Partials

  Kira felt a chill run down her spine.

  “It won’t be long now,” said Dr. Skousen, dropping the implements back into his pocket and glancing a final time at Shaylon. He looked at Kira, said nothing, and turned away.

  “As for the Partial,” said Mkele, “we’re meeting as soon as we can to decide how best to dispose of him.”

  Kira’s heart stopped in her chest. “But I have two more days.”

  “You have no lab, and you can’t even sit up. East Meadow is turning into a war zone, and we do not have time for anything that will jeopardize our ability to win that war. Harboring a live Partial is too great of a risk, but a dead one…” Mkele sighed and rubbed his eyes. When he spoke again his voice was soft, almost sad. “I had hoped you could do it, Kira, truly I did. Perhaps someday we can try again.”

  “We don’t have to give up.”

  “You’re no closer to a cure now than when you started three days ago—you’re further, in fact; your records were destroyed in the explosion, along with all of the equipment you were using, most of it irreplaceable. If not for the Voice, we might have been able to salvage something—anything—but there’s simply no time left. We had to act.” He straightened, and the old, cold demeanor crept back into his face and stance. “It’s time for us to step in and put this society back together, one way or another. Good night, Kira.”

  They opened the door and walked away.

  Kira looked at Shaylon, her heart pounding in her chest. He lay quietly; she watched the lights blink on the wall behind him. I’ve got to do something. She threw back the sheet and tried to move her legs, biting back the scream as her burn shifted and stretched. If the drug they gave him was a poison, there might be an antidote; there had to be something she could do to save him. She took a deep breath, screwed up her courage, and threw her legs over the side, clutching the bed rail and groaning loudly as another wave of pain tore through her. The lights behind Shaylon began to blink more rapidly; the soft beeps became more strident. She put her legs on the floor, cold and bracing against her feet, and limped to a stand, being careful not to put any weight on her ruined leg. Even with that, the change of position was more painful than she’d expected, and her legs gave way, dumping her on the ground. She screamed in agony, her hands curled into claws, her legs flailing in the air, and in that moment the alarms went off over Shaylon’s bed. His body began to buck and writhe, broken bones grinding together. Feet pounded down the hall, nurses bursting into the room and throwing on the lights. Kira clamped down on her pain, struggling to sit up.

  “It’s a heart attack,” said a nurse.

  “Get the crash cart,” said a doctor. They ignored Kira on the floor, trying desperately to save Shaylon’s life while his broken body flailed and twisted. They drugged him, they shocked him, they bound him and hit him and did everything they could think of, and all the while Kira watched from the floor, oozing new blood and sobbing uncontrollably.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  Kira winced, leaning heavily on the IV stand for support. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t have time to lie around. Her time was up: Samm would be killed, the cure would be lost, Arwen would die, the entire island seemed ready to collapse in a cloud of rubble. Kira had a plan, and she wasn’t going to let a charred leg keep her from carrying it out.

  The nurse shook his head. “You have a third-degree burn the size of a tennis ball. Let me help you back to your bed.”

  Kira held out her hand, favoring her burned leg as well as she could. “I’m fine, really. The regen box has already knit most of the skin back together, and there was barely any muscle damage. Just let me walk.”

  “Are you sure?” the nurse asked. “You look like you’re hurting pretty bad.”

  “I’m sure.” Kira took another step, using the IV stand as a cane and dragging her burned leg gingerly behind her. The nurse watched her, and she did her best to smile and look normal. In truth she felt horrible—she’d given herself a second treatment with the regen box, despite the risk of overdose, and the burned cells were only just starting to grow back. But she had to get up. She had to reach the Senate.

  They were nearby, she knew it. They were likely still using the town hall, as Mkele had suggested, but for a secret meeting of their Machiavellian subcommittee she knew they’d be here, in the hospital, hidden from the world and surrounded by guards.

  She just had to find out where in the hospital they were.

