Lyra nodded, bracing as he injected near the implant. It stung, but compared to everything else, it was minor. "Whatever you can do, Doc. I have to get answers. And I need to figure out my next move before they find me."
Zhang disposed of the needle and peeled off his gloves. "I can try to interface with it carefully, see if it's broadcasting or if it has accessible files. But if it's military-grade, it's likely encrypted up the wazoo and could have countermeasures. Still... given the circumstances, I think it's worth a try. We might glean something."
He directed Lyra to sit by a terminal connected to a diagnostic rig. A cluster of cables and electrodes snaked from it. With steady hands, Zhang attached a few sensor pads around the implant site and along her temples. "This will monitor your vitals and neural activity. I'm going to attempt a passive scan of the implant's systems. If at any point you feel strange—more than you already do—tell me immediately, and I'll stop."
Lyra mustered a faint smirk. "Strange is relative right now, Doc. Just do it."
He tapped commands on the terminal. The rig hummed to life. Lyra felt a slight tingling at the base of her skull, as if tiny fingers were brushing her nerves. She inhaled sharply.
"Vitals steady," Zhang murmured, eyes moving behind his AR glasses. "I'm picking up a power source... a small battery or a microfusion cell. Device is active but in some kind of standby. It's definitely interfaced with your nervous system, but not fully engaged. Maybe waiting for a trigger."
Lyra's skin crawled at the thought. A trigger? What kind of trigger? She kept still, breathing slowly as he continued.
"Damn. The encryption on this is... I've never seen anything like it," Zhang muttered. "It's almost like it's… adapting as I probe, changing form. This is cutting edge if not beyond."
A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over Lyra. For a split second, her vision doubled. In the corner of the room, she thought she saw a dark shape move—she flinched, turning her head to look, but nothing was there.
The monitors beeped erratically. "Your brain activity just spiked," Zhang said sharply. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I… just got dizzy. Might be blood loss or—" she hesitated. She wasn't sure what she saw. Possibly just exhaustion and nerves playing tricks. "Or just tired."
Zhang eyed her, concerned. "We should stop. I don't want to accidentally trigger something or hurt you."
"No," Lyra insisted. "Try a little longer. Please. If we could find out anything..."
He hesitated, then relented with a nod. "Alright. Another minute, no more."
He resumed his careful scan. Lyra closed her eyes this time, focusing on the sound of Zhang's breathing and the hum of machinery to keep herself centered. The tingling sensation deepened. It wasn't exactly painful, but profoundly uncomfortable, like an itch she couldn't scratch deep inside her spine.
Suddenly, Lyra's eyes snapped open. An image—no, a whole scene—flashed in her mind, so vivid it was as if she were momentarily there: a sterile white laboratory, banks of computers, and pods filled with fluid and something floating inside. She heard a voice, muffled, saying something about "synchronization complete." Then as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving her gasping.
She jerked away from the cables, heart thudding. The electrodes popped off, monitors screeching alarms at her spiking vitals.
Zhang reached out to steady her, concern etched on his face. "That's it, I'm stopping. What happened?"
Lyra pressed a hand to her forehead. Cold sweat slicked her skin. What had happened? It felt like a memory, but not one of hers. Or was it? She tried to recall if she'd ever seen such a lab, but it didn't resonate with any of her past.
"I… I don't know," she muttered. "I saw something. Like a dream, or a memory. A lab. It felt real."
Zhang's expression grew more serious. "Could be data stored in the implant. Perhaps it interfaced and fed something into your brain."
"Great," Lyra said shakily, disconnecting the remaining pads. "So now I have random visions in my head on top of everything."
Before Zhang could respond, a loud thud came from the metal door. Both of them froze. Another thud, the sound of metal creasing. Someone—or something—was trying to force their way in.
Lyra slid off the table, adrenaline instantly flushing through her. "They found me," she whispered, grabbing her jacket and shrugging it on despite the protests of her tender wounds.
Zhang killed the lights in the lab with a slap at a wall switch, plunging them into dim emergency luminescence. "There's a back way," he hissed, pointing to a narrow door partly hidden behind a curtain. The clinic was originally part of a larger building—maybe it connected to other units.
They hurried towards it. The front door clanged again, a screech of tearing metal. Lyra's heart hammered. She had seen what the black ops did back at the warehouse; if they got in here, Zhang's chances were slim, and they wouldn't spare her either now that she was implanted.
"This way," Zhang urged, pushing the hidden door open. It revealed a cluttered back storage room and beyond it, a staircase leading up—a way into the old apartment complex above, perhaps.
Lyra paused, turning to the doctor. "Come with me. They'll kill you if you stay."
Zhang gave a grim smile. "I survive by staying off their radar. If I run now, I'll be looking over my shoulder forever. Go. I'll buy you time."
"No!" Lyra grabbed his arm. She had already seen one person sacrifice himself for this thing. "You don't owe me that."
"Maybe not," Zhang said quietly. "But I remember a scared kid I pulled out of a wreck years ago and set on her feet. You've got a fighting chance, Lyra. I'm an old man; I'll only slow you down." He gently pried her hand off. "Now run."