Her Cyborg Champion

by Susan Hayes

  If Edge or any of the others knew he was following a human woman around, they’d never let him hear the end of it. And it wasn’t like they were ever going to meet. He was just doing his part to protect the future of the colony.

  Maggie paused to check her surroundings and then moved into the open space. She went slowly, sweeping her crudely made staff from side to side to clear a path through the vines.

  He didn’t see the danger until she was almost to the rotting tree. Then he noticed a glimmer of heat he’d somehow missed the first time.

  Bark spider.

  Instinct was faster than conscious thought. He’d thrown the knife before he had gotten around to deciding if he was going to help her. It struck the creature dead center, pinning its flattened body to the trunk of the tree.

  It shrieked and flailed its legs in an obscene dance as it died, and Maggie stumbled backward with a choking cry.

  “What the hell? Who? Where!” the questions fell from her lips in an adrenaline-fueled torrent.

  He didn’t answer any of them. He jumped down from the tree and walked right past her to retrieve his knife from the corpse. The moment he pulled the blade out, the body dropped to the ground. It was the size of a dinner tray, perfectly mottled to blend in against the bark of a tree. It was an ambush predator with a nasty bite he’d experienced firsthand when he was still learning about the dangers of this place.

  If it had bitten her, Maggie would have suffered an agonizing but quick death. That was why he’d revealed himself. No one deserved to die like that, in pain and alone.

  “You!” A small fist smacked his bicep.

  He turned and looked down at the human female with surprise.

  “You could have killed me throwing that thing!”

  He shook his head, bending down to wipe the blade clean before sheathing the knife. He straightened, pointing to the dead bark spider and then at her.

  She scowled. “That thing would have hurt me?”

  He raised two fingers into a semblance of fangs and then struck at his own arm. After that, he pointed to her again, and then made a falling over gesture with his hand.

  “Killed me? It’s venomous? Well, fraxx. No one mentioned anything like that in our classes.”

  He snorted. They didn’t teach it because not many knew they existed. Everyone was so busy trying to get the defense platform up and the colony established before winter came. There hadn’t been much time or inclination to explore the world they’d claimed.

  “You don’t talk?” she asked.

  He shook his head and tapped the scar at his throat.

  Her brow crumpled into a frown. “But you’re a cyborg. Right? Can’t you heal almost anything?”

  He gave a slight shake of his head.

  “It must have been a nasty injury. I’m sorry.”

  That surprised him. The humans he’d met didn’t apologize for anything. Ever. He almost spoke then to tell her it wasn’t a big deal.

  He settled for a shrug and then pointed to her pack, then the tree where she’d hidden her other things.

  “You’ve been watching me.” It wasn’t a question.

  He nodded once.

  “Why?”

  Frustration rolled through him. “Because I think you’re up to something and I want to know what the fraxx it is,” wasn’t something he could communicate effectively with signs.

  “Right. You can’t talk.” She moved away from the corpse of the spider and shrugged out of her pack. “So, let me work through this and you let me know if I get anything wrong.”

  Another nod.

  “You’ve been watching me.”

  Nod again.

  “How long? Days? Weeks?”

  He nodded at weeks.

  “Okay. Going to be honest, that’s a little disconcerting.”

  Striker snickered.

  “Oh sure, you can laugh. You’re not the one being stalked.”

  He pointed to the dead spider and then gestured around them, moving his hands to mimic pinchers and claws.

  She paled. “You’ve been protecting me? From things like that? Dammit! This is why I asked Skye for a blaster. I need to be able to defend myself.”

  If she’d asked for a blaster, why wasn’t she carrying one? He pointed to his and then to the empty spot on her belt where most beings would carry a weapon.

  “We’re not allowed. Not yet. That kind of weaponry is restricted on Earth and none of us know how to use one.”

  If the wind had gusted at that moment, it might have knocked him over. She didn’t know how to use an energy weapon? She was human. The most violent species in the known galaxy.

  “You look surprised.” She tipped her head and her red hair tumbled over her shoulders like living flame. “You don’t know much about humans. At least, not ones from Earth.” A handful of humans were on Liberty already—two females and one half-Torski male. None of them were from Earth.

  He pointed to her and then flicked up a finger.

  That made her grin. “I’m your first. Huh?”

  He chuckled. It came out sounding more like a rusty engine than an expression of humor, but she laughed along with him. It felt surprisingly good, and for a second he forgot that she was human and not to be trusted.

  The moment didn’t last. When the laughter died away, he pointed to her bag and then to the tree, and then he raised both hands in question. What was she doing out here, and why was she doing it?

  3

  Maggie wasn’t sure if this was a nightmare or the best dream ever. If she went by the giant dead bug that had tried to eat her, she was in nightmare territory. On the other hand, she’d been saved from the bug by a tall, blond, panty-meltingly hot man with a sexy as sin smile and no inclination to talk. Definitely a dream come true.

