BOOK OF MIA: 2081

Chapter 26: Disengage

The jet lands on the white burning sand with a low growl, and we flinch at its size.

The boat that had looked like a tiny thing a minute ago is, in fact, a hulking figure, from which several men jump off and land on their feet — planted perfectly on the sand. They hold ominous-looking guns in hand.

I grab Nate by the arm and my voice hitches higher in my throat than I am used to as I ask him, "Survival Mode?"

Nate nods and murmurs, "Survival Mode on standby." He slowly takes a step ahead of Dev, as if protecting the man.

"Would you like Survival mode on?" the voice comes alive again in my head — I'm still not used to hearing it. "Twelve armed men detected. Would you like to engage now or engage upon attack?"

"Engage upon attack!" Nate chimes in, and my spine tingles. I had almost forgotten he has the mode too — perhaps the result of my upgrade on him — and he is on standby, too.

"What?" He shrugs when he sees me throwing a glance his way.

"Are you sure we shouldn't engage?" I sound nervous, even to myself.

"We don't know who they are," he says, but I can see his jaws clench. He's not sure about his decision either.

"They could be Hill," I add, eyeing Dev standing behind Nate, looking very nervous.

"Or they could be Mother." Nate draws a breath in, watching the men surrounding us — at a safe distance.

My brows furrow. "Mother?" I ask before I realise. Mother — the woman who guided me during the massacre a couple of weeks ago, the one who told us the thing, the thing I'm still struggling to accept. But I don't have time for my bile to rise again.

The men flank us, their guns pointed somewhere near our shins.

Dev mumbles something about feeling exposed when the Leader takes a hesitant step towards us, his gun rising a little higher than before. Alert.

"Danger detected. Heart rate elevated. Rapid eye movement, breathing controlled. Eminent attack predicted in thirty seconds. Permission to engage."

I swallow. "Are you hearing this, Nate?" I ask from the corner of my mouth. I see his response — a head shake. Shit. He better be right.

"Your Survival Mode is engaged, I assume?" the Leader of the group asks, holding his position, scanning us cautiously.

My instinct is to fist my hands and shift my footing so I am ready to launch — or is that the mode overtaking? Nate, beside me, does something similar and I am certain it's not my instinct per se.

The man glares at both of us and gives a curt nod, lets his gun fall to the side of his body, and stands ramrod straight. "Disengage Survival Mode protocol on subjects, under the authority of ShahAmour Industries. Authorisation number: 742726687, initiated by Captain Charlie Light."

"What's he doing?" I ask, confused, when a code flashes in front of my eyes.

A long code that trills along, and by its end, the automated voice in my head says, "Survival Mode Disengage authorized. Shut down in thirty seconds."

Okay, officially freaked out. What the fudge? How do these people know about Survival Mode? And how in the world are they able to disengage it?

"Nate," I whisper, bringing my fists up, ready for a fight.

Besides me, Nate does the same as he asks, "How is he doing this?"

"Doing what?" Dev chimes in, bringing his own fists up in front of his body.

30. 29. 28. 27... The countdown begins... 26. 25. 24...

"Engage. Permission to engage!" I grunt under my breath, hoping to stop the involuntary shut down of the only thing that kept us alive last night.

I get no response from my system. "Engage Survival Mode!" I yell. Desperate as I see the flanking men bring up their guns, pointing straight at us.

Silence. Why the fuck is she silent now?

"Nate? Is yours working?"

Nate shakes his head. "No."

My head swivels from one man to the next, like a panther cornered. "I don't know how to fight without it," I say to the boys beside me. Fuck!

"We could really use those guns you destroyed last night," Dev mumbles behind Nate, his stance ready to launch an attack at any minute.

"Stand down, boys," says the leader, Captain Charlie Light. And his men lower their guns, pointing them at the ground.

The Captain takes a step towards us, at ease. In fact, he pulls out a slim tin from his pocket and slips a slender smoke out, wedging it between his lips — unlit. He looks at me, then Nate, then Dev in our corner.

"I'd call you the Three Musketeers, but" — he looks me up and down, thoughtful, then glances at our empty, fisted hands — "without the muskets, you're just, eers."

