by Cara Bristol
He half regretted his vow not to report the O’Sheas to the authorities, but short of exacting cyborg justice on their asses, his hands were tied. Ironically, their forgery to create a separate identity for her protected them from prosecution on the more serious cloning violation. They could argue they’d never intended to deceive. Their threats were too nebulous to stand up in court, despite how intimidated Beth had felt. No specific threat. No crime.
He hated technicalities. The worst thing he could do to the O’Sheas would be to publicize what they had done, but that would violate his promise, stigmatize Beth—and draw dangerous attention to Aym-Sec. It could blow Cy-Ops’s cover.
Swain squinted at the digital data streaming across his medscreen. EMR is within a normal range. That’s a positive, though not definitive, sign. “So far, so good,” he said aloud for Beth’s benefit. Her readouts for stress and fear are heightened, but that’s to be expected, he added.
I could have told you that. It was fortunate he was a cyborg; her grip on his hand would have crushed an ordinary human’s bones.
The machine beeped, signaling the completion of the test.
“That part was normal,” Swain announced. “Are you still doing okay?”
“Fine,” she replied in a small voice.
Carter squeezed her hand. “Not much longer now.” He sought her gaze, and her lips curved into a grateful smile.
He aimed to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, but this woman pushed his ambition to a whole new level. Although he’d been suspicious at first, and had had to treat her as a threat, those concerns had been resolved. The more he got to know her, the less she resembled Liza. Her expressions, her emotions, her way of speaking—totally different. No surprise she hadn’t been able to become the daughter the O’Sheas had wanted.
He would do everything in his power to see she got a strong foothold in the galaxy and could make it on her own.
Sympathy wasn’t all he felt for her.
Her silky soft skin registered with the cyberreceptors in his hand to transmit erotic signals to his brain and his dick. He shifted on the stool and ordered nanos to cool the rising heat. Acting on the growing attraction would be unprofessional. She’d had little experience with life and even less with men. It didn’t take a microprocessor to add the sum of two plus two. She’d spent her entire short life on the O’Shea satellite. She was an innocent, whereas he’d lived enough to count as two lives. She needed someone far less jaded than a battle-weary cyborg…and, why was he thinking about this?
“The next phase will begin soon.” Swain punched in another code. “Please remain perfectly still again. Do you need to move around first?”
She flexed her fingers then took hold of his hand again. “No, I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
“Just get it over with, right?” Swain grinned.
“Something like that,” she replied.
A physician before he became a cyborg, Swain went into cybermedicine instead of field operations after his transformation. All other Cybermed doctors were unaltered humans. Having undergone the surgery, nanocyte infusion, and challenging postoperative physical therapy, Swain brought a depth of empathy to the process no other physician could. He was the best damn Cybermed doc around. The best physician in the galaxy period.
A brain scan was a simple procedure. A medtech could have performed it, but Carter wanted the best.
He squeezed Beth’s hand and shot a message to Swain. Proceed.
I’m going to expand the parameters and conduct a full central nervous system scan. “Okay, Beth. With this diagnostic, lights will flash, but you won’t feel any pain. Maybe a slight warming sensation along your spine, but that’s about it.”
“Should I close my eyes?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
She closed her eyes.
A unit lowered out of the ceiling. The bed on which she lay began to glow as the machine crawled over the pod. His cyberhearing detected a hum, which was probably inaudible to her.
Swain watched the screen as the holographic image of her brain took shape. The frontal, temporal, parietal, and occipital lobes of the cerebrum formed, then the cerebellum.
Well? Carter asked.
So far, everything looks normal.
As the image of the midbrain, the pons and medulla, appeared, Swain squinted. Hmm…
Carter’s pulse rate spiked. What do you see?
Nothing. Swain raised his gaze to bright lights overhead. I thought I caught a shimmer, but it’s the light. He touched a button and redirected the illumination off the monitor. That’s better.
Don’t scare me like that.
Sorry. Everything is clear, normal so far. We’ll finish up with the spinal cord. “We’re almost done,” he announced aloud.
The scanner crawled from neck to tailbone then reversed.
Swain examined the spinal images then took another look at the brain data. She’s healthy. I don’t see any kind of disease process or disorder. Do you want to give her the good news? The bed went dark, and the scanner lifted back up into the ceiling. Swain punched a button, and the cover on the pod slid back.
Her eyes popped open.
“You’re clear!” Carter grinned.
“Really?” Her eyes brightened with hopeful tears.
“Really.”
“There’s nothing in your head.” Swain beamed a toothy smile. “Well, besides the stuff that should be there.”
Stuff? You did attend medical school, didn’t you? Carter shot at him.
Completed almost a semester, Swain fired back.
“If my brain is normal, what’s causing the headaches?”
“In my professional opinion, your headaches were caused by either the swiftness of the maturation process or stress.”
Carter helped her out of the pod. “Thank you!” She threw her arms around him. Her head bumped his chin, and soft breasts pressed against his chest. Her scent filled his nose. His body responded to the stimuli, arousal receptors firing. For a split second he allowed himself to imagine…what if…
She pulled away to give Swain a quick hug.
