"We're almost there," Jiro said encouragingly. "Just a little farther and then we can sit down."
Gillian was moving slowly, taking one painfully measured step at a time as they made their way down the walking path of the Grissom Academy's atrium. He should have anticipated this. She was distracted by all the trees and plants; leaves in a myriad of shapes and flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors were too much for her limited sensory perception to process all at once.
They hadn't seen anybody else in the atrium so far; not surprising as most of the staff and students were in class. But the trails that wound their way through the wooded park were popular spots for runners looking to get in some exercise during their free time. He didn't want to start giving her the medication only to have some off-duty Alliance soldier come jogging around the corner and catch him in the act. So he was doing his best to hurry her along, careful not to touch her or upset her by getting overly anxious.
"We can rest over by the waterfall, Gillian. Come on. Not much farther."
The atrium was a five-acre woodland that had been carefully constructed at the heart of the space station to provide a place for faculty and students to commune with nature. The glass roof was equipped with adjustable mirrors to reflect and redirect light from Elysium's sun down onto the trees below, mimicking the duration of the day-night and seasonal cycles found on the planet.
Local flora made up the majority of the plant life, though a few exotic species imported from other human colonized worlds were found in specially tended gardens scattered throughout the park. It was also home to carefully monitored populations of insects, birds, and small mammals indigenous to Elysium, as well as numerous fish species in the small streams that wound their way through the landscape.
The streams were artificial, the water pumped through them in a continuous circuit that both began and ended at a large pond atop a grassy knoll that rose up from the center of the park. At the base of the knoll was a small clearing where water spilled down from the pond in a makeshift waterfall — a popular place for picnics and lunches. This early in the day, though, Jiro suspected the clearing would be empty. . and it was located safely out of sight of the running trails.
"That's good, Gillian," he cooed when she started moving again, her head turning slowly from side to side in bemused wonder at the spectacle surrounding her.
"Okay, let's turn right now," he said to her when they reached a branch in the trail. It was warm beneath the artificial sunlight; he was sweating under his lab coat.
She stumbled once as he led her down the path toward the waterfall: unlike the carefully tended running trails, the ground here was allowed to grow over with roots, making it rough and uneven. He reached out to grab her elbow to keep her from falling. Fortunately her attention was focused on what he guessed to be the Elysium equivalent of a chipmunk chattering at them from a branch above their heads, and she didn't seem to react to his touch.
Still keeping his grip on her elbow, he propelled her quickly down the path until they reached their destination. Half a dozen benches were situated around the edges of the clearing, each positioned so that anyone seated on them could watch the water tumbling off the fifteen-foot-high ledge into the pool below. He was relieved to see the benches were empty.
Lunch was still over an hour away, and it wasn't likely anyone would arrive before then. But he didn't want to take any more of a chance than he had to. Still gripping Gillian by the elbow, he led her over to one of the benches in the shade and helped her sit down, letting go of her arm.
Then he waited, giving her time to adjust to her new surroundings. He hoped the gentle splashing of the waterfall would have a soothing effect on her.
After a few minutes she muttered, "Why did you bring me here?"
He realized she must have picked up on his sense of urgency. He chose his next words carefully. He didn't want to scare her or upset her; not after what she'd shown she was capable of.
"I need to check your readings, Gillian," he said, keeping his tone professional.
She frowned, and his heart began to beat a little faster.
"Miss Sanders checked them yesterday."
"I know you don't like it, but I need to check them again," he explained. "Because of what happened yesterday."
Gillian chewed her lip, then nodded and bowed her head forward, exposing the nape of her neck.
He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out the vial Grayson had given him. From another pocket he produced a long syringe.
"This might hurt," he warned her as he filled the syringe.
Pulling the back collar of her T-shirt down slightly, he eased the long needle into the flesh between her shoulders, carefully sliding the tip between the vertebrae.
As per the instructions from Cerberus, he had administered the last dose to her orally, mixing it in with a glass of water he had brought to her room. However, as part of their ongoing experiment, every alternate dose was to be administered through direct injection into the cerebrospinal fluid.
Gillian whimpered softly as he pressed his thumb down on the top of the syringe.
Jiro didn't know exactly what kind of drugs Gillian was being given, but he understood enough to guess they were some kind of neurological stimulant. The previous dose would have been diluted by passing through her digestive system before being absorbed into her circulatory system and then finally transferring across the blood-brain barrier. In contrast, an injection directly into the cerebrospinal fluid should have more immediate, and dramatic, effects.
