Hunted by the Cyborg with Bonus

by Cara Bristol

  The PeeVee arrived at a three-forked tunnel and veered to the leftmost one. Lights flashed by in a streak.

  “How’s your head?” He wondered if the strobe effect would worsen her headache.

  “Fine, now,” she replied. “It’s never been an unrelenting throb. More like a sharp jab that goes away until the next one. No biggie. I’ve lived with it my whole life. I’m used to it. It won’t affect my work performance.”

  “That wasn’t why I was asking.” Did she really think that?

  “I want you to understand how serious I am about my position at Aym-Sec. I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity.”

  Emerging onto a deserted shuttle field, the PeeVee sped to a guard station outside a gated area at the far end of the tarmac. The window lowered, and the android guard peered inside, his electronic eyes focusing on Carter’s face. The orbs flashed green as the bot completed the identity scan. “Good morning, Mr. Aymes. Going anywhere special today?”

  “Just along for a ride,” he replied. Mars is nice this time of year. His cyborg brain shot the pass phrase to the android’s central processing unit.

  Robotic eyes flashed green again. “Enjoy your trip.” The security gate opened, and the PeeVee zipped through.

  * * * *

  Of course he had his own private spacecraft—which he flew himself rather than let the computer do it. As they cleared Earth’s atmosphere and entered outer space, he guided the craft with a steady, sure hand on the nav stick. She wasn’t sure which came as a bigger eye-opener—Aym-Sec or the man who owned it.

  The security company was located beneath the Galactic Trade Center! His PeeVee had been programmed with “evasive maneuvers.” The android at the guard station had obviously performed some sort of identity scan.

  She’d expected a little private pod, but his shuttle was a sleek space vessel with the capacity to carry at least twenty passengers and sleep ten. It couldn’t compare to the O’Sheas’ fleet of M-class luxury spaceships, but she had a hunch Carter’s vessel was tricked out with techno wizardry the O’Sheas couldn’t even guess at.

  Her stomach fluttered with the oddest sort of nerves, and she felt tongue-tied. Much larger than the cabin of the PeeVee, the cockpit had space for the captain and first officer to stand and watch through the massive view screen. Even sitting, Carter dominated the space, overwhelming her senses with his presence.

  Or maybe it was the realization he’d seen her naked.

  Not to mention staff members. Embarrassing, yes, but it disconcerted her more that Carter had seen her. The boss. The man she needed to impress to keep this job. Way to go! She’d wondered why he kept staring over her shoulder while insisting she change clothes.

  The most attractive man she’d ever met didn’t care to take a peek. She’d paraded nude in front of him and failed to arouse his curiosity. From Liza’s vid-diary, she’d learned she and Carter had had a very active sexual relationship right up until she left Terra. They’d fucked like short-circuiting sex droids at every opportunity, and she looked like Liza, yet he hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in seeing her naked.

  I wanted to distinguish myself from Liza, and I guess I succeeded. She hadn’t expected victory to feel so much like rejection.

  She should be happy with what she’d accomplished so far. She had an identity of her own, gainful employment, a place to live, and she was free of the O’Sheas.

  However, with safety, shelter, and a livelihood, she’d begun to dream of more, of having a normal life like a natural born human. To love someone and be loved.

  Perhaps her growing attraction stemmed from gratitude. He was the first person to learn the truth about her and not treat her like an unwelcome obligation or an android without self-awareness or emotions. He acted like being a clone was a nonissue—and he’d known the original. I should focus on the positive—he sees me as human. Not a person he’s sexually interested in, but normal.

  Or did it matter, after all? Maybe a clone could work for him, but he desired a real woman in his bunk.

  It’s better this way. Before searching for a job, she’d studied employment dos and don’ts. High on the list of no-nos was getting involved with one’s employer. It was considered the quickest route to termination.