After the doctor exited the imaging lab, Carter passed her the visor. “I have to ask you to wear this again,” he said apologetically. Beth was who she said she was, but she still didn’t have the security clearance to enable him to reveal the existence of Cyber Operations. As yet, he couldn’t allow her to see the inside of Cybermed. He’d established the standard operating procedures; he couldn’t be the one to violate them.
“I understand.” She donned the visor and held out her arm. He hooked his elbow through hers and led her out of the medbay.
Chapter Eight
Carter pored over planetary government and news report feeds of acts of terrorism perpetrated by Lamani’s followers. His cyborg brain compiled then sliced and diced the data. Cyber Operations would never give up. He would catch and neutralize that bastard if it was the last thing he did.
They had to find him first. Where the hell could he be hiding? The leader of the nation planet Lamis-Odg had been responsible for unspeakable acts of terror against innocents, yet hid like a coward. No one—not even his many sons—admitted to seeing him in over a decade. Someone was sheltering him.
“You’re looking grim.” Brock entered and sank into a sensa-chair.
He shook his head. “In the past year, hundreds of micro-explosive device bombings have killed nearly one hundred thousand people, affecting five nation planets. As Lamis-Odg extends its reach, the death toll will rise. They’ve established two more satellite outposts.”
“What’s the count now, fifty-four?”
“Fifty-five satellite bases—plus they’ve proclaimed ownership of another planet. You’ll appreciate the latest one.” He switched the data stream to background mode. His microprocessor could continue to crunch data while he moved on to other business. Cyborgs were masters at multitasking.
Brock arched his eyebrows. “Why?”
“It’s DeltaNu9084,” Carter replied. Brock had been marooned on the planet with the Association of the Planets ambassador who later became his wife. The forested planet appeared utopian, but acid filled its lakes and rivers.
“With any luck, they’ll do the galaxy a favor and decide to go for a swim,” Brock said.
Carter snorted, but sobered quickly. “Between planets and satellites, they’ve infiltrated ten sectors now.” It didn’t take a cyborg’s computing power to understand why terrorist acts had accelerated every year for the past decade, 40 percent in the past year alone. “With every new outpost, every settlement, they extend their reach.”
“While the AOP secretary general conducts ‘Kumbaya’ singalongs,” Brock said. “He worries more about insulting people than he does about protecting their lives.”
“In the old days, they called that political correctness,” Carter said.
“Now, we call it bullshit.”
“Following that kind of policy allows people to appear to be concerned without doing anything to change the situation,” Carter said.
“It’s working for him. Every time Lamani’s followers set off an MED and blow up a bunch of people, Benson Vincere is the first to pay his condolences to the nation planet. It’s bought him a lot of good PR,” Brock said.
Carter nodded. “Only Xenia, Arcania, and Terra United voted against Vincere in the election.”
“Now we’re stuck with him as the head of the AOP for another ten-year term,” Brock said grimly.
“A lot can happen in a decade.” A lot of good, or a lot of bad. A decade before, Lamis-Odg had been an isolated nation planet of crackpots nobody paid any mind to. Ignored by the galaxy, they grew in strength and numbers, improved their technology, and recruited sympathizers and mercenaries. By the time people took notice—when the nation began launching attacks against its neighbors, the terrorists had grown tentacles throughout the galaxy. He worried they were approaching a tipping point. If they didn’t halt the progression now, Lamis-Odg might become unstoppable.
“Vincere better wake the fuck up or learn to speak Odgidian,” Brock said.
“We won’t lose the fight,” Carter vowed. “It would be easier if the AOP saw the light, and we could depend on member planets for resources, but even without the AOP’s help, Cyber Operations will defeat Lamis-Odg. We will find Lamani and neutralize him.”
Anything else was unthinkable.
To followers, Lamani was both prophet and living incarnate of their god they called the Great One. The people of Lamis-Odg accepted with blind faith a duality: Lamani was both Odgidian and divine, having been instilled with the spirit of the Great One. Believing that nonsense granted them more nonsense—passage to the Great Beyond after death. Questioning dogma would result in them being cast beneath the sand to be tortured by demons called iwani. The people obeyed Lamani with the unshakable faith of the brainwashed. As long as he lived, they would do whatever he, his sons, or his generals told them to.
To end the terrorism, Cyber Operations had to take out the leader issuing the orders.
While Cy-Ops hunted for Lamani, neutralized his generals, and rescued victims of terrorism, Aym-Sec and its like-minded allies including Mikala, continued to work on Vincere and the ambassadors to change AOP policies.
“If the AOP would do its part, we’d have more manpower to focus on finding Lamani. I’m afraid he’ll try something at the Summit,” Carter said. “This is the first time a proposal to declare war on Lamis-Odg has made it onto the agenda. It doesn’t have a quark’s chance of passing, but just getting on the ballot will elicit discussion and attention.”
The logistics of ensuring everyone had the necessary equipment at the right time was going to be huge. “We’ll need every available person, Aym-Sec, Cy-Ops, and support personnel,” he said. “How is the security check on Beth progressing?”
