by Naomi Lucas
“Deal, you say?” The new prisoner’s voice vibrated low, slicing straight through her and somehow, she wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Kallan.
“Hrmm, yeah, the guards want you awake, and you’re awake thanks to Ely here, but that also means you’re the walking dead. And you got some nice, warm-looking clothes, particularly that jacket of yours. It’s caused quite a stir among us, ‘cause creature comforts are few and far between, and seeing as you’ll be dead by rest cycle—”
Will he? Elodie wasn’t so sure about that. He was bigger than Kallan and looked immensely stronger, even harder than him. She’d caught a glimpse of sinewy muscle at the edges of his clothes, the popping of a tendon at his neck.
Kallan, on the other hand, was her dad’s age, maybe a bit younger. He sported scars, old facial wounds of a laced booster user, and his pallor was sickly and wet. His hair was long and stringy, a dark brown that easily showed off his dandruff. She shivered again at the thought, thankful, always thankful, that there were thick metal bars between her and everyone else.
“—so there’s no reason for a dead man to keep all the goods. But I’ve been here the longest and I may be able to keep you alive long enough to make the fuckers outside stop giving a damn.” Kallan preened.
“For my jacket?”
“Bright! You’re bright,” Kallan tittered mockingly and she felt his spittle land on her. Elodie wiped it off with disgust. “Hey guys, we got a genius in our midst!”
“I’ll think about it,” the new prisoner said, unamused.
“Don’t think long. Those guards could be back at any time, and from what I’ve gathered, they’re out for your blood.”
“Hmm...” The sound slithered right into her ear again.
Elodie’s heart skipped a much-needed beat and her eyes snapped open. Maybe he is an idiot. She looked at the tops of her knees but really focused on him in her periphery. He needs to pretend he’s still out cold. That’s what I would do.
The stranger was feet away, pressed up against the bars they shared. Her bars. My safe place. No one cared about getting within her reach and a sudden anger sparked within her, hot and fast.
The men around her argued and Kallan’s laughter grew louder. Her periphery blurred. The stranger hovered at her side, large like a wave poised to crash at any moment, casting her in his shadow even though the light came from directly overhead.
“What’re we going to do about...him?” he said. Ely closed her eyes again.
They’re talking about me.
“Ely here?” Kallan asked. “Nothing. Boy-o knows what’s best for him.”
She heard the rustle of clothes and the shift of the stranger’s body moving beside her.
“Ely? Do you know what’s best for you?” he asked, low enough for only her to hear. She sucked on her tongue and kept quiet.
“Don’t you want my jacket, Ely?” His voice lowered still, sounding deeper, softer, and the noisy sounds of the other inmates faded into the background.
I do.
“You do, don’t you?”
She leaned her head back against the wall and rolled it to the side, feigning irritation as she looked at him. As soon as she did, she wished she’d hadn’t.
Elodie searched his face, tracing each harsh contour, but she kept coming back to those glazed eyes that seemed to look straight through her. Her understanding of anatomy screamed at her that the man was blind, except she knew he wasn’t.
He just appeared blind.
His head mirrored her own against the wall and she knew exactly what the man was doing. He’s trying to gain my trust.
Her eyes narrowed as his mouth twitching into a sideways smirk. One of the guns ballooned at his cheek while the other straightened. His smile widened. Elodie drew back before she could stop herself.
“Hello, Ely,” he said.
Elodie wanted to turn back time. I’ve made too many mistakes today.
“My name’s Gunner. I think we’re going to be fast friends.”
Chapter Four
A CYCLE HAD GONE BY since he arrived but he had made progress.
Gunner bolstered his signal, letting his body slump into a restful stage, and checked the digital cracks throughout the ship’s security. He found gaps big enough for him to tear apart the code and patch it back up with corrupted ones in his wake. He didn’t want to leave a trail.
What he needed was APOLLO.
His fingers jerked on his thigh. Every minute that passed, his control over the ship’s systems strengthened, but keeping his progress on track was proving difficult. Pretending to be human, especially one that had everyone’s attention, was a nuisance. His other, temporary brig-mates had conversations and intrigues that enticed him back every time he left his body.
But Ely proved to be the worst. If Ely sighed too deeply, Gunner left the ship’s systems and came back to investigate. If Ely shifted positions, Gunner tracked his progress.
The verdict was still out on whether Ely was a man or not.
His nostrils flared as he sucked in a full breath but it hinted at no signