Crack in the Kill Code (AmpCore #2)

42 - Aggression Index

Holly had the distinct feeling that she wasn't going to be walking out of this place alive.

They'd taken the blindfold off (not that it had hindered her much) once they were down in the disused subway section, and she found herself greeted with a veritable armoury; gun barrels of all shapes and sizes focused on her, held in suspicious, nervous fingers.

Even an inadvertent wrong move could probably set these twitchy fuckers off, so Holly kept her steps measured, her eyes front, walking along behind Kirk, with Nevay right on her heels, knife never more than a few inches from her spine. Her mind was a constant whirl of calculations, running through scenarios of speed and reaction. How much damage could she do if she could get to her amplifier?

How many of these people would she take with her if they decided they didn't want an exiled corporate spiv around anymore?

But she kept walking anyway, because she wanted to know. She wanted to see the living, breathing cyborg that supposedly was connected the leader of the creatures from Hadrian South. Tracing a connection through a dead implant was one thing, but with a live subject, the possibilities multiplied tenfold.

Curiosity. It was a ravenous thing in her stomach, lusting for more knowledge.

"This way," Kirk said, somewhat unnecessarily since she had no choice but to follow. He looked back at her with an awkward smile, gesturing to the corridor to their right.

He didn't really seem like he belonged here with this gang of thugs and murderers, as far as Holly could tell. Nevay and her cohorts radiated open hostility; the detective – Doser – seemed like he was just going through the motions and had hauled himself off back to his precinct not long after they'd found her.

Kirk seemed genuine in the concern for this stranger she was about to see, and in Hadrian that was by no means a given. It also meant he was likely consigned to the docks and the dregs for the rest of his life, because this city did not reward compassion.

Then again, Holly admitted to herself, it hadn't exactly rewarded her for her loyalty to the established order.

They turned, passing by what seemed to be the main living space and moving through into narrow passages and maintenance boltholes repurposed into sleeping quarters and workshops. Whatever else Nevay Jennings was, she was certainly seemed to be resourceful.

Kirk led them through those cramped spaces and through to what she quickly realised was a makeshift infirmary, carved out of what was probably supposed to have been some kind of signal control room. A skittsh young woman in technicians overalls loitered outside, and she stood ramrod stiff when she saw the group coming.

"How's she doing, Beela?" Kirk asked.

Her eyes flashed nervously to Holly for an instant. "Good as she's going to be I guess. Stable for the moment, but she's had a couple of ... well, I think they were seizures."

"You think?" Holly blurted, aghast.

"Well, I ... yeah, I'm not a fucking doctor!" Beela snapped defensively, taking a step away.

Holly bounded over to the viewing window before anyone could stop her and looking inside. She saw Treysi laid out on the slab like a piece of meat in a morgue, save for the forest of wires splurging from her implants to the appallingly antiquated machinery clustered around her like obelisks from some long lost civilisation.

Horror swelled with her as she placed a palm against the glass, reaching out with her implants to feel just how big of a mess these amateurs might have made. Even without the precision of her amplifier, it took her seconds to feel that Treysi's body was trying to tear itself to pieces, and being plugged into a bunch of stone-age processers wasn't going to help matters. The organic components were teetering on the edge of a total meltdown as they struggled to accept the fresh grafts.