Chapter 9 - TRIAL BY FIRE
Heavy steel fire shutters slammed down over every exit in the therapy ward, sealing the children, the corpsmen, and me inside the clinical bay, separating us from Nathan and the federal agents outside.
Through the observation glass, Victor Lang’s voice crackled over the intercom system, smooth and chillingly devoid of empathy.
"Nurse Hayes. You are trespassing in a sterile research environment. This facility is conducting an automated, proprietary firmware optimization. Any physical interference with the units while the update is staging will cause an immediate catastrophic abort sequence."
"Lang, cancel the update!" I shouted into the intercom microphone, my hands already moving to the first child—an eight-year-old girl named Maya who was crying softly in her suspended harness. "The mechanical spring pins will fire the moment the bus cycles power! You will break their bones!"
"The algorithm has been recalibrated," Lang lied, his cold eyes fixed on his laptop. "The statistical failure rate is less than three percent. Acceptable clinical risk to protect a five-hundred-million-dollar national security asset. If you touch those release ports, you will be personally liable for the destruction of company property."
"They aren't property!" I screamed. "They're children!"
TIMER: 00:04:32.
"Corpsmen, follow my lead!" I shouted, pulling out my hardened composite shims. "Insert the tool at a forty-five-degree angle into the lateral hinge port! Lever the spring backward and lock the manual safety collar! Move!"
I plunged the shim into Maya’s left knee unit. The titanium housing resisted, but my years of orthopedic nursing gave me the exact leverage needed. With a sharp SNAP, the composite shim seated into the gear housing, physically blocking the internal spring pin from firing.
"Left leg safe!" I called out, moving instantly to her right. "One down! Thirteen to go!"
The corpsmen worked furiously, moving from child to child. The ward was filled with the terrified cries of the young patients and the frantic clatter of surgical tools against hardened metal.
TIMER: 00:02:45.
Seven children secured. Eight. Nine.
Behind the glass, Lang saw that our shims were successfully neutralizing the automated lockdown mechanism. His face contorted with desperation. If the update failed and the suits were physically seized with the defective gears intact, his company was finished.
"Execute manual reboot immediately!" Lang barked at his engineer. "Do not wait for the timer! Force the power cycle NOW!"
The engineer hesitated. "Sir, the telemetry shows six patients are still un-shimmed. If we force the cycle now—"
"I said DO IT!" Lang screamed, shoving the engineer aside and slamming his palm onto the manual master reset switch.
A high-pitched siren wailed through the room. The overhead lights flickered.
SYSTEM REBOOT IN PROGRESS. BUS DISENGAGING IN 10 SECONDS.
"Lauren!" one of the young corpsmen yelled from the far corner. "The last three kids! The release ports are stripped! The shims won't seat!"
I looked across the room. Three boys, suspended over the central treadmill, were locked in suits whose actuator housings had been intentionally welded shut to prevent field tampering. The power cycle was about to drop them onto their legs with the internal springs primed to fire.
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Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy steel crowbar from the emergency wall kit, sprinted across the room, and threw myself directly beneath the lead harness.
***
