Either the thing in Ling’s brain would get her daughter killed, or it would succeed at the mission Su-Yong had set it on in her madness, and initiate a conflict that increased everyone’s risk of death.

Su-Yong Shu screams again, screams in guilt for what she’d done and how she’d done it.

Words appear across her visual space.

YOU’RE HURTING THE BODY WE PROVIDED FOR YOU.

PLEASE STOP.

TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON. WE CAN HELP YOU.

>

A textual interface appears. A way to communicate with whoever held her.

Su-Yong Shu stares at it, then activates one of her virtual worlds, steps through into majestic virtual Shanghai, and shuts the humans out.

25
Partial Success

Wednesday 2040.11.07

The door to the holding room clicked. Sam’s pulse rose. It opened. Two guards entered, their weapons in their hands, pointed down. Behind them she saw more, their guns at the ready.

“Come with us,” the guard in front said.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

The guard just stared at her.

She held out her wrists for the shackles they’d used when they led her to the washroom.

The guard shook his head. “Not today.”

Sam felt a tiny bit of surprise at that. Maybe, just maybe, something good had happened.

They led her through the hallways of the building. It was a Ministry of External Affairs building, the equivalent of a State Department building back home. But a secure one. The hallways led to a door, to a briefing room, chairs set for fifty. Only two were occupied, in the front row.

By Feng and Kade.

Feng smiled broadly at her. Kade tensed visibly, but nodded at her.

Kevin died in her mind again. Kade and Shiva tore at each other inside her, ripping her mind apart with their mental claws as they did.

Sam took a deep breath. This isn’t going to rule me.

She forced herself to nod, forced her legs to move, forced herself to sit down in the same row, a few seats over from them.

I’m in charge, she told herself. Me. Not the trauma.

There were two Indian civilians here. One was a middle-aged man in a grey business suit. The other was a tall, lean woman, with an overly sharp face, in a professional-looking sari.

The man spoke.

“Welcome, Ms Cataranes. I’m Rakesh Aggarwal, from the Ministry of External Affairs. I’m here to update you on your status.”

He spoke with distaste. He tried to hide it, but Sam could hear it in his voice. He didn’t like them. He wasn’t on their side.

“You’re being granted asylum,” he said at once.

“Yes!” Feng said.

What? Sam blinked.

“You’re leaving Copenhagen?” Kade asked.

“No,” Aggarwal replied.

Sam blinked again.

“How are we being granted asylum?” she asked.