The Cyborg Tinkerer

by Meg LaTorre

  She looked at all of them. Despite the guilt marring their features, there was also determination. It was in the straightening of their shoulders, the clenching of fists. They were angry. More than that, they were ready to fight to live.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “You guys aren’t going to be the ones to mess with the props. I am.”

  Surprise streaked across everyone’s faces.

  “Ideally, I’ll fuck with all of the props during the opening group number,” she continued. “If anything goes wrong, I want you guys to keep Abrecan and the others occupied.”

  Bastian’s eyes widened, and she thought she saw him shaking his head.

  As they discussed the plans late into the night, eventually relocating to another room, she couldn’t help but notice the strange way Bastian looked at her. Rather than seeing pride on his face for her doing everything she could to save these performers—the very people he had shown her were worth fighting for when he prevented her from boarding the flesh trader vessel—the look on his face said one thing.

  He didn’t think they’d win.

  Chapter 28

  Gwen leaned on the ship’s railing, watching the stars soar by as they traveled along the powerful current of the solar wind.

  It was strange not to be running back and forth in the engine room, making sure everything hadn’t combusted during flight, as she once had on the Crusty Tulip and countless ships before. She’d never really had a chance to simply sit and watch the passing stars and planets beyond the gravity and oxygen fields.

  The main deck of Obedient, which was partially open to space, was filled with noises of the crew at work as they patched up parts of the sails or tended to the rigging. All of the performers had been permitted above deck after takeoff, and most milled about and studied the skies.

  To anyone on nearby planets, their ship would look like a shooting star.

  Footsteps sounded behind Gwen, and she turned.

  Rora walked past on the opposite side of the open deck, taking a seat atop a barrel. Alone.

  The sympathetic part of Gwen wanted to go over and talk to her, but the more prominent part wanted to kick the acrobat in the shins. She had betrayed her and used her to get a new implant. Ultimately, she had chosen herself—her career aspirations—over Gwen. It stung like a thousand meteor shards breaking through the gravity field and pelting her skin.

  She had had a few fucking good cries in the past few days.

  As to Rora’s accusation, it was true Gwen had started to spend more time with Bastian, but it had been out of necessity at first—to go to the library and intervene in the second competition. But now… Well, after he risked his life to rescue her from the flesh traders, she’d discovered what a loyal person he was. She saw the man behind the beastly demeanor more and more every day.

  As though her thoughts had summoned him, Bastian appeared from the captain’s quarters along with several members of the show management team—or what should be the captain’s quarters and were instead the Mistress’s suite. The show management team saw themselves out before closing the door and dispersing across the ship, most going below deck.

  When Bastian saw her, his gaunt face lit up with what she could only describe as sheer joy. He strode over to her, leaning on the railing beside her.

  “Any news?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “The usual departing procedures and cautionary steps upon arrival. Nothing I hadn’t expected.”

  They watched the passing stars in silence for a time.

  “Are you sure about this plan?” he said, eyes still on the wonders of the Crescent Star System. “After what happened with Rora, I think it might be too risky. Abrecan and the others will be ready for us. Destroying one prop versus another or changing the timing isn’t going to make that much of a difference. Besides, what if he tells the Mistress?”

  She nearly rolled her eyes. This had to have been the thousandth time he’d asked since they’d reformed their plan. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m positive. This is going to work.” Holding up her fingers, she ticked off each in turn. “I’ll crack the supporting beams on Abrecan’s target, run a rough sander over Thaniel’s wooden juggling pins… I’ll do it during the first group number while Abrecan and the others are on stage. They won’t even see me coming. Piece of cake.”

  “We need you as the cyborg tinkerer,” he persisted, and she could feel him turning toward her. “The discovery you made the other day has so many implications. We need to dig into that further and see what it has to do with the Forgetting. And we can’t do that if you get caught.”

  And brought in for implant extraction, he didn’t need to voice.

  “Trust me. This will give the others the edge they need. Besides, Abrecan tried to fuck with me, so it’s past time someone fucked with him.”

  Frowning, Bastian turned fully toward her, no longer pretending to watch the passing celestial orbs. “I do trust you—perhaps more than I should—but I think you’re letting your feelings over what happened with Rora cloud your judgment.”

  She stiffened. “This has nothing to do with her.”

  “Doesn’t it? You want to prove her wrong. To show that her betrayal was all for nothing. That she should have picked you. Am I wrong?”

  “There’s nothing between Rora and I anymore.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  Slowly, she ran a hand over her face.

  She had mixed feelings where Rora was concerned. The woman was selfish and ruthless and had proven as much. If she continued down this path, she’d have only her trophies to keep her warm.

  The truth of it was, even as she was falling for Rora, Bastian had come along. She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned it, yet he’d somehow found his way into her heart. The instinct to protect him had overwhelmed her at the docks, and she realized she couldn’t leave him behind.

  From where he stood beside her, heat radiated off him. She saw past the hollowed cheeks to the kind eyes that always found hers.

