Claimed by the Alien Warlord: A Science Fiction Alien Mail-Order Bride Romance (TerraMates Book 14)

by Lisa Lace

  “What’s all that stuff?” Natasha asked as she took the food from him and gestured at the bag on the loveseat.

  John ran his hand through his brown hair and adjusted his glasses before he spoke. “I thought I would take a nap this afternoon after I got off the phone with you. I’d been up late working on my book, and I’d only had a few hours of sleep before you called.”

  “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

  “No, no. You don’t need to apologize. I couldn’t fall asleep because I was thinking about Fury. There’s still more to learn about him. We know he’s not a typical cyborg. We haven’t determined why.”

  Natasha paused in the doorway to the kitchen. It was something she hadn’t thought about before. “Wasn’t it because he was dangerous and had violent urges? All of Dad’s logs stated he lost control whenever he went into the field. They couldn’t work with him.” She carried the takeout boxes to the table and began opening them.

  John followed her. “The explanation sounds good, but it’s pretty vague when you stop and think about it. Why did Fury have this problem? It isn’t typical for cyborgs.”

  Natasha paused with her hands on a pair of chopsticks as she thought about John’s words. A flush of shame burned her cheeks. Why hadn’t she thought about such things before? She had accepted the soldier for what he was without questioning why. Even her father’s notes hadn’t provided insight on this topic. Was there something he knew that she didn’t?

  “You understand, don’t you?” John’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “I felt like an idiot when I realized I had never looked into it closely before. All the cyborgs used to be humans, and that gives them an unpredictable element. I began to wonder if Fury was a man with anger issues before he became part of Cyborg Sector or if there was a different reason. What if we did something to him and made him this way?”

  John fetched the bag from the living room and pulled out a laptop computer. He pushed aside the cartons on the table to make room for it, spilling a container of soup in his efforts but only halfheartedly wiping it up with a thin napkin. “There was one other thing I didn’t understand. If a software upgrade and a little bit of work with Fury were enough to help him regain his humanity, then why hadn’t your father done it himself? Dr. Daniels was a brilliant scientist. No offense, but I don’t see how you and I could accomplish something he couldn’t.”

  Natasha finally found her voice again. “That’s a lot to think about.” She tossed a handful of paper napkins on the spilled soup, determined to clean it up before it made a stain.

  “Exactly. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. In my mind, I saw a programmed killer named Fury out on the streets, and it didn’t make sense to me. I went out of my way to speak with the guy from Cyborg Sector I was telling you about.” John had his laptop open and was typing quickly on the keyboard.

  “The one who can hack the system?”

  “That’s the one. He seemed to know a lot about what went on behind the scenes, which makes sense considering he was their chief computer technician. After he spent some time snooping around the files, he managed to find this.” John lifted the laptop to show Natasha the screen.

  Natasha sat down to look at the file carefully. It was a profile from Cyborg Sector on a soldier named FY-485. The first things that caught her eye were the letters at the beginning of the serial number. She thought they were used to designate the source of a body. ADs were from the army, MDs from the general military, and PDs were private donors. It was rare to encounter a PD, but she had never heard of an FY before. Had the cyborg been a special donor? Was it someone who wouldn’t usually qualify for the cyborg program - but got pushed through due to a large monetary donation or political influence? The prefix FY sounded like someone’s idea of a bad joke.

  She began reading the intake and procedural details on the profile. The man had been in a car accident and suffered massive internal damage. He needed cybernetic organs to survive, but muscles, and skin would regenerate given enough time. A surgeon named Colin White had operated on FY-485, upgrading the failing body parts. The notes indicated that the biochip did not line up correctly with the neurological pathways in the subject’s brain, but Dr. White had still managed to make the operation a success. There were many more paragraphs, but her eyes were growing tired.

  “I don’t understand.” Natasha pulled herself away from the screen. “What exactly am I reading here?”

  “This is the original file for FY-485, who is currently known as Fury. It was encrypted and hidden so it wouldn’t be visible if anyone looked for it casually. But my connection knows how to find things like this, and he was able to break the encryption for me. The profile visible to everyone else — including your father — looks like this.” With a few keystrokes, John brought up a different page.

  The cyborg’s serial number was the same, as was the intake date. The written information, however, was far shorter and less detailed. The only thing Natasha could discern from the profile was that the cyborg had cybernetic organs, an enhanced skeleton, and a plasma gun in his hand. Natasha already knew this about Fury. She had learned it from her father’s files.

  “There’s almost nothing here.” The nurse sounded frustrated and confused.

  “Exactly. The surgeon had a problem when he started operating. The doctor would have had to make an accurate record of the surgery as it happened since the assistants have to sign off on the operation. He put it into the system as it was, let everyone see it, and slipped a little cash into a cubicle to have it encrypted and a new document put in its place.”

  “Okay.” Natasha tapped her fingertips against her lips as she thought about John’s revelation. The biochip wasn’t a perfect match for the cyborg, and going through with the procedure might have contributed to his vicious personality. “But how did the update help him? If his brain was affected by the surgery, wouldn’t the changes persist despite any software changes?”

