The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg

by Honey Phillips

  “You’re very knowledgeable, my Hattie.”

  “I’ve been studying this since I knew we were coming.” She scanned the surrounding stalls. “But I’m really surprised at the variety. I know they provided the settlers with lots of options so we could see what would grow best but there are a lot more products than I expected. We should watch and see what sells the best.”

  The noise level increased as more people flooded in. She began to suspect that every settler from the homestead ship was present, but perhaps that made sense. This was probably the first break most of them had taken from their claims. Several of them eyed Morgan suspiciously but after he helped one man to unload sacks of soil and fixed a rocky cart for another, they began to relax. One of the bar owners dragged over a keg and began serving cups of beer.

  “I told you,” Morgan said in her ear. “Alcohol always sells.”

  She watched one man take a drink and grimace, but he still paid for a second cup. “Is it that bad?”

  “Yep. It’s reconstituted from freeze-dried beer and mixed with raw alcohol. Do you want to try it?”

  “Maybe. Just to see what the competition is like.”

  “The competition?”

  “You mentioned setting up a brewery.” She tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. “I wonder what it would take to make a decent tasting beer?”

  “Woman, you never cease to amaze me.”

  He took a step towards her just as a loud clang sounded. She looked over to see an older man knocking two pieces of steel together. He didn’t bear any outward signs of being a cyborg but judging from his size and the faded black uniform, he was one of the rangers. When he spoke, his low, rumbling voice conveyed an unmistakable authority.

  “Just a couple of things. In order to give everyone a chance to return to their claims in daylight, I’m closing you down at two o’clock—unless you sell out of everything before then.”

  “I hope so!” someone yelled, and a muttered laugh ran through the crowd.

  The man waited for silence. “I don’t want any trouble. You got an argument, you get one of my rangers to settle it.” His voice turned cold. “Or I’ll settle it and trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

  Hattie shivered and she noticed that most of the men around her looked nervous. She also realized a number of rangers were spread throughout the gathering.

  “I hereby declare this market open.”

  He banged the steel together again and someone let out a cheer.

  “Who’s that?” she whispered to Morgan.

  “S-756. He’s the Territory Judge—and my boss.”

  “He’s kind of… intimidating.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “How much for those mushrooms?” a voice interjected, and then there was no more time for talk.

  Jo and Clint appeared a few minutes later and Hattie made room for Jo’s small selection.

  “Are those herbs?” Hattie asked in delight.

  “Yes. We don’t have a lot of variety in our food yet, so I thought some flavorings would help. They grow fast and don’t take up a lot of space.”

  “I want one of all of them and I’m sure I’m not the only one. How much are you selling them for?”

  “Two credits a bundle? Do you think that’s too much?”

  “I think you should make it ten.”

  “Listen to her, Jo. She knows what she’s doing,” Morgan called from the front of the stall. He was handling the sales while she talked to Jo, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying it, although he grinned at her when the chicken manure was among the first to go.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes. And I’m still buying one of everything.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m happy to give them to you.”

  “Nonsense. You have to think like a businesswoman.” She grinned at her friend. “But I will take first pick.”

  Putting aside her selection, she helped Jo arrange the herbs. The traffic to their stall kept growing but with Jo to help, she released Morgan from his duties. He left Clint to watch over them while he made a circuit of the market.

  “How’s the competition?” she asked when he returned.

  “Surprising. Although there’s too much lettuce.”

  “I was afraid of that. It’s too easy to grow.”

  “You have the widest variety, but root vegetables are doing well, and you don’t have any of those.”

  “Maybe I should take part of the soil farm and plant some,” she said thoughtfully, and he laughed.

  “I thought you might like the idea. I bought a bushel of seed potatoes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wrapped circle. “And this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Try it.”

  She unwrapped it to reveal a flat brown crumbly object and after a suspicious glance at him, took a small bite. Sweetness exploded across her tongue. “It’s a cookie!”

  “An enterprising settler has figured out how to bake under these conditions. He said he had experience cooking at high altitude.”

  “This is amazing. Do you want some?”

  “No, you finish it. It’s the last one.”

  Popping the last sweet crumb into her mouth, she grinned up at him. “I wish him the best of luck.”

  “You don’t want to start a bakery now?” he teased.

  “Definitely not. I wasn’t any good at it on Earth and I have no desire to learn up here.” A thought struck her. “But I wonder what raw materials he’s using? Maybe we could work out a trade.”

  “That busy little mind never stops spinning, does it?”

  “I’m afraid not. I just want this so badly. I want the claim to succeed and turn a profit. I want us to have a home that no one will ever take away from us.”

  “Us?” he asked, studying her face, his own unreadable, and she flushed as she realized what she had said.

  “Yes. That is… I know I only asked for five years, but I want you to stay.”

  Her heart thudded against her ribs as she looked up at him. Before he could respond, Clint joined them.

  “Might be trouble,” he said quietly. “See that group of men over there?” He gestured towards a large crowd gathered around the beer keg. “The big ones in the coveralls look like the same ones that tried to start a riot the day the claims opened.”

