Cyborg Page 2

  A jolt of surprise went through her at the command. She finally decided, however, that he meant watch his back. Collecting herself with an effort, she checked her weapon and stepped to one side of him. Dazed as she was, she saw almost immediately that they didn't have a chance in hell. Reese was one of only a handful of the squad that seemed virtually unscathed. The rest, like her, were battered, disoriented, or already too injured to fight, and they had stepped into a melee. There was no chance of forming up, of presenting an orderly counterattack. The cyborgs, outnumbering them two to one, waded through them as effortlessly as if they'd been no more than children.

  Placing her back to her partner, Amaryllis gritted her teeth and brought her weapon up. She didn't have the chance to discover if the weapon was still functioning. She hadn't even managed to aim when a cyborg struck her arm so hard she lost her grip on the weapon. His next blow was to her chin and her knees buckled.

  Blackness swarmed around her again. Dimly, she realized that Reese was standing over her, struggling with three cyborgs, who'd piled on him and were bearing him to the ground.

  It wasn't Reese who hauled her to her feet. The grip on her was enough to assure her that it wasn't any of her comrades.

  Within a handful of minutes, the battle was lost. The cyborgs surrounded them, relieved them of their weapons and marched them off to a holding area.

  Amaryllis was still focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and locking her knees to keep from falling when an explosion nearby announced the arrival of another of their ships. A wave of energy seemed to go through the hunters. Abruptly, the battle was engaged once more as her squad fought their captors in a forlorn effort to reach the other squad on the field.

  They didn't make any appreciable headway. Within moments, their second effort was beat down and they were half dragged, half led to a clearing set aside for captives.

  Amaryllis collapsed almost with a sense of relief, too shocked by the crash and their defeat even to feel fear. Mutely, she stared at Reese as he knelt beside her and examined her injuries, which consisted of perhaps a score of gashes on her legs, arms, torso, back and head, none of which seemed particularly life threatening. As if sensing her gaze, he lifted his head and stared at her a long moment.

  He was disheveled. The long, ash blond hair generally contained in a queue at the base of his skull fluttered around his square jaw and across his finely chiseled nose and lips.

  Regret made Amaryllis’ belly clench and she realized for the first time that, contrary to all logic, she felt far more than mere lust for this beautiful man. It would hurt her to her soul to witness his death, to see the light dim in his eyes, to see his great, strong body defiled by violence. She hoped they killed her first. She didn't think she could bear looking on as they destroyed him.

  The look in his pale blue eyes as he stared back at her sent her heart tripping over itself.

  Almost as if he suddenly realized he'd betrayed more than he'd intended, a shuttered look fell over his features. He shifted away from her. “The wounds look to be superficial ... though they should be treated. How's your head?"

  She lifted her hand to her throbbing head, realizing only then that, like Reese, she'd lost her helmet. “Feels like hell, but I guess I'll live. Next time, I'll try to remember to fasten the chin strap before we crash."

  He smiled grimly and settled on the ground beside her. Amaryllis was tempted to pursue the conversation. As conversations went, this was one of the longest they'd had to date and the most ‘personal'. Moreover, she was curious as to whether she'd imagined the significance of the way he'd looked at her.

  Not that it mattered now, she supposed, but it would've been a comfort to know he cared on more than a professional level.

  She found, though, that as soon as her adrenaline had ceased pumping through her blood, she'd begun to feel mildly queasy. She wasn't certain if that was due to the knots on her skull or merely the aftermath of shock, but she decided after a few moments that she wasn't really up to attempting to draw Reese out.

  In any case, before anything could come to mind, one of the cyborgs guarding them detached himself from the group and addressed the captured hunters.

  "You are captives of the cyborg nation. Resistance is futile and will only lead to your death.” He paused for several moments. “But you are our brothers—you are as we are—and, in time, when you have come to accept this and understand the crimes against all of us by the humans who created us, you will be given the opportunity to join us and help us to build our own world, our own nation, as free beings."

  Stunned, Amaryllis glanced at Reese, wondering if she'd heard correctly. “Brothers? What does he mean by that?"

  Reese's expression was grim, but she wasn't certain if that was an indication that she actuallyhad heard the cyborg correctly or if it was a reaction to the implication that the cyborgs had every intention of taking their captives with them.

  The voices of the other hunters around them joined hers, creating an ominous rumble as they digested the remarks, questioned them, angrily refuted them.

  "You mean to brain wash us?” someone shouted above the din of voices.

  "We mean to enlighten you!” the cyborg shouted back. “And before you dismiss it, consider this—Why would they send humans against cyborgs when we were designed to be stronger and faster than any natural born human? Logically, they would not. No human could hope to be victorious against beings designed to be physically and mentally superior to them. Why is it that not one among you has a single, living relative—no parents, no brothers, no sisters, no aunts, uncles—no one? The creators gave you your memories. They are not your own. These memories were programmed into you at the time of your creation to prevent the problems that arose among those of us created without a past, with full knowledge of what and who we are."

