The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg

by Honey Phillips

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles

  The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg

  Cyborgs on Mars

  Honey Phillips

  Copyright © 2020 by Honey Phillips

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Pro Book Covers Studio

  Edited by Lindsay York at LY Publishing

  Chapter One

  “You’re not serious?” Harriet stared at her landlord in dismay. “The new rate is ten times higher than the current rent.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s the going rate these days.”

  Unfortunately, she believed him. Like most residences on Earth, the apartment was small, but it had two tiny bedrooms and an actual window with a sliver of a view of the dirty grey waters of Miami Bay. Both of those were amazing luxuries in these times, but she was supposed to be protected from this type of increase.

  “I don’t understand. My mother signed the lease under the old rent control protocols and I’ve lived with her my whole life. I should inherit the same rent.”

  For the first time, Mr. Gonzalez looked uncomfortable. A short man with an oversized stomach, he chewed on the toothpick he always had wedged into his mouth and avoided her gaze.

  “We ran the standard check when she passed. You’re not her biological daughter.”

  “I know that,” she said as evenly as possible. “But she adopted me as a baby. I am legally her daughter.”

  He shrugged, still looking off into the distance. “I don’t make the laws. New rent is due at the first of next month.”

  Panic started to rise but she forced it back down. Between the endless rounds of doctor’s visits and the constant struggle to make ends meet, she had a lot of experience with hiding her fears. The rent had been barely manageable with her salary and her mother’s small disability income, but she had assumed that without the expense of nursing care, she would be able to afford the apartment on her own and might even be able to get ahead a little. But even working twenty-four hours a day, she wouldn’t be able to pay for the new rent.

  “The lease allows for two occupants,” he added after a minute. “Maybe you could get a roommate? You got a friend with money?”

  A friend with money? She almost laughed out loud. Since her mother’s illness had been diagnosed when Harriet was in her early teens, all of her free time had been devoted to her care. Even her workmates were no more than acquaintances and they certainly didn’t have this kind of money.

  “Is there any alternative? Maybe a smaller apartment in this building?” As much as she hated to give up the only home she’d ever known, she didn’t really need a second bedroom, or any bedroom for that matter.

  Mr. Gonzalez finally looked back at her and there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes as he shook his head. “Nothing you could afford. One of the ring developments might be your best shot.”

  The ring developments were the latest housing projects to be added to the consolidated Miami-Tampa metro area. Moving there would mean a commute of over an hour and a half each way, and that was assuming she could even find a place.

  Tears threatened but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and forced a smile.

  “Thank you for the suggestion. I’m sure I can find something.”

  He chewed on his toothpick, then nodded. “I have someone coming to look at the place tomorrow.”

  Still refusing to give in to emotion, she said quietly, “I’ll make sure everything is tidy.”

  Not that there was much to clean—everything except the necessities had been sold long ago. But both she and her mother had always kept the place neat and even in the final days of her mother’s sickness, Harriet hadn’t let it go.

  Mr. Gonzalez departed without another word and she wandered over to the small window. The usual thick brown smog obscured much of the surrounding buildings, but she could still catch a glimpse of the ocean. Even though the sea was dark and polluted, she had always found something soothing about the expanse of water stretching out into the distance—a promise that there was more to life than the narrow confines of her home and job.

  Unable to help herself, she went to the door of her mother’s room. The medical equipment had been returned to Hospice, leaving only a narrow single bed. Even though she had known this moment was coming for so long, she still missed her with an almost physical ache.

  “What am I going to do now, Mom?” she whispered.

  Only silence answered but she took a deep breath and lifted her chin. I’ll find something, she told herself.

  Two weeks later, she couldn’t fool herself any longer. She had read about the horrors of the housing situation but in the safety of her own little home, she hadn’t paid much attention. Now, it was all too obvious.

  She stared at the message on her phone. Another apartment no longer available—if it could even have been called an apartment. She had been too appalled by the dirty, windowless single room barely large enough for a bed and a shared bathroom to sign a lease when she first viewed it. After a fruitless search for an alternative, she had convinced herself that it would be acceptable only to find that it was too late. Three days remained until the end of the month; what was she going to do? The prospect of having to stay in one of the vast homeless shelters haunted her. Although Earth Government tried to control them, the crime rates kept rising and for a single woman… She shuddered.

  “Is something wrong, Harriet?”

