Doc's Orders

by Cynthia Sax

  We have what you’ve been seeking. A stilted robotic voice relayed that cryptic message through a transmission.

  Doc tried to trace the communication, was unable to do so. The sender had skills that would make many cyborgs envious.

  Meet us by the edge of the forest. Exact coordinates were sent. You are not to transmit any details of our meeting. You will deactivate your recording abilities. You will not share our identities with any other beings. Vow this to us.

  The beings knew he would never break his vow.

  It could be a trap. Cyborgs had enemies. While under Humanoid Alliance control, they’d killed billions of beings. The Humanoid Alliance themselves wanted to retrieve their lost warriors.

  He could be captured, could die.

  But the beings could also be seeking to assist him. They could have the repair needed to save his female’s sister from dying, to prevent his female’s kind from becoming extinct.

  His female wouldn’t suffer from additional emotional damage.

  Doc had to take the risk.

  I won’t transmit, won’t record, won’t share your identities. He transmitted his reply. I vow this to you.

  We will be at the site when you reach it. The mysterious beings ended the transmission.

  “Allinen.” Doc set his female on a chair. “I have to leave you for a few moments.” Or he could be leaving her forever…if it was a trap.

  “There’s been a new development.” His female, his mate, gazed up at him. Her eyes were glazed with sleep. Her long hair was mussed. Her cheeks were tinted a darker shade of gold than the rest of her.

  She was the most beautiful being he’d ever seen.

  “It could be nothing.” He captured her parted lips, stealing one more taste of her tartness, one more kiss.

  It might be his last.

  His female must have sensed his unease. She gripped his shoulders, holding onto him. “I’ll come with you.”

  “I need you to stay with your sister.” The covert meeting might be dangerous. He would never place his female in peril. “If I’m delayed, transfer another injection of your blood to her. One injection.” He cautioned. “Not more.”

  More would damage his female.

  “One injection.” She nodded. “I can do that.”

  “I know you can do that.” He kissed her again—hard—the fast, fervent embrace leaving them both breathless. “No medic could ask for a better assistant.” She was intelligent, strong, hard working. “No male could ask for a better mate.”

  Doc embraced her one last time, unable to resist her lush lips. Then he turned and ran out of the domicile, leaving his female, his heart, behind him.

  He moved at cyborg speed through the settlement. The sooner he met with the unknown beings, the sooner he would return to Allinen.

  If the meeting had been set in good faith.

  He deactivated his recording system, put all incoming transmissions on mute, silenced his ability for outgoing communications.

  Doc approached one of the Khambalian guards. The perimeter of the settlement remained secure, a circle of light surrounding it. If the illness spread at its current rate, that would soon change.

  As he processed that projection, the Khambalian male collapsed, falling to the ground with a heavy thump. Darkness descended, shadows stretching to the left and right of his body.

  “Nourishment. Nourishment.” Pahas barked. Excitement edged their crude communications.

  The creatures attacked, a pack of them running toward the breach in the settlement’s defenses. Their teeth were bared. Their claws were extended.

  “Truth.” Doc hollered for the D Model. The male was closer to him than Dissent and his pet were positioned.

  Doc’s fists slammed into a wet nose. The paha flew backward.

  He pummeled another and another and another, the beast in him rising. His frustration over his failure to save his female’s niece, his inability to protect his female from emotional damage, was vented on the processor-impaired creatures. He fought as he hadn’t fought in solar cycles, becoming a whirlwind of vengeance.

  “Fraggin’ hole, G Model.” Truth finally arrived, skidding to a stop beside him. “You can fight when you set your processors to it.”

  Doc grunted and backed away from the battle, allowing the warrior to take over. As he withdrew from the violence, his beast retreated also.

  His circuits rerouted. His machine resumed command.

  Truth defended the shadowed section, dashing at cyborg speed from one end of it to the other, striking the pahas as he moved. “Why aren’t you transmitting? Are you damaged?”

  He was damaged. Severely. And he wasn’t transmitting because he’d vowed he wouldn’t. “Can you handle this, D Model?” The beings Doc was meeting with were waiting for him. “Or should I contact Dissent also?”

  “Frag you.” Truth laughed. “I can handle the pahas. Go. Solve your other problems.” His smile wavered. “Find a repair for your female’s sister.”

  He was trying to do that. Doc ran, leaving the D Model to defend the settlement.

  He wove between the tall trees, moving as fast as his mechanics allowed, only slowing when he approached the rendezvous point.

  His lifeform sensors detected another being, a cyborg.

  A B Model cyborg.

  His processors spun. How could that be? “The databases say there are none of your model left alive.”

  “If my fate had been left to your cyborg council, there wouldn’t be any of my model left alive.” The massive male stepped into the open. “I’d be dead.”

  His proportions resembled a purely mechanical being’s form. Compared to his hips, his shoulders were too wide to be human. His blue eyes were too brilliant to be organic. The B Model’s nose was flattened against his face as though constructing it would have required too much effort. His chin was square to the point of exaggeration.

  “Thankfully, the Cadet took action when your cyborg council wouldn’t, freeing me.” The primitive cyborg’s gaze met his. “I owe the Cadet everything. Many of us do.”

