Cyborg Fury: A Science Fiction Cyborg Romance (Burning Metal Book 2)

by Lisa Lace

  Cyborg Fury

  A Burning Metal Novel

  Lisa Lace

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Newsletter

  Up Next

  Bonus Book - Alpha’s Enslaved Bride

  Also by Lisa Lace

  Your Free Audio Book

  Chapter One

  The tall black building had once been the pinnacle of scientific advancement. Every scientist hoped to work in it eventually. On this day it seemed appropriate that a heavy rain covered the edifice. Cyborg Sector was where Dr. Neil Daniels’ career began. Now that it was being shut down, it would also be the place his career ended.

  When the administration announced they were discontinuing the cyborg program, and would no longer be using augmented soldiers to reinforce the regular army, they gave most scientists and other workers early retirement. Neil had been unfortunate enough to be one of the retirees.

  No one cared that he had made cutting-edge advances helping physicians transform human bodies into mechanical soldiers that people could control remotely. The crushing weight of political correctness meant he could no longer save lives by creating supersoldiers. Although a few employees were kept on to help the remaining cyborgs make the transition to civilian life, he was not chosen to be one of them.

  That didn’t mean he was going away empty-handed. Neil shifted uncomfortably as the rain trickled down the back of his neck and onto his coat. It was cold for April, but he wasn’t going to let a little thing like weather stop him.

  He hoped that the darkness would hide him well enough. Maintenance had taken most of the solar-powered exterior lights off their timers. What was the point of lighting an empty building? In its heyday, Cyborg Sector was treated more like a maximum security prison than a place of scientific research. There were numerous guards, alarms at every gate, and doors that required high-clearance passes. Nobody got in or out without being logged, checked once, then checked again.

  The upper levels of Cyborg Sector, however, were now no different than a typical office building. Neil needed a key card to get through the door, but his entrance would not be recorded either in the security system or on video. Nevertheless, his heart pounded in his chest, competing with the sound of the rain on the asphalt. He had no job to lose anymore, but he still had his reputation. Did it matter? Would he ever need anyone to remember him as a respected scientist, or was he destined to spend his remaining years doing yard work and solemnly marking a bingo card on Saturday afternoons?

  That wasn’t going to be his future if he had anything to say about it. There was still significant work to do. It didn’t matter if the government wasn’t willing to pay for it. With every crisis came an opportunity. Now Neil could continue his research on his terms, without anyone gawking over his shoulder or criticizing his methods. If all else failed, he could write a book. There was still plenty of life ahead for Dr. Neil Daniels.

  He marched determinedly to the building, keeping his peripheral vision sharp to detect anyone who wanted to stop him. Nobody who cared about his plans was hiding behind the dumpster or crouching around the corner. He held his key card up against the gray square next to the door. The lock clicked open with a tiny snap, allowing him to pull the door open and slip inside.

  Neil stood in the dark entryway for a moment to catch his breath. There wasn’t any reason for him to have respiratory problems. It hadn’t been a long walk from his rented van. Neil was letting his nerves get to him. Slipping his card back into his pocket, he crept quietly through the maze of offices and cubicles on the first floor. He had made this journey many times, but it had always been brilliantly illuminated by a vast array of LED lights on the ceiling. Creeping among the wall panels now felt confusing, lit only by emergency security lights directly wired to the electrical grid.

  This area didn’t look like Cyborg Sector at all. There were no cyborgs and no labs. Secretaries fielding calls from terrified citizens and angry cyborg rights organizations had once filled the cubicles. There had been employees in accounts payable and accounts receivable, human resources (a term the scientists always found amusing), and public relations. It was a place of everyday productivity and the fundamentals that any company would find necessary for existence. Now it terrified him.

  Neil paused every few seconds to listen for the telltale sound of footsteps following his path. He had never seen anyone follow him through Cyborg Sector before, but there was always the possibility that someone else was inside waiting for him. He wondered if anyone suspected him of performing illegal experiments.

  He had made sure to go willingly the day the administration forced all unessential personnel to leave the facility. The scientist had packed up his desk and his lab station, stuffing everything in his work universe into the back of his station wagon. He had joined the other employees in the lounge for punch and cake, biting his tongue to keep from saying everything he felt about the entire process. His coworkers didn’t take the news as poorly as he did, or perhaps they did a better job of faking acceptance. They had held up plastic cups to toast new opportunities and six months of severance pay. Neil had done the same alongside them, but his heart was somewhere else.

  Eventually, he reached the door on the other side of the maze of cubicles. It was a solid metal door, markedly different from the wooden doors that led into corner offices and janitorial closets. Painted a bland gray, it would have blended into the walls if it weren’t for a small sign near a keypad that read Authorized Personnel Only – No Exceptions. He was still authorized for access, so his pass card opened the door, and he stepped through.