  “Stay with the women,” Morgan ordered. “I’ll let the others know.”

  He gave her a quick kiss and disappeared before she could protest. She caught a glimpse of his hat moving through the crowd. Most of the goods had been sold—her own stall had nothing left—but the settlers still wandered around, talking and socializing. She watched anxiously as the crowd by the makeshift bar grew louder and more boisterous. Black shirts began to appear at the edge of the group but there were so few of them in comparison.

  “Maybe you should go join him, Clint,” she suggested, putting her hand on her gun. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Not gonna happen,” he said shortly, tucking Jo under his arm. “He’ll do his job better if he’s not distracted worrying about you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she protested.

  Jo laughed. “That’s what I always say but I don’t think he’s capable of hearing it.”

  A loud yell came from the crowd, then it suddenly exploded, fists flying everywhere. She winced in sympathy as she saw a man’s head snap back from a hard blow.

  “I don’t like this,” Clint muttered.

  Her head bobbed in emphatic agreement. “Me either.”

  “It’s not the fighting. Watch those men.”

  Two men in overalls had emerged from the edge of the crowd. They were pushing each other but didn’t seem to put any real force behind it until they reached an abandoned stall. The first man aimed a kick at the second, but he ducked out of the way so that the kick hit the stall straight on. The side of the stall rocked, and the man followed it with another kick. A second later, the small building bega
n to fall.

  “He did that on purpose!” she gasped.

  “He did. They’re trying to destroy the market,” Clint said grimly.

  Even as he spoke, the second man stomped on the wreckage, sending vegetables flying. Clint whistled for backup but the other rangers were too busy subduing the original fight. More men came to join the first two.

  Clint looked from them to the two women, clearly torn. “I know I promised to stay with you, but I have to put a stop to this. You two stay right here. Duck down behind the counter. I’ll try and keep watch but if any of them come near you, shoot.”

  “I will,” she said firmly, despite the nerves crawling up her stomach. She was a good shot, but targets were quite different than people.

  He looked down at Jo and cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry, Josephine.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just stop them,” she urged.

  With a quick kiss, he took off across the market with startling speed. He whistled again as he ran, and she saw Morgan emerge from the fighting crowd. His hat was askew and there was blood on his knuckles, but he grinned fiercely as he ran to Clint’s side. The two of them laid into the gang of men who had now stopped all pretense of fighting and were systematically working at destroying the market. Bodies went flying with astonishing ease.

  “That’s amazing,” she whispered to Jo from their position crouched behind the stall.

  “I know. He did the same thing when we met. I’m so used to being with him that it’s easy to forget just how powerful he is.”

  Jo’s words raised an unpleasant memory. “Quilby said that they were all killers.”

  “I don’t believe it. I’ve never seen Clint harm anyone—who didn’t deserve it, that is.”

  Two of the men broke off from the rest and headed for their position. Her stomach rolled again. “They’re coming this way.”

  “I know.” Jo’s voice shook, but she stood up next to her. Both women drew their guns but before the men reached them, a cyborg raced past, moving so quickly he was almost a blur. He grabbed the men’s heads and slammed them together with a sickening sound, then let them fall carelessly to the ground. When he turned to face them, she realized it was the older male who had opened the market.

  “You all right?” he asked gruffly.

  “We’re fine. Thank—”

  Before she could finish, he was moving over to assist Clint and Morgan. They had eliminated most of the vandals, but Morgan looked up as the older male approached, his eyes immediately searching for Hattie. She lifted a hand to give him a reassuring wave but as she did, one last combatant staggered out of a partially destroyed stall and swung a steel pole at Morgan’s head. The crack echoed across the open ground and Morgan dropped like a stone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  M-231 swam back to consciousness slowly, the smell of blood and produce filling his nostrils. For a long horrible moment, he was back in the alley.

  “No, don’t take me!” he cried, flinging his arm wide.

  But he didn’t hit an armored soldier. Instead, he connected with a soft body and heard a small feminine grunt. His memories came rushing back and he tried to sit up.

  “Hattie!”

  Hard hands held him down. “She’s right here. She was just fine until you got hold of her.”

  He turned his head frantically, searching for her. She was on her knees a few feet away, clutching her stomach, but she managed a weak smile.

  “Oh, God… I’m so sorry, Hattie.”

  “Accident,” she gasped, her voice shaky. Jo knelt next to her, with Clint looming over both women.

  “You should know better, boy.” S-756 glared down at him. “You in control now?”

  He ran a quick system check. His nanites were repairing the damage to his skull and the rest of his system was recovering. “I’m fine. Is the fight over?”

  “Yep.” S-756 scowled at the surrounding mayhem. “I’m putting most of these bastards in jail. Think I’m too stupid to recognize a put-up job, do they?”

  “What?” Maybe he wasn’t recovering as well as he thought.

  “That’s why I whistled for you,” Clint said. “They weren’t fighting; they were destroying the stalls. My bet is that they wanted to prevent another market day.”

  “Fucking GenCon,” a new voice interrupted.