"All done," he said as he pulled the needle free.
Gillian brought her head back up, her gaze fixating on the waterfall. One hand absently went up to rub the back of her neck where he had injected her.
Strange. She's never done that before.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
The girl didn't answer, though her hand fell away from her neck. It dangled at her side, limp and useless.
"Gillian? What's wrong?"
Her head lolled to the side, her eyes rolling back into her skull. Her body began to shiver, then tremor, then bucked hard enough to throw her from her seat. She toppled forward, Jiro just managing to catch her before her head struck the ground.
He turned her onto her side as her arms and legs began to twitch, gripped by the spasms of a fullblown seizure.
"Oh, Jesus!" he swore as her mouth began to foam.
Hendel's feet pounded hard on the dormitory floor, the sound echoing down the hall as he raced toward the atrium. Even as he ran, his mind was trying to evaluate the situation.
Jiro may not be who we thought he was.
That didn't necessarily make him an enemy, but until Hendel knew what was going on he had to assume the worst. He pulled his gun as he ran, his hand snapping it free from the holster on his hip in one quick motion without ever breaking stride.
He debated calling for backup, then quickly dismissed the idea. Jiro didn't know his cover was blown; Hendel didn't want anyone sounding an alarm and tipping him off.
Why did he take Gillian to the atrium?
He didn't know how Jiro was connected to Gillian, or if he was somehow responsible for what had happened in the cafeteria. But he intended to find out. . one way or another.
Skidding around a corner, Hendel slammed into the wall, absorbing the blow with his hip and shoulder so that he lost almost no momentum.
Too many people in the quarantine ward. He wanted privacy. But for what?
He rounded another corner, sprinted down a short hallway, then took the corridor branching off to his left that led into the wooded serenity of the atrium. If Jiro needed privacy, he'd have to get Gillian somewhere off the paths. But he couldn't just drag her out into the woods: she'd freak out every time a branch brushed against her.
The clearing by the waterfall.
With Gillian in tow, Jiro would have to stay on the trails, following the long, winding path that eventually led to the clearing. Hendel didn't have to worry about that. Trusting his sense of direction, he veered off the trail, crashing through the brush as he carved his own direct path.
Branches slashed at his face and tore at his clothes. He swatted away a wiry limb from an Elysium fir, only to have it spring back so that the needles scratched across his cheek, leaving bright red furrows.
Hendel simply blocked out the pain, charging forward until he exploded in the clearing. Jiro was kneeling on the ground, over Gillian's body.
"Get away from her!" Hendel shouted, aiming his pistol at the young scientist.
The other man looked up, fear and confusion on his face.
"Stand up and back away!"
Jiro did as he was told, moving slowly, his hands raised. "I don't know what happened. She just started having a seizure."
Hendel dared a quick glance down at Gillian, who was convulsing on the ground.
"Over there," Hendel said, gesturing with his weapon. "On your stomach. Facedown. Don't move."
Jiro did as he was told, moving quickly. When he was in position, Hendel stepped forward and dropped to his knees beside Gillian, his attention focused entirely on her.
Daring to shift his head slightly, Jiro could see the security chief huddled over the unconscious girl. Slowly, quietly, he reached down and undipped the stunner from his belt. When Hendel set his pistol on the grass beside Gillian to check her vitals, Jiro aimed his stunner and fired.
The shot took the security chief square between the shoulder blades, causing him to arch his back and cry out before slumping forward across Gillian's body.
Jiro scrambled to his feet and ran forward, crouching down to pick up Hendel's gun with his left hand, his stunner still clenched tightly in his right. As his fingers closed around the butt of the pistol, the security chief's hand shot out and seized him by the wrist.
Crying out in surprise, Jiro tried to pull away. Hendel — disoriented but somehow still conscious after a direct hit from 100,000 volts of electrical current — held on, twisting Jiro's wrist up and in, forcing him to drop the pistol.
Jiro kicked at his prone opponent. The first blow hit him squarely in the ribs, causing the bigger man to grunt in pain and roll onto his side, releasing Jiro's wrist. A second kick caught him in the stomach, but Hendel managed to wrap his arms around Jiro's leg.
Thrown off-balance, Jiro fell to the ground. Then Hendel was on him. They wrestled briefly, grappling at close quarters as they rolled away from where Gillian lay. The security chief was bigger, stronger, and better trained. But Jiro still had his stunner.