  The IV stand was on wheels, which squeaked softly as she limped down the long, white hallway. Every step was agony. She stopped at a nurses’ station, panting with exertion.

  “Are you okay, Kira?” It was Sandy, the maternity nurse.

  “I’m okay. Do you know where Dr. Skousen is?”

  Sandy shook her head. “He’s asked not to be disturbed.”

  “Sandy, I know he’s in a meeting with the other senators,” Kira whispered. She watched Sandy’s face for a flash of recognition, saw it, and smiled inwardly. “It’s related to the secret project they’ve had me working on. I need to be there.”

  Sandy leaned toward her. “Look, I don’t want any part of this. They’re in the smaller conference room on four. Do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks, Sandy.” She headed for the stairs as quickly as she could. The fourth floor: ten steps up, turn a corner, ten more steps. Repeat twice more. Kira gasped. I’m never going to make it. She shook her head, remembering Shaylon’s dying body, remembering Samm. I have to find them. I don’t have any choice. She gripped the handrail tightly, planted the IV stand on the first step, and slowly raised herself up. The wheeled stand wiggled slightly on the stair, but she held it in place. Every step hurt her leg, and soon her arms were exhausted from supporting so much of her weight. At the first landing she collapsed against the wall, her head resting on the plaster while she sucked in huge gulps of air. Her leg hurt more than she’d ever imagined anything could hurt, but she couldn’t stop. They’re going to kill Samm. She clenched her jaw and kept going, forcing herself to take the next step, then the next, then the next. Landing after landing. Floor after floor. When she reached the fourth floor she fell to the tile and crawled, until a soldier guarding the conference room ran to her side. It was the same guard from the last meeting, which meant he’d recognize her. Kira said a silent prayer of gratitude and hoped they hadn’t thought to tell him she wasn’t allowed in this time—why would they? They thought she was still bedridden.

  “Are you okay?” He lifted her to her feet. “They didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  Thank you. She struggled to her feet, holding on to the soldier with one hand and her IV stand with the other. “I wouldn’t miss it. Help me in there.” She leaned on his arm and limped to the door, throwing it open with all the force she could muster.

  Mkele and the senators were clustered around a table, Samm bound with chains in the corner. Everyone looked up at her in shock, and Kira could feel the hate in Kessler’s eyes like a laser. Delarosa merely raised her eyebrow.

  Hobb turned to Skousen. “You told us she was too injured to move.”

  “Turns out he’s not actually a very good doctor,” said Kira, wincing and dragging her leg into the room. The soldier grabbed her shoulder, stopping her short.

  “I’m sorry, senators,” he said. “I didn’t realize. I’ll take her back.”

  “No,” said Delarosa. “She made it up here, the least we can do is listen to whatever she has to say.”

  “We know exactly what she’ll say,” said Kessler.

  Delarosa turned to the soldier with a stern glare. “Thank you; please wait outside. And if anyone else shows up, announce them before you let them in.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” The red-faced soldier closed the door, and Kira glanced at Samm. He hadn’t been cleaned up since the explosion, and his clothes hung in filthy tatters. What skin she could see was riddled with scrapes and gashes, already healing but still ob
viously painful. He said nothing, but nodded curtly in acknowledgment.

  She turned back to the senators, still panting from her exertion, and collapsed into a chair. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “This meeting does not concern you,” said Weist. “Your project has been terminated, we’re going to get rid of this … thing, and if we’re lucky, we might be able to clean up the mess.”

  “But the project is working,” said Kira. “I’m almost done mapping the development of the virus, and if I could just have a bit more time—”

  “You’ve accomplished nothing,” said Skousen. “We risked the security of our city and the integrity of this council so that you could study a Partial, and when we need to see results all you can do is ask for more time?”

  “But now we understand—” said Kira, but Skousen was too furious to be stopped.

  “You understand nothing! You say the virus has multiple forms: What triggers the change from one to another? Can we stop it? Can we bypass it? Can any of the forms be attacked or negated? Science is about specifics, Ms. Walker, not grand, helpless gestures of defiance. If you can give us a mechanism of change or a specific means of defense, then do so, but if not—”

  “Please, I just need more time.”