  John grinned. “I think we got lucky. I couldn’t specialize the update for Fury because he wasn’t in the system at the rehabilitation center. They only track cyborgs who have entered the release program. My theory is that using software designed for someone with a successfully implanted biochip changed something fundamental about Fury. If we had downloaded the proper software, he would still be just as violent as before.”

  “That seems like a one-in-a-million chance.” The redhead stared at the computer screen without absorbing anything. “How can something like that happen?”

  “It’s the human element we can’t control. The update happened to be a perfect match for Fury. Just like matching up various factors for organ transplants, some things are compatible with people in a surprising way. I don’t have any proof, of course, but it’s the best theory I have, and it fits the facts.” The tech’s eyes shone brightly. He was thrilled to have a theory about the cyborg. It was too bad he could never reveal it to the world without exposing Fury.

  “This sounds crazy.” Natasha ran her hands over her eyes and tipped her head up at the ceiling.

  “We’re just getting started. I have more things to show you.” John went back to work on the computer, closing the documents he had pulled up and opening something new. “I thought about something else when I spoke to you this morning, but I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. The soldiers from Cyborg Sector were designed to be robots and blindly follow commands.”

  “Right. That’s why I was having problems with Fury in the beginning. He didn’t always listen to me.” Natasha shifted in her seat, impatient to see what John had discovered.

  “They also had trackers embedded into their bodies. They helped the cyborgs position themselves correctly on the battlefield and made it possible for human commanders to know their location. The release program never removes the tracker. Even if they did, Fury never went through the official release process.” John turned the computer to Natasha again and pointed at the screen.

  Numerous biometric readings illuminate
d the screen. “Do I see what I think I’m seeing?”

  “Absolutely,” John confirmed. “We can’t determine his precise location yet, but we can verify Fury is alive.”

  “That’s amazing!” For the first time that day, Natasha felt a sense of relief. She thought her head might float right off her shoulders and bump against the ceiling. Even though Natasha would have given anything to have Fury sitting with them at the dining table, he was still alive. The knowledge gave her hope, and she was going to hold on to it as long as possible.

  CHAPTER 27

  Fury strode down the dark sidewalk waiting for something to happen. Ever since he saved the girl in the alleyway, he had hungered for the next taste of adrenaline in his blood. He knew this was what he was meant to do. The cyborg understood what his life had been before the pain and the operations. His life had been larger than he had imagined, and probably bigger than Natasha knew.

  He had considered telling her the truth. It was a revelation to discover he had worked on the police force. Natasha would have wanted to know that, but he was waiting for the right opportunity to tell her. Whenever Fury decided to open up to her, he would also have to explain what he hoped to do every time he walked out the door. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and there was no point in making her worry. He wasn’t going to stop, no matter what anyone thought.

  The rest of the first night had been quiet. The cyborg had been unable to find anyone else in need of assistance. But his failure only drove him to look harder the next time he went out. The neighborhood was more peaceful than before. Soft lights glowed from the houses around him. A dog barked in the distance, and a loud television blared through an open window. Everything felt normal.

  Fury’s mind drifted back to the previous night’s escapades. They had taken place in a residential area only a few blocks from Natasha’s house, and he was eager to see the rest of the town. The tall streetlights, made to look like old-fashioned gaslights, had already been turned off for the evening. The traffic signals blinked red for the few cars on the street at the late hour. Downtown, stores stretched across either side of the road, offering pet supplies, dental services, and used clothing.

  He would never have noticed anything amiss if he hadn’t been looking at everything. A flutter of movement through a window caught his eye.

  Crossing the street to get closer, Fury inspected the sign of the business, which read Miller’s Jewelers. There were bars on the windows, but he could easily see inside. He had no distinct memories of jewelry stores, but he remembered that the employees were unlikely to work past midnight. They also didn’t wear dark sweatshirts and fitted skullcaps like the man currently behind the counter.

  The intruder had a pillow case in one hand and used the other to unlock and empty each jewelry case swiftly. Pearls, diamonds, and gemstones poured into the bag like glittering liquid. The thief was leaving every display empty.

  Fury considered the situation for a moment, staying far enough back from the building so the criminal could not see him. The cyborg could march into the store and apprehend the man. He didn’t look like he would be hard to take down. But then what would he do with him? There was no way to call the police without drawing attention to himself.

  The soldier slipped around to the back of the building instead. Fury had some time before the thief was finished loading up his bag. He entered the building through the back door and crept through the store, ready to surprise the burglar. The bandit had his back to the cyborg as he emptied a case of birthstone jewelry.

  “Can I help you find anything?” Fury asked.

  The bandit spun around, nearly dropping his bag in surprise. He was only a couple of feet from the soldier, and his jaw met the force of Fury’s fist before he could attempt to flee. A set of keys flew out of the crook’s hands and landed with a crash on the tile floor.

