Not when Nixon says, “Time of decommissioning, 09:00.”
Not even when the woman starts sobbing in earnest. “Please don’t. Please. I want to live.”
“Hold her down,” Sable says. Something clatters to the ground. “Damn it, Avrel. You’re wearing my patience thin.”
The sobbing suddenly ceases. James is queasy, and he has to keep reassuring himself he’s doing the right thing by not getting involved. The woman’s owner didn’t come and now she’s dead. She had to be a sacrifice for the greater good. It was inevitable.
Sable and her two technicians keep working until they are within two tables from him. “Identity confirmed!” He almost jumps when the tablet goes off next to him.
From the corner of his vision, he sees Sable eye the girl with a look so irksome, it almost makes him flinch. “Why are there no more syringes left in this round?”
“Y-you used two on that female unit and the other fell off—”
The table James is lying on reverberates loudly as Sable’s hand smacks down on it.
“I don’t want your excuses. You should have prepared enough in case such a thing were to happen.” James can see Sable’s angry finger fly toward the door she must have entered from. “Go, quickly prepare two more, and collect the next batch.”
The woman glances between Sable and the door, seeming frozen to the spot. “Now,” Sable hisses, and it’s enough to set Avrel in motion.
When the door closes, Sable leans over James and smiles. “Having fun yet?”
“You’re terrifying,” James says, sitting up.
“Change quickly,” Sable instructs. “I’ve been timing her, and it will take about seven minutes for her to refill the syringes and get back here with a new tray.” From her pocket she pulls out two of the littlefleshy finger pad prototypes, which are filled with James’s blood. She gives them to Nixon, helping him put them in place.
When Nixon takes his position lying on the table, she says, “Any final words?”
Nixon shrugs, grinning. “Don’t be such a bitch?”
James can hardly bite back the laugh as he puts on Nixon’s personal protection. He imagines with the goggles, mask and hair shield he resembles the man Nixon closely enough that the other frazzled technician won’t notice.
“I promise I’ll try, though I’m afraid it might not do any good,” Sable says.
“Will it hurt?” Nixon asks, taking on a more serious tone.
“Not a bit. It will feel like you’re dreaming. Much better choice than walking out into the atmosphere, I assure you,” she says. “And since you couldn’t afford a Peaceful Passing Procedure, we’ve offered you the perfect solution.”
With that, Nixon plasters the same dumb manupartner grin on his face as James wears. A second later, Avrel rushes back into the room with a fresh tray. Eagerly, she passes the first syringe to Sable. “Please confirm his identity,” she instructs James.
A brief panic lights up his nerves as he moves around the table. Sable barks an encouraging, “Get on with it.”
He turns the correct palm over and depresses the needle into the practically seamless finger pad containing his blood. Then he lifts the finger and squeezes it into the little receptacle. A moment later, his own face pops up on the screen along with his and Kate’s identification numbers. He angles it away from the other technician to be safe. They share the same basic features and he’s certain Sable has the other technician so rattled she didn’t notice him enough to identify him. Still, it was a risk.
The tablet chimes, “Identity confirmed!”
James’s heart leaps. Sable doesn’t waste any time with the first injection. Then he watches as the girl stares at a device, presumably a timer, on her wrist. After about fifteen seconds, Nixon’s eyes slide closed.
“Time,” the girl says right as the doors burst open.
Sable freezes as she reaches down to pick up the next syringe.
“Please stop what you are doing and line up against the back wall,” says the man wearing the green jacket with the now legible letters: NHOS Inspector. Several others follow in behind him and fan out across the room.
James is exceedingly grateful for the personal protection hiding the sweat now beading across his forehead.
They know about you, the bank of refrigerators at the back of the room announces.You’re all but caught.
James ignores them, sharing a glance with Sable, while Avrel does as they instruct.
