Olli couldn’t wear prosthetics or take grafts, born without any awareness of how those absent limbs might work. Instead she had embraced the unnatural. She called the workframe she wore her “Scorpion”—designed by the Castigar and never intended for human use. It stomped out on four legs, half a dozen tool-arms flanking her central pod. A couple of big pincer limbs arched down from the top and a long, segmented tail lashed from side to side behind her. She’d fitted that with a grabber and cutting saw—which struck sparks from the docking platform. In her Scorpion, Olli was three metres tall.
