“Yeah, same here. A couple of our usual contacts are backing off. Even my press rat guy won’t return any messages,” Echo adds.
Kane doesn’t acknowledge either of them. He strides for the gathering with his jaw set.
When he nears the entrance, the crew members part, making a path for Kane and the lieutenants behind him.
Shouts become whispers the moment he steps forward.
“You’ve all been fed lies!” Kane calls out. His gaze sweeps across them, stopping on a group of neighborhood kids. “You want to talk about corrupting children, forcing upgrades and tech on them?” He hooks a finger at his crew without looking away. “Pixie. Tell them when you joined us.”
Pixie steps out of the line. “Last year.”
“And since joining, have you felt pressured to get more cyberware?”
“No,” she answers.
Shouts break around him.
“She’s just a kid!” someone barks from the far side.
A woman near the front argues, “Probably scared into saying that!”
“What about the others?!” echoes a man, waving his arm.
Kane’s eyes narrow. He raises a hand, and the crowd goes silent.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gestures for Jamal over by the medtruck. When the medic reaches them, Kane pivots to face him. “Can you back up what we’ve done medically? How often do we actually approve enhancements for our crew members?”
Jamal eyes the group. “We maintain detailed records of all procedures. Every upgrade is voluntary or medically necessary.” He checks a holopad in his hands. “The average rate of additional cyberware within the first five years is ten percent per new member.”
Murmurs roll through the crowd.
Someone near the center scoffs. “Ten percent? Still sounds too high!”
“You think these numbers make it okay?
“You expect us to just…take your word for it?” another person yells.
“Where’s the proof?”
“Jamal can provide you with this data. With personal information redacted,” Kane bellows over them. “Or you can speak to the crew members directly. Get the truth straight from the source.”
Some glares soften. A few stances ease. The noise sinks into low, uneasy murmurs.
Then an older female cries, “What about VitaCorp? Thought you weren’t working with the corps!”
“They brought in that nurse, didn’t they?” an elderly man demands. “Was he a spy or not?”
Dark curls. Brown eyes. The memories flash before Kane can stop them. His jaw tightens. Behind him, he catches the shift in Echo’s stance.
“Dr. Hayashi and her team severed ties with VitaCorpdecades ago,” he says, enunciating each word. “No contact. No allegiance. Nothing. And the nurse is far from a spy. He was a medic who stepped up when no one else could.”
He gives them a heartbeat to process, whispers and murmurs echoing near the front. But Kane needs to set the rest of the record straight.
“And as for the rumor that I had a hand in my uncle’s death…” His voice hardens. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I wasn’t informed of the deal that went bad. I wasn’t even there. Neither was Echo.”
His lieutenant breaks from the line. “It’s true.” Echo’s tone is uncharacteristically serious. “I was benched with an injury that took my leg. Didn’t know anything was happening…until it was too late.”
Kane nods once. “Need confirmation? Coda can pull the security logs from that night.” He jerks his chin toward the hovering drone projecting her feed.