  He looked up to see Madam Cherry, fully decked out. Her silky green dress had a high neck and long sleeves, but it clung to every inch of her curves. Her hair was piled in an elaborate arrangement on top of her head, her eyes were lined with black, and her lips gleamed bright red. It was hard to reconcile her with the woman he met previously.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” She knelt down next to Hattie, her dress stretching perilously, but he was more worried about his woman. Hattie still looked pale and shaken but she managed to nod.

  “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

  He shook off the last of his stupor and went to assist her. His chest ached when she visibly hesitated before putting her hand in his and letting him lift her to her feet. Fuck. What had he done?

  Her knees wobbled but she let him hold her up as she looked around. “What a mess. Do you think this will be the end of the market?”

  “Not at all,” Madam Cherry said reassuringly. “I think it was a great success and by the time the next one rolls around, everyone will be bragging about how well they fought. Even if all they did was hide behind a stall.”

  “And I intend to make it quite clear that I will not put up with this type of nonsense,” S-756 growled.

  “That’s a relief anyway.” Hattie swayed and he couldn’t restrain himself, lifting her into his arms.

  He felt her flinch away from him, but he ignored it. “Maybe we should see the doctor before we go.”

  “No!” she cried. “I hate doctors. Just take me ho—back to the claim.”

  “Go on, boy. I’ll clean up here. Fucking worthless humans. Err, present company excepted.”

  “Thank you,” Hattie said softly. “I appreciate you stopping those men. I really didn’t want to shoot anyone.”

  Someone had tried to attack her, and he hadn’t been there to prevent it? His list of failures continued to grow. What a fool he had been to think they had a future together. No doubt she was already deciding how to retract her offer to let him stay with her.

  “I can stay and help,” Clint offered.

  Jo poked him. “As long as we’re home in time to do the chores.”

  He grinned at her. “Sorry, I haven’t quite adapted to being a homesteader yet.”

  S-756 snorted. “Hope you’re a better homesteader than you are a ranger. Gallivanting off to play with plants when you should be patrolling.”

  “I haven’t neglected my duties.” Clint scowled at him.

  “You’re doing all right, I reckon, but your heart isn’t in it anymore. Either of you.” With a final glare, S-756 stalked off.

  “What a charming man,” Madam Cherry said dryly.

  “I heard he had a difficult past,” M-231 felt compelled to add.

  “Haven’t we all?” she muttered, then turned and smiled at them. “Ranger, take that poor child home before she faints. Josephine, would you like to have tea with me while your man does ranger things?”

  “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

  “Don’t worry, Ranger,” Madam Cherry told Clint, pointing to a huge man standing silently behind her. “Bull may not be a ranger, but he is quite capable of watching over us until you come get her.”

  The small group dispersed and M-231 carried a curiously silent Hattie back to their wagon. Fortunately, he had already packed up most of the items for which they had traded before the fight started.

  “Are you all right? Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

  “No. I just want to go back to the claim,” she said quietly before she turned to stare out the window.

  As Morgan drove the wagon home with silent efficiency, Hattie stared out across the Martian l
andscape and tried to sort out her feelings. The day had been so pleasant before the fight, and even when those men had headed for them, she barely had time to get scared before the big cyborg had knocked them out. But when Morgan went down, her world had shattered. She’d thought she lost him. Another person she cared about taken from her. More than cared about, she’d realized when he collapsed. She loved him. But the knowledge didn’t bring her joy, just an aching uncertainty.

  What if she lost him too? Even though he had recovered quickly, she would never forget the sight of him sprawled on the ground, blood forming a pool beneath his head. And the agonizing wait for him to open his eyes.

  She rubbed her stomach absently. She had thought that his cyborg strength would protect him, protect her from the pain of losing him, but nothing could prevent the inevitable.

  “I’m very sorry, Hattie.”

  She looked over to find him watching her touch her stomach, his eyes tortured. She could sense the distance between them and for a cowardly moment, she wanted to let him believe that she was afraid of him, to let their relationship drift apart due to his guilt. But she couldn’t do that to him.

  “I know it was an accident. And really, it doesn’t hurt. Just aches a little. I’ll soak in the tub for a while when I get home.”

  She didn’t ask him to join her and he didn’t offer. Her heart ached, but she couldn’t bring herself to close the gap between them. Maybe it would be better for both of them to let it grow.

  They completed the rest of the trip in silence. When they arrived back at the habitat, he lifted her down and carried her into the garden room and removed the lid of the tub.

  “Do you need help undressing?” he asked stiffly.

  Yes.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  He whirled and left the room without another word. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she painfully undressed and slid into the warm water.

  Even though she tried to tell herself it was for the best, even though she tried to wall up her heart, when she emerged into the main dome and found that Morgan wasn’t present, tears threatened once more. Resolutely, she pushed them back. The cowardly part of her wanted to simply retreat to her bed and hide. She had a strong suspicion that even though they’d shared the bed every night since the first time, Morgan wouldn’t join her tonight if she didn’t invite him. Would she? Her heart and her head were still in conflict as she went to get dressed.