New forcefield limits

"Did you change?" the Number Boy asked me.

"Is he legit?" I asked Sveta.

"I think so. A friend, kind of."

"Okay," I said. "My forcefield shrank three sizes," I said.

"Interesting."

It really wasn't the thing capturing most of my attention right now.

*****

I flew over to get my gun, and took a few seconds to check it over and make sure it wasn't going to fall apart on me the next time I picked it up.

Using my forcefield hands to pinch metal together, curl ragged edges, and straighten what was bent, I simultaneously figured out the new limits of my forcefield. The reach of the arms, the number and position of them.

My forcefield had long hair. Longer than I was used to. Less arms, less legs. Like it was halfway between where my old forcefield had been and where 'the Wretch' had been.

Just gotta get my gun in good enough shape I can shoot if I need to. We might have to go after Titan Fortuna. If she's anything like her old host, she can do anything perfectly, and get the ideal outcomes. Raises the question: what can she do about a beam that moves the speed of light, fired from the clouds?

***

For long seconds, I didn't move.

Then I resumed the work I'd paused as I sat awash in freshly unlocked memory. Bend this bit of metal, grab this, grab that…

Heave. Lift. Without my flight factoring in, the weight of it drove the few points of contact that were my forcefield into the ground. Two sets of feet, one hand. Less than I'd once had.

Gun. Safe and new, clean metal and violence far removed from that, unlikely to trip any mental landmines or spark any memories. Good gun.

I flew, and with the flight, the way I was lifting shifted, and the modifications I'd made held.

- Infrared 19.3