by Mina Carter
Johnny grinned evilly as he closed his hand around the guy’s throat and lifted him off the floor. He leaned in, his voice soft by the guy’s ear.
“I lied.”
Charlton screamed, the sound strangled by the hard hand around his throat. As close as he was, Johnny felt the movement and twisted as Charlton tried to stab him. The blade skittered across his ribs instead of sliding through, the hot burning pain just another to add the to list his onboard was compiling.
“Wrong move, bud.” Johnny snarled, and with a twist, snapped the trooper’s neck.
He dropped the body and considered the lift. It was a no-go. Even if they hadn’t heard the gunfire from the bridge above, it was still too obvious an entry point. If he was Templeton, then he’d have both the lift entrance and the access hatch by the main view screen covered, or at the least the latter rigged to blow. He wrinkled his nose. With shaped charges and the range of adaptive charge-detonators available these days, any idiot could be an explosives expert.
Turning, he relieved both bodies of their weaponry, slinging the extras over his shoulder. He didn’t have time to strip them of their power packs, and if he was storming the bridge on his own without backup to provide covering fire, if he stopped to change a pack, then he’d be a dead man. When he’d stripped anything useful from the trooper’s corpses, he left them to litter the corridor and disappeared back into the darkness.
Halfway along the same corridor, he stopped, opening up the access hatch to the maintenance shafts. He poked his head through and grinned. Just as he thought, a straight route up to the bridge. Climbing through, he ignored the grating in his rib cage, trusting to his onboard to dull the pain running through his body and keep him operational. It came with a price. Once the action was over, he’d feel every second of this and worse, but for now he could keep going, the roar of adrenaline galvanizing every muscle and sinew as he climbed upward at a rapid rate.
At the top of the shaft the space opened out with a hexagonal junction. Six directions to chose. Four led into diagonals, crawlspaces for the power and data cables that riddled the ship. Only two, opposite each other, were full walkways. One led to the aft section above deck one, and the other led over the bridge.
Boosting himself out of the vertical shaft, he dropped the grate into place, fingers looped through the grill so he could settle it down without a sound. His movements as quiet as he could make them, he made his way along the walkway ahead of him. The junction opened out into an open area, with the walkway cutting across it.
He stopped in the middle, looking around. There were two official ways onto the bridge, and Templeton was too well trained not to have them covered. Hell, any officer who’d graduated the alliance officer academy, no matter how inbred, knew to secure a location. But Templeton was a by-the-book officer, and thinking outside the box was not something that fit with his rigid world view. Used to combat capable vessels with highly defensible bridges, the thought that there may be a third way onto the Starflame’s bridge hadn’t occurred to him.
It had occurred to Johnny, though. He grinned as he looked around. Under the walkway there was nothing but the support lattice for the ceiling tiles. Just a thin layer of fabric covered poly-plastic between him and his goal.
Tapping into the schematics of the ship he’d downloaded from the quartermaster’s office he overlaid a map of the bridge on the tiles under the walkway. Guards should be here…and here. Red spots pulsed in the locations he’d post men and he added green lines to indicate firing arcs.
His feet shoulder width apart; he balanced easily on the narrow walkway, the metal little more than the length of his foot across. Movements efficient, he checked the weapons around his body for placement. Once he hit the deck, he needed them to be where he thought they were, not someplace else. Then he flicked the safety catch off the carbine in his hands and stepped off the walkway.
Thanks to the alloy laced through his bones and his implants, Johnny was heavy. The flimsy layer of tiles gave under his feet and he fell through in a hail of broken poly-plastic and mangled support struts to land in front of the helm chair.
Finger on the trigger before his feet had hit the deck plating, he started firing as soon as he broke through the plastic. The first guard by the door barely had time to turn before three bolts from Johnny’s carbine nailed him in the back and side, spinning him around and slamming him into the wall. Blood and heavier things splattered across the cream wall, but Johnny was already turning. The retort of automatic fire filled the bridge, the air around him alive with energy bolts. Not pausing for breath, Johnny dropped the trooper by the main viewer with one between the eyes and one through the throat.
Palming his pistol, he pointed it directly at Jason who was half out of the chair, hand reaching for his own weapon. “Sit the fuck down, asshole.”
Slowly he turned his head to look at the corrupt fleet officer, the man’s face paling as he took in the ragged socket and the glow of the implant within. By the time Johnny faced him square on and the code over his cheek was revealed, Templeton’s lip quivered, his eyes wide and dark with fear and shock.
“You’re a—” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple scraping up and down his neck. “But you can’t be…you’re all dead. We killed you all!”
His voice rose in pitch, the panicked tone more like a woman’s as Johnny reached out and shoved him back down on his ass in the chair.
“Not quite all. You missed a couple. Where is she?” he demanded as he grabbed the seat’s safety harness and yanked it around the human, trapping his arms at his sides. Clutching the buckle in his fist, he crushed it together into one shapeless mass, imprisoning Templeton in the web of straps. “Milly. Where is she?”
