Partials

But why is he hiding from his own people?

“Talk to me, Samm.” The woman stepped forward, keeping the rifle aimed squarely at his back. “We thought you’d been captured.”

Samm lowered his head, nearly collapsing into the dirt. He won’t hold on much longer, Kira thought. Go! She pelted forward, arms spread wide, shoulder down to nail the Partial in the small of the back.

And then the Partial whirled around.

Kira was already inside the range where the long rifle would be useless as a gun. Instead the Partial brought it down like a club, slamming the heavy stock into the side of Kira’s face just as Kira wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and knocked her solidly to the ground. Both girls gasped in pain at the impact, but Kira’s head was still ringing from the rifle blow, and the other girl recovered first. She dropped her gun and grappled Kira with cold efficiency, twisting one arm behind her back and kneeing her painfully in the stomach. Kira fought wildly, clawing at the Partial’s face and neck and very nearly escaping from her grip, twisting just enough to keep it from becoming a true submission hold. Suddenly Kira felt the cold metal edge of a knife on her throat, and the girl spoke calmly in her ear.

“Stop moving now.”

Kira froze; there was nothing she could do. If she’d had just two more seconds to work with, maybe, but somehow the Partial had known that Kira was there.

“Let go of her, Heron, she’s with me.”

“She doesn’t link.”

“She’s human.”

Heron’s voice was surprised, but she didn’t loosen her grip. “You captured one? The mission was a success? Where’s the rest of your team?”

You captured one? thought Kira. She loosened the girl’s grip on her throat and shouted loudly at both of them. “What the hell is going on?”

“They’re dead,” said Samm, stepping closer to Heron, “but it’s not what you think. You can let her go—she’s not a threat. She’s on our side.”

Kira couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Were you planning this all along?” she asked. “Was this whole thing just a trick to get me back here?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Samm quickly. He was in front of her now, the mask ripped off. “Kuso, Heron, let her go, she came willingly!”

“So there was no peace proposal?” Kira demanded. She felt herself grow hot, felt her eyes begin to tear, felt a rush of shame and anger that she had ever trusted this thing. “No truce?”

Heron smiled. “A truce? I’m impressed, Samm; you may have a future in espionage.”

Kira saw a flash in the corner of her eye, the glint of light on a hypodermic needle. She screamed and felt it prick into her neck. The effect was almost instant: Her eyes grew heavy, her mind seemed to warp and bend. The world grew dark and thick, and Kira had time for one last thought before she fell unconscious.

I’m going to die.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Beep. Pssssssssh.

     Beep. Pssssssssh.

Kira was heavy—before she perceived anything else, she could feel her own weight, her body too weak for her muscles to move. She was lying down.

Beep. Pssssssssh.

There was a noise, rhythmic and soft, somewhere near her head. Near? Yes, she was sure of it. Wherever she was, the noise was nearby. She tried to roll her head, but her neck wouldn’t turn; tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too leaden to move.

Beep. Pssssssssh.

There was another noise, a white-noise buzz in the background of her perception. She focused on it, tried to parse it, to understand it. Voices. A low murmur.

“… the subject…”

“… burn mark…”

“… tests positive…”

They were talking about her. Where was she?

Beep. Pssssssssh.

She was in a hospital. She remembered being under the bridge, Samm betraying her, the girl, Heron, injecting her with something. Was she being healed? Or studied?

“… all normal except…”

“… ready to proceed…”

“… preparing first incision…”

Kira moved her hand, a herculean effort, dragging ten tons of flesh and bone across three inches of table. The voices stopped. Her hand hit a barrier, a leather restraint; she could feel one on her other hand as well. She was tied down.

“She moved. Didn’t you sedate her?”

Kira opened one eye, then squinted it shut again at the brutal shock of bright lights. She heard a rustle and a sharp metal crash.

“Get those out of her face, she’s waking up.” Samm’s voice. She opened her mouth, suddenly aware of a plastic tube stretching past her tongue and down her throat. She gagged, coughing, trying not to retch, and the tube slid out like a long, slick snake. She coughed again, swallowed, cracked one eye the tiniest fraction.

Samm was standing over her.

“You,” she coughed, “bloody bastard.”

“We have to begin,” said a voice.

“Stop,” said Samm. “She’s awake!”

“Then we sedate her again. With a bigger dose this time.”

“You bloody”—she coughed again—“bastard.”