His men trill a laugh around him. The type of laugh Nate and I reserve for Maher's jokes that severely miss the mark and land somewhere between 'not funny' and 'ew' lands. Maher's Nate's little brother.

The Captain brings out a lighter and lights his smoke. He takes a long drag before throwing it on the sand and smashing it with his foot. "These things will kill ya!"

I turn to Nate — clearly, this guy is a loony. "Why light it in the first place?" I mouth.

Nate shakes his head and goes back to intensely staring at the man addressing us. As if intensely staring would save our butts!

"You can relax, love. If we were going to hurt you, you'd be hurt already." Captain cracks a smile at me and I see a tooth missing in the corner of his smile.

He takes another step towards us, within lunging distance — if only the mode was on. He points at me and says, "Since you're a girl, I assume you are Mia, and you" — he points to Nate — "young one, her mate."

Mate? Eww? Who uses that word anymore? I have never mated with Nate, thank you very much...

"You?" He points at Dev and both Nate and I turn with curiosity. Obviously, Captain Obvious here knows about me and Nate — possibly from Mother, as Nate suggested, but Dev? — he had not expected.

"You weren't in our brief. Identify yourself, soldier."

I can see Dev trying to come up with something that sounds saner than, 'I was under the influence of Dr Hill and didn't know what I was doing,' excuse. I kind of feel sorry for the guy.

"You identify yourself, soldier!" I hear myself say, to my surprise. Freaking hell, now I'm the one coming to Dev's rescue. I swear it's the puppy-dog eyes he just pulled — eyes that remind me of Nate's.

The Captain laughs, turning to me with amusement, and I stand as tall as my five-foot-three-inches will allow me and puff out my chest.

The men cheer and hoot.

I throw angry darts at them. But Nate jerks my hand, and when I turn, he looks down at my gown. That's when I realise — underwear, check. Bra? — still missing. Fudge on a fudge stick. I just stuck my chest out at the men.

But I have two boobs, at least, thanks to Hill's reconstruction job as a ruse, or I'd still only have one. Imagine how odd that would look?!

"Happy now?" the Captain asks, staring at my face.

"What?"

"You know who I am. How about you let me know who your friend is?" he asks with a smirk; eyes darting down to my gown.

Fudge! I did it again — spaced out while someone's talking. I turn to Nate and whisper, "Who is he?"

"Captain Light," Nate glares at me. He knows I just left the building for a tiny, but important moment. "He's sent here to retrieve us."

"By whom?"

"Mia, for fuc—" Nate begins.

"All right, lovers, enough chit-chat. Time to load the boat," Captain Light snaps .

One of his men asks, "What about the soldier, sir?"

"Please, take me with you. I don't want to go back there. I can't go back there." Dev looks around us, his eyes pleading.

"I would, but I'm not in the habit of picking up strangers!" Light hollers at his own joke and wipes moisture from the corner of his eyes. "You didn't even introduce yourself."

This guy, seriously? I turn to Nate with a look.

"I'm Dev, Devendra Quinton Shah. I've been —" His gaze darts towards the two of us before he proceeds. "I've been under Dr Hill's program for years and the girl freed me somehow. Please. I am not a soldier by training, and I don't recall how I got there, but I don't want to go back."

Something washes over Captain Light's features, and he pales as he watches Dev. I wonder what he's thinking.

Light proffers a device in front of Dev, something that looks a little like the old tablets — redundant and cumbersome old technology now.

"Place your hand on the panel," Light advises Dev, and the soldier — despite not being a soldier — does as he is told. A green light passes over Dev's hands, and the machine beeps.

Light looks confused and grabs Dev's hands and examines his fingers, one by one. "Your fingerprints? They're burnt off."

Dev pulls his hands out of the bigger man's grasp and examines his fingertips.

I can see, from the shock washing over his face, this is new information to him. Dev did not know he had no fingerprints. What else doesn't Dev know about himself?

"Damn," I utter the word, without meaning to. "Hill's serious about her security!"

Light throws me an unappreciative look before scanning Dev's face with another device. Again the machine beeps. He shakes his head. "You're not in any database."

"All right men, cuff them all, and let's groovy."

The men surround us, cuff us, and drag us to the boat, hauled like prisoners, including Dev. Something had switched on in Light the moment Dev rattled his name off and now I can't get that image out of my mind. Light's ashen face. Was he scared of Dev?