A muffled scream reached his ears and Johnny whipped his head up. The glass door to the captain’s office was closed and the privacy screen was engaged. As he watched something hit the glass from the other side. The outline of a hand, a female hand, showed for a second, sliding down the glass from the inside before it was yanked away.
They had Milly. Someone was hurting his woman. A roar ripped loose from his chest as he left Templeton pinned in the helm chair and stormed across the bridge.
14
Milly was in hell. Pinned into what had been her office with two of the troopers, she fought like a wildcat as soon as they shoved her through the door. Anything and everything in the office became fair game for use as a weapon as she threw the plant from the desk, the data pads, even the picture from the wall. She didn’t care. What was the worst they could do, kill her? It would be preferably to what they had planned. Gang rape and being loaded into an organ stripper still alive wasn’t her idea of a good time.
“You bitch. If you won’t hold still, then we’ll just make you.” The second trooper snarled as he backhanded her hard across the face. Pain exploded in her cheek and eye and the force of the blow spun her around like a top, her momentum only stopped as she slammed into the glass partition. More pain joined the fray as she slid down the panel, her hand against the cool glass as she shook her head and tried to get her wits about her.
The two men in the room didn’t give her any breaks. No sooner had she crumpled to the carpet than hard hands hauled her back up again. Gasping, she tried to breathe through the pain as she was thrown backward across the desk. The corner dug into the soft flesh of her buttock and another starburst of agony flared through her body.
Her back hit the desk and then they were on her. She screamed and fought, trying to push hands away as they tore at her clothing. A cruel hand grabbed her jaw and pulled it around as a mouth covered hers, and forced her lips apart. A thick tongue was shoved into her mouth as her pants were ripped open. Panic and disgust filled her, hot and cold flushes running over her body as bile rose in her throat. After everything, was this how it was going to end? Raped and murdered on the orders of her ex-husband? Anger mounting, she lashed out with her free arm and was rewarded with the sound of glass shattering.
“What
th—”
The guy busy trying to drag her pants down over her hips swore, his nails scoring lines of fire over her skin as he was torn away. She got a brief glimpse of broad shoulders and short hair as her other attacker dropped her like a hot potato. She didn’t question or waste any time. In desperation, she grabbed the edge of the desk and flipped herself over the edge to drop to the hard floor below. Pressing her lips together, she tried to contain her cry of pain as she scuttled under the desk, but it didn’t matter.
Gunfire filled the room, drowning everything else out as energy bolts zinged through the air. She screamed as one slammed into the floor by her hand, burning the carpet and forcing her backward.
All she could see were legs as one of her attackers was lifted and thrown bodily against the wall. Wide-eyed, her gaze latched onto the new arrival and relief punched it’s way through her body as she recognized the boots, the pant legs. Johnny. Tears slid down her cheeks. Somehow, he’d survived and come to her rescue.
The other attacker swore as Johnny held his companion against the wall, feet dancing a jig in midair. Newfound bravery filling her heart, Milly lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his legs, holding on with all her strength.
“Bitch, let go—”
She closed her eyes, expecting blows to rain down across her head and shoulders any second. But she didn’t care, the pain would be worth it if he couldn’t get to the rifle where he’d dropped it mere feet away. Dumb fucks, but I suppose guns just get in the way when you’re more interested in the weapon between your legs.
The rattling cry of terror and pain and the sounds of struggling from the other side of the room stopped. She held on tighter, closing her eyes as there was a slither, then a thud as something heavy hit the floor. It didn’t take a genius to work out what it was.
“Oh my god, you’re one of them. No…no…”
A single shot cut his whimpers off, the sound loud in the room. Time stopped, the moment drawing out as the legs she held shuddered, then started to fall. With a cry, she let go and rolled backward under the desk. The body crashed to the floor where she’d been seconds before. She turned her head, chest heaving as the smell of burnt flesh and blood reached her nose.
“Out from under the desk,” Johnny’s voice reached her ears as a hand reached down. Gratefully she grabbed it as if it was a lifeline, trusting to his strength as he hauled her out from her hiding place. But instead of pulling her into his arms as she expected, he turned her around so her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her.
“God, Milly. I thought I’d lost you.”
She leaned back into him, her legs weak and shaking. Without his support she’d have collapsed into a heap on the floor as the enormity of the situation hit her. He was alive. He’d survived.
“Johnny…they shot you. I thought you were dead.”
She turned and pressed her cheek against his chest as tears of relief coursed silently down her cheeks. A reaction to the situation, she told herself, ignoring them completely to smooth her hands over his forearms and hold his arms to her as he held her tightly, protectively.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, voice rumbling through the broad expanse of chest she was leaning against.
“I’m hard to kill. Milly, I’m going to turn you around,” he warned, his voice deadly serious. “I don’t want you to freak out.”
She stilled. He’d taken two shots to the face.
“You’ve been damaged haven’t you?”
Her voice was little more than a whisper as she wondered how bad it could be. She’d seen the wrecks of the military bots, their faces shredded down to their base components…eyes on stalks, riveted cheek plates and humanlike teeth incongruously mounted on a metal jaw. Nodding, she held in her whimper. Damage was just that, damage. It could be repaired. She’d sell everything she had to get him put right.
“Yes, but not in the way you think. Milly…I’m not a bot.”
He let go of her and stepped back. Heart in her throat, she turned. He wasn’t a bot? He had to be, no one could survive a blast to the face like that.
She started at his feet, gaze moving up his body. The blood started at his rib cage, splattered patterns of rust and scarlet. Old and new blood. He’d killed others before coming here. The realization disappeared into the void in her soul. Shock, a near death experience…all conspired to numb her reactions. She reached his face, skipped over the jaw, his full lips, to look him in the eyes.
“Ohhh. Oh my god.”
Her eyes widened, the words slipping from her lips in shock. His eye was gone, dried blood surrounding the staples that snaked out from the corner, mending the tear like tape over torn paper. Inside, where a beautiful green-gold orb had lain, was a glowing, mechanical eye.
Her gaze raced over his face, found the code on the other side, and realization slammed into her like a shuttle at jump speed.
“You’re a—”
“Cyborg. Aries class.”
His face was serious as he watched her, not moving, his hands at his sides. Even though he held a pistol loosely in one hand, she didn’t feel any fear. If he’d wanted her dead, he could have done it any time over the last few days. He didn’t need to save her from a fate worse than death to kill her himself.
“A real Aries class, I might add. Not that rubbish I dance on stage. That’s all fantasy.”
Her lips quirked as amusement surged through her. The sensible part of her brain gave up and went to whimper off in a corner somewhere, alone.
“So you’re not all metallic skinned and robotlike, then? Who are you, and why?” Her voice was like a whip as her mood changed. He’d lied and cheated to get onto her ship. For what reason…so he could hijack it?
“If you were planning to hijack the flame, I’ll raise you a fleet destroyer.”
He shook his head slowly and inched closer. She couldn’t look away from the damaged side of his face. The missing eye. Just looking at the wound made her wince. She’d had him in her bed, let him touch her…and all the while this was underneath instead of the benign circuits and chips she’d assumed.
“I didn’t want the ship…didn’t even know you had it.”
A flush drew bright banners on his cheeks as he looked down, shifting his feet like a child caught with his hand in the kruss jar. Then he looked up, the look in his remaining eye direct.
“My name is Johnathon Howe, but I use Johnny Ram on stage. I’ve been trying to get close to you for months, but you always slipped away from the shows early and never contacted me backstage.”
He edged forward again and reached out for her hand. A tiny part of her brain had latched onto the fact he was a cyborg, running all the horror stories she’d heard over the news feeds over the years through her head. There were less now than when the Fleet had originally declared them all dangerous, but they didn’t make for a good night’s sleep. Homicidal, brutal…killers of children…rapists. The cyborgs had been accused of the most hideous crimes any sane person could think of and worse. But he hadn’t tried to rape her and load her, still alive, into an organ stripper.
She nodded silently as he took her hand and stroked a gentle thumb over her knuckles. Taking that as permission, he moved in closer. A finger hooked under her jaw brought her eyes up to meet his. She winced again, trying not to look too closely at the mechanical eye.
“Doesn’t that hurt? Do you even feel pain?”
She was taking this way too well. But her voice had a small waver in it and the controlled look in her dark eyes told him that the instant she sat down and thought about what had happened, she’d lose it.
Controlled hysteria. He didn’t blame her. A week ago the worst she’d had to contend with was shipping runs and, presumably, a shitty relationship with her ex-husband. Having that ex-husband hijack her ship and reveal he planned to send her alive to the organ farm would send anyone hysterical, especially a gentle soul like his Milly. The hard exterior she presented to the world was just that
…a mask. Hard and solid, like a hull protecting the delicate contents within from the ravages of space.
“Yes, it hurts. I’m not totally machine, just parts of me. The rest is human.”
She winced again, reaching delicate fingers up to the damaged eye, but stopping short of actually touching.
“Was your eye…?”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the fingertips.
“Was my eye human? Originally, yes. It was a synth-organ to shield the implant. Looked like the real deal, but I don’t need it to see.”
“Oh.” Her lips pursed to form a perfect circle. “And the other one? Is that the same?”
He smiled, moving her hand down and trapping it against his chest, over his heart.
“No, that one’s real. One hundred percent human.” The eye was anyway, but the optic nerve wasn’t, replaced before he’d been woken with synth bundles to link directly to his onboard. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Sweetheart,” he broke in regretfully as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. But right now, we have a situation…” He nodded out onto the bridge and the man trapped in the helm chair. “And a crooked fleeter to deal with.”
Her face hardened as she followed the line of his gaze. Pulling away from him, she stalked out of the room, over the glass he’d shattered to get to her. Every line of her body was taut with fury.
“You fucking bastard.”
She reached the helm and hauled the heavy chair around, no mean feat in itself, and hovered over the captured man, her face twisted in anger. “Never could stand my noise, was it? And that gives you the right to take what’s mine, does it? Gives you the right to destroy my bot and have me raped and killed. Does it? Does it?” she snarled, her face mere inches from Jason’s.
