by S. E. Smith
But he wasn’t available enough to suit his socialite fiancée who loved good times and lots of attention. Her gaiety and frivolity had attracted him when they met. With her, he could forget reality, the death, danger, and darkness of his missions. He had loved her, welcoming her lightness to distract him from the ugliness. She had adored the romance of dating a cyborg, a field agent—until he’d had to fulfill his commitment.
He could see now that marriage had been a pie-in-the-sky dream, and he’d face the same situation with any other woman. What wife would accept “being abandoned” six, eight, ten months of the year?
Mariah hadn’t been the first woman unable to accept his duty—she’d only been the first to promise it wouldn’t be an issue.
But it had been.
In Solia’s eyes, he saw sympathy, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, the beginnings of hero worship. To her, he was a knight who’d ridden in on a white charger. He had no charger, only two prosthetic legs with arms to match. He was a half man, half machine who did a job few others would even attempt. His assignments were gritty, dirty, bloody—and those were the easy ones.
Exit now. “I’d better get back to the bridge.” He grabbed his half-eaten sandwich and pushed to his feet. Solia had finished all of her meal. “Do you care for anything else to eat or drink?” He averted his gaze, focused on the exit.
“No, that was more than enough, thank you.”
“There’s a comm system.” He pointed to a screen. “If you need anything, call me.”
She did not respond, so he risked a glance. Her little chin came up, and her shoulders squared. “I’ll be fine.”
He was acting like an asshole, but it would be better in the long run if she didn’t get ideas.
Better for whom?
“We’ll arrive at the Cybermed station tomorrow.” He’d see her settled, contact Carter, and request he be put back on duty. He’d completed his job here. Time to move on.
“Guy, wait!” Her voice stopped him midflight.
Don’t ask me to stay. He’d hate to hurt her feelings by rejecting her.
His heart thudded. He had to leave. “Yes?”
“Would you…would you bring Mittzi to me?”
She wants the kitten, not me.
“Of course.” He nodded and fled.
Eight
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Guy asked. As she’d requested, he’d delivered Mittzi. Now that she could see it clearly, the kitten was no bigger than a baby moochin and just as cute. But still terrifying.
I will defeat my fear. The kitten can’t hurt me. I will defeat my fear. “I’ll be fine.”
“Use the comm link if you need me to retrieve her.” He set the kitten on the floor and fled again.
Language was Solia’s primary gift, but the mother she’d never known had been an empath, and she’d inherited a fair amount of perception. Though Guy appeared calm on the surface, emotions tugged him in opposite directions. She’d sensed his disquiet and found herself asking questions she shouldn’t have voiced.
When will I learn? Men liked her at first—until the relationship progressed, and they realized she could read them. Between a language ability enabling her to detect nuances in vocalization and a moderate amount of empathy, true feelings were revealed to her. She recognized dishonesty even when masked. People themselves weren’t aware how many little lies they told.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I don’t know what happened.”
Or the lies they kept to themselves. The silent hurts, the resentments, the jealousies.
Even she lied. She had told Guy an untruth. Yes, she was busy with her job and was cognizant of the commitment a lifetime mating represented, and therefore cautious, but the real truth was nobody wanted her. When men discovered she could read them, they fled. Nobody wanted their emotional defenses breached.
“It’s like you’re crawling around inside my head,” an ex-lover had said.
She read emotions, not minds, but that was a difference significant only to her.
Guy had been harder to get a handle on than most until, midway through dinner, his discomfort had washed over her like a wave.
She admired how he devoted his new lease on life to help others. He was the sole reason she was still alive. He was a good man, a caring man. A hero.
But even he had lied by omission—he hadn’t been entirely honest about what would happen at Cybermed. He’d presented it as a solution, but it concerned him—and that worried her. So many emotions swirled around, the truth had gotten murky. One emotion remained clear: fear. Hers.
