed the papers.

Jim and Simon watched the surgery. He was fascinated by Blair's skill and the way he commanded his staff. It took less than twenty minutes. Ken was awakened on the table. He was able to read the microscopic manufacturer's name on the laser scalpel that Blair was holding.

Jim couldn't even explain why he was crying, but then, neither could Simon.

"Jim. Jim?" Blair called. "Do you know what you want for dinner?"

"Sorry, Chief. I was just thinking," Jim explained. "Yes, I would like the Chicken Kiev."

The waitress smiled hopefully, snatched his menu, and disappeared.

"What were you thinking about?" Blair asked.

"Ken."

"Ah."

"He's really cutting edge, right now. I'm getting further and further behind," Jim lamented.

Blair tapped the table. "Listen to me, James Ellison. Ken is cutting edge until the next twisted genius comes up with a new chip smasher jamming device. You can never be outdated, man. You're always going to be 'King of the Hill' because you can't be jammed. You are *always* cutting edge."

Jim thought about that. "Cutting edge?"

Blair nodded. "Cutting edge."

-- The End --