  “We don’t have any more time!” shouted Delarosa. It was the first time she had ever raised her voice, and Kira quailed at the force of it. “Our city is falling apart—our entire island is falling apart. Voice attacks in the streets, bombs going off in the hospital, rebels fleeing the city and infiltrating our defenses and killing our citizens. We need to save some semblance of this civilization.”

  “You’re not listening to me!” said Kira, and the sound of her own words shocked her. “If Samm dies we all die, not today but inevitably, and there will be nothing we can do to stop it.”

  “This is an obsession,” said Delarosa. “A noble one, but still an obsession and still dangerous. We will not let it destroy the human race.”

  “You’re the ones who are going to destroy it,” said Kira, tears beginning to creep into her eyes.

  “I told you,” said Senator Kessler, “the same canned message every time.” She looked Kira over. “You sound exactly like Xochi, like the Voice, spouting this groundless, incendiary tripe.”

  Kira struggled for words, but they caught in her throat.

  “Your job is the future,” said Mkele softly. “Ours is the present. I told you before: If our goals ever conflict, ours takes priority. An organized Voice attack on East Meadow is imminent and there are only so many battles we can fight at one time. Before we do anything else, the Partial must be destroyed.”

  Kira glanced at Samm. As always, he was expressionless, but she could tell that he knew this was coming. She turned back to the senators. “Just like that? Not even a trial or a hearing or—”

  “The hearing was four days ago,” said Weist. “You were there, and you heard the decision.”

  “You gave us five days of research,” said Kira. “We’ve only had three.”

  “The laboratory is destroyed,” said Skousen, “along with most of your work. You’re in no condition to continue, and there’s not enough data left for anyone else to finish what you started. Not in time.”

  “Then move us to another laboratory,” said Kira. “Surely somewhere we have the equipment—all we need is the time. The five days was an arbitrary timeline in the first place.”

  “And risk further attacks?” asked Delarosa. “Absolutely not.”

  Hobb leaned forward. “The plan we’re considering will still allow for—”

  “Then let him go free,” said Kira suddenly. She swallowed, nervous, watching as their eyes grew dark and narrow. She plunged forward before they could protest. “He’s done nothing to hurt us, he’s even helped with the research. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t let him live.”

  “Is this a joke?” hissed Kessler.

  “It serves your purpose,” said Kira. “You want him gone: He’ll be gone. If nothing else, it will help alleviate the possibility of a Partial retaliation.”

  Skousen and Kessler scowled, and Weist shook his head. “Do you honestly think that will do any good?”

  “Of course she does,” said Mkele. “She’s an idealist.”

  “She’s a plague baby,” said Kessler. “She’s developed an attachment to this thing, but she has no idea what the Partials are really like.”

  “And you do?” asked Kira. She tried to stand, gasped at the shock of pain, then rested back and turned in her chair. “You fought them eleven years ago—eleven years. Is it impossible to consider that something may have changed?”

  “You can’t believe anything it tells you,” said Mkele.

  “He’s a soldier, not a spy,” said Kira. She turned to look at him; struggling, in this last moment, to decide once and for all if she could trust him. If he had been honest the last few days, or if he was really the monster the senators made him out to be.

  He watched her, outwardly calm and yet not quite concealing his nervousness, his determination. His hope. She looked back at the senators and spoke strongly. “Samm has faced captivity and torture by people who want to see his entire race destroyed, and he’s done it without crying, without complaining, without begging, without anything but strength and determination. If the other Partials are half as understanding as he is, we might just stand a chance—”

  “I’m on a mission of peace,” said Samm. His voice was firm and confident; Kira turned to him, tears forming again in her eyes as he stepped forward to the full reach of his manacles. The senators were silent. “My squad was in Manhattan because we were coming here, to talk to you. We came to offer a truce.”

