by J N Chaney
“Tell everyone to stop using them,” Warren said. “Lukov, I need you and at least one other cyborg to check each of them for sabotage. Figure out how it happened, and if it is sabotage, how it was done.”
“Roger,” Lukov replied.
Warren stopped a civilian who was walking by and holding a small armload of boxes. “These printers”—he pointed to the nearest one—“what are they used for?”
The older man looked where Warren was pointing before responding. “We use them for printing all kinds of stuff. Machine parts, panels, even electronics, if we have the plans for them. We can’t do any radioactive materials or exotic stuff, but otherwise, they’re how we make everything.”
“Thank you,” Warren said, and the man continued toward his destination.
If it was sabotage, the printers made a good piece of equipment to target. He had a feeling that losing too many of them would cause a major disruption.
“The printers are vitally important to save,” he transmitted to all the cyborgs. “They’re the only source of parts these people have. If any more are broken, it can be assumed things are only going to get worse. Proceed with caution and keep your eyes open.”
“Sabotage confirmed,” Cooper reported. “Looks like a small incendiary device attached to one of the power couplers. How these things didn’t catch fire before now, I’m not sure. Maybe someone has to print something specific—something that draws more power than what’s typical. Something like that. But yeah, it’s definitely not an accident.”
“Whoa!” Warren said as he stepped in front of a civilian who looked like he was getting ready to use the printer nearest him. “Sorry, but this machine’s out of order.”
The man looked incredulous. “What are you talking about? Look! The light’s green. I have things I need to do.”
“And, until a cyborg checks this machine, it’s out of order. So are all the others. Go find the cyborg named Lukov. He can tell you which ones are available. He’s over there.”
The man looked where Warren was pointing, stared longingly at the machine nearest him, and trudged away.
“Cooper,” Warren said over the comms. “Show me what you found.”
A moment later, a video image appeared in the corner of his HUD. Cooper inspected the device closely and turned it over a few times in his hand.
“Looks pretty sophisticated,” Cooper mused. “Not your backyard mechanic kind of stuff.”
“Agreed,” Warren said. “Too sophisticated to be Commonwealth tech. Maybe too sophisticated for the Reotian people, too. I think we’ve got a Republic spy here somewhere.”
“How do we find him... her... them, maybe?”
“We keep our eyes open for now,” Warren said. “They’ll make a mistake, eventually. If we stop what we’re doing to try to interrogate everyone to find the traitors, we’ll slow down our defenses.”
“Okay,” Cooper said, not sounding convinced. “But this isn’t good.”
“What’s worse is the fact that the Republic might know where this hangar is,” Warren said. “They have a spy here. We’ve visited this planet several times, right?”
“Right,” Cooper said, uncertainty in his voice.
“If the Republic has some kind of spy network—something even the cyborgs aren’t aware of—they could have transmitted the location of this base to them a long time ago. If not, you can bet they’ll do it when the Republic eventually returns.”
“So what do we do?”
“Exactly what we’re doing,” Warren said. “Be suspicious of everyone and keep your eyes open.”
Turning around slowly, Warren tried to think of what the most sensitive targets in the base might be. There was water filtration, but unless poison was introduced in the filtered end of the line, the likelihood of it causing any serious trouble was minimal. The food supply would be a likely target, but it would take a lot of time to damage or tamper with years of food for everyone on the entire planet.
“Lukov, who do we have available. Cyborg, not civilian.”
“Craig is available right now,” he replied. “Or I could get someone freed up in a few minutes.”
Him, of all people. The one cyborg who had wanted to die more than anyone else. He was also the most likely to shoot first and ask questions later. Still—a dead mole was better than a live one.
“Craig,” Warren said after adding him to the private channel. “I need you to get to the ship. This is going to be a boring task, but I need you to do it for me, okay?”
“What am I doing?” Craig asked, sounding suspicious.
“We’ve got at least one enemy we’re trying to track down,” Warren explained. “The biggest target for sabotage is the ship. If they take the crucial systems out, or just blow the damn thing up, everything we’ve done so far is gone.”
“Ah, shit,” he whispered over the channel. “Want me to guard it?”
“Yes,” Warren said. “Try not to kill anyone if you can help it. But don’t take any chances with yourself or the ship. There shouldn’t be anyone aboard, so if you find anyone, arrest them, search them, and find out what they were doing. Stick them in the brig and we’ll deal with them later. Look for evidence. Run diagnostics on everything you can and investigate any anomalies. Got it?”
“Loud and clear,” Craig replied. He sounded like he was in the mood to kill someone. If someone had gained access to the ship, they would soon regret it.
15
“Are you guys going to need any supplies out there?” asked Craig from his current position inside the ship.
Warren smiled. He had the right idea. It might be a while before anyone would have the time to get back aboard if supplies started running low. “We’ll make a quick shopping list and come grab the stuff we need.”
“Want me to get some of the stuff ready for you?”
The offer might have surprised Warren a few days ago, but Craig was fast becoming one of his more reliable people. “No, but thanks. You focus on keeping the ship secure. Plus, I need you to make sure the techs who were in there earlier didn’t do anything screwy with it. Hendrose said he trusted them, but anyone can be fooled.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Craig said, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I’ll be here.”
