by J. N. Chaney
He expected they’d earn enough trust to lift some of the security he had surrounding them in time, but they weren’t there just yet, which made their situation more difficult nearly every day. As new people arrived, usually in groups of two or three, Lukov had to interrogate and scan them to see if they were Ghosts, then he would decide who should stay and who would be given a meal, but ultimately some were turned away on suspicion of being spies. He was being cautious, so about a quarter of those who showed up had been declined entry.
Those refugees who’d been granted access were immediately interviewed to discover what skills he or she might possess. Even if they had no specialties and all they could offer was the willingness to do what needed to be done, they were accepted. As a result, the buildings and streets were immaculate. There weren’t enough excess workers to begin training the general laborers in a trade yet, but Warren suspected it wouldn’t be long before Camp Ruthless would be filled with them.
Warren found Hendrose sitting in the same chair with the same frustrated expression on his face. He’d begun chewing his nails—something Warren didn’t think he’d ever seen the tech do before. There was a new addition to the technological mess the man had created: a familiar table with scratch marks on its surface.
“Lukov, did you steal General Kaplan’s table?” Warren transmitted after nodding to the cyborg who was keeping an eye on Hendrose.
“Steal is strong word. Maybe is better to say reappropriate?”
Warren laughed to himself. “What else did you reappropriate?”
“Everything that was made left. Village has been evacuate. All villagers are now in camp, so everything is take. Food. Ammunition. Weapon.”
“Good,” replied Warren. “How’s it going?” he asked Hendrose.
The tech sighed but didn’t look up from his task. “Same. This thing isn’t cooperating. I’ve gotten it to respond to simple commands, but I think the AI is still fighting me. There’s no way, especially hooked to one of our war computers, that it can’t understand what I’m telling it to do.”
“You think it’s being difficult on purpose?” asked Warren.
The tech nodded and rubbed at red rimmed eyes.
“When was the last time you took a break?”
Hendrose waved the idea away. “No time for that. I’ve got to get it to cooperate, or I’ve got to get it disconnected from the war computer. It’s the only way I can build a Cyborg Upkeep and Production unit, and the only way we can back the cyborgs up. You guys are vulnerable right now, and we need you not to be. I’ll sleep later—or when I’m dead.”
“We’re secure at the moment,” said Warren. “And our army is growing every day. As word gets out that we’re here and of what we’ve accomplished, I think we’ll have more joining us. What I’m saying is, we have some time. If you’re stuck, take a walk—get some fresh air.”
“I will,” promised Hendrose.
Warren turned to the cyborg assigned to keep an eye on Hendrose. “Make him get up every hour. I don’t care what his excuse is, make him leave the building for ten minutes before you let him back inside. And limit him to ten hours of work per day.”
“What?” Hendrose said, sitting up straight. “What if I’m in the middle of something?”
“You’ll always be in the middle of something,” Warren pointed out. “The success or failure of this camp doesn’t rest solely on your shoulders. The rest of the cyborgs and I will ensure you’ve got the time you need.” He waited for the tech to argue some more.
Instead, Hendrose stood and stretched, then he wagged a finger at the cyborg assigned to him. “This counts as a break,” he said before marching from the room.
Satisfied, Warren left the building and closed the new door behind him. The gaping hole they’d created to gain access in the first place had been sealed with new concrete and bricks. The cyborgs had also added a second layer and sheet metal to serve as armor. At the same time, they’d cut a new doorway on the south side of the building so the entrance wouldn’t be facing the fence line.
He spotted Hendrose heading to a mess tent the full humans had set up. The locals had begun growing food outside the fence and seemed more than happy to swap recipes with the Reotians. Food had become a way for the two groups of people to form bonds. Eating together had provided them with time to talk and get to know one another. It was so simple, it made Warren wonder why nobody had thought of it before. All the wars humans had fought against one another might’ve been solved by forcing both sides to share meals.
“We’ve got more refugees approaching,” Anna DeFranc transmitted. She and several other cyborgs had made it to the camp in recent days. Without a more powerful transmitter, the cyborgs were limited to a 1200-kilometer transmission range. The landing had gone so badly that his soldiers and crew had been scattered across the surface of the planet. Several more were on their way but would likely take several days to reach the camp. Some were injured, so their progress was slower.
The best news Lukov had delivered was the discovery of a couple of cyborgs who’d managed to bring their Stingers to the surface in one piece. They had a line on the Camel and believed it to be intact. Warren would be leading a rescue party himself to retrieve everything they needed to bring their fallen back once Hendrose finished his task.
Indeed, things were looking up.
Only one problem remained: getting off the planet. Still, Warren was confident that wouldn’t be a problem. With General Kaplan gone, Warren planned on negotiating with Governor Kinsley. Based on reports from citizens, he didn’t seem all that bad, and he might even be open to a settlement staying on planet to help with defense in case the Republic showed up.
It seemed to Warren that being allies was better than wasting energy fighting off two enemies.
“You okay?” asked Rigby, breaking into his thoughts.
Warren looked around and spotted her in a nearby guard tower. He’d managed to walk to the north end of the camp, lost in his thoughts.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I was just thinking.”
“You do a lot of that,” she said, a touch of humor in her voice. “What about?”
“I think it’s time to reach out to Governor Kinsley.”
“That should be fun,” she said. “You know we have your back in case he’s a problem.”
Warren shook his head. “I don’t think he will be. It might take some time to get a meeting, but we’ll be back on Reotis before we know it.”
There was a slight pause, then he continued. “Say, Rigby, want to get some food later?”
He half expected her to make some snide remark about a cyborg nutrient bar, but instead she replied with a simple, “sure.”
Warren smiled to himself. Maybe they couldn’t do everything the humans could do, but the thought of 400 more years alone didn’t sound all that appealing. Companionship might take some time to figure out, but hell, they had plenty of that.
In fact, they had forever—or, until they ran out of parts.
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About the Authors
; J. N. Chaney is a USA Today Bestselling author and has a Master's of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. He fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at www.jnchaney.com.
He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.
Chris Winder is a United States Marine Corps veteran who spent nearly half his eight years training other Marines in the fine art of field wire and switchboard operation.
Each class was dosed with a big helping of humor, which he learned is the key to helping people absorb and remember information. Therefore, Chris tries to sneak some humor into every book he writes.
His first novel, Cloud Development, is a technothriller revolving around a ten-year-old boy, his parents and the corporation his father works for. For years, LumoTech has been trying to unlock a dangerous secret and when their research targets the little boy as the key, his parents aren't given much of a choice.
Chris lives in a small town in northern Arizona with his wife and son, (his two oldest, daughters, are grown and live in the greater Phoenix area), his two cats, (Squeaker and Max), and his elderly dog, Scout.