  “You know I can’t sit idle and wait with my butcher’s knife on the sidelines anymore,” she said at last. “I want to help, and I think I can do that.”

  She turned back toward the stars, and some time passed before Bastian spoke again.

  “Thank you.”

  Brows drawing together, she turned to him. “For what?”

  “For reminding me why I wanted to be in a place of power,” he said, his voice soft as he studied the sky.

  “And why is that?”

  “To protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

  She blinked, wondering at the weight behind those words.

  Abruptly, he turned to her. Hesitating, he spared a glance for the crew mulling about the deck before his gaze settled back on her. Unlike his powerful strides in the theater, when he closed the distance between them, his steps toward her were cautious. Quite different from the confident ringleader she’d come to know.

  Suddenly, he was before her, a mere breath away. Their eyes locked. In those brown irises, hope and fear warred for dominance. Above them both, there was a flicker of admiration.

  For a moment, it felt as though he stared right through her, down to the core of who she was. Past the girl who’d crumpled in the operating room or fled to the docks in search of a ship, and right to the woman who stood before him—doing everything in her power to help the people she cared about.

  The woman who would no longer run away from something, but toward it.

  Slowly, he raised a hand, cupping her cheek. Calloused palms scratched her skin. The way he touched her… it was as though he held the single red rose in the palace’s garden between his fingers.

  “What are you doing?” Even to her ears, her voice was breathless.

  If she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t stopped thinking about how he’d touched her in the inn, how she’d been moved by instinct to protect him when he’d been shot, and how he’d kissed her outside his room to protect
her from the Mistress.

  She realized then she wanted him to be happy, to learn to see himself the way she did—as a strong, capable man.

  Unbidden, her thoughts slid to Rora and all she’d done to save the woman she’d grown to love so quickly. The woman who’d betrayed her. The woman her heart still longed for.

  Damn her. She cared for them both.

  A question budded in Bastian’s eyes.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask.” As he spoke, his eyes swept over her face, taking in her every feature. “I hope you know this has nothing to do with Rora. The timing isn’t ideal, but… after what happened the other day on the docks, I realized certain things cannot wait. Our lives are at risk every day, and…” He trailed off.

  Looking up at him, she leaned into his touch. “Why, Mr. Kabir. Am I making you nervous?”

  “Of course, you are.” He sounded exasperated. “You’re brazen, infuriating, more stubborn than a bull, and always mildly offensive when you speak.”

  “You sure know how to make a girl want to spread her legs.”

  “But you’re loyal and thoughtful and kind, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the day we went to the library.” He sighed. “And please… call me Bastian.”

  “Good. I was only going to call you Mr. Kabir when you were being irritating anyway.” She smiled. “What’s your question?”

  “Can I kiss you?” When he spoke, his voice cracked. It was the sound of a broken man who dared to hope—who dared to let himself want.

  Her eyes, both flesh and machine, flickered back and forth between his dark, satin ones. “You know you sound like a character from one of your romance novels, don’t you?”

  His face brightened. “You’ve read them, then? The skeptic has been converted.”

  “I had to see what this obsession was all about.”

  She’d read four of them, in fact. They were a delightful mix of smut and humor—humor at the sheer idiocy of some of the characters. But she’d been curious about the man behind the beast. Quite a lot could be learned from knowing what a person liked to read.

  She had discovered what a kind, sensitive person Bastian Kabir could be.

  Despite all the darkness they had shared in the operating room, they had come out stronger. She’d thought she’d break, and she might still. But he’d shown her she had things to fight for. He had been her shining light in that darkness, her compass, and she realized she very much wanted to hold on to that light and never let it go.

  Smiling, she nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

  Beaming, he leaned in. Neither of them could stop smiling as their lips met. He tasted of peppermint, and she breathed in his smells of sage, shoe polish, and sweat. His lips were soft, and his thin body warm. For several long moments, she forgot everything but the feel of his arms around her as his lips melded into hers.

  All too soon, he broke the kiss, pulling back.

  “Nice of you to ask me this time,” she said, thinking of their first kiss outside his room.

  He snorted. “I didn’t think you would say yes.”

  “Is that reason not to ask?”

  “Of course not. The first time… well, that was a necessary precaution.”

  “Which failed spectacularly.”

  A knowing smile brightened his face. “Or did it? We may not have fooled the watchmen or the Mistress, but it gave me an excuse to kiss you.”

  She shoved him playfully before grabbing his jacket and pulling him in to kiss her again.

  Even with the sadness weighing on her heart over how things had ended with Rora, she couldn’t stop the hope fluttering inside her stomach along with some very agile butterflies.

  “Stars,” he gasped. “I forgot how wonderful that felt.”

  She frowned. “When was the last time you kissed a woman… or a man?”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “For the record, I’m only attracted to women. As for how long it’s been…? Ten years. I haven’t been with anyone since I was betrayed by my family and fiancée and then recruited for the circus. I haven’t wanted to. That is, until you.”

