by Rena Marks
“I love you, Protected,” Orion said, his voice thick as he fought against tears.
That was what Arian had accomplished. She alone had managed to raise two experimental beings with unknown emotions and taught them love.
“I love you so much, Orion! I’m sorry I flinched when I saw you,” Shala sobbed, her flood of emotion escaping.
“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay. Though I’d much rather you flinched at Tian’s ugly mug, I’ll admit.”
Shala giggled, her tears clearing. “You know you’re much better looking than Tian.”
He waggled his brows, after pulling away to wipe her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Shala! Do you tell him he’s the much better looking Zetan when I’m not around?”
Shala’s cheeks pinked.
Orion laughed heartily. “You do! That fool eats it up, you know he does.” But his voice belied the emotion he had for his brother. The two were closer than Serepto could imagine. Perhaps even closer than he and Jax were.
The rest of the table went back to talking softly amongst themselves. Serepto felt like an eavesdropper, watching the interaction between Shala and Orion.
She remembered everyone but him.
“Let me sit back before this big guy suddenly chokes me,” Orion said with a wink. It wasn’t his nature to be as teasing as Tian was, but for Shala, he accomplished it. He knew exactly how to ease her mind.
Serepto never felt like more of a big, inconsequential brute than at that moment.
Stop being a puppy. Jax’s voice cut into his thoughts as easily as his own.
Stop eavesdropping.
Stop projecting. Jax gave a huge mental sigh. You’re not worthless, Serepto. You were never worthless, not in the Sirian Galaxy and not here. You love Shala, and she loves you. Just because her mind is damaged enough to forget that love does not mean she doesn’t love you for who you are.
Perhaps she didn’t really love me. Perhaps I forced my love on her.
No, you did not. Shala loved you for you. That tiny slip of a thing protected you whenever you weren’t around. You just keep doing whatever it is you do, just being you, and she will find the love buried inside her mind. Trust me.
Thank you, brother.
There was no need for response as Jax shut down.
“There is more to the story still,” Serepto said softly, looking down at Shala. “The mixed breed who bought her wasn’t a stranger.” He paused, allowing her to decide if she wanted the story revealed. She nodded at him, allowing him to continue. “He was one of her offspring.”
The table went silent.
“What did he want with you?” Orion’s voice was deceptively mild, but Serepto could hear the undercurrent beneath it. The thread of anger. If nothing else, he was sure that Orion would always protect Shala the same way he would.
“He had some twisted plan to reuse our genes together to create even stronger offspring.” Her voice was neutral—which belied her horror.
“He planned to breed with you? I’ll kill him,” Orion said.
“Too late,” Shala said, turning her head to Serepto. “You would have done that, wouldn’t you? You didn’t leave him to die. You would have made sure of it.”
Serepto nodded, just once. “I made sure.”
“Something doesn’t add up,” Arian said. “It was almost too easy of an interception. First they target us, focusing on Shala especially.”
“I don’t think they knew who they targeted at first. I think they were guessing when they saw the shields drop and a chance to beam the wristwatch on board. They chose one of the images of our people descending from the ship, and happened to use Serepto’s picture to attach to the watch. Shala then assumed she was communicating with him,” Dieroc said.
“So it was all guesswork? Things could have gone so much differently if they’d chosen Jax—or even my image. Why couldn’t it have been me?” Arian said.
“Mother. Your image may have caused them to attack once they realized who you were,” Orion snarled.
Jax tilted his head. “We’re thinking with emotions here. Looking at the situation without, they didn’t use Arian’s image because her face was hooded as she headed down the ramp, as it always is.”
Both Arian and Orion calmed somewhat.
“Once the Zetans on the other side of the communication device scored by using Serepto’s image to trick Shala, they realized who she was. She may have used her name at that point, or put the watch on and it scanned her, using facial recognition software. At that point, they knew who she was and that she would follow orders barked in urgency,” Dieroc continued. “I cannot logically figure out what they were trying to prove by killing her in the emergency shuttle, however.”
“I don’t think they were trying to do that,” Orion said. “The pod was in the wrong spot. I’d seen it there earlier and meant to move it. There should have been a direct line from the wall’s cutting device to the wall itself, but somehow the pod blocked the path. I think the Zetans were just as panicked, thinking they were about to lose Shala. But Serepto stepped in, and as the pain tore into him from the cutting device, used a rush of adrenaline to push Shala’s shuttle through the wall, releasing it into space. She should have been safe, if not for leaving our shields and their new beams being able to transport organic matter.”
“That explains the bruising we found between his shoulder blades,” Echo said. “He expended a tremendous amount of power used to push her safely through the wall and away from the saw.”
“I knew the metal shouldn’t have been able to get through my skeletal frame,” Serepto said. “But I had to be sure. Shala is fragile.”
“Don’t ever risk your life again,” she snapped. “Not even for me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “My body is stronger than yours. I am not dead right now. But you surely would be.”