  Carter sat in profile. He wasn’t conventionally handsome. His chin was too determined, and his dark eyes too guarded. His lips, though full, often straightened to a stern slash. A man who reflected before he spoke, he said little and revealed less. But, with a rare smile, or a rough laugh, he stirred yearnings that could be satisfied only in her dreams. A single glance sent her emotions spiraling. You couldn’t hold a star in your hand, and that’s what Carter was. A star. A hot, burning…

  “Like what you see?” he asked.

  Her stomach fluttered to the beat of her racing heart. “Sorry. I should have known better than to stare at a man with visual enhancements.”

  “It didn’t take enhancements to notice your scrutiny—only peripheral vision.” His teeth flashed with that fleeting smile, evoking a heavy ache in her woman parts.

  “You’re a bit of an enigma.”

  “Oh good. That’s what I was going for.”

  “You like being hard to read.”

  “In my line of work, it’s a necessity.”

  “I guess it would be.” Sometimes she hid her emotions well, other times she feared she was too open. There was a lot to learn, and she had a lot of catching up to do.

  “We’re passing through sector R-9.” He gestured at the view screen. “Isn’t that the O’Sheas’ space station?”

  She’d been so focused on him, it hadn’t registered the ship had slowed to cruise through the residential satellite sector. Portside, a glowing monolith of ostentatious wealth lit up space like a second sun. She remembered how hope had ballooned the first time she’d laid eyes on it—when she’d arrived fresh from Clo-Ventures. Then came the defeat and desolation of reality when she’d set foot on it.

  Now? Relief. I’m my own person, not a copy, not an imitation.

  “That’s it,” she said. “How did you guess?”

  “The O’Sheas’ reputation precedes them, and it kind of stands out,” he said.

  Resembling a huge, gleaming daddy longlegs spider, eight long tubular housing modules extended from a massive ovoid center. Only the uber-wealthy could afford residential satellites and place them in orbit around Earth, and the O’Sheas’ dwarfed its neighbors. Its size and unique design placed it in a class of its own. Each individual spider leg could house dozens of families, but full-time occupancy consisted only of Georgetta and Reuben—although they often entertained dignitaries, tech scions, and celebrities. An android staff of 150 kept the satellite running.

  Within the spider’s body were acres of gardens, a lake, vegetable and flower farms, nature trails, and wildlife parks inhabited by Terran and alien creatures including deer, squirrels, yacuni, moochins, and bright-colored birds. She’d spent a lot of time in the woods and gardens, getting lost once, sheltering the computer-induced night curled up under a tree. No one had bothered to search for her.

  “Do you miss it?” he asked.

  “Like a case of the clap,” she muttered.

  For a moment, there was only the hum of the engines, and then he threw his head back and roared. He laughed so hard, he switched the ship’s control back to the computer. Wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, he spun around to face her. “Where did you come up with that?”

  “Isn’t that a Terran idiom?” She’d studied Earth slang in four languages to optimize her chances of fitting in.

  “Used to be, until gonorrhea was eradicated two centuries ago.”

  What other anachronisms might she have uttered? Other than with the androids, whose conversations tended to be rather robotic, she hadn’t had many opportunities to converse. “Well, you got my meaning, though.” He’d laughed like he had.

  His eyes twink
led. “Yeah.” Then his face turned serious. “I’m sorry. You had a rough start to life.”

  “Many have it worse.” News vids had shown her homeless living in squalor, refugees struggling for survival on war-torn planets, children inducted into armies, disenfranchised youth tricked into becoming MED suicide bombers. She’d been fed, housed in a grandeur few could imagine let alone achieve, and hadn’t lacked any physical comforts. Love, belonging, respect afforded to every person because he or she was human—those were denied.

  “I promise it will get better.” He squeezed her hand. Though his touch was cool, warmth spread from the point of the contact throughout her body, infusing her clear down to her bones. Her stomach fluttered with that wild, crazy feeling she got around him. He’s being nice. Don’t read anything into it.

  He returned his hands to the controls, but her heart continued to pound.

