Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,18

squinted under the bright, harsh lights as their boots clicked rhythmically and purposefully across the polished floors.

Marcellus knew exactly where they were heading. He’d walked this route many times in his years of training as an officer and now a commandeur. Past the labs where new state-of-the-art tech was developed, the hallway that housed the cyborg initiation and training facilities, and the myriad of server rooms where Laterre’s intricate communication networks and power grids were controlled. The difference was, today, Marcellus’s mind was filled with thoughts of deception and treason.

Somehow, he had to plant a surveillance device in his grandfather’s study. He knew he’d never be able to gain access to the office alone. No one was allowed in there without the general. Even the maids had to clean the room while he was present. Which meant that Marcellus would have to do it right under his grandfather’s nose.

And then there was the problem of acquiring the device itself. These hallways were packed full of every kind of surveillance equipment imaginable. But all Ministère-issued devices were trackable. He couldn’t risk it being found.

He had to find another way.

“Access granted.”

The biometric lock on the infirmerie door disengaged and the general didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open and blustered inside. Marcellus followed after him, decidedly less enthusiastic. The thought of seeing the cyborg inspecteur again was making him break out in a cold sweat. He had never liked Inspecteur Limier. The man was suspicious of everything and dogged to a fault. In short, the very last person you wanted to have around when you had a secret to hide. And right now, Marcellus didn’t need another pair of eyes watching him.

But as he stepped inside the infirmerie a moment later, he felt his tensed muscles instantly relax. This was not the Inspecteur Limier of Marcellus’s memories. The once fearsome cyborg now looked helpless and vulnerable. He lay unmoving and silent on a gurney under a crisp green sheet, while a collection of monitors blinked and hummed around him. A bandage had been wrapped in a complicated crisscrossing pattern over the top of his head, and a breathing tube snaked between his colorless lips like a grim, glowing serpent.

“What’s his status?” the general asked.

“It’s hard to tell at this point,” replied a voice, and Marcellus turned to find Gustave Chevalier—Directeur of the Ministère’s Cyborg and Technology Labs—standing behind them. The directeur’s cropped hair and narrow moustache were, per usual, as spotless and gleaming as his white coat. “His vitals seem stable for now, but we won’t know anything for certain until we run some tests.”

“Where was he found?” asked the general.

At this question, an officer in a white uniform stepped forward. Marcellus recognized him as Officer Meudon. “A ferme superviseur found him unconscious in the wheat-fleur fields this afternoon and called it in. We believe he must have collapsed there. He was still breathing, but unresponsive.”

Marcellus braved another glance at Vallonay’s most-prized and celebrated inspecteur. Limier’s taut skin appeared to be made of wax. His once-flickering circuitry, which was threaded across his forehead and cheek, was lifeless and gray, like a forlorn and abandoned spiderweb. Marcellus was grateful the cyborg’s eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see his enhanced left eye. The same eye that used to unnerve Marcellus every time it glowed bright orange and roved over him, assessing and inspecting and searching for signs of weakness. Signs of treachery and deceit.

“Who did this to him?” The question emerged like a growl from the back of the general’s throat.

“We don’t know,” Officer Meudon replied.

“Access his memory chip,” General Bonnefaçon ordered. “Whatever he saw last will have been captured by his cybernetic eye.”

Directeur Chevalier winced slightly. “Unfortunately, his entire cybernetic system has been compromised. We believe he was shot in the face by a rayonette pulse, and it scorched his circuitry. It’s likely that his memory chip was severely damaged in the attack. But I will see what I can find.”

The general nodded, and Directeur Chevalier walked over to a small control panel near the inspecteur’s bed. He tapped on the interface and the light from the screen illuminated his smooth, unblemished features, most likely the result of youth injections. Marcellus often thought it peculiar that the man who was personally in charge of recruiting and vetting candidates for the Cyborg Initiation Program was not a cyborg himself.

“Accessing the files now,” he announced. “It will take a few minutes to process them.”

The general sighed and lowered himself into a chair in the