She stayed stiff on his lap and he brought her toward him, forcing her to cuddle. “Don’t be angry, Shala. It all worked out. We’re both safe now.”
That was what she needed. The reassurance that they were both safe. She relaxed, and sighed deeply, her head fitting in the crook of his neck the way it used to.
Rush cleared his throat. “And again, back to the conversation,”—a few of the AI’s smiled—“Blade and I think our attack on Zeta was a surprise because they’d focused security in another area. They were never expecting we’d go after Shala, a mere slave in their eyes. Which means they have someone else more important. Someone they believe is all that more powerful that they were watching.”
“Who?” Orion said.
“Our third Cyborg. Ghost.”
“Hot damn,” Echo said. “They’d already obtained Ghost from the trading post.”
“We can hit again. They’ll never suspect another attack so soon,” Arian said softly. “Especially because they’re so arrogant, they’re at a loss to explain how we were in and out. Their egos will never admit that Orion may have been smart enough to hack into their newly developed beaming waves.”
“How soon can you protect us from those new beams?” Jax turned to Orion.
“Sooner than you realize. Instead of wasting time focusing on a cloak from their already superior shields, I can adjust our frequencies to disguise us. I just need sample DNA from everyone on board. A couple twists, and their beams won’t see us, even when they try to direct them on us. They’ll be aware that we’re present somewhere on the planet, but they’ll be frustrated and distracted as to why their sensors, including planetary cameras, can’t get a connection. In order to fight us, they’ll have to return to the old ways. Seeking us out in the street for hand-to-hand combat.”
“You have guns on your planet,” Blade said. “One blast is all it takes.”
“Zetans rely on complete technology. They realized their failures and have tried to go back to basics, hence the breeding of old-fashioned emotion into their race. But they always realize things too late. While they do have guns, they’re voice activated and work b
y never failing to miss a target. In order to do that, the Zetan orders a command and shoots. Technology has taken the aim out of the equation. The laser finds the target and destroys, depending on the strength of the gun setting. However, we’re scrambling our DNA codes. The aimless guns are shooting at mirrors, so to speak.”
Blade smiled. “And the Zetans are clueless about how to aim. They have no knowledge of compensation for discharge kickback.”
“Exactly. That’s not to say they can’t kill you at close range. But that’s assuming they realize the guns aren’t broken after they shoot from a distance and can’t get a connection.”
“I do think they’ll be confused enough to assume all technology is faulty,” Arian said.
“I propose Orion beams instead of Arian,” Echo said. “Her face is too well known on Zeta, whereas he can blend as one of the halflings.”
Arian opened her mouth to protest. Orion turned in his seat to face her. “Arian, I am much stronger than you.”
“And I am more experienced than you.”
“Shala needs you here,” he countered.
Arian’s jaw fell.
“Score,” Shala whispered to him.
He gave her a small wink.
“Such a naughty child,” Shala said.
Orion easily slipped his hand into hers. Serepto stiffened. He had that with Shala, once. Now everyone had that relationship with her but him.
But Orion sensed his unease with the situation. Soon he kissed the top of Shala’s head, and rose to leave, announcing that he needed to prepare a private channel for Tian to connect through Tess. One that would be undetectable from the planet.
Everyone else began to discuss plans for the takeover. Serepto watched as Shala studied the people around her. Every mannerism, every detail, she committed to memory. Or perhaps she checked her memories for flaws, for clues that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her.
“This is real,” he whispered.
She looked surprised. “How did—“
He shrugged. “It’s what I would wonder. I imagine it’ll just take you some time to get used to it all.”
“How much time did it take you to get used to being embodied?”
“It came on gradually. At first our new emotions felt foreign, as if they weren’t really ours. Then we gradually accepted them and became less aware of when a feeling or mood descended. Eventually we barely noticed when a new one came on. But the difference was, we had each other. We could turn inside and ask each other who felt weird compared to before. A few people were able to remember that this was exactly the same way we’d felt when we’d been created on Sirius B. It was easier to know that. You don’t have anyone going through this with you. There’s no one to tell you if this is normal, or if that is okay. I’m here to do that. No matter what, you’ll be fine.”
“You’re lucky you have your brothers.”
“That is the easiest description for you to understand. But it is much more than that. We are a collective. Our thoughts are one and all. Now that we have bodies, we become a separate consciousness. So yes, we refer to each other as brothers.”
“It is scary to be the only one at the mercy of my own mind.”
“You’ll grow used to it. It won’t matter as much in a few days, or a week. One month from now.”
She turned to look straight at him. “So you mean I’ll get used to having a major piece of my memory gone?”
He didn’t want to lie to her. “I hope not. There are some good times between us that I’d like you to recall. But if you’re forced to get used to the lack of recollection, I hope to make your new memories just as good.” He leaned in to whisper intently. “You are my life, Shala. And I was once yours, though probably not as much. I will be here for you no matter what. Even if your depth of feeling for me does not return.”