  Her boss, Winthrop Lewis, stood over her desk with a worried look on his face. Of course, he usually had a worried look on his face. As Managing Director of Product Development for GenCon, he had direct responsibility for producing profitable new products, but despite the pressures of his job he was always kind and soft-spoken. A tall, thin man with stooped shoulders, he was one of the few people she didn’t tower over, another fact that endeared him to her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean to bring my problems to work.”

  “Not at all. You’ve always been a model employee.” He hesitated. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

  Her lips trembled but she forced a smile. “Thank you. Even though we knew it was coming, it’s been… difficult.”

  “Do you need to take some more time off?”

  “No!” she cried, then forced her voice to a lower pitch. “I mean, no, please. I really need the money.”

  He frown
ed and studied her face. “Harriet, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m going to lose my apartment.” The words burst out before she could stop them, the relief of having someone to tell too much to resist.

  “I don’t understand. Aren’t you in one of those rent-controlled apartments?”

  “I was,” she said, aware of the bitterness in her voice. “But now that my mother is dead, the rent is increasing to ten times more than I can afford.”

  “But the rent control applies to heirs as well.”

  “Biological heirs. I’m adopted.”

  “Oh, I see. I remember when they added the biological requirement, they said it was to keep people from cheating the landlords by claiming to be an heir. Not that that’s your situation,” he added hastily. “I could probably manage a small increase in your salary if it would help…”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lewis. That’s very kind of you, but it’s not just the money. It’s the fact that there just aren’t enough places.”

  “I’ve read the reports.” He shook his head. “It’s one of the reasons I have such high hopes for this Mars project. Opening it up to settlement has got to help.”

  Mars. Like everyone else, she had followed the stories—stories of how they had managed to deploy a magnetic space shield that blocked enough of the solar winds and radiation to make terraforming possible, stories of mechanical cyborgs preparing the way for man, stories illustrated with pictures of gleaming white buildings set against the vast Martian landscape. GenCon was investing heavily in the project and was, in fact, sponsoring the first Martian city, New Arcadia.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine all that empty space. It must be wonderful.” Although she knew that the vast factory farms filled the empty land between the mega cities, the closest thing she could imagine was her expanse of ocean.

  “Yes, indeed.” He hesitated, then took a quick look around the administrative area. Two of her fellow assistants were out to lunch and the third was engrossed in a telenovel. “Come into my office for a minute, Harriet.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lewis.” Frowning a little, she picked up her tablet and followed him. He rarely gave personal instructions to any of the assistants, preferring to communicate via email.

  Perched in an upper corner of the building, his office had a whole wall of windows with an expansive view of the dark grey waters of the ocean. She gave it a wistful glance before turning her attention to him.

  “Have a seat,” he urged, but instead of taking his own seat behind his desk, he paced nervously back and forth.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Lewis?”

  “Not exactly. It’s just that the company wants me to go to Mars. As a settler. To see for myself what it’s like and to conduct some business on their behalf.”

  “You? To Mars?” She couldn’t conceal her shock and he smiled ruefully.

  “I know I don’t exactly look like pioneer stock—that’s one of the problems. Although the company has a lot of influence, they want me to appear as though I fit in. It occurred to me that a wife might be just the thing.”

  “A wife? Are you engaged?” she asked, then blushed at the realization that she had asked her boss such a personal question. It was just that over the ten years she had worked for him, she had never seen any signs that he had a female in his life.

  “Um, no.” His pale cheeks flushed and he pulled out a silk handkerchief to wipe a suddenly damp forehead. “But I was thinking… You don’t have anything holding you here… And I find you an admirable woman… So perhaps we could help each other out?”

  “Help each other out?”

  “Yes. You could—that is, if you’re willing—you could marry me and accompany me to Mars?”

  The expression on his face reminded her of a picture from one of her childhood books—a dog staring at his master with that same look of eagerness and doubt.

  “But, why me?”

  The Lewis family was incredibly wealthy, and he must know hundreds of women who would be only too willing to marry him.

  “Women of my, uh, class,” he flushed again, “aren’t interested in giving up their lifestyle and leaving Earth. It had never occurred to me to look elsewhere, but the more I think about it, the more I think it’s a good idea. You’re a sensible woman and a hard worker. It would be a chance for a new future.”

  A new future, but with him. She studied him again—the thin body and the already receding hairline, but also the kindness in his eyes. Despite his family’s wealth, he also worked hard, and he was always polite and respectful to everyone. Perhaps he wasn’t the man of her dreams, but she was past thirty and had spent most of her adult life caring for an ailing mother. She didn’t expect a hero to come riding in on a white horse.