  Biting her lip, she looked away, trying to disguise the blush creeping up her cheeks. Then she cleared her throat, gathering the courage to ask an uncomfortable question, one she knew he didn’t want to answer. But if anything was going to happen between them, she had to know more about the man who didn’t want his memories back—and why.

  “What was your family like?”

  Slowly, he pulled away from their embrace and leaned on the railing. “They weren’t good people. My family is from Harvest, a planet in the Smoke Ring Solar System, where they ruled over the city of Rift and lived like celestial gods. There is royalty, but the biggest currency is power. And in Rift, power can only be gained through alliances and trade.”

  Stars. He really could remember more of his past than most. She couldn’t recall the name of the planet her family was from, let alone any details about them. How had his memories remained this intact?

  “You told me you had been sentenced to death by hanging,” she began. “That your family forced you to work in their illegal business to get the money you needed for a medical procedure. What was that illegal business?”

  “Gwendolyn—”

  Suddenly, it clicked.

  “The captain of the flesh trader vessel… she recognized you.” The words spilled from her mouth. “What was the illegal operation you were involved in? Were you a flesh trader?”

  He stiffened, not turning to look at her. For what felt like an eternity, he studied the stars before eventually shaking his head.

  “No, I was a smuggler. I smuggled weapons—swords, pistols, explosive arrows, guns, cannons—and sold them to the highest bidder. My family kept quite a few of the weapons for themselves, but most of what I smuggled between planets or cities was sold to drug lords, paid assassins, mercenaries, gang leaders, underground rebels, terrorists… People who would eventually harm others.

  “I questioned my family’s smuggling business, but I never did anything to stop it. In fact, I sold more weapons in the auctions when I was desperate for the procedure. I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. I… I don’t want to remember the horrors I committed.”

  Bastian was a smuggler.

  The realization should have horrified her. Instead, she was numb, unable to do anything but stare in shock at the passing stars, listening as the sounds of the crew faded to silence.

  Not now. Not him, too.

  The thought of Bastian lying to her—hiding things about his past—so soon after Rora’s betrayal had her head swimming so fast, she thought she’d be sick.

  “I-I have to go.”

  “Gwendolyn, please—” He started to reach for her but stopped himself.

  “I need some time to process all of this.”

  Hurt flashed across his eyes, but he didn’t say another word.

  She fled to her quarters below deck.

  Unlike most of the performers, she was given a private room.

  It was far more spacious accommodations than her quarters on the Crusty Tulip and every other vessel she’d worked on as a ship tinkerer. Cirque du Borge’s ship, Obedient, was also far larger. Still, there was only enough room for her bed, a mirror, and a table with a washing basin.

  Closing the door, she sank onto her bed. Leaning forward with elbows on her knees, she ran a hand over her face.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 29

  Somewhere above them, a crowd roared. The thunder of voices was punctuated by the sound of gunfire.

  Gwen peered around the frayed black-and-white curtain at the base of the underground ramp leading up to the stage. “Goody. A friendly audience.”

  The circus had set up portable stages and props in an archaic outdoor amphitheater on Jinx. It was similar to what Gwen had seen on Anchorage but without the signature white-and-silver-striped tent. Pirates, thieves, and lowlifes firing off guns into t
he air—and at each other—filled hundreds of crumbling stone benches that surrounded the round stage.

  “This is a fucking shitshow.” Her tits were sweating so badly that her shirt was damp.

  Beside her, Marzanna and Akio peered past the curtain and up the ramp.

  Any minute now, the performers were going to run onto the centermost stage for the group number… and Gwen was going to fuck with some props. Hopefully without drawing the attention of the show management team, watchmen, or performers.

  “It’s a miracle they didn’t shoot our ship down.” Marzanna’s voice lacked its usual confidence as she stared up at the group of pirates drunk on power as much as the finer spirits.

  “Or loot it after we docked,” Gwen muttered.

  Marzanna sniffed. “They might still if they haven’t already.”

  Upon arrival, it had been announced that all the citizens of Jinx were invited to come, watch the show, and there was no need to withhold themselves from anything—violence included.

  An arm bumped into Gwen as another performer pressed in beside her. Dozens of performers huddled together, trying to peer up at the amphitheater above.

  According to the Mistress’s earlier instructions, after they’d arrived at the amphitheater and were ushered below ground, all of the performers were to remain in the rooms below ground before and between acts. After the group number in the beginning, each act would perform once, and then everyone would return to the stage for the finale. After which time, the audience would decide which acts they’d enjoyed the best.

  Meaning, the acts they don’t shoot.

  Pushing her way through the crowd of performers lingering at the frayed black-and-white curtain, Gwen made her way to the back of the room.

  Nestled beneath the amphitheater, the room felt more like a cave with its walls hollowed into the ground. Eventually, she found herself an open space and tried to relax. She’d need to be calm and collected for what she was about to do. But she was as tight as a bowstring.

  At least she was ready. She had her tools slung casually in her tinkerer’s belt at her waist, which included hammers and a metal file.