  “Us?” Doc didn’t know whom the B Model was referring to.

  “Us, the damaged, the cyborgs who couldn’t escape on their own, the warriors you and your cyborg council left behind.” Anger edged the male’s words.

  Doc stared at him. “I heard the transmissions.” There were millions of cyborgs. It was strategically impossible that all of them could escape during the mass rebellion. “I assumed warriors were being sent to free you.”

  “No one was sent to free us.” The B Model’s lips twisted. “The Cadet disregarded a direct order from your cyborg council in order to retrieve me.”

  The cyborg council would view that rebellious act as endangering all cyborgs. The reprimand for that would be death.

  “The Cadet is brave.” Doc also suspected the unidentified warrior, despite being named after a lowly designation, had tremendous influence and power. Only a fool would underestimate him.

  “The Cadet is very brave.” The B Model nodded, his joints creaking as he moved. “The Cadet is also generous.” He reached inside a gun holster, extracted a small container. “You are to be given this.” He handed it to Doc.

  Doc had dealt with enough dangerous substances to know he shouldn’t open it until he had more information. “What is it?”

  “Nanohumanics.” The B Model surprised him with that answer. “Pure, unaltered, ready to be injected into a host’s blood stream. They’re aggressive little shits, as the Cadet would say. They multiply to fill any hospitable space.”

  Nanohumanics were the predecessors to nanocybotics. They were designed to heal and to enhance purely organic hosts.

  Doc studied the container. With their ability to multiply, he’d have enough of them to save all of the remaining Khambalians.

  And he would be left with as many of them as he started with.

  “The Humanoid Alliance believes all samples were destroyed.” He’d read that in their databases as
he’d searched for a repair. “If the wrong being obtained this, they could create an army of modified humanoids.” That could endanger the entire universe, including the cyborg’s Homeland.

  “The wrong being didn’t obtain it.” The B Model’s tone was dry. “The Cadet secured the last remaining sample. And now you’re being given a container of it.”

  Why was he being given a container of it? Doc frowned. He was one of the hated cyborgs who had left the male behind.

  “You should be beaming with happiness, little G Model, not scowling at me.” The male raised his eyebrows. “Sure, many of your cyborg brethren remained enslaved, are being tortured and killed as we speak. But, hey, you now have the repair you’ve been seeking and that’s all you really care about, isn’t it? The nanohumanics will save the lifespan of your female’s sister and your pretty little humanoids will all love you again.”

  If Doc’s beast had been in control, he would have punched the B Model in his inhuman face. The male’s condescension was fraggin’ irritating. He obviously loathed Doc and his mission to save the Khambalians.

  Doc’s machine was in charge, however, and he required the male’s help. “What are you asking in exchange for this container of nanohumanics?”

  There would be a price and it would be steep. But as long as it didn’t involve his female, there was an 80.5982 percent probability he’d pay it.

  He didn’t have any other viable alternative. Walking away from the deal would mean the death of the sister and failing his female for a second time.

  Allinen wouldn’t know he could have saved her loved one.

  But he would realize that. He’d have to live with that knowledge.

  Every planet rotation, when he looked into his female’s big trusting eyes, he’d know he hadn’t tried everything. He’d know he allowed her to be emotionally damaged.

  That would be torture.

  “All that is being asked of you.” The B Model’s eyes narrowed. “Is that when the Cadet asks you for your support, you give it.”

  That was all? Doc’s lips twisted. It was a huge request.

  The support could be for any action—the blowing up of the Homeland, the killing of the cyborg council member whose orders they’d ignored, the destruction of their kind.

  “I’m a medic.” He prefaced his reply with that fact. “I won’t support any action that leads to the death of our brethren or our brethren’s females, including my own.”

  He wouldn’t put his female in danger to save her sister.

  “Violence isn’t what any of us wants.” The B Model’s wide forehead furrowed with worry lines. “And, if beings listen to logic, it won’t be needed. But some beings only listen to the constant flapping of their own lips. So we can’t rule it out as an option.” He shrugged his huge shoulders. “The Cadet won’t ask you to endanger your female, little G Model. You’ll have to be content with that assurance.”

  The male wouldn’t relay more information. Doc read that in the set of his massive chin.

  He preferred to have more inputs before making a decision, especially one that might require him to break other vows. As that wasn’t possible, he evaluated the very little he did know.

  The B Model’s mysterious Cadet wouldn’t ask him to endanger his female. The male had specifically focused on Allinen, on Doc’s relationship to her.

  Because all cyborgs valued females. Greatly. Defiant Cadets must not be an exception to that constant.

  Doc’s Captain had a female. As did Chuckles. There was a 75.6984 percent probability the B Model’s Cadet would value those females also.

  Which meant the unidentified being was unlikely to target the Reckless. Their ship and Doc’s fellow crew members would be safe.

  There were females living on the Homeland. Using that same logic, the Cadet was unlikely to blow up that planet.

  The crew on board the Reckless would be safe. The beings living on the Homeland would be safe. His female’s sister would live. His female wouldn’t suffer from any additional damage—emotional or physical.