  “When could we get married?” she asked slowly.

  “When does your lease run out?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Then we could do it tomorrow. That would still leave a day to arrange for your belongings to be transferred to my home. Of course, I wouldn’t expect to, um, consummate the marriage until after a reasonable time had passed. That is, if you’re willing to marry me?”

  The shy, hopeful look decided her. “Yes, I’m willing.”

  They were married the next day.

  Six months later, they landed on Mars.

  Chapter Two

  Four months later

  “You’re not serious?” Harriet stared at the GenCon representative in dismay as a horrible feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Once again, she was about to lose her home.

  “I’m afraid so.” Unlike her former landlord, Quilby showed absolutely no sympathy. There was even a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He was a big man, muscle beginning to turn to fat, and he could have been attractive if not for the constant sneer on his face. “The claim is registered to two people and now that Winthrop is dead…” He shrugged.

  “This is my claim, just as much as it was his,” she said fiercely.

  “It’s registered to you and your husband. That means there have to be two people living here in order to meet the homestead requirements. The claims inspector will be here at the end of the week. I suggest you start packing.”

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  “I hear you’re friends with Madam Cherry. Maybe she’ll give you a job.” He gave her a long, slow leer, licking his lips with a thick red tongue. “You’re kind of bony and old but I reckon those miners won’t mind. Hell, I might even take you for a spin myself.”

  “Get out,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “No need to be getting uppity about it.”

  “Get out,” she repeated, her hand going to the butt of her gun. She’d started wearing it the day Winthrop died.

  Quilby tried to shrug but he kept a watchful gaze on her hand as he donned his breathing mask and sleek, expensive thermal coat. The terraforming project had succeeded in eliminating the need for pressure suits, but the air was still cold and low in oxygen.

  “We’ll see how high and mighty you are in a month.” With that parting shot, he let himself out through the airlock, leaving Harriet to sink down on a bench and wonder how she had ended up back in exactly the same position she’d been in after her mother’s death.

  But she hadn’t made it through the past ten months by feeling sorry for herself. She gathered her thoughts and started putting together a plan. First of all, she needed to check the actual terms of the homestead contract. Winthrop had taken care of most of the arrangements, but she did remember that the claim was filed primarily in her name. He had insisted on an actual paper copy of the contract as well, although at the time she had wondered why.

  Digging through their small collection of paperwork, she pulled out the file.

  Plots 0001-1A and 0001-1B granted to Harriet Lewis and partner.

  Partner? She hadn’t remembered that wording. Winthrop had told her that putting the claim in her name was to protect her in case his family decided to contest the wi
ll he made leaving everything to her. It had been almost a month since he died, and she had yet to hear from his family. Not, of course, that they had ever had much use for her. They had made that abundantly clear during the short period of their married life that had been spent on Earth. A tall, skinny “commoner” was not their idea of the ideal mate for a Lewis.

  He had simply shrugged off their disapproval and done his best to make sure that she was not made uncomfortable in any way. She smiled reminiscently. He had been a good man and a decent husband. She only wished she’d had the time to develop warmer feelings for him than the polite friendship they had shared. But then again, he had always kept her at a distance. Even on the transport ship, after he had revealed his heart defect to her, he had rejected her sympathy.

  “I’m so sorry.” Despite her concern for him, part of her had still shuddered at the possibility of watching another long, slow decline.

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” he assured her.

  “How did you manage to get approved for the Mars mission?”

  He had given her his small smile. “Everything is possible if you have enough credits. And in this case, the company wants me on Mars.”

  “Why are they so anxious for you to go? Don’t they realize how dangerous it will be?”

  “Perhaps not. My doctor even speculated that the weaker gravity might be good for me. It will ease the strain.”

  She had noticed that he didn’t respond to her question about why GenCon wanted him on Mars, but she had let it drop. He might not have been willing to accept her sympathy, but he was forced to accept her help as they maneuvered through the intricacies of claiming their plots and setting up their homestead. Credits did indeed ease the way, but Mars was short of so many things that even an open pocketbook wasn’t enough to take care of everything. She had worked hard for this claim and, by God, she was going to keep it.

  As she read through the homestead contract, a spark of hope appeared. The “partner” mentioned in the paperwork was unnamed. Theoretically, it would be possible to have someone else step into place as her partner, although it would extend the time required for her to take ownership for at least another six months. She’d waited this long; she was willing to wait even longer if that was what it took to finally own a place where she could never be forced to leave.