The kitten padded toward her and jumped onto the bed. Solia employed every iota of self-control not to shriek and leap off the berth. Touch it. Pick it up.
She couldn’t—not yet. Unlike the Ka-Tȇ, which had radiated evil, the kitten projected no malice, only curiosity. Solia’s heart pounded, but since she wasn’t fleeing down the corridor, progress had occurred. She exhaled her tension and wiggled her toes.
The kitten pounced, wrapping her front legs around Solia’s ankles and biting her feet through the bed covering. Get it off. Get it off. Solia kicked, her heart fluttering. The more she thrashed, the more determined the kitten became.
Slowly reality filtered through the panic. No pain. No injury. The kitten meant no harm; it was playing.
Her racing pulse slowed.
Do it. You have to do it. Solia reached out and picked it up. When it made no move to attack, she gained confidence. A ball of fluff, Mittzi weighed nearly nothing, and her fur was softer than a moochin’s. Solia brought her closer for a better inspection. I’m holding it!
Round green eyes stared out of a gray furry face. Long white whiskers stuck out below a tiny button nose. White mittened feet dangled. Not a fang or claw in sight. “Meow?”
“You’re not so scary.”
Moochins liked to be held and petted. Maybe kittens liked the same? She set Mittzi on her lap and stroked her side. A rumbling noise, like a little motor, vibrated from the kitten. Pleasure. Happiness. The kitten liked the attention.
Don’t we all?
She scratched behind its ears. The kitten purred louder and rubbed against her hand. Guy must have thought I was crazy to panic the way I did. “I scared you, too, didn’t I?” The kitten had run beneath the berth to hide. That should have been a clue she presented no threat, except panic had blinded her.
Solia released the last of her fear in a long sigh and fluttered her good wing. Mittzi’s gaze zeroed in. “Oh, you like that, do you?” Solia fluttered it again and tried to move the broken one, but it hung limp.
“What am I going to do, Mittzi? What if I can’t fly again?” Cybermed offered no guarantees; she understood that. Her people pitied groundlings as damaged goods. Her attunement to language subtleties and empathy already counted as two strikes against finding a mate. Becoming a groundling would end her chances for good. No Faria would accept a mate unable to fly.
She and Guy had experienced similar horrors, and she’d sensed a rapport, but he’d fled like he couldn’t get away fast enough. They’d been conversing, and then…a wave of discomfort had washed over him. Had she probed too deeply with her questions? She reacted to nuances, to what people didn’t say, which unnerved them. Had she done that with Guy? Her senses were so developed, the habit so ingrained, she acted on what she knew to be true before considering the consequences.
Maybe she assumed too much. His departure might not have anything to do with her. He had duties, responsibilities—like getting her to Cybermed. He couldn’t be expected to play nursemaid.
“Why did he run, Mittzi?”
The kitten didn’t answer—didn’t understand. She didn’t have the language ability if she did comprehend. But that didn’t mean she didn’t communicate. Her throat rumbled with a kind of purring, communicating relaxation and pleasure.
Solia drew her hand from head to her tail in a light caress. “Y
ou don’t care that I’m odd, do you? We can be friends. What do you think?”
Mittzi purred. The little creature reacted to touch and tone in manner, not unlike the nuances Solia picked up on. She sensed emotion and intent and reacted to it. “We’re not different, you and I, are we?”
Nine
Guy relinquished piloting to the computer. The space station doors yawned open, and the ship glided in and docked. Panels slid shut, the bay repressurized, and the temperature warmed.
“The shuttle bay has returned to life support mode. You may disembark,” the computer announced. An orderly with a hover gurney headed for the ship.
Guy met him as he guided the litter onboard. “She’s in the med bay. Follow me.”
Dressed like a crewman, Solia perched on the berth’s edge with Mittzi on her lap. The Ka-Tȇ had shredded her clothing, so he’d rustled up a uniform, slitting the back to accommodate her wings. The smallest uniform he could find still swamped her slight frame.
