Laughter came from David's way, and someone else shouted, "Probably just a squirrel."
"Way too hot for a squirrel. Unless it's on fire."
Tally waited, squeezing her eyes closed and willing her body to slow down, to stop generating so much energy. But the Smokey girl had got it right: Between the racing engine of her heart and the nanos busily repairing her shoulders, Tally felt like she was on fire.
She tried to move her left hand up to cover the rip, but her muscles would no longer respond. All she could do was stand there and try not to move.
More glowing figures glided her way.
"David!" someone else called from the distance. "They're coming!"
He swore, spinning his hoverboard in midair. "They won't be happy with us. Come on, let's get out of here!"
The girl who'd spotted her let out a frustrated snort, then banked her board and shot away after him. The other Smokies trailed behind the two, flitting through the leafy treetops and into the distance.
Who's coming? Tally wondered. Why had they just left her here? Who were the Smokies afraid of in Diego?
Then the sound of running feet came through the forest, and Tally saw flashes of bright yellow on the ground. She'd seen that exact color in the uniforms of safety workers and wardens earlier today—yellow with bold black stripes, like littlies costumed as bumblebees.
She remembered what Fausto had said, about how the Diego authorities were still in charge, and smiled. They might tolerate the Smokies' presence here, but the wardens probably didn't appreciate kidnapping attempts at parties.
Tally pressed herself harder against the tree trunk, feeling the tear in her sneak suit like a bleeding wound. If they had night vision, they'd spot her just as the Smokies had. Once more, Tally tried to lift her left hand to cover the open seam…
A startling moment of agony sent a wave of dizziness through her, and Tally heard herself utter a racking gasp of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry out again.
Suddenly, the world was listing to one side. Tally opened her eyes, realizing too late that one foot had slipped from its branch. Instinctively her hands scrambled for a hold, but the attempt only sent fresh agony through her. And then she was tipping over, out of control and crashing through the tree, injuries wailing as she seemed to hit every branch on the way down.
She landed with a grunt, arms and legs splayed like a dummy thrown to the ground.
A circle of yellow-suited wardens quickly formed around her.
"Don't move!" one said gruffly.
Tally looked up and groaned with frustration. The wardens were unarmed, average middle pretties, nervous as a gaggle of cats surrounding a rabid Doberman. Uninjured, she could have laughed in their faces, danced among them, flicking them over like dominoes.
But as things were, the wardens construed her immobility as surrender.
Violations Of Morphology
She woke up in a padded cell.
The place smelled exactly like the big hospital at home: the chemical tang of disinfectant, the unpleasant scent of too many humans who'd been washed by robots instead of taking showers. And somewhere out of sight, Tally detected bedpans quietly stewing.
But most hospital rooms didn't have padded walls, and they weren't missing a door. Probably that was hidden under the padding somewhere, seamlessly fitted. Soft light in mixed pastel colors, probably meant to be soothing, filtered down from filaments sprinkled across the high ceiling.
Tally sat up and flexed her arms, rubbing her shoulders. The muscles were stiff and achy, but their usual strength had returned. Whatever the wardens had used to knock her out had kept her unconscious for some time. Shay had broken Tally's hand in training once to demonstrate how her self-repair worked, and it had taken hours to feel right again.
Tally kicked the bedcovers off with her feet, then looked down at herself and muttered, "You've got to be kidding."
They'd replaced her sneak suit with a thin, disposable nightgown covered with pink flowers.
Tally got up and tore it off, crumpling the garment into a ball. Dropping it to the floor, she kicked it under the bed. Better to be naked than look ridiculous.
Actually, it felt heavenly to be out of the sneak suit at last. The scales might transport sweat and dead skin cells to its surface, but nothing beat taking a real shower now and then. Tally rubbed at her skin, wondering if she could get one in this place.
"Hello?" she said to the room.
When no answer came, she peered more closely at the wall. The fabric of the padding glittered with a hexagonal pattern of micro-lenses, thousands of tiny cameras woven into it. The doctors could watch anything she did from any angle.
"Come on, guys, I know you can hear me," Tally said aloud, then made a fist and punched the wall as hard as she could.
"Ouch." She swore a few times, waving her hand in the air. The padding had helped a little, but the wall behind it was made of something harder than wood or stone—solid construction ceramic, probably. Tally wasn't going to break out of here bare-handed.
She returned to the bed and sat down, rubbing her fingers and letting out a sigh.
"Please be careful, young lady," a voice said. "You'll hurt yourself."
Tally glanced at her hand. The knuckles weren't even red. "Just wanted to get your attention."
"Attention? Hmm. Is that what this is all about?"
Tally groaned. If anything was more annoying than being sealed up in a wacko chamber, it was being talked to like a littlie who'd been caught chucking a stink bomb. The voice sounded deep and calming and generic, like some therapy drone. She imagined a committee of doctors behind the wall, typing in answers for the soothing computer voice to speak.
"Actually, this is about my room not having a door," she said. "Did I break a law or something?"
"You are being held under controlled observation, as a possible danger to yourself and others."
Tally rolled her eyes. When she got out of here, she was going to be a lot more than a possible danger. But she only said, "Who, me?"
"You jumped off the Overlook Cliff with inadequate equipment, for starters."
Tally's mouth dropped open. "You're saying that was my fault? I was just talking to an old friend of mine, and suddenly all these random nutcases with bows and arrows started shooting at me. What was I supposed to do? Stand around and get kidnapped?"
The voice paused. "We are reviewing video of the incident. We admit, however, that there are certain immigrant elements here in Diego who can be difficult. We apologize. They've never behaved this badly before. Rest assured that mediation is taking place."
"Mediation? Like, you're talking to them about it? Why don't you lock a few of them up, instead of me? After all, I'm the victim here."
There was another pause. "That remains to be determined. May I ask your name, city of origin, and exactly how you know this 'old friend' of yours?"
Tally felt the bedcovers between her fingers. Like the wall padding, they were woven through with microsensors, greedy little machines to measure her heart rate, sweat, and galvanic skin response. She took a few slow breaths, getting her anger under control. If she stayed focused, they could polygraph her all day without detecting a flicker of a lie.
"My name's Tally," she said carefully. "I ran away from up north. I heard you guys were nice to runaways."
"We welcome immigrants. Under the New System, we allow anyone to apply for Diego citizenship."
"'The New System'? Is that what you call this?" Tally rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well the New System sucks if you lock people up just for running away from psychos. Did I mention the bows and arrows?"
"Rest assured, you are not under observation because of any of your actions, Tally. We're more concerned with certain morphological violations."