We slipped out the door, toward the rear of the building, and looked to make a clean escape. My leg wasn’t as bad as my chest, but I had to force myself not to limp. We took an elevator down, then turned through another corridor. Everything was signed of course, and we could have asked for a guide light, but she seemed to have familiarized herself with the map.
It was quiet back here, with only occasional activity in side rooms, but a good cover never hurts. I played my role.
“I am concerned about the patient, though,” I said. I took station on her right, because it was easier for me to face left, and she could protect my injured side.
“The family knows their options, and they are visiting regularly,” she said.
“Yes, and good for them,” I agreed.
Right then, we passed a section door.
“Pardon me, sir,” someone said behind me. Male. Probably from that doorway to the left. Hopefully, I could bull my way through.
“Yes?” I said as I turned.
It was a security guard.
“Are you new? I don’t seem to have you in my scanner,” he said.
“Yes, I just started today.”
“Not a problem. I just need to scan you into the system and ungh—” he went down as Silver whacked him at the base of the skull, hard and followed it with a patch of something else.
“Let’s go,” she muttered.
We were just in the chute to the dock doorway when the intercom said, “Emergency. Please remain calm. The doors will seal for quarantine. The contaminated area is—”
We maintained pace, walked out as the latches flashed red, and the doors locked behind us. We were out in a light drizzle.
She even had a car waiting, a very plain gray Leyland Econ, and parked with a special marker well inside the official zone. She popped it manually, we climbed in, me lowering myself gingerly with my left arm in an awkward position, and we disappeared into traffic.
Shortly, we were at a different, less visible and more popular hotel, where a nondescript couple wouldn’t be remarked upon. She doffed her coat, pulled a small knife from somewhere and slashed mine since I couldn’t easily move. She unbuckled me and helped me shed the coat. That done, we were two people in pants and shirts going into a hotel.
I moved very deliberately and slipped to the back left of the elevator. She stood right ahead of me, protecting my side. There were three others already in, coming from the pool and spa in the sublevels. Typically, no one spoke, so we reached our floor and grinned and talked about sightseeing for the cameras as we walked.
Once in the room she sighed, the bravado went out of her, and she burst into shivery sweats.
“I think I broke my hand,” she said, wincing and tearing up. “I’m sorry. It’s minor compared—”
“Get it fixed,” I cut her off. “Find a clinic, burn the ID if you must, pay cash, get it fixed. Find me some reconstructor nanos, and we’ll go back to it. Do we still have sandwiches?”
“I can make one.”
“I’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Fix you, then fix me.”
“Right,” she agreed. She wiped off her face, took a couple of breaths, and steadied up. She slapped meat and bread and a smear of mustard together and I took it with my good hand. She turned and walked out, shoulders up and face clear.
I made sure the door was latched and coded, then limped to the bathroom. I generally hate drugs, but I was beat up badly. I took two industrial painkillers and a muscle relaxant with a full glass of water. I eased down on the bed, feeling the bones grate, propped my arm carefully on a pillow as nerves flared, and passed out.
“Dan,” I heard, and twitched awake, and almost threw up from the pain. I never sleep that deeply. Unless drugged, of course. The sandwich was uneaten on the bed, except for one bite I’d taken and dropped unchewed. I’d been out that fast.
I grunted. She held up a tube. I nodded. She poured it into me. Ugh, it was nasty. It also had some kind of narcotic in it. I was back out at once.
I woke again, to daylight and a mouth that tasted like a stagnant ditch. I shifted and it only hurt a bit.
She was already awake.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lost it.”
“You held it together long enough to fake ID, get in, get me out, evade ID and get me treated. You did nothing wrong. I’m impressed with how fast it went.”
She smiled.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I made up a folder full of ID. I have police, medical, military, all built on their standard formats. Most of them can even be encoded to be real, long enough to get through a perimeter once. If anyone ever tries.”
“They rarely do. They trust the system. That’s to our advantage. If the ID doesn’t work, they’ll assume it’s defective.”