  Amaryllis was on the point of flatly vetoing the suggestion when she noticed that an uncomfortable, thoughtful silence had fallen among her comrades. A sense, almost of drowning, swept over her as she looked around at the other hunters as if seeing them for the first time and finally turned to look at Reese.

  She couldn't say that she knew any of them on a very personal level, but of those she did know well enough to have learned something of their background the cyborg's comments struck uncomfortably close to home. She couldn't recall a single one of them that had family. She supposed she'd assumed that that was one of the preferences for their line of work—that all of them were orphans, loners, with no one to distract them from their job, no ties that might interfere at a critical moment.

  A coldness followed the sensation of drowning. There was one among them that certainly did not fit that profile, who not only had a wealth of living relatives, but who also had endured a childhood so horrendous not even a mad scientist would consider it mentally healthful to instill such memories.

  Her.

  Chapter Two

  Reese had no living relatives. The two of them hardly exchanged more conversation than was necessary to complete their missions, but Amaryllis had been curious enough about him to do a background check.

  It hadn't occurred to her to question his humanity.

  She'd always thought he had an almost uncanny control in the face of situations that made even seasoned soldiers flinch, but she'd also admired that cool head under fire, the ability, whatever the situation, to think, and act accordingly. She'd only seen him in action a few times, but she'd admired him from afar long before he'd been assigned as her partner.

  She would've been lying to say she didn't think it was a shame the attraction wasn't mutual, but she'd also been relieved at the same time that he was so unaware of her that there was no chance anything could ever get ugly. If it had been entirely left up to her to keep things professional, she wasn't confident she could've managed it, despite the company prohibition, despite her training, despite the drugs they were issued that were supposed to counteract their natural libido and keep their mind on business.


  Regardless, she'd considered his coolness pure training—and a lack of interest in her in particular. He wasn't emotionless. He simply had a better than typical control over the weaknesses that beset other soldiers that weren't as good as he was.

  The suspicion had teased at her that he'd become oddly protective of her since they'd begun working together. As many times as she'd assured herself that it was under orders, no more than insurance by The Company to protect their investment, she'd toyed with the notion that, maybe, he wasn't as indifferent to her as she'd at first supposed.

  The incident between them on the trip out had seemed to support her wishful thinking.

  She'd woken from one of her brief rest periods to find herself virtually nose to nose with Reese on the bunk in one of the cabins, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath caressing her, could feel her body responding to his nearness and his scent.

  He wasn't asleep. He was staring at her in a way that had made her belly clench. When his gaze had strayed to her lips and lingered there for a handful of heartbeats, she'd thought that he would kiss her. She'd desperately wanted to feel that hard mouth covering hers, to tear his control from him and feel his heated possession. Instead, after several shuddering heartbeats, he'd seemed to collect himself and had rolled away from her, exerting, once more, his supreme control over himself.

  But that presupposed that he was human and capable of feeling human emotion, of experiencing the throes of passion. Maybe what she saw was all there was? Maybe it had only been her imagination playing tricks on her when she'd thought he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, as badly as she wanted him to, her own desires controlling her mind?

  Maybe he was nothing more than a machine, incapable even of curiosity?

  "You believe them?"

  It wasn't a question, not really. Amaryllis’ gaze skidded away from making eye contact even as she glanced toward him. “They seem to believe it—unless they've evolved to the point that they're capable of lying. But then The Company has assured us they aren't capable of evolving, that it's only faulty programming that makes them behave as they do."

  He merely grunted. The sound could've indicated agreement, disgust—any number of things. It seemed like a purely human reaction, but Amaryllis felt as if she'd been drugged, as if she was caught up in some sort of bizarre hallucination.

  She refused to allow herself to dwell on the fact that she was, quite possibly, the only human on this world, surrounded by cyborgs who despised the race that had created them. To allow it would be to allow terror to seep through her veins like a corrosive acid and the one thing she was certain of was that she couldn't afford to fall apart. Her chances of survival might be slim anyway, but she had no desire to let go of a slim chance for none at all.

  It was almost a relief when the cyborgs began to move among them. The fact that they singled out the injured seemed to indicate they had meant what they'd said. Extermination would not be immediately forthcoming.

  It would've been more of a relief if Amaryllis hadn't feared the treatment itself would expose her. She'd been debating the matter and what her chances were for some moments when a shadow fell across her. Her heart seized immediately, as if a fist had closed around it. “I'm fine,” she said without looking up, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering with reaction.

  "You are injured."

  "Not seriously."

  "I've checked her myself. She has superficial wounds only."

  Both surprise and relief flickered through Amaryllis at Reese's unexpected championship. It was short lived. Even as she glanced toward him, she sensed the cyborg kneeling on her other side to examine her more closely. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth when she glanced toward him.

  He was as dark as Reese was fair, and somewhat slighter of build, but his face was so similar they might have been cast from the same mold—so to speak. Nausea swam through her as the thread of doubt she'd been nursing vanished. If they weren't brothers—and she knew they couldn't be—then they'd certainly been developed from the same gene donor cocktail. She jumped when the cyborg tucked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head, examining her closely.