“We’re ready?’ she asked.
Guy nodded at the orderly. “He’ll check you in.”
“May I bring Mittzi?”
“The cat?” The medical attendant shook his head. “No. Animals aren’t allowed.”
“I understand.” Solia placed the kitten on the berth and eased to her feet. “I’m ready, then.” She looked at Guy. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”
She’d survived a terrifying experience on Katnia. While surgery couldn’t compare to what she’d already been through, it was scary enough to face without family or friends to visit, without anyone to hold her hand through the long, painful rehabilitation. Her vulnerability tugged at him to stay—and made him uncomfortable. What if she came to depend on him? Worse, what if he came to depend on her? To need her sweet smiles, to hear her tinkling voice? He’d changed his mind a half dozen times whether to stay or go.
Carter had given him the time off, but that was when Solia had been part of his mission objective. He’d worried about her all night but had kept his distance, because in the long run, avoidance served them both for the best. Mariah had been right; he couldn’t be a woman’s forever man.
“I’ll see you settled, but then I need to report to duty,” he lied. “Are you sure there isn’t somebody you want me to call?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t need to come with me. I’ll be fine.” She smiled, but her silvery sparkle dulled.
The hover gurney lowered, and the orderly helped her onto it. Electro-restraints snapped around her legs and torso.
“No! No, no!” She thrashed, fighting the bands. “Take it off! Take it off!”
“Stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” the attendant said. “Restraints are to prevent you from falling.”
She pulled at the bands. “No! No!” She gasped for air, and her face grayed.
“Remove the restraints,” Guy ordered, knowing Solia flashed back to her captivity on Katnia. What good was physical protection if it harmed her psychologically?
“I have to follow procedures.”
Guy opened a link to Carter. We’re at Cybermed, and I’m two seconds from punching someone.
Why?
An orderly strapped Solia to a gurney. She’s having a panic attack. I don’t care about rules. Get admin to undo the restraints—or I’ll do it.
Solia was crying, tugging at bonds she couldn’t break.
“Time to roll,” the orderly said.
His head would roll. Guy couldn’t wait for Carter. He stepped forward—
The orderly clapped a hand to his ear and tilted his head. “I understand,” he spoke as a message came through his earpiece. He lowered his hand and scowled at Guy. “Admin ordered the restraints removed.”
“You’d better do it, then.”
With a press of a button, the bands fell away. Solia gulped air. Silver tears leaked from her eyes and slid into her hair. Guy touched her shoulder. This clinched it. He would stay. What if something else happened? She needed him to run interference, hell, to hold her hand. Cybermed performed miracles of science—with cold precision. Solia wouldn’t get the due of a cyborg candidate or potential Cy-Ops recruit. She was an injured woman who’d been through hell and now found herself a long way from home in a frightening place about to undergo a scary procedure.
“I’m coming with you,” he informed her. He recalled the devastating loss, the depression, the incredible aloneness upon waking up at Cybermed. And he’d been a big, tough military man.
She sniffed. “Thank you. W-what about Mittzi?”
“She’ll have food and water. She’ll be okay by herself.” At least until he could sneak her into the Cybermed installation.
White. White. Everywhere. Walls, ceiling, and the lights. The white blinded her. Guiding the gurney through the maze of corridors, the orderly marched on her left, the snap of his heels conveying his irritation. Was he mad at being overruled or because the man responsible gripped her hand on the right?
Guy’s strong, reassuring touch calmed her. When the orderly had strapped her to the stretcher, she’d flashed to her captivity in the electro-cage and had lost it. She would have torn off her other wing to free herself from the gurney. Somehow, Guy had gotten the attendant to release her. He squeezed her hand now, and she smiled up at him gratefully.
“You don’t need to stay with me,” she said. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. She felt so weak for needing him, but her upcoming surgery in this strange, white place scared her to death.