It tore his heart out to think about. But it had to be said. He couldn’t have her feeling pressured to love…him. He understood Arian’s draw to Jax. Women were always drawn to Jax. But with him it was different. A part of Serepto recognized that he was still the beast from Sirius B. He may have had a new chance at life with a new body, but the beast would always remain.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I—I don’t really know you. I’m trying, but it’s a blank slate. Just when I think I know how you’ll respond, I get surprised. Sometimes I feel as if I try too hard.”
“Then stop trying.” He smiled, and tried not to let it show that it pained him. “Just let things come naturally.
The maneuver worked and she smiled more easily. It warmed his heart. Her happiness should always come before his.
Chapter Eight
Blade approached Serepto, the enormous man who’d told her he was her mate. He murmured something about needing to check the progress on his legs. Shala felt his glance on her, but Blade shook his head, as if indicating he should leave her.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she remember him? He was glorious to look at. Smooth, tanned skin stretched tight over massive muscles. He was built like a tank, solid and thick. His black hair was shoulder length, wild and free. Much like him. He looked more primitive warrior, borne for a loincloth and sword. Not even the fact that his legs were a slightly different color than the rest of his body deterred from his gorgeousness.
But why couldn’t she remember him? Remember them?
Across from her, Rush sat, green eyes impassive over the numbers imprinted on his left cheek, watching the emotions play across her face. She pinked slightly.
“Shala, I will be back for you. Blade just wants to go over some things with me,” Serepto said, depositing a kiss on her temple.
She nodded, but felt like he was disappointed. As if she should say something, or do something, but she didn’t know what.
After he and Blade left, she broke the silence with Rush.
“Why aren’t you going with them?”
A slow smile spread across his face. He was a handsome man, with his white-blond hair and dark eyes. A dimple cut into the side of his cheek. “They don’t need me. Blade is a surgical Cyborg. That’s why we call him Blade. Besides, I did my part. Those are my legs your guy is wearing.”
She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. “Yours?”
“Technically. They were my legs that were removed and replicated, then reattached.”
“Were you scared?” she asked.
He leaned in. “I’m a big, tough Cyborg, little Terran. Rephrase that.”
She leaned forward, too. “Were you nervous?”
At this, he nodded. “I was. There’s always a possibility that the organic side of the body fails. That the tissues won’t reattach to the cybernetics.”
“Why did you do it?”
“It needed to be done. Cyborgs have a treaty with your people. Without the rescue of ones on this ship, we would be on Zeta right now, captured slaves. Probably disassembled.” He shrugged with one shoulder, uncaring.
“Did it hurt?”
He blinked. “Removing my legs?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, just once.
“Do you remember being created? Was there pain?” She knew pain. No one knew how she understood. They protected her now, pampered her. But they didn’t understand how much she feared it.
He leaned in. “Do you know how the first models were created?” At the shake of her head, he continued. “Each of us enters this lifetime through the miracle of birth—conceived by humans, pushed into the world through the body of our mother. At least, that was how it was back then. The way it was supposed to be. Somewhere, way in the future, we lost that concept.
“We were just humanoid men, experimented on, sliced and diced. Most everyone lost their lives until something clicked and they got it right. Somehow, instead of dying when limbs were amputated and Cyborg pieces were attached…they took. And it got worse and worse. After hands, arms, legs, and feet were successful, the focus turned to the eyes. To the brain. Eventually, it became easier on us as new bein
gs were created in a laboratory—grown in tanks—instead of being chopped up humans. Those beginning pioneers had a much harder time.” He picked up her hand, tracing a small scar left from the recent kidnapping. “It’s the mind. No one has ever been able to re-create a brain. We can implant chips and computer processors to coexist alongside a brain. We can alter a brain. But we can’t re-create it. There are things we don’t understand, and probably never will.”
He was talking about her. Her memory loss.
“But what I also know is humanoids are among the most adaptable of creatures. We’re admired among other races, you know. For a simple-minded race, we’re envied for our broad range of emotion. Envied because of how much we’ve accomplished in our short, non-important lives. It was us, magnificent fools, who created cyborgs. We chopped up our own people to create a completely different race. It was a horror that worked.” He shrugged. “I’m proud of being from human. It means the possibilities of adaptation are endless. We’re like mosquitoes. Never really extinct.”
“We don’t always want to adapt,” she whispered.
“No. But when we do, we’re stronger than we realize.”
“I don’t think I’m strong.”
His bark of abrupt laughter was loud. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve spent two dozen years on a slave planet. You’re still sane.”
She cocked her head. “I can’t remember my mate.”
He peered into her eyes. “We’re adaptable. It’ll come to you, just give it time.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“You’ll get to know him all over again. Encourage him to tell you things about his life. He knows all about you, but it’s time to learn about him.” That was what she’d been missing. Instead of simply creating new memories, she needed to get to know Serepto.
“How did you get to be so wise?”
He tapped his temple. “Computer processor.”
Something about being grown in a tank, and “born” at full maturity made her realize something. “You’ve never been a child.”