  “Lies,” snarled Kessler.

  “It’s the truth,” said Samm. “We need your help.”

  But why? thought Kira. We can’t trust you if you don’t tell us why.

  He looked at Kira for a moment, fixing her with his eyes, then turned to the senators and drew himself up, standing as tall and proud as he could. “We’re dying.”

  Kira’s eyes went wide; the entire room was shocked into silence.

  “Like you, we can’t reproduce, though ours is an engineered sterility built into our DNA—a fail-safe to keep us from getting out of hand. That never bothered us before because we don’t age, either, so there was never any danger of us disappearing. But apparently there’s a fail-safe for that, too.”

  Dr. Skousen regained his voice first. “You’re … dying? All of you?”

  “We discovered ParaGen designed us with an expiration date,” said Samm. “At twenty years, the process that halts our aging reverses, and we shrivel and die within weeks, sometimes days. It’s not accelerated aging. It’s decay. We rot alive.”

  Kira’s mind reeled. This was the great secret he’d never dared tell—that the Partials had a ticking clock, just like the humans did. That’s why they wanted a truce. She was too shocked to move, but looked at the senators, trying to guess what they were thinking. Kessler was smiling, but Hobb and Weist were staring at Samm with shocked eyes and open mouths. Delarosa looked like she was trying not to cry, though Kira couldn’t tell if they were tears of joy or sorrow. Weist was mumbling under his breath, his mouth moving almost as if he didn’t realize it. Mkele was stone faced and silent.

  “They’re dying,” said Kessler, and Kira nearly recoiled from the vicious glee in the woman’s voice. “Do you realize what this means? The first Partials were created in the third year of the Isolation War, which was … ten years before the Partial War. Twenty-one years ago. The first wave of them would have started dying last winter, and the youngest have what, two years left? Three at the most? And then they’ll be gone forever.”

  “Everyone will be gone forever,” said Samm, and Kira felt more emotion in his voice, more earnestness, than she’d ever felt before. “Both of our species are going extinct—every sapient life form on the planet is going to die.”

  “Our shelf life is longer than yours,” said
Delarosa. “I think we’ll take our chances on our own.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” said Kira, finally finding her voice. “Without them there is no cure.” She looked at Samm, finally understanding his pleas. “We have to work together.”

  Samm nodded. “You can have babies, but they die of RM; we’re completely immune, but we can’t reproduce. Don’t you see? We need each other. Neither species can beat this alone.”

  “Think what this will do for morale,” said Hobb. “Once the people hear this, they’ll … they’ll declare it a holiday. A new Rebuilding Day.”

  “What is wrong with you people?” Kira demanded, struggling to stand before collapsing heavily back into her chair. “He thought you’d kill him when you heard his secret, but it’s worse.”

  “We were always going to destroy it,” said Mkele. “That was never in question.”

  “What this means now,” said Delarosa, “is that we’re going to do it in public, where this news can get out and do its job: unifying the human race.”

  “Try to see the larger picture,” Hobb said to Kira. “You’re trying to save a group of people who are actively killing one another in the streets. Do you think a treaty with the enemy is going to change that? If they won’t even listen to us, what makes you think they’ll do anything for a Partial?” Hobb leaned forward, earnest and intense. “The Voice were calling for our heads long before the Partial showed up, and if word gets out that we’re hiding one, it will only get worse. The people are going to want answers; they’re going to need answers. And they need us to provide those answers, because when we provide them we’ll win the people back. We’ll have control of the island again; we’ll have peace again. We know you want peace.”

  “Of course,” said Kira, “but—”

  “Be careful,” murmured Delarosa, looking not at Kira but at Senator Hobb. “What are you telling her?”

  “She can help,” said Hobb. He fixed Kira with eyes so deep and blue she felt herself caught by them, drawn in like water in a glass. “You’re an idealist,” he said. “You want to save people; we want to give you that opportunity. You’re also intelligent, so you tell me: What do the people want?”