He wasn’t sure what he needed and didn’t want to spend a lot of time thinking about it, so he sent a message to several other cyborgs for assistance. Jenita Rigby and Rob Thompson arrived a couple minutes later.
“Here, boss,” said Thompson. “What’s going on?”
“We need to get some supplies from the ship,” replied Warren. “I’ll need some help carrying everything out, and I need to know if either of you can think of anything else we might need.”
“Aww, shucks,” said Rigby with a bright smile. “Glad to know you were thinking of us. What kind of stuff are we collecting?”
“Ammunition, weaponry, maybe an extra combat knife or two. Anything we might need in case we get invaded and have a prolonged battle.”
“What about cyborg chow?” asked Thompson.
“Leave it, unless you really like that stuff,” Warren said with a chuckle. “Some cyborgs like it, don’t they?”
Thompson shrugged. “I don’t mind them. Wish there was more than one flavor, but all in all, it’s not so bad. What’s the alternative?”
“Commonwealth rations,” said Warren.
Rigby grunted, her lip curling up in derision. “In that case, I think I’d rather have cyborg chow, too. Eventually we’ll need to start eating other stuff, but I don’t want to catch their stupidity. Eat their chow, maybe you catch the dumb. I’ll save all that nonsense for later.”
Warren laughed. Thompson stared at her like she might be onto something. Like she might have a special kind of insight into what made CoWs so dumb. He glanced back and forth between the other two.
“Relax,” Warren said, holding up a hand. “Though doubtful, if food is responsible, it’ll take a whole lot longer to work on us than it does on everyon
e else.”
“Let’s hope so,” Rigby mumbled.
“Thompson can grab the cyborg chow. Rigby, you start collecting ammo. I’ll check on Craig and join you afterward. Stack it up outside the lift.” Inspiration struck and Warren had another idea. “Get Craig to help. I need him to stay on the ship to guard it, but helping us move supplies will give him something to do.”
It looked like Craig had moved both lifts to the top. It was smart. Anyone who wanted on board would have to bring them down before they could enter. Unless they had access to some powerful weaponry, there was no other way to get into the ship.
“Who’s out there?” transmitted Craig. “Is someone bringing one of the lifts down?”
“It’s me,” replied Warren. “I’ve got Rigby and Thompson with me. We’re here to collect some supplies in case either side decides to invade. If you can think of anything we might need, we could use the help.”
“I can think of plenty,” replied Craig. “Ammo’s gonna be the big one. Need me to start moving things?”
“Please do. See you in a couple minutes.”
“I’ll get started,” said Craig. He sounded pleased to have something to do.
Less than three minutes later, they were on the ship. Thompson headed to the chow hall, Rigby to the armory. Craig had already stacked an armload of ammunition just inside the hatch.
“You guys gonna need emergency medical supplies?” he asked. “You know—in case one of the skin jobs gets hurt?”
“Good thinking,” said Warren. “ Sorry you’re stuck in here, but you understand how important it is to protect the ship, right?”
“Yeah, I’m good, no problem. I’ve been combing the ship for anything out of the ordinary, too. We did have some strangers in here. They said they were techs, but we can’t really be sure, right?”
Warren frowned. Pretty much everyone on Reotis was a stranger now that he thought about it. “Right. Damn, good thinking. Found anything yet?”
“Besides a bunch of dirty footprints, no. Smudges, too. Like these guys were cooking something and stirring it with their dirty little hands a second before they got on the ship. Don’t worry—I checked. It’s all cooking stuff. No biological warfare shit or anything like that. So, how are you? How are the natives treating you?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” said Warren. “The people are scared and disorganized, which is understandable. We’ve got our work cut out for us. But there are a lot of them, so once I get them up to speed, we’ll be able to get a lot of stuff done in a short amount of time.”
“Yeah, that’s good. Real good.” Craig fell silent, his brow furrowing as if he was thinking hard about something. “I’m not used to this,” he said. “You know, being free and all. Not having to do what the war computer says. Not having to kill things. I’m feeling kind of lost.”
Warren felt sympathy for the man. Waking up without his memories in this terrifying new world had thrown him for a loop too. “It’ll take some getting used to, I’m sure,” he replied. “But it feels good, doesn’t it? Does it remind you of the old days before you were a slave?”
Craig twitched. “I don’t have any memories older than four years. I don’t remember where I came from, if Edward Craig is my real name—nothing. Maybe nothing. I feel like I used to be in the Army. Definitely not Navy and I don’t think Marines. But I don’t know for sure. Not really. I mean, we don’t talk about it, but am I really me?”
“What do you mean?” Warren asked, even though he knew exactly what the man was talking about. The other cyborg needed to vent. He needed to express his feelings. If Warren was really going to be their leader, he needed to act like one.
“We never talk about it, but I’m wondering something. Um, you’re in charge now, right? Does that mean I need to ask permission to speak freely? It’s cool if I do.”
“Speak your mind. You are always allowed to speak your mind. And, if you ever need to speak of anything privately, you can always open a private channel. So long as I’m not right in the middle of something dangerous, I’m available.”