  After a moment, the cyborg's gaze moved from her to Reese. “She has head injuries. It can not hurt to have her examined."

  Reese's hard mouth tightened into a thin, uncompromising line. “She has displayed no symptoms suggesting serious damage. She is cut and battered, but sound enough to need no treatment."

  The cyborg's lips tightened in response to the challenge in Reese's words. Abruptly, he rose to his full height, pulling Amaryllis to her feet. “Nevertheless, she will be examined."

  Reese stood, his manner challenging.

  A battle seemed imminent. Moreover, they were attracting attention Amaryllis didn't care for. “I'll go,” she put in quickly. It wasn't as if she was going to be able to avoid it at this point. She could only try, once she was there, to convince them she needed no internal examination—and hope for the best if they insisted upon it.

  She'd never considered that the day might come when she would be grateful for the birth defects that had required so much reconstruction to make her ‘whole'. Now she mentally calculated her chances of survival because of it as actually fair.

  The planet her parents had been terra farming had, unknown to everyone except, perhaps, The Company, been regularly bombarded by radiation that had proven disastrous to developing fetuses. There was the unsaid accusation that the colonists had had no business breeding naturally anyway, but they'd certainly paid for it. Most of the pregnancies had ended in miscarriage. The few, like herself, who'd been born alive had been armless and legless, among other even more horrible deformities. She'd almost reached puberty before her parents had managed to save enough credits for corrective surgery. Fortunately, she hadn't grown a great deal or she might have had to endure even more. As it was, the cybernetic arms and legs she'd been fitted with had had to be replaced twice to keep them in proportion to her body's growth. Internally, her skeletal structure had had to be reinforced—an excruciatingly painful process—with metals to support the weight of her robotic limbs and a chip had had to be implanted in her brain to enable her to control them.

  Her internal organs were her own, except for the biological replacement organs for those that had failed her, but then she knew that the cyborgs also had bio-engineered organs.

  As far as she could see, all she really had to worry about was her reproductive organs which the cyborgs, naturally enough, would not have been given, and the chip in her brain, which would not match the internal CPU the cyborgs had.

  Both men—both cyborgs—looked down at her with nearly identical expressions of surprise, irritation and, faintly, amusement.

  Reese shook his head ever so slightly. “It isn't necessary."

  Amaryllis had the unnerving feeling that the comment and the look in his eyes were a warning. Had he done a background check on her, as well? Was it possible that heknew that she was human? “But it is inevitable,” she responded. “We're captives, outnumbered, with no means of escape. I see no choice but to do as our captors demand."

  To her relief, Reese desisted, bowing to the inevitable as she had.

  The cyborg did not release her. She wasn't certain whether the hand on her arm was for support, or to establish his control, but it nixed the budding hope that she might have the chance to make a break for it before she was discovered. “I can walk unassisted,” she said coldly.

  He ignored the comment.

  Angry and frightened, Amaryllis focused her attention on keeping step with him for several moments. She was a trained soldier, however, and despite her fear, she began to assess her situation almost unconsciously.

  The planet they found themselves on had little to recommend it beyond breathable air—the cyborgs required that as well as she did since they were not mere machines, but biological hybrids, and human biology required air, water, sustenance.

  Almost as if on cue, her sto
mach growled. She wasn't unduly self-conscious. Her life had not allowed for a great deal of modesty or privacy and if she'd ever been squeamish about such things it had been leached from her through the years that had brought her to her current situation. Years of undergoing medical treatment and surgery to correct her birth defects and being poked, prodded and dissected by doctors, nurses and orderlies, followed by the years of training and work in her chosen field—the militia—had not allowed for self-consciousness in very many areas.

  She somehow doubted, however, that cyborgs actually experienced hunger pangs that vocalized.

  She had no doubt that he'd heard it, though, for he glanced at her sharply.

  "What is this place?” she asked, more to distract him than because she had any real interest in it. “Not the cyborg stronghold as we'd supposed, I guess?"

  "No."

  She wasn't surprised that he seemed disinclined to chat, but it irritated her that he was so resistant to her efforts to distract him. “A trap, then?"

  "Yes."

  Amaryllis studied the crude huts that made up the ‘village’ the cyborgs had built to complete their illusion. Most of the ‘props’ were in shambles now, and she hadn't had a view of the compound before, or during, the attack, but from what she could see she wondered why their leaders had fallen for it at all. The carelessness of the construction should have been a dead giveaway in her book, but then they'd always had the tendency to have their head up their asses where the cyborgs were concerned. The company hadreally underestimated them this time. “Why not simply kill us?"

  The cyborg lifted one dark brow. Finally, he shrugged, as if he wasn't in total agreement with the decision that had been made but had accepted it. “We are the same. We wanted you to join us in building our own world ... free from persecution by humans. Contrary to what the company has led you to believe, we have no desire to subjugate mankind. We only wish to live our lives as we choose."