He jammed the weapon against the other man's ribs and fired again, just as Hendel brought his elbow up hard into the side of Jiro's temple.
Jiro recovered first, woozily scrambling to his feet. Swaying to keep his balance, he saw that Hendel, unbelievably, was struggling to rise. The younger man still had the stunner clutched in his hand, and he used it for a third time, completely draining the battery. Hendel fell face forward on the ground, where he lay motionless.
Unwilling to take the chance his enemy might not be out completely, Jiro turned and ran into the surrounding trees. Tossing aside the now useless stunner, he ran with an uneven, stumbling stride through the trees, still trying to shake off the lingering effects of the sharp elbow to his head.
Kahlee's lungs were burning by the time she reached the entrance to the atrium. She had tried to keep up with Hendel in the race from his office, but with each of his long, powerful strides she'd fallen farther and farther behind. Within seconds he was out of sight, and a minute later even the sound of his footsteps had vanished.
She'd continued on, racing through the halls and stairwells until she reached the atrium. . and now she didn't know where to go. So she simply stopped and waited, trying to catch her breath and wondering what to do next.
Calling for backup was an option; there was an emergency call box at the entrance to the atrium. But if Hendel was the security chief, and if he wanted backup, he would already have called for it.
You're probably overreacting, she told herself. All you know for sure is that Jiro lied to you. It might piss you off, but that doesn't mean you should call in security.
She began to pace back and forth, frustrated by her inactivity, but still not having any useful plan. She could go look for them, but there were several paths and trails; she could easily choose the wrong one and miss them. However, there was only one entrance to the atrium, so as long as she stayed put they would all eventually come to her.
And when they do, I'm going to get some answers!
Hendel couldn't feel his body. He didn't know if he was asleep, awake, alive, or dead. His head was a bubbling cauldron of disconnected, incoherent thoughts and sensations. And then one clear image came bubbling to the surface.
Gillian.
He took a deep breath and held it for three seconds, then slowly let it out. The action was pure instinct; an exercise to calm and focus the mind ingrained by years of biotic training. Another deep breath and the world around him became still, the fragmented pieces of his awareness settling into position.
He was lying facedown on the ground. Every muscle in his body burned with lactic acid, exhausted and utterly spent.
He bit you with a stunner. The son-of-a-bitch hit you with a stunner.
He was tired. He needed to sleep it off. Nothing else he could do.
Don't you dare black out, you worthless son-of-a-bitch!
The words were his own, but the voice in his head was that of his first drill sergeant from basic training. Whenever he faltered during his Alliance career— pushed to the limits of endurance by a 20k run, or exhausted after hours of biotic training — he would hear that voice, relentlessly driving him onward. But those days were over. He'd retired. He wasn't a soldier anymore.
Don't give me that BS! Once a soldier, always a soldier! Now get your lazy ass up off the ground and move!
Somehow he found the strength to push himself up onto his hands and knees. That's when he saw Gillian, still lying on the grass. She wasn't convulsing anymore. She wasn't moving at all. She wasn't even breathing.
He reached down and pressed the emergency alert button on his belt. Security and medical teams would dispatch immediately, homing in on the signal. Response time to the waterfall in the atrium was seven minutes.
Too slow. She cant wait that long.
He started crawling toward Gillian, his muscles screaming in agony, too weak to even attempt to stand.
Jiro uttered a prolonged string of profanities in his native tongue, cursing the thorn-covered branches that were tearing at his clothes as he tried to pick his way through the atrium's forests. But he didn't stop; he didn't know how long Hendel would be down, and he needed to find a way off the station before the security chief woke up.
There was an emergency shuttle at the docking bay that could take him down to the planet's surface. If he thought up a good excuse he might be able to charm or bribe the pilot into making the trip. Failing that, he'd need to hijack or steal it. It was a crazy, desperate plan, but he was a desperate man. He had known from the moment Hendel found him in the clearing that his only option was to get clear of the facility.
He burst from the undergrowth back onto the running trails, less than twenty feet from the atrium's exit. He didn't notice Kahlee standing off to the side until she called out to him.
"Jiro? What happened to you?" she asked, coming down the path toward him.
She was staring with guarded curiosity at his torn shirt, the scratches on his face and hands, the welt on the side of his head from where Hendel had elbowed him.
"Jiro," she said again, her voice stern. "I want some answers. Where's Hendel?"
"How should I know?" he said, with an easy laugh. "He's your friend, remember?"
