“You’re awake,” said Mkele, studying Kira carefully. She smoothed the sheets on her legs and stared back defiantly. “I’m glad. This concerns you.”

“What happened?” she asked. “And where’s Samm?”

Dr. Skousen walked to Madison’s bed, probing her head and face carefully with his fingers. “She’s asleep.”

“Good,” said Mkele. “Let’s get started.”

“What the hell is going on?” Kira repeated, trying to sound as firm and commanding as possible. Instead she felt weak and vulnerable—wounded and tired, half-naked in a hospital bed. She pulled the sheet tighter around her thighs and back. “That was a Voice attack, right? Have they attacked other sites—has the civil war already started? And someone tell me what’s happened to Samm!”

Dr. Skousen pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his lab coat, followed by a small syringe and a tiny needle. The needle seemed to fill Kira’s vision, glinting softly in the faint light.

“Samm is contained,” said Mkele. His eyes looked tired, his face gaunt. “We’re here to contain the other loose end.”

Kira tensed, eyes shooting around the room to look for exits—the door was locked, the window was locked, and her leg screamed in pain even just thinking about running. She looked at Dr. Skousen, slowly filling the syringe, then at Mkele. “You’re going to kill me?”

“No,” said Mkele, walking toward her, “though we do ask that you refrain from shouting.”

Dr. Skousen held up the syringe, and flicked it with his finger. Kira’s eyes grew wide, she opened her mouth to scream, and Mkele clamped a hand over her mouth, grabbing her shoulder and holding her still. Dr. Skousen stepped not toward her, but back toward Shaylon. He inserted the needle in the young soldier’s IV tube and pushed in the entire dose.

“We did not want this,” said Mkele, practically whispering in her ear. His voice was thick and heavy. “Whatever else you think of us, know this: Our hand has been forced.”

Kira watched in horror as the chemical from the shot swirled through his IV tube and into his body. No, she thought. No, no, no.

“I’m going to let go of you now,” said Mkele, hands still clamped tight around her face. “I’m going to uncover your mouth. You are not going to scream.” He waited until Kira nodded, still wide-eyed with terror, then lifted his hands and stepped away. “There. It’s done.”

“What did you do?”

“We gave him medicine,” said Mkele, “but I fear that even with it, he won’t pull through.”

“You killed him,” said Kira. She looked at Dr. Skousen. “You killed him.”

“No,” said Skousen. He sighed. “He died tragically from injuries caused by the explosion.”

“But why?” she pleaded.

“He saw too much,” said Mkele. “Far more than he was intended to see. He would have told others, and we cannot have that.”