  He was also more than capable of getting his message across with his nimble fingers and charming smile. It was probably a good thing the man couldn’t speak. She already wanted to climb him like a ladder. If he talked to her, there was a dangerously high chance she’d spontaneously combust instead of answering his question.

  “I didn’t steal any of it. It’s mine.”

  He arched a brow but otherwise didn’t move.

  “It’s all stuff I recovered from recycling. Or I traded what I found for what I needed. You all throw out a lot of perfectly useable items. It’s wasteful.” She couldn’t keep the acid out of that last word.

  His expression softened. It was subtle, but she saw it. She’d been reading people since she was a child, learning who was a threat and who was a potential ally. She didn’t know which camp this man would fall into, but he was giving her a chance to explain herself. That counted for something.

  When he made a “go on” gesture with his hands and then pointed to the tree, she continued.

  “You want to know why I’m bringing it out here?”

  The big blond nodded.

  “Because where I’m from, it’s not smart to leave everything you own in one place. If someone else finds it, they’re happy and you’re fraxxed.”

  He nodded, gestured to the tree, and held up one finger. Then he pointed in the direction of her other hiding spots and raised several more fingers, giving her an inquiring look.

  Crap. He knew what she was doing and where her caches were.

  “You’re asking me why so many?” She put his question into words to be sure she knew what he wanted to know.

  He nodded.

  “Okay. You’re not going to understand, but here’s the truth. This place is too good to be true. One day I’m going to wake up and it’s all going to be gone. I don’t know how, or what fraxxed up thing will happen, but it will happen. That’s the way the universe works. When that day comes, I’ll be ready.” She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “Unless you’re going to report me? Or take this stuff for yourself. Then, I guess I’m screwed, and not in the fun way.” She hadn’t meant to say that last bit. Telling the truth must have messed up her verbal filters.


  When he reached for her pack, she froze. He was going to take it from her and she could do nothing to stop him. This was a cyborg—a man designed from the DNA up to be a fighting machine. She might as well pick a fight with a mountain.

  To her surprise, he didn’t pull it out of her grasp. He set his hand on it and then withdrew and pointed to the tree.

  “You’re letting me keep it?”

  A single nod.

  “Why?” The moment she asked the question, she knew he wouldn’t be able to explain. “Sorry. You can’t really answer that. Can you? Maybe if we had a tablet, you could type out an answer.”

  He shook his head and raised his empty hands.

  “No tablet. Well, that will make this trickier.” She set down the pack and held out her hand to him. “I’m Maggie. Maggie Piper. Can you at least tell me your name?”

  For a moment, the big cyborg didn’t move. He eyed her hand like it was another of those venomous bugs. Then, he took her hand in his much larger one and shook it.

  When he let go, the warmth of his touch lingered on her skin. “Name?”

  He whipped out the knife and stepped over to the rotting tree. With quick strokes, he carved something into the wood. It was easy to read even from where she stood, the letters in Galactic Standard.

  “Striker. That’s your name?” She smiled. “I like it.”

  His answering smile was hot enough to melt hull plating and fry the last of her filters. “Is there a reason why every cyborg I’ve met looks like a cross between a war god and a holo-vid actor? Did you all win the genetic lottery?”

  The moment the words left her lips, she realized her error. What was a joke to her was a reality for Striker and the other cyborgs. They were the result of genetic manipulation, along with behavior programming, controls, and enough cybernetic tech to power a starship.

  Striker’s lip curled up in a silent snarl.

  She was so fraxxed. Instinctively she dropped her head and rounded her shoulders, falling into a submissive pose that she resented with every cell in her body. But it was the only thing she could think to do, a throwback to her life on Earth. A life she thought she’d left behind. “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean…”

  He moved in close enough she saw his boots in her limited field of vision. She braced, waiting for the inevitable blow.

  It didn’t come.

  Maggie held her breath and kept her head down. She’d been lulled into a false sense of security before. She knew better than to think this was over. Insults required a response, and Striker had been insulted. She’d seen it in his eyes.

  When his hand touched her shoulder, she managed not to flinch away, but he didn’t grab her. Slowly, he moved his hand up, his fingers brushing over her hair and then settling under her chin. He applied only enough pressure to make her lift her head, and she looked up to stare into his deep blue eyes. She saw no anger there.

  She let out a slow breath. “You’re not going to hurt me?”

  His lip curled and his eyes narrowed. Dammit, she’d managed to insult him again.

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  Striker huffed in frustration and moved back.

  “You’re angry. Because I thought you were going to hit me?”

  A sharp nod.

  “That’s what happens when someone like me angers someone bigger or tougher. At least, that’s how it works where I’m from.”

  Striker pointed to the sky and then slashed a hand through the air before pointing to the ground.

  That was easy enough to understand. “You’re saying that I’m not on Earth anymore. But how am I supposed to know what things are really like here? It all seems too good to be true.”

  Silence fell.

  She waited.

  Eventually Striker made a sound somewhere between a sigh and snort. It was a perfect expression of emotion without saying a single word.