  The door opened onto a landing at the top of a set of stairs. Normally, the lights would have been on, illuminating an enclosed, windowless stairwell. But the majority of funding related to Cyborg Sector had been cut off, and the utility bill was long past due. Neil pulled a flashlight out of the pocket of his coat and flicked on the button.

  As the shaft of light illuminated his way down the stairs, his stomach rose up inside him as though it were unwilling to make the descent. Neil took deep breaths, making sure to consciously breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. This was no time to have a panic attack. He needed to get in, take what he came for, and get out. Sitting down and putting his head between his knees until the dizziness passed would slow him down, and he’d risk getting caught. He pressed on, wondering what would happen if a custodian found his broken body at the bottom of the stairs.

  At one time, Neil had found it fun and exciting to work in an underground lab marked by a nearly invisible door. It was the sort of thing he only saw in movies about superheroes. Either a crazy lab accident gave scientists superpowers, or they spent their time making new weapons and gadgets for other heroes. Working with the cyborgs had turned his dream into reality. Some men donated their bodies to science so Cyb
org Sector could turn their near-dead carcasses into super soldiers. Neil hadn’t merely watched news anchors talk about cyborgs on television or read about them in scientific journals - he had been a part of the action.

  Of course, all of the achievements that he and his fellow scientists had made were now being ridiculed all over the media. The cyborg rights movement had taken everything he had done and flushed it down the toilet. Through an errant software update, a cyborg named AD-214 had suddenly remembered who he had been before a chip was implanted into his brain and his hand turned into a plasma gun. He and his cohorts escaped with the assistance of a Canadian group of sympathizers. They spent their time explaining to the public that cyborgs were not monsters, but people who wanted to live out their lives like everyone else. The public was convinced. Two years later, the destruction of Cyborg Sector began.

  At the bottom of the stairs, another sturdy door stood in his path. When Cyborg Sector was active, there was always a guard stationed by the entrance. Now the small desk to the right of the door was empty. It only took another flash of his card, and he was inside.

  The Skunkworks experimental lab had no signs labeling it as a special projects division, but it was distinctly different from the barracks upstairs that had once held numerous squads of cyborg soldiers. Cyborg Sector stored their cyborgs here in transparent, upright boxes made of bulletproof glass. These cells contained life support systems as well as a port that hooked directly into their skulls. The soldiers were kept inactive until they were needed for duty or scientists pulled them out to work on them.

  Neil flicked on the lights. The cells had once stood in a grid filling a vast room in the barracks, but down here they lined two of the walls like lockers. The center of the room was set up as a laboratory, with large surfaces for surgical work, mobile monitoring carts for taking vital signs, and other pieces of equipment and machinery.

  There were two doors on the far right side of the room. One of them was labeled Offices and the other had a handwritten sign that read Destruction. His desk, computer, and files had once been behind the first door. It was a place of refuge from the terrible realities of the world, where he was free to focus on his passion.

  He had stayed away from the other door as much as possible. Cyborgs designated as unfit were destroyed on a periodic basis. Any scientist could nominate a cyborg for destruction if they were considered too dangerous or never accepted their programming.

  Neil made his way across the room to one of the holding cells. He could have found that particular cell without using the lights. Neil had gone to it so many times before that he had memorized the path. The cyborg in that cell had been slated for destruction long ago. It was unstable and had a propensity for violence in the field. Internally, they had stopped using its identifier and started calling it Fury. Other scientists had told him to stop trying to reform it and have it destroyed. Neil should have moved on to a new donor body with better prospects, but he couldn’t let Fury go. He refused to give up on a cyborg that he knew he could save.

  Fury was in sleep mode, just like the others. He stood tall and erect, looking like he would be ready for battle as soon as he opened his eyes. The cyborg’s black hair was clipped short against his skull, and muscles bulged underneath a khaki uniform.

  Without any further hesitation, Neil keyed in a unique code that unlocked the holding cell. He worked quickly to disconnect the life support system and the wire that connected to a chip on the side of the cyborg’s head. The soldier’s bright blue eyes opened, and Neil knew that his interface had activated.

  “FY-485, this is Dr. Daniels,” the scientist whispered. “Do you understand me?”

  The cyborg replied without looking directly at him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Your orders will be given verbally today, instead of through the computer system. Do you understand?” Neil could hear the desperation in his voice. He was not merely breaking the law. He could be putting lives in danger. The cyborg wasn’t ready to leave the lab, much less the building. But he couldn’t exactly stuff the cyborg into a backpack.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Did he detect hesitation in the cyborg’s reply? No, surely not. He had to stop worrying so much. He had a plan, and this was the only way he could accomplish his goals. “Follow me. Do not interact with anyone else. Are your orders clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Carry this.” Neil shoved a heavy bag full of equipment at the soldier, who quickly wrapped his massive arms around the package. The soldier took it easily, like it held nothing more than Styrofoam. Technically, it was stealing, but Neil was already walking out of the facility with a cyborg. Were a few extra pieces of lab gear going to matter? The encumbrance would also give him extra time to shut down the cyborg if he became noncompliant. “Let’s go.”