  She was acting like an infatuated teenager.

  Though her physical maturation might compare to a thirty-something woman, in terms of experience, she was an adolescent, and she was afraid Carter was her very first crush.

  * * *

  Note to self: don’t touch her anymore. It’s not safe.

  She’d looked so lost. He reached out to comfort her, but the touch of her soft skin had sent jolts of awareness through his body. The image of her nakedness replayed in his mind. His cyborg brain couldn’t forget, and his human one refused to.

  Why her? Why now?

  He worked with many women, some of whom would be considered more attractive if objective standards such as facial symmetry and averageness were applied. Nor was his interest derived from reminders of Liza, whom he’d once cared about. Beth appeared vulnerable in a way Liza never was. Maybe that explained his growing attraction. Was he a sucker for a stray, like Brock had suggested? Probably, but until now, the disadvantaged had evoked sympathy, not desire.

  If he couldn’t manage to control his response, his woody was going to become obvious.

  He switched piloting to manual to have something to focus on. Unfortunately, his ship, like his PeeVee, had been acquired from the Moonbeam remanufacturing plant. Even on manual, the ZX7M practically flew itself, and there wasn’t much for him to do except grip the stick.

  He cleared his throat. “I got word this morning the secretary general of the AOP intends to join Mikala at Luna Center.”

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  “I’m not, and Mikala is even less so.” He sighed. “Vincere and I don’t see eye to eye. Mikala wanted to sway some of the ambassadors. She won’t be able to speak openly if Vincere dogs her every move.”

  “Why not tell him he can’t go?”

  “The head of the Association of Planets?” Carter arched an eyebrow.

  “You’re right. Bad idea.”

  “Even if it didn’t violate protocol, it still wouldn’t work. Nobody can get Vincere to do anything he doesn’t want to do. That’s been the problem.”

  “But, he’s the titular head, right? Don’t the ambassadors set policy and vote on the initiatives?”

  “Yes, however Vincere advises them how to vote. He sets the tone and strategy and breaks the tie if votes deadlock. He’s a charismatic and likable guy, and that gives him tremendous influence.

  “So, why don’t you like him?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I can tell.”

  He didn’t think much of the man, but he was of the minority opinion. Most people did like Vincere. “He means well, but his naïveté has endangered the galaxy.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing serious, yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “What should Vincere do that he’s not?”

  “Stop being so damned nice.”

  “He’s nice?”

  “To a fault. He needs to crack down on Lamis-Odg and their allies, but he’s committed to diplomacy and negotiation. He refuses to offend anyone’s integrity or violate their rights as a free life form, so he soft-pedals security and issues galactic ‘advisories’ in place of military action.”

  If the AOP had blown Lamis-Odg into the next solar system when they first started committing acts of terror a decade ago, the current problem wouldn’t exist. Cy-Ops would have taken care of it, except back then Cyber Operations didn’t have the munitions required. But the AOP did.

  Now, however, it was too late. Lamis-Odg had colonized other planets and established satellite, lunar, and even asteroid outposts throughout the galaxy.

  To end the reign of terror, they had to eliminate Lamani.

  “So, what can be done?”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and twisted his mouth. “Basically, what Mikala is trying today—do an end run around Vincere. You’re correct when you point out ambassadors decide policy through their votes. Mikala and a few others are trying to influence opinions one by one. It’s a slow process. Change won’t happen overnight—or before the Summit.”

  “You’re afraid something will happen at the Summit, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like an attack by Lamani?”

  He nodded. “Intel we’ve received suggests he’s developed a weapon to penetrate conventional defenses. With all the AOP ambassadors and most world leaders assembled at Luna Center for the Summit, deployment of such a weapon could be devastating. A mass assassination would cause political chaos across the galaxy, leaving the planets vulnerable to invasion.”

  Beth shivered and hugged herself. “It’s pretty serious.”

  He pressed his lips together. “It is.”

