spat.
"That's not likely," Baltasar said. "You have such loyalty to WeaverCorp, after they've treated you so badly."
"They've kept me alive for five years."
Baltasar nodded. "Almost precisely five years."
"What in the ever loving fuck are you getting at?"
"There's a medical scanner on the counter behind you. Check your brain-stem on the right side. Anyway, I've things to do. Cheerio." The screen went dark.
Kyra looked at the scanner, and then at the merc on the table.
"Heh heh heh," the merc giggled. "Fucking kill you. Kill you fucking, you fucking kill."
"Shut up," Kyra said. She grabbed the scanner and activated it, pressing it to the right side of her neck. She connected her ReadyNet and looked. She couldn't see anything. Just random black and white blobs. She scrolled around the image. She almost went past it, stopping herself just in time. There was a black line on one of the white blobs. She increased the magnification, and the line swam into focus, 'WeaverCorp Model Kyra. Patent 587653245'.
Chapter 10
REVELATIONS
K yra limped towards the station hub; her hands clasped behind her back. She winced with each step, trying not to tear the bonding glue.
The three remaining mercs were standing in front of the control room. They trained their weapons on her as she approached, their fingers twitching against the triggers of their guns. Baltasar emerged from the door behind them with a wide smile on his face. "I knew you would come. You examined your brain-stem?"
"It doesn't prove anything," Kyra said. "You could have messed with the scanner."
"Of course I could have," Baltasar said. "But I didn't. I have more evidence for you inside the control room. You just have to get by my helpers first."
Baltasar strolled back into the control room, closing the door.
"Mr Kemke ordered us to give you one more chance to walk away," one of the mercs called. "You have five seconds before we start firing."
"I only need one." Kyra whipped the gun from behind her back, brought it to her shoulder and fired three times.
The three men fell to the ground screaming.
Kyra walked to them, her gun ready. She stood over the three writhing men for a moment and smiled.
"You can't have a gun. They're DNA coded," a merc said.
Kyra held her right arm forward into the light. It was thick and muscular, with hair running down it from shoulder to wrist.
"You cut off your own..." the merc said.
Kyra jammed the trigger, riddling the three men with flak fire. She kept going, reducing them to lumps of red mush. Kyra smiled. "Sorry, I had to strong arm you."
She stooped and took the gun from a merc, switching out her ammo clip with the unused one from his. She stepped around the puddles of mess and opened the door to the control room.
Baltasar was inside, studying a row of monitors in front of him. The monitors were filled with images of two women. One of them showed two girls — Kyra's daughters. It was the same picture she had in her pocket.
"Anuradha and Pradeepta Sarin," Baltasar said. "They're in their sixties now. Moved to America, if you can believe that."
"I don't believe any of it."
"Check their names on your ReadyNet. The image search is disabled, but not their names. WeaverCorp only has the rights to the one picture in your pocket."
Kyra pointed her gun at Baltasar, and then keyed up her ReadyNet. She searched for the names he'd told her and found images of two smiling elderly ladies. She ran through their profiles, scanning back in time. The women aged backwards, turning from wrinkled ladies into two young girls that were unmistakably her daughters. "I remember giving birth to them. I remember the birthday parties and the sick days. It's why I had to fight the Xenomigrants — to protect them."
"Their mother died in a car accident. Someone turned off the safeties in a taxi, and it hit her. WeaverCorp bought the rights to her brain. Hers and thousands of other womens'. They used her memories to build yours. Of course, there
"That's not likely," Baltasar said. "You have such loyalty to WeaverCorp, after they've treated you so badly."
"They've kept me alive for five years."
Baltasar nodded. "Almost precisely five years."
"What in the ever loving fuck are you getting at?"
"There's a medical scanner on the counter behind you. Check your brain-stem on the right side. Anyway, I've things to do. Cheerio." The screen went dark.
Kyra looked at the scanner, and then at the merc on the table.
"Heh heh heh," the merc giggled. "Fucking kill you. Kill you fucking, you fucking kill."
"Shut up," Kyra said. She grabbed the scanner and activated it, pressing it to the right side of her neck. She connected her ReadyNet and looked. She couldn't see anything. Just random black and white blobs. She scrolled around the image. She almost went past it, stopping herself just in time. There was a black line on one of the white blobs. She increased the magnification, and the line swam into focus, 'WeaverCorp Model Kyra. Patent 587653245'.
Chapter 10
REVELATIONS
K yra limped towards the station hub; her hands clasped behind her back. She winced with each step, trying not to tear the bonding glue.
The three remaining mercs were standing in front of the control room. They trained their weapons on her as she approached, their fingers twitching against the triggers of their guns. Baltasar emerged from the door behind them with a wide smile on his face. "I knew you would come. You examined your brain-stem?"
"It doesn't prove anything," Kyra said. "You could have messed with the scanner."
"Of course I could have," Baltasar said. "But I didn't. I have more evidence for you inside the control room. You just have to get by my helpers first."
Baltasar strolled back into the control room, closing the door.
"Mr Kemke ordered us to give you one more chance to walk away," one of the mercs called. "You have five seconds before we start firing."
"I only need one." Kyra whipped the gun from behind her back, brought it to her shoulder and fired three times.
The three men fell to the ground screaming.
Kyra walked to them, her gun ready. She stood over the three writhing men for a moment and smiled.
"You can't have a gun. They're DNA coded," a merc said.
Kyra held her right arm forward into the light. It was thick and muscular, with hair running down it from shoulder to wrist.
"You cut off your own..." the merc said.
Kyra jammed the trigger, riddling the three men with flak fire. She kept going, reducing them to lumps of red mush. Kyra smiled. "Sorry, I had to strong arm you."
She stooped and took the gun from a merc, switching out her ammo clip with the unused one from his. She stepped around the puddles of mess and opened the door to the control room.
Baltasar was inside, studying a row of monitors in front of him. The monitors were filled with images of two women. One of them showed two girls — Kyra's daughters. It was the same picture she had in her pocket.
"Anuradha and Pradeepta Sarin," Baltasar said. "They're in their sixties now. Moved to America, if you can believe that."
"I don't believe any of it."
"Check their names on your ReadyNet. The image search is disabled, but not their names. WeaverCorp only has the rights to the one picture in your pocket."
Kyra pointed her gun at Baltasar, and then keyed up her ReadyNet. She searched for the names he'd told her and found images of two smiling elderly ladies. She ran through their profiles, scanning back in time. The women aged backwards, turning from wrinkled ladies into two young girls that were unmistakably her daughters. "I remember giving birth to them. I remember the birthday parties and the sick days. It's why I had to fight the Xenomigrants — to protect them."
"Their mother died in a car accident. Someone turned off the safeties in a taxi, and it hit her. WeaverCorp bought the rights to her brain. Hers and thousands of other womens'. They used her memories to build yours. Of course, there
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