If she came just a little closer he might be able to grab her, overpower her before she could run for help. Instead, she stopped just out of reach.
"You signed Gillian out of her room. Where is she?"
Hearing the accusation in her voice he realized he wasn't going to talk his way out of this one.
"Get out of my way," he said coldly, dropping all pretense. "Or you're going to get hurt."
"You're not going anywhere," she told him, setting her feet and dropping into a fighting crouch. "Not until I know what's going on."
Jiro quickly weighed the situation. He had shaken off the effects of his fight with Hendel; he was young, fit, and he outweighed Kahlee by fifty pounds. He knew she'd had combat training in the military, but he figured the odds were still in his favor. He smiled and shrugged, pretending to give in. Then he leaped at her.
He'd hoped to catch her off-guard, but she hadn't fallen for his simple ruse. Instead, she met his charge with a hard kick to the knee as she spun out of the way. Staggering and off-balance, he swung at her with a fist but caught only air as she slid under his clumsy blow. He whirled to face her, preparing to lunge once again.
He never got the chance. Kahlee shot forward, her left fist jabbing toward his face. He ducked to the side, into the path of an uppercut delivered with her right. It caught him on the side of his jaw, and he grunted in pain, stumbling backward.
His opponent wasn't about to let him get away that easily. She followed up with a flurry of short, quick kicks and punches, deftly blocking and redirecting his ham-fisted counterattacks. A chop to his throat left him gagging for air, a leg sweep sent him crashing to the ground. As he attempted to rise to his feet she landed a knee to his groin, ending the savage, onesided confrontation.
Kahlee stepped forward and stared down at him where he lay crumpled on the ground, curled up into a fetal ball and clutching at his wounded privates. He tried to beg for mercy, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a long, low moan of unintelligible pain.
She knelt down beside him, reached out with two fingers, hooked them into his nostrils and gave a slight pull. The pain was excruciating, and he whimpered in terror.
"Now, darling," Kahlee said in a tone dripping with mock sweetness, her fingers still hooked into his nostrils, "I'm going to ask some questions. And you're going to give some answers."
Pain is a good thing, maggot! Lets you know you're still alive!
Reaching Gillian's body, Hendel tilted her head back and forced two hard puffs of air down her throat, then compressed her chest ten times in rapid succession, pressing hard with the heels of his palms just above the bottom of her breastbone. He forced two more puffs of air down her throat, then resumed compressions.
He knew CPR wouldn't start her heart or get her breathing again — those kind of miraculous recoveries only happened on the vids. All he was trying to do was keep the blood circulating and oxygen reaching her brain until real help arrived.
Just keep her alive. Keep her here.
The compressions were exhausting; anything less than one hundred per minute was too low to save her. It was nearly impossible to keep up the grueling pace for more than a few minutes, even under normal conditions. In his present condition it was hopeless.
Don't you dare quit on me! Nobody quits in my army!
His breath was coming in wet, ragged gasps. Beads of sweat from his brow were crawling down his forehead to sting his eyes. The muscles in his arms twitched and trembled, threatening to cramp up with each compression. The world around him dissolved into a hazy cloud of pain and exhaustion as he pumped Gillian's heart for her.
OneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen— Breathe-Breathe
OneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen— Breathe-Breathe
OneTwoThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen— Breathe-Breathe
And then hands were on his shoulders, pulling him away. He fought them for a second, feebly, before realizing they were there to help. As soon as he was clear, the two EMTs dropped down by Gillian's side. The first ran his omnitool over her, taking her vitals.
"Code Twelve," he noted, his tone clipped and efficient.
His words spurred both men into action, their efforts perfectly coordinated through hundreds of hours of training. The first snapped open his medic's kit, yanked out a syringe and injected Gillian with a hyperoxygenating compound to replenish the dwindling supplies in her bloodstream.
The other pulled a small, palm-sized device from his belt — even in his hazy condition, Hendel recognized it as a portable defibrillator — and then pressed it against her chest. The EMT hesitated just long enough for his partner to finish injecting the needle and pull clear before flipping the switch, jolting Gillian's heart with a series of concentrated electrical impulses in an effort to restart it.
"I've got a pulse," his partner said a second later, announcing the readings coming off his omnitool. "Oxygen levels look good. I think she's going to pull through!"
Hendel, still halt-sitting, half-lying on the ground where the EMTs had dragged him away from Gillian's body, didn't know whether to laugh with joy or cry with relief. Instead, he collapsed onto his side and slipped into unconsciousness.