“I want to be here. Nobody should go through this alone,” he said.
Did he mean it, or was he being nice after her meltdown? She attempted to get a read on his emotions, but hers were in such a jumble, she couldn’t fight through the muddle to make sense of anything. Or maybe he’d managed to block her.
“Thank you.” She swallowed. “What happens now?”
“Surgery,” the orderly said.
“Testing and examination first, I imagine,” Guy contradicted.
“That’s not what’s on the schedule,” he replied. The gurney stopped outside a door marked Surgical Unit 10. “We’re here.”
“This is fast,” Guy echoed her thoughts. “What’s going on?”
The orderly shrugged. “I do what I’m told. You seem to be in the know. Talk to the doc.” He guided the gurney into a room whiter and brighter than the corridors then left.
A dark-haired woman in a surgical uniform entered through a door at the rear of the room. “You must be Solia. I’m Dr. Aileen Beckman. I’ll be examining you, and hopefully, operating on your wing today.”
“About that.” Guy frowned. “I thought there would be testing then surgery later…”
“You are?”
“Guy Roarke.”
“The medic. You forwarded the images of her wing and administered the nano-temp.”
“And hemogen.” He nodded.
“I’ve reviewed the medical records and images, and based on those, my professional opinion is time is critical. We require some nerve and muscles tests, which can be quite painful, so we’ll do them under anesthesia and perform whichever surgery is indicated.”
“You mean, reattach my wing,” Solia said.
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Dr. Beckman said. “You need to be prepared for removal.”
“Amputate? I’d be a groundling.” She shook her head. Tears welled and spilled over. This was almost as bad as being sold to the Ka-Tȇ.
“We’ll do everything we can to prevent that. Unfortunately, the administration of nano-temp, necessary to save your life, initiated a premature healing of your wing and surrounding nerves and muscles. The partial healing has created complications.”
Guy sucked in a breath. “I compromised the reattachment?”
“You did the right thing under the circumstances. Without nano-temp, she wouldn’t have survived. I’m not saying her wing can’t be reattached, only that I won’t know until I get in there. I wanted to prepare you.”
&nbs
p; How did one prepare to become a groundling? What would she do if she had to spend the rest of her life walking?
“Solia. I-I—” Guy’s voice sounded as broken as her wing. “I’m so sorry…”
She didn’t blame him. How could she? If not for him, she’d be a pile of bones on Katnia. She grabbed his hand. “You didn’t cause this. The Ka-Tȇ did.”
“I should have tried something else.”
“There was nothing else you could have done,” Dr. Beckman said. “I reviewed the scans. She would have died if you hadn’t administered nano-temp. But we don’t have time to waste. Do either of you have any more questions?”
Will I ever fly again? That was her question, but the doctor had already said she didn’t know.
“No,” she said.
Guy looked grim. “No.”
Ten
Guy paced outside SU-10. Beckman hadn’t offered an estimate of time required for the procedure, but surgery seemed to be dragging on. Maybe that was positive? Maybe reattachment required a long time? Or had something gone wrong? What if Beckman had had to amputate? If she was a cyborg, he could have pinged her for an update.
Spinning on his heel, he stalked down the hall in the opposite direction.
I did this. If I hadn’t given Solia the nano-temp, the odds would have been better. Neither the doctor nor Solia blamed him, but that didn’t erase his responsibility. Another life destroyed. He hadn’t considered anything but nano-temp. Guy punched the air. If she lost her wing, he’d never forgive himself.
What the hell was taking so long?
Any news? A message from Carter shot into his brain.
No. Not yet.
How long has she been in surgery?
More than five hours. Five hours, thirteen minutes, and twelve seconds. He didn’t need to check the time. His cyborg brain kept track.
Yours lasted twelve.
But I became a cyborg. They’re attaching a wing. A robo-tech is doing the actual procedure. Robos had the precision required to reconnect delicate blood vessels and nerves.