  “The security for the Summit is inadequate?”

  “No, because Aym-Sec will provide the highest level.” Both Aym-Sec and Cy-Ops. Every cyborg he could spare would be there, but if Lamani unleashed his secret weapon, would the might of Cyber Operations be enough? They only had guesses as to what the weapon was. If the Summit went off without a security breach, that offered a temporary reprieve. Lamani would strike. It was a matter of when.

  “The members of the AOP have to be convinced to take decisive action,” Carter said. “Mikala’s daughter, Penelope, is Terra’s ambassador, and she’s been doing what she can on the inside, but she doesn’t have the power base yet. As Earth’s leader, Mikala is responsible for Terra’s safety. She had hoped to talk to leaders from other planets, but with Vincere in attendance, it won’t be so easy.”

  “Maybe I could distract him?”

  “Distract him how?” He frowned.

  “You were going to show me the facility. Maybe I could get him to do that, and then President Aaron would be able to talk to people without him.”

  “That might work…” he said without conviction. Her suggestion was a good one. Not just good, perfect. Except, he didn’t like it. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t. It had nothing to do with the fact he’d seen Beth naked on two occasions and couldn’t erase the image from his brain, or that Vincere was considered to be a very handsome, charming man. Though he hated to admit it, the man was honorable. Misguided, naïve, but honorable. For all the man’s faults—and Carter had a lengthy list—Vincere was no predator. He’d never used his position to take advantage of women.

  Truth be told, she could do far worse than the secretary general. A sour taste bubbled up from his churning stomach.

  The two hadn’t been introduced yet, and he’d conjured the worst-case scenario. If attraction did develop between them, that was their business, not his. As long as Aym-Sec, Cyber Operations, and their clients were safe and secure, a flirtation between his logistics coordinator and the secretary general didn’t matter.

  Flirtation? They haven’t even met!

  Get a grip, Aymes.

  “I might be able to talk to him. I’m a stranger, and maybe a fresh, unbiased opinion might have some influence.” Beth looked at him with an eager, hopeful expression. She volunteered to help—and had the means to do so. At this point, they n
eeded every edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling time had run out.

  “Let’s try it.” He tried to sound enthusiastic but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  Chapter Ten

  “Beth?” Carter nudged her ribs.

  She turned her attention away from President Mikala Aaron and the strikingly attractive man beside her to look at Carter, whose forehead furrowed with concern. “What?” she asked. Why was he staring at her?

  He jerked his head slightly, and she turned back to the president to shake her outstretched hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Madam President,” she said.

  Mikala Aaron didn’t look old enough to be president or to have an adult daughter. No gray streaked her shiny auburn hair, and her complexion was unlined except for a few crinkles when she smiled, a grin that seemed warm and genuine.

  “Please call me, Mikala. Besides, if I’m not mistaken, I believe we’ve already met.” She tilted her head. “You knew me as Professor Aaron.”

  Uh…Beth didn’t know how to respond. Fortunately, Carter intervened. “Actually, Mikala, you’re thinking of Liza O’Shea, Beth’s twin sister. She’s the one who was enrolled in your Interplanetary Relations class.”

  He looked at Beth. “Before going into politics, Mikala taught at the Terran Technical Institute.”

  “My mistake. I had no idea she had a twin,” Mikala said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “No reason you should have known,” Beth replied. “My…sister and I moved in different orbits.”

  “Have you met AOP Secretary General Benson Vincere?” The president motioned to the vid-star handsome man.

  “We’ve never had a class together.” Vincere clasped her hand in a firm grip and flashed a supernova bright grin.

  This was the infamous obstructionist secretary general? “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All good, I hope.” He glanced at Carter and chuckled.

  “Of course,” she lied. After what she’d heard, she’d assumed she’d dislike him on sight, but she didn’t. Carter had warned of Benson Vincere’s charisma. No wonder he could persuade the members of the AOP. Mikala had her work cut out for her.