“Just completed it,” Brock replied. “She was easy to vet since she’s only been alive for fourteen years and spent all of it on the O’Shea space station. Illumina has almost completed the check on Georgetta and Reuben.”
“And?”
“No red flags. Sorry. Other than the cloning, forged credentials, and vague threats, they’re clean.”
He ground his teeth. He’d hoped to have something to present to the galactic police that wouldn’t violate his promise.
The O’Sheas had loved Liza. Perhaps grief over her death had caused a lapse in judgment and moral character. Too bad their hearts weren’t big enough to care for the other life they had created.
“I wouldn’t call them humanitarians,” Brock said, “and their parenting needs a shit-ton of work, but they have no connections to any criminal or terrorist networks—which is good for Beth, of course.”
A criminal act committed by a close family member or associate could be a reason to exclude a job candidate from employment, although not always. A good number of cyber operatives had been juvenile delinquents. If he excluded everyone who’d ever broken the law, Cy-Ops would have a much smaller force.
“Their inner circle has checked out as well, and we’re almost done with the next ring,” his second-in-command added. A thorough background check extended beyond the individual to include his or her family, friends, and associates. The candidate might not be involved in anything criminal, but acquaintances who were posed a security risk.
Although he took an interest in all staff members, with Beth his concern had become more personal. If she’d failed the security check, he didn’t know what he would have done. Called in some markers. Gotten someone else to hire her. Yeah, he had options, but he was glad he didn’t have to use them.
“You could assign her to the Summit now,” Brock said. “She’s very good at what she does. I waited to give her any sensitive projects until she cleared the background check—but that came through this morning.” As the provisionally hired logistics coordinator, she reported to Brock, who oversaw her on-the-job training.
Focused on mission strategy, Carter delegated day-to-day operations. He kept close tabs, but he didn’t micromanage. He employed good people and then let them do the jobs they were hired to do.
If he hadn’t mistaken Beth for Liza at the spaceport and become concerned, he wouldn’t have gotten so involved. Now, he was, and he couldn’t let it go. Her brief life, the person she was, intrigued him from a scientific and a personal point of view.
Much too personal. Just that brief hug after the bioscan had given him a nano-resistant, cyber-sized woody. Prudence strongly suggested he keep his distance, so he’d refrained from checking on her. She’d been in good hands with Brock as her direct supervisor.
“Did she settle into the barracks okay?” Carter asked.
Brock’s mouth twisted into a wry smirk. “You can’t resist, can you?”
“What?”
“Saving strays.”
No, he couldn’t resist. He’d founded Cyber Operations because the people of the galaxy needed a champion to fight for them when no one else could or would. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to save everyone, but the failures motivated him to try harder. He’d built the Cy-Ops cyborg force from men and women who’d nearly lost their lives to tragedy. Cybermed had repaired their wrecked bodies; Cy-Ops filled the emotional void with purpose. That field agents had received a second chance and chose to pay it forward was the only hope many victims had. Save one to save ten was Carter’s motto.
“If I don’t help her, who will?” he asked. Beth hadn’t suffered the physical calamities his cyborgs had, but she’d been scarred by her unconventional birth followed by the O’Sheas’ coldness and manipulation. She had no family, no home, few resources.
“To answer your question, yes, she’s settling in. She’s bunked in the provisional barracks, but she’ll be moved to permanent housing now that her clearance is final.”
* * * *
“Congratulations an
d welcome to Aym-Sec.”
Beth jumped. Though she’d listened for that gravelly voice for the better part of a week, hearing it now startled her. Taking a deep breath, she spun her chair around. “Thank you. Brock told me I’d passed all the background checks.”
Right after the bioscan, Carter had informed her she’d been granted probationary employment, a permanent position pending completion of a more detailed investigation. She wondered if all prospective employees were subjected to such intense scrutiny, or if she was a special case because of the initial problems.
However, the big boss, the man who’d soothed her fears and held her hand, had all but vanished for an entire week. Brock Mann was her supervisor, but she had expected Carter to check on her at least once.
Had the medical tests revealed how psychologically messed up she was? Maybe he sensed her attraction, and he’d been avoiding any awkwardness. Well, she could reassure him. She needed this job too much to screw it up by sleeping with the boss, a man who was so far out of her league, such an encounter would be laughable anyway.
“How are the headaches?” Carter asked.
“Gone,” she said. “I haven’t had one since the scan.” Once stress and fear had abated, so had the headaches. Safe now, she discovered anger. She felt betrayed by Georgetta and Reuben, but that was illogical. How could you be betrayed by someone you never trusted from the start?
Carter was a man she could trust.
Carter was a man to be feared.
She sensed both. The memory of how his officers had hauled her out of the hotel, cuffed and blindfolded, was still fresh. He’d locked her up in the brig, in solitary, and interrogated her like she was a criminal. Yet, although her credentials had been fabricated, and she was a bio-engineered human being, he’d hired her. Any other employer would have booted her out on her ass. Was he normally so generous?
