Page 152 of Coldwire
“They couldn’t exactly say it was because they came up to grab us,” Kieren says, “so they covered it up by claiming they were protecting Kunlun’s citizens from Medaluo. In the process, they were issuing Medaluo a subtle threat by announcing they’d discovered Chung’s work and stolen Operation Coldwire out from underneath them. Medaluo couldn’t say anything back. But it sure gave your dad an excuse to kick up public fuss about Atahuan overreach. The media was already slamming him for being too soft on Medans. No one thought it was out of the ordinary when he went downcountry in protest and decided he was only working there until NileCorp apologized for marching into Kunlun.”
Which they would never do.
“He knows,” I say with certainty. “Chung must have warned him.”
Otherwise he couldn’t have known to stay downcountry. Log out of StrangeLoom, prevent NileCorp from trying to Indispose him.
“Shocking, given what Chung has done to you,” Kieren mutters.
Before I can respond, he gestures for quiet as we approach an atrium door. Kieren presses his ear against the panel to listen.
“Where is Miz?” I whisper after a beat. “Still inside?”
“No,” Kieren replies. “She’s already back in the van. Let’s go.”
I lean back just in time for his kick on the door. We make a rapid sprint up the stairs. Around the corner, through the lower level, then into the main area.
I halt at once, skidding to a stop right before I can wade into the bodies collapsed on the floor. Hard helmets and bulletproof vests that have done nothing to prevent the spray of bullets embedded in their necks, their faces, their fleshy parts left exposed. They’re wearing NileCorp suits.
“They were in first,” Kieren notes immediately. “Glass on their sleeves. They broke through the windows. Guns unfired—”
“Shit,” I say aloud. There’s more to remember outside the restored year and my false memories. The tracker in my boot. Teryn Moore. “Kieren—”
The facility is suddenly as bright as glaring day, spotlights shining in through the broken windows in every direction. It’s only now that I hear the shudder of helicopter blades. Multiple aircrafts, floating over the facility.
“Hands up!” a voice bellows from outside, amplified by a megaphone. “Hands in the air, or we shoot!”
I’m struggling to search for the source through the spotlights. My foot inches forward, and I hear a click: a promise to make good on the threat to shoot.
“Hands up! Now!”
Kieren slowly raises his arms. Puts his palms out.
“Lia,” he hisses. I haven’t moved. “Come on. I only just got you back.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “If the bodies on the ground are NileCorp, who are these—”
“Hands up!”
“Lia, do it!” Kieren urges.
I throw my arms into the air, relinquishing.
Instantly, there’s movement through the windows in a frenzy, dark-clothed figures with rifles in their hands. The soldiers reach us, hauling usdown. My forehead smacks the floor, the spike of pain striking my scalp hard enough to make me gasp. I strain to catch a glimpse of Kieren, but he’s being pulled up and dragged away.
“Come on,” one of the soldiers says. He cuffs my wrists behind my back. “Off we go.”
Having my memories newly restored has made me more sluggish than I would’ve thought. Because it’s only then, as I’m being yanked upright, that I register the soldiers were speaking Medan the entire time.
We’re being taken in by Medaluo.
49
I’m freezing cold.
An unfortunate side effect of being placed into an organic body, I suppose. Existing entirely at the whim of the air-conditioning blowing through the vents above the heavy metal door.
I sigh, drooping my head onto the table. They’ve looped my cuffs to the middle, forcing my arms to stay straight in front of me. It’s cutting off my blood flow. By the time someone actually comes into the room to interrogate me, my arms will have fallen off, and they’re going to have to attach cybernetic limbs to the stubs. Then I’llreallybe AI.