  Fury crossed the room to pick them up. The keys meant this was an inside job. The larcenist, who lay unconscious on the floor, either worked at the store or knew someone who did. It would make sense to trap him inside. Fury soon discovered that the front door could only be locked or unlocked with a key. Making sure the front door was secure, he retreated out the back door.

  The rear entrance could be shoved open from the inside with the use of a crash bar, but Fury wasn’t about to let the thief escape that way. He found a dumpster in the alley, small enough to have no wheels but substantial enough to serve as an effective barricade, and shoved it in front of the back door. It scraped loudly on the asphalt. Fury planned to leave the area before anyone had time to investigate. The cyborg set the ring of keys carefully on the lid of the dumpster before disappearing on the other side of the alley.

  Though he had partially satiated himself with the burglar, Fury continued to patrol the town, craving something more satisfying. The jewel thief had not put anyone in danger, and he couldn’t justify doing anything violent to him. Fury imagined the store clerks had come in and found the man in the morning, confused and injured but unable to leave the building. The cyborg wondered what the look was on the man’s face when he woke up.

  Tonight, the action seemed to be hiding from him. He amplified the sound of the neighborhood, but he only heard cars in the distance and a woman singing her baby to sleep. Fury walked down a row of parked vehicles and frightened away a would-be carjacker with his presence. Everything else was uneventful.

  It wasn’t until he turned the corner near a pizza restaurant that he noticed something odd. Shadows partially concealed a figure. The only indication of his presence was the red light of a cigarette ember. Fury saw him, but loitering was not a crime. He moved on.

  The figure moved with him, leaving one shadow behind as it slipped into the next. The streetlights were still on downtown, but they were farther apart as Fury entered an industrial zone. It was dark enough there that an average human wouldn’t know if someone was following him.

  Fury was not an average human.

  The cigarette had been dropped but not extinguished, and the stench followed the two men as they wound their way through city streets, past dark factories and warehouses wrapped in chain-link fencing. The man followed the cyborg past full trash barrels and empty train cars. Fury wanted to turn around and scan his pursuer, but that would reveal him prematurely. The man was following him for a reason, and he wanted to know why.

  Finally, when they reached the edge of town and there was nothing before them except a lonesome set of railroad tracks stretching off into the moonlight, the figure emerged. There were no more shadows to hide in, nor were there any witnesses. Fury was ready to take care of this quickly. The sun would be up in an hour, and he still had to get back home.

  “Give me your wallet.” The man’s voice was monotone as he held out his hand. It looked rough and rugged in the pale light. His face was broad and flat, with arching eyebrows and a gleam in his eye that was apparent despite the gloom.

  The cyborg could now turn around and get a good look at his assailant. A quick scan revealed that he was well armed, carrying a pistol in his waistband, another at the top of his boot, and a knife in his jacket pocket. A different pocket held a phone. The man was manipulating the phone, and it looked as though he were pushing buttons.

  “I don’t carry one.” Fury needed to play it safe with this character. Everyone the soldier had encountered up until this point had been after something or someone else. No one had ever come for him before. Surely even the most desperate pickpocket would be reluctant to take on a man his size.

  “I’m sure you have something that interests me.” The hand in his pocket wasn’t dialing anymore. The man took another step toward the cyborg.

  “I doubt it.” Fury amplified his hearing. The man had made a call on the phone, but he wasn’t speaking into it. What was he doing?

  “Sure you do. You’re just not being creative enough. You look like you have cybernetic organs inside that body, and I bet there is a weapon built into your hand. You might even have a titanium
skeleton. Do you know how much titanium sells for on the black market? You’ve got what I need. Or what my boss needs, and that’s all I care about.” The man grinned. It was an expression that made his face look more threatening than before.

  Fury automatically prepared for combat. His opponent would pull out a gun or the knife any minute. The cyborg began to charge his plasma gun but kept his hand down at his side. He already had an unfair advantage.

  Noise from behind him suddenly caught his attention. A car roared around the corner, tires squealing and engine roaring. Fury turned to get a visual when an explosion sounded in front of him. The man had shot Fury in the shoulder while he was distracted. The cyborg cursed as he put a hand over his wound and advanced on the gunman, who was now running back toward town.

  The car tore around the corner of a building, barreling at him across a patch of grass. Fury could choose to either chase the gunman or confront the driver. Either way, he knew the two of them were working together. The gunman had apparently reported his location with the phone. He had never intended to rob Fury at all. His sole purpose was to isolate Fury and confirm his identity.

  The vehicle in front of him had once been a beautiful sports car, but its sides were streaked with bare metal where its driver had scraped against other vehicles or buildings. It was rusting around the edges, but the parts under the hood still worked well enough. The automobile picked up speed as it raced toward Fury.

  The cyborg decided to stand his ground and brace for impact. The car might knock him off his feet, but he should be able to withstand the damage. The fiberglass bumper would do nothing to an enhanced skeleton, and even his gunshot wound was no longer hurting. Fury had set out looking for action, and he had found it.

  The car screeched to a stop, turning to the left instead of hitting him. The door swung open, and the driver stepped out looking surprisingly casual. Fury did not expect this kind of attitude from someone who had hired an assassin.