“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 obviously 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