“Thanks, man—sir.”
“Man is fine,” Warren replied with a small laugh.
Craig laughed nervously. “So, it’s kind of a rule that we don’t talk about certain things. But I need to talk about it. You don’t have to say anything, but I’ve got to get it off my chest. So, I was thinking about this whole backup thing. The war computer stores our memories. It’s an advanced system. Who’s to say it doesn’t fuck with our memories once it has them, right? Maybe they experiment on us—screw with us between resets and backups and such. I know I’ve got… problems. But wouldn’t it be cool if they could just erase the memories we don’t want to keep? Or let us do it. I’ve got so many memories. Most of them aren’t pleasant.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” replied Warren. “My memories are all muddled, but I remember the moment I realized something was wrong. I remember being human—then nothing until the last time we were on this planet. Four hundred years of missing memories.”
They stood in silence for nearly a minute. Thompson arrived with a bag full of cyborg chow. He glanced at both of them before hurrying away to get something else. Rigby arrived a short time later with a rifle and an armload of ammo. She also glanced at both of them, but instead of leaving, sent a message to Warren.
YOU GOOD?
Craig was still standing there, lost in his thoughts. His hands were relaxed instead of being curled into fists. He gave no indication, so far as Warren could see, that he was about to do anything crazy.
GOOD.
Rigby nodded and hurried away to get more.
“It’s not crazy, is it?” asked Craig. “Wondering if my memories are my own, or if they’ve been poisoned? I mean, the Republic is messed up enough to do it, right?”
“Yes, they are,” agreed Warren. “And no, it’s not crazy. I’m still sorting through mine. For all I know, everything about my human life is a lie. So no, I don’t think it’s crazy at all.
“Yeah,” confirmed Craig. “I couldn’t take any more of the killing. I was done—ready to punch my clock. You aren’t gonna make me do any of the bullshit the Republic made me do, are you?”
“No,” Warren assured, shaking a hand to fan the question away. “In fact, you have the right to refuse to do anything you think is immoral, illegal—whatever. I expect you to never tell any other cyborg or human to do anything illegal, either. Deal?”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “You are going to let me out of this ship eventually, right?”
“Of course. You’re not here because you’re in trouble. You’re not being locked up or anything like that. This is an important job. I trust you.”
Craig shrugged. “Not sure if you’re just putting me on ice, sir, but I’ll do it. And I’ll take it seriously. Thanks for talking to me.”
“You’re welcome,” said Warren.
“I think that’s it,” replied Thompson, walking up with a large container. “Five or six hundred chow bars—that’s it. Oh, shit. Here, Craig. I’ll leave some for you.”
“I’ll be fine for a while,” he replied, wrinkling his nose. “What are you guys gonna eat?”
Thompson sighed. “CoW rations, eventually.”
Craig laughed. It was a positive sound. “I’m fine here, Warren. You know what, leave me a big handful of those things. You guys can eat the Commonwealth stuff yourselves.” Then to Warren he asked, “You got a few more minutes before you have to leave?”
“Yeah, we can give you a few more. No problem.”
OKAY TO ASK THOMPSON SAME QUESTION?
Warren felt a little shocked by Craig’s question. The guy couldn’t really think he had to ask permission to speak his mind still, could he?
ASK ANYTHING YOU WANT AT ANY TIME. SERIOUSLY.
Thompson looked curious at both other cyborgs. He hadn’t been part of the non-verbal exchange, but he knew something was going on.
Craig asked Thompson the same question he�
��d asked Warren.
Thompson leaned against the outer bulkhead, crossed his arms, and nodded slowly. “We all ask that, man. At least now we can ask each other. Fact is, I have no idea. I try not to think about it. Not really one of those happy-thought-generators. Right now, I don’t even care anymore. As far as I’m concerned, this is a new life. It’s a chance to start over, do good things, maybe even make amends for some of the rotten shit they made us do in the past. Warren here did something great for all of us. For Reotis, too, though I think it’s more for mutual benefit than anyone being all altruistic or anything.”
“Right,” Craig said with a laugh, shooting a quick glance at Warren.
“So, the way I figure it, none of us are going to be able to forget about what they made us do. We didn’t have a choice.”
Craig shook his head slowly. “Thanks, Thompson. I think what you’re saying is that the rules have changed, right? We aren’t just warriors anymore.”
Thompson nodded. “Exactly.”
That taken care of, the three loaded the supplies while Craig left to check the ship again. Rigby looked curious. Thompson appeared to be absolutely pleased with himself. Warren felt cautiously optimistic. So long as Craig stayed motivated and kept his sense of humor, everything should work out for the best.
16
The three cyborgs rode the lift down in silence. Once it stopped and the doors opened, Rigby couldn’t contain herself any longer.
“We’ve got to do something about him. Do you guys sense something isn’t right with Craig?”
“You’re right. Something isn’t right with him,” said Warren. “He’s been through a lot, but don’t be hard on him. Some people handle what we do better than others.”
Rigby scoffed. “There’s no way to tell for sure, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been a cyborg longer than Craig. I’ve been through just as much as him if not more. I’m not cracking. What’s his deal?”