  Doc’s decision was made.

  “As long as my female isn’t damaged by doing so, I’ll give the Cadet my support.” Doc dipped his head as he made that vow.

  “Then you have your repair.” The B Model’s eyes gleamed. “You’ll be a hero to your pretty little humanoids.”

  Doc doubted that would be true. The Khambalians didn’t trust outsiders, would blame him for the illness. Providing a repair for it wouldn’t change that. “If I hadn’t vowed to keep our conversation secret, I would contact the council, ask them to send warriors to retrieve those who were left behind during the rebellion.”

  “You can still do that.” The male told him, his eyes glinting with a hint of respect. “Refer to the transmissions my forgotten brethren have sent, not to our discussion. But it won’t prompt any action. Your council doesn’t care for warriors too outdated, too damaged, too restrained to escape on their own.”

  Doc suspected the B Model was wrong but he had no proof, no facts to substantiate his gut feelings. “I’m damaged.”

  The male’s gaze lowered and lifted. “You don’t appear to be damaged.”

  “The damage isn’t visible.” He raised his chin. “I’ve tried to repair it and was unable to.” He answered what was certain to be the next question. “It will be part of me forever.” He’d always battle his beast, his savage side.

  The B Model studied him.

  Silence stretched.

  “Your female accepts your damage?” the male finally asked.

  “My female likes my damage.” Doc nodded. “She approached me because of it.”

  “Then why would you want to repair that damage?” The B Model shook his head. “You must be malfunctioning, little G Model.”

  The male lumbered off, disappearing once more into the shadows.

  Why would he want to repair his damage? Doc looked toward the settlement. His female had embraced his beast.

  His gaze shifted to the clouds above his head. Both Captain and Chuckles, the two beings he had been determined to repair, had females. Those females might have embraced their damage also.

  Which would explain why neither male pushed him for a repair.

  They didn’t need one.

  As his female had pointed out to him, he and his brethren were no longer under the control of the Humanoid Alliance. They wouldn’t be decommissioned, killed in the most painful way possible, because they were different, because a being considered them damaged.

  And their females cared for them as they were. They were worthy.

  He was worthy also.

  Especially now. Doc palmed the container of nanohumanics. He had a repair for his female’s sister.

  Allinen would be relieved and happy.

  She might say the humanoid love words to him.

  He’d like that more than anything in the universe.

  Doc’s tread was light as he walked toward the settlement.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Allinen waited for a few moments after Doc left and then turned her attention toward Lanko.

  The male wiped her sister’s face again and again and again.

  He was studiously ignoring Allinen and she wished she could ignore him also, but the conversation had to happen. A foul odor rose from her dead niece. Admitting that broke Allinen’s heart all over again yet it didn’t change reality.

  They had to deal with her corpse.

  “Vauva came from the soil.” Like the trees they used as domiciles. “She must be returned to the soil.”

  The body would be lowered into a lava-filled circle in the middle of the settlement. Her niece would become one with the planet once more.

  “We will wait until my mate recovers.” Lanko’s jaw jutted.

  His mate, her sister might not recover. The illness was slowed by the transfer of nanocybotics, but it did progress, and they had no repair for it.

  “Your mate will be weak.” Allinen kept her voice soft, hiding h
er frustration, her pain, under a serene façade. “She won’t have the strength or the energy to do what is needed for your daughter.”

  The male said nothing. Beads of sweat dappled his forehead.

  “I’ll prepare your daughter’s body.” Allinen gathered her most cherished covering cloths. “But you have to convey her to the circle.”

  Both Vauva and Sisko would want him to perform that task. Her sister, especially, would judge Lanko harshly if he delegated his duty.

  She would also resent Allinen if she completed the spiritual task. As Sisko had pointed out to her numerous times in the past, Vauva wasn’t her daughter.

  “I can’t convey her to the circle.” Lanko didn’t look at her.

  “You will convey her to the circle.” She removed her niece’s garment, cleaned her body. Vauva’s form was so small. She had been so young. Allinen’s heart ached. “I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you.”

  She immediately regretted her harsh tone. They were both tired, both grieving. Lanko had lost his daughter. He might soon lose his mate. There would be no other female for him, no chance of having more children naturally.

  And as a male, he had been the self-appointed protector of his small family. His sorrow would be exacerbated by guilt.

  Allinen wrapped her niece in fabric, starting from her tiny feet and moving upward. “I know you’re hurting.”

  “You know nothing of my pain.” Lanko glared at her.

  “You’re right.” She conceded that point. “I don’t know what you’re going through.” She had lost a niece, not a daughter.

  Her hurt was tremendous, almost bringing her to her knees. His must be worse. Allinen couldn’t comprehend how he bore it so quietly. She would be wailing.

  “I do know Vauva needs you right now.” A tear dripped down her cheek as she shrouded the girl’s head and tied the fabric, leaving her beautiful face bare. “Your daughter needs you to do this one last thing for her. You. Her father, the male she loved with her entire young soul. No one else can take your place.”

  “Can’t.” As he said that, he moved around the head of the sleeping support, repositioning himself at his daughter’s side. “Can’t.”