Partials series 1-3

“You said you were in,” said Xochi.

“I’ll do everything I can from here,” said Isolde. “I just can’t leave.”

“We’ll need everyone we can get if things go bad out there,” said Kira.

“I can’t go,” Isolde insisted. “If it were just me, I’d be with you, but I’m . . .” She paused. “I’m pregnant.”

Kira’s jaw fell open. “You’re what?”

“I’m pregnant,” said Isolde. “I found out this morning. You know I’ll help you, but I . . . I can’t risk it.” She looked Kira in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Kira shook her head, still trying to parse the information. She looked at Isolde’s belly, still supermodel flat, then up at her face. “Was it . . . artificial?”

Isolde shook her head. “Senator Hobb.”

Kira gasped.

“Was it consensual?” snarled Xochi. “Because if it wasn’t, I’m going to take a detour to the Senate chambers on my way out of town, and I’m going to shoot him first.”

“No,” said Isolde quickly, “there was nothing improper—well, I guess he’s my boss, which is improper, but he didn’t force me. I wanted him to. We were working late, and I—”

“Were you drunk?” asked Marcus.

“That’s Isolde’s business,” said Kira. “She said it was her choice.” She flashed Xochi a hard look. “We can shoot him when we get back. Isolde will stay behind and cover our trail. She did it perfectly last time.”

“What is our trail?” asked Marcus. “Even if we can get him out of the hospital, what then? Down through Brooklyn, like you did before?”

Kira shook her head. “They’ll be watching that route as soon as they figure out what we’re doing. We need to head north, and cross the sound.”

The room fell silent; the very idea was terrifying. None of them knew how to pilot a boat, and Xochi was the only strong swimmer in the group. Plus, the land between here and there was riddled with the Voice.

“She’s right,” said Xochi slowly. “There’s too much Defense Grid between us and Manhattan; north is the best way.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “How helpful is this Partial going to be? Does he know where to find a boat?”

“There are boats all along the North Shore,” said Kira. “We see them all the time on salvage runs. All we have to do is find one with a full tank of gas—the gas’ll be old, so it’ll destroy the engine, but it should get us across before the engine dies.”

“If we can make it there,” said Marcus. “The way things are these days, the Voice are more likely than ever to attack a group from East Meadow.”

“They’re not going to go after a bunch of unarmed kids,” said Xochi.

Kira shook her head. “Oh, we’ll be armed.”

“Still,” said Xochi, “they’re revolutionaries, not murderers.”

“You’re planning too far in advance,” said Isolde. “None of this will matter if you can’t get Samm out of the hospital. Or if you can’t even get into the hospital.”

“That’s the hard part,” Kira admitted. “They’re holding him in a reinforced room on the first floor—I saw it on my way out. It’s swarming with guards. If we can find a way to surprise them—”

“He’s actually not there,” said Marcus. Kira raised her eyebrows, and Marcus leaned forward to whisper. “Mkele’s set up the first-floor room as a decoy. Samm’s being held upstairs in the conference room, with just two guards on the door.”

“How do you know?” asked Xochi.

Marcus smiled and looked at Kira. “You know that new fish guy who works the hospital parking lot? I got one of the guards hooked on his oysters, and he asked me to bring him some for dinner tonight. There’s just two of them up there.” He grinned. “It pays to be nice.”

“That’ll help us get in,” said Xochi, “but as soon as we hit that room they’ll call for backup, and we’ll never get out again.”

“How about a diversion?” asked Isolde. “I won’t be with you, so what if I do something to pull all the soldiers’ attention somewhere else?”

“A diversion might work,” said Marcus, “but it’s going to have to be huge—we can’t just distract the guards, we have to put them onto something else and hope to get out in the commotion. But it has to be epic.”

Kira nodded, staring coldly at the floor. If she was in, she needed to be all in.

She spoke slowly. “How about a citywide riot?”

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Kira stood on the corner of Turnpike and Prospect—a block from the hospital, in the shadow of an old ruined restaurant. Aladdin’s. A kebab place, by the looks of it, but all fallen and overgrown. The coating of kudzu helped her peek around the corner without being seen, watching the hospital. A crowd was already starting to form. Word was spreading.

“Isolde’s doing well,” Kira murmured. “I guess when a known Senate aide starts spreading rumors, people listen.”

“The Senate will know it was her,” said Xochi. “They’ll kill her for this.”

“Even if they trace it back to her, she’ll be fine,” said Kira. “She’s pregnant now. Not even Mkele would risk hurting her.”

“So he can preserve his image?” asked Xochi. “He won’t even have one after this. Killing a baby will be the nicest thing he’s done all week.”

“Isolde will be fine,” Kira insisted. She paced a few steps, testing her leg; it still hurt terribly, and she grimaced at the thought of the grueling workout she was about to give it. She paused, thinking, then pulled off her backpack and opened the medkit.

Xochi watched with a frown as Kira pulled out a syringe and a bottle of Nalox. “Drugs?”

“I can barely walk,” said Kira, prepping the needle. “If I’m going to spend my night running from Grid gunmen, I want some more painkillers.”

Xochi smirked. “Did you bring enough for everybody?”

“Shut up.” Kira pricked her leg, drove in the injection, and slapped a Band-Aid on the tiny bubble of blood that welled up from the hole. Almost immediately she felt the reaction, more in her head than her leg: a buzz in her perception, a slight delay in her movements. The morphine was strong. Did I give myself too much?

“Better?” asked Xochi. Kira nodded, and Xochi shook her head. “Just stay in front of me if we start shooting. I don’t want your drug-addled reflexes getting me shot in the butt.”

“There’s Marcus,” said Kira, and pointed at a large group coming down the street. Marcus’s tall frame walked at the center of it. The crowd was shouting and mumbling and arguing loudly. Kira caught snatches of conversation: “. . . said a Partial . . . why wouldn’t they tell . . . new kind of RM . . . the Senate knew . . .”

“If it wasn’t before, the secret’s definitely out now,” said Kira. “It’s going to ruin the Senate’s plan either way.”

The crowd passed by, angrily calling for Kira and the others to join them. Kira picked up her bags and fell in with the back of the group; Xochi followed her, and Marcus hung back to join them.

“Nice night for a vigilante execution,” Marcus whispered.

The crowd in front of the hospital was enormous, shouting and chanting. The front doors were blocked by a wall of armed soldiers, and the crowd moved loosely before them, forward and back like an uncertain tide. Kira felt a surge of doubt: What if the riot led to more deaths? Madison and the other mothers, at least, should be safe—the maternity center was the best-defended spot in the city. It was too late to back out now. She said a silent prayer and kept walking.

“We’re going to have to be very careful getting him out of there,” said Marcus. “If this group finds him, they’ll tear him limb from limb.”