  Neil walked briskly back to the entrance of the lab, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him. He was breathing heavily by the time they reached the top of the stairs, but the soldier hadn’t even broken a sweat. It felt like an eternity as they walked through the cubicles, out of the building, and to the van parked in an alley half a block away.

  Chapter Two

  “You seem to be doing well enough, physically speaking.” Natasha Daniels marked her findings on her tablet. The cyborg known as MD-268 was adjusting well to civilian life. He was one of several cyborgs who had received a particular software upgrade allowing him to become self-aware and conscious of his prior life, remembering what things were like before he became a part of Cyborg Sector. Integration into society wasn’t an easy thing for someone who was programmed to be a super soldier and serve the army. The Cyborg Rehabilitation Center was established to debrief the cyborgs and help them with the transition.

  “Don’t forget that I broke the front window last week,” MD-268 said uncertainly. “I thought I should have been able to control myself better when I was moving the couch, but all of a sudden it smashed through the glass.”

  MD-268 was strangely insecure for a cyborg, but she thought she could fix him. Natasha had jumped at the chance to work for the CRC. Before that, she was a nurse. The medical profession was fulfilling, but now Natasha felt she was doing work as important as her father’s. Even though Cyborg Sector no longer existed, she still felt like she was contributing to the project. It was unfortunate that her dad had lost his job, but maybe it was an indication that it was time for him to retire. It wouldn’t hurt him to relax once in a while.

  “That’s okay,” Natasha reassured him. “Accidents happen to everyone, even you. Make sure to keep doing your exercises and take your time when you start any big projects.”

  “Okay.” MD-268 nodded, a wrinkle in his brow. “I’ll try.”

  Natasha consulted her tablet again. “We’re finished for today, but it looks like you have an appointment downstairs with the Employment Department. Have you already filled out the paperwork?”

  “I think so.” MD-268 fished around in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a folded wad of papers. “I don’t know if these are the right forms.”

  “Someone will look them over downstairs, and they’ll help you fill them out correctly.” All of the employees at the Cyborg Rehabilitation Center were chosen for their patience and understanding. The cyborg soldiers came in a variety of personalities. Some were angry and confused, others were worried and scared, and some acted as though nothing had ever happened and they had never had chips installed in their brains. The last ones were some of the most difficult. No one ever knew what they were thinking.

  MD-268 had not moved. “Can you tell me how to get to that department?” he asked uncertainly.

  It was not unusual to find cyborgs who didn’t know how to go anywhere without specific directions. They were used to having all decisions made by someone else and having their computer systems automatically route them places, but they no longer had those luxuries. Their interfaces, which they counted on to help them navigate through a building, were degrading over time. Many were
left feeling lost.

  “Of course I can. I’ll walk you to the elevator.” It was easier to take them out of the similar-looking exam rooms of the Physical Rehab Department, then give them directions from outside the department. “Take the elevator to level two. When you get off, go to the right, and you’ll see a sign for the Employment Department. If you get lost, ask anyone you see for help.”

  “Thank you,” MD-268 muttered as the elevator arrived. Natasha could see a few beads of nervous sweat on his upper lip before the elevator doors closed and hopefully sent him down to level two.

  “Hey, Tash. I haven’t seen you much lately. I know you’ve been here, but what have you been doing?”

  Natasha turned to look at Brittney, who ran the front desk at the Physical Rehab Department. She was blonde and cute. The cyborgs always seemed to like her. Natasha, with dark red hair and bright blue eyes, seemed to be more of a particular taste for males. That was all right with her considering that she was still married.

  “I know,” she replied. “I overbooked my appointments. At first I tried to tell myself that I just needed the extra money, but I really just wanted to keep myself busy. I don’t want to think about life right now.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and sighed. “I think my marriage is falling apart.”

  “Are you sure?” Brittney stood up from her chair and laid a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “I thought you two were great together.”

  Natasha shrugged and rubbed her eyes. It didn’t seem to matter how long she slept or how much coffee she drank in the morning, she always felt exhausted and wanted to close her eyes. “I thought so, too, but he’s just getting more and more distant. I don’t know what happened between us. People change over time, but I don’t think I’ve changed that much.”

  “Sometimes two people can just grow apart, I guess,” Brittney offered. Natasha knew she had to take the desk girl’s advice with a grain of salt. Brittney had never been in a relationship that lasted longer than six months. “Have you tried therapy or couple’s counseling?”