"Hey, Nate?" I hiss at him, walking ahead of me as they take us below deck. "What do you make of Light and his reaction to Dev?"

Dev, who is being hauled behind me, mutters, "I've been wondering the same thing."

"Oh, geez." I jump. I wasn't expecting him to answer. Taking a breath, I turn to see Dev looking terrified. "He looked like he knew you!" I speak my mind.

Dev nods, his eyes dart back at the soldiers trailing behind us. "Or at least the name."

"Who the fudge are you?" I ask in a hush.

Dev cocks his head at me, a smile lifting the corner of his lips. "Fudge?"

I shrug. "I swear too much, according to mum. So I'm trying a new tactic, or she'll dock my air time."

Dev's smile explodes, and it's a beautiful smile, as he says, "My mum used to do that to us too, me and Quinn — or more, Quinn."

"Quinn?" I ask as we get taken down to another level.

"My was baby sister."

Was. The word is not lost on me. Poor Dev.

Once we reach the next level, a wide mess hall or canteen of sorts opens up, and we're told to sit.

I hear the roar of the engine and water slapping the sides of the boat. We are below water level or thereabout. "Where are you taking us?" I ask as Light trails in after the last of his men charged with our care.

He smiles a wonky smile. "Why your mother, of course?"

Nate, sitting beside me, nudges me with his elbow; his eyes wild with concern. "She was meant to send us coordinates, but she never did. Why?"

I had forgotten about that, and now I can't get it out of my mind.

She was meant to send us coordinates, not men. "Why did she send men?" I whisper, leaning into him.

Our eyes dart around the room, watching half a dozen soldiers stationed at the only two exits out of the room. They are not paying attention to us — the three disengaged and cuffed prisoners.

"Maybe they are not her?" Nate questions.

"Who are you two talking about?" Dev queries. "I thought you were just running from Hill."

"Someone has been guiding us since Camp." Nate throws me a look, and it hits me — I wasn't the only one with a voice in my head that night. Nate did too. "She told us to get away from Hill before she sent us her —"

I stomp on Nate's foot, which is as bare as mine.

He stops talking. Thank God.

We know nothing about Dev, or the woman. For an ace military strategist in the making, Nate is so stupid sometimes.

Dev looks at Nate and then me, studying us.

"Do you know who this someone is?" he asks, baffled.

We shake our heads.

"Nope. She's just a voice in our heads," Nate says before I can stomp his foot again.

I try anyway. He moves his foot out of the way and glares at me. "Mia, stop. Dev's just as much a victim of Hill as you and I are. And we're all in this together now."

Dev narrows his eyes at us. "A voice in your head?"

We nod — I, with reluctance. Why are we talking about this while surrounded by men we don't know? Damn it, Nate.

"Let me get this straight. You two left a secure building, with food and provisions available, albeit housed with a mad scientist, to go out into the unknown, because a voice in your head told you to?"

Well, doesn't that sound stupid now? I turn to Nate. He does not know how to answer Dev. To be honest, neither do I, but I try.

"She saved my life a couple of times." I grit my teeth and hope to god I'm right. "So I trust her — that she's still helping."

Dev chews on his thumb, eyeing the armed men around the room. "And you think they are her men? This voice who's been guiding you?"

I mimic Dev's tick absently — nibbling at the edge of my thumb. "I hope so."

"Fudge!" Dev scoffs in disbelief.

I can't help it. I laugh. Fudge is right.

"One frying pan to the next, girl."

"Call me Mia." I extend my hand to Dev. We may as well play friends.

Dev shakes my hand. A gentle grip was not what I expected. "Nice to meet you, Mia."

He leans in with a nervous smile and his gaze skitters around the room at the preoccupied men. "What say we form a plan, in case we need to escape these guys?"

"Sounds good to me." Nate nods.

I bite my lip. At least this time, I'm not alone in this. "I'm in too."

"The Three Musketeers?" Dev asks with a smile.

Nate and I both smile back, our thoughts the same. "Without the muskets!"

I giggle escapes my lips and a few heads turn our way. I try to compose myself as quickly as possible before we draw any more attention.