  The tension between them faded, and she relaxed. It was going to be okay. “Yeah. You’re not the first one to accuse me of making them feel that way.”

  He grinned, pointed to her pack, and then made a gesture like he was opening it.

  “You want to know what I brought? It’s not much. Fuel pellets for a camp stove and a thermal blanket someone tossed out.” She fished the items out and showed them to him. He looked over each one and then handed them back.

  All but the last item.

  It was a brick of food tabs she’d traded for. The things were barely edible and tasted like stale cardboard dipped in dust, but they were packed with nutrients. A single cube of the stuff was equal to a full meal, and the tabs would keep for years if their wrappings weren’t breached.

  Striker jabbed a finger at something written on the side.

  “I can’t see that from here. The print is too small.”

  He held it out to her, scowling.

  It only took a second to see what his issue was. “Yeah. They’re past their expiry date. It’s fine. All that means is they’ll slowly lose some of their potency over time. They’re still edible.”

  The look he shot her could have gone in the dictionary as the definition of dubious.

  “I’ve been eating stale food tabs for years and never had a problem. These are emergency supplies. If I’m reduced to eating this crap, we’ve got bigger problems than the date on the package.”

  Striker grudgingly handed over the last package.

  “So glad I have your approval,” she muttered and turned toward the spot where she’d hidden the rest of her stash. A thought hit her and she froze, frantically scanning the tree for anymore of the camouflaged bugs.

  “Please tell me there’s nothing else on or in this tree that’s going to try and kill me.”

  The next thing she knew, Striker had taken her pack and shouldered his way past her. He placed the items inside the tree for her and then handed back the empty bag.

  “You’re not worried about getting bitten?”

  He curled two fingers into fangs, tapped his forearm with them, and then shrugged.

  “Ah. I forgot about your medi-bots. The nanotech protects you from the poison. Nice. I can’t get that for months. Guess I better hope I don’t run into anymore of those things until then.”

  Striker walked two fingers across his forearm and then pointed in the direction of the colony. Then, he held up a hand in a clear sign to stop.

  “You’re suggesting I go back to Haven and stay there? No. Not happening. I like being out here.” She waved around them at the forest. “It’s beautiful. And quiet. I’ve been locked up inside a hive city my entire life. Until I came here, I’d never seen a tree, never mind a forest full of them. I’d rather die out here than live safely inside the colony. That’s not why I came all this way.”

  He watched her intently, his blue eyes looking almost turquoise in the fading light, but didn’t sign anything. He just looked at her.

  Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Maggie slipped the pack over her shoulder and then looked up at the darkening sky. “I should be getting back. Skye’s expecting me to show up for the communal dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

  He shook his head sharply, one large hand slashing through the air.

  “No dinner. Gotcha. Is it the company or the food you’re avoiding?”

  He flicked up a finger.

  “First one. The company. Not a fan of crowds. Huh?” she asked.

  Again, Striker shook his head.

  Okay. So, big, blond and nonverbal wasn’t a social creature. Not a surprise. He had to be one of the cyborgs Skye had warned her about. Though, he didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Hell, if he hadn’t killed that thing, it would have bitten her. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask. “You don’t mind my being out here. Do you? I mean, this is sort of your space. Right?”

  His eyes widened and something flickered deep in their depths. Then he smiled and her heart did a triple flip in her chest. Holy fraxx, he was hot.

  After a moment, he nodded, one hand
sweeping out to encompass the woods.

  She took it as permission. “Thank you. For everything. I just realized I never thanked you for saving my life. I owe you for that. If you need anything. Ever. I will help any way I can.”

  That earned her another dubious look.

  It rankled.

  “What? You don’t think there’s anything I could do for you?” She glared at him. “I’ve got skills.”

  Striker tapped the butt of his blaster, then the hilt of his knife, and then pointed to the dead bug. Its legs were starting to curl and stir in the evening breeze, giving the impression it was still alive.

  The big guy had a point. “Okay. So my skill set doesn’t apply to my current situation. I’m working on that. I have to learn things the hard way. Not like you. One upload and you know everything there is to know about anything you want. It doesn’t work that way for us. It’s going to take me time to figure things out. But I will. That’s one of my skills. I can adapt.”

  She turned on her heel and walked back the way she’d come. Striker fell in beside her. He wasn’t on her pathway and the vines tried to ensnare him, but whatever his pants were made of, the thorns couldn’t penetrate the fabric and he strolled through it like the vines weren’t there. She couldn’t even ask him what the material was. There was no way he’d be able to tell her.

  “You’re coming with me?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Making sure I get back in one piece?”

  He didn’t bother to acknowledge that question. They both knew the answer, and she was grateful for the company. Today, the woods didn’t seem as welcoming as they had been before she’d known about the damn bugs.

  By the time they were within sight of the colony, he’d pointed out several more of the multi-legged nightmares. She knew what to look for now. They were mottled to blend in with the tree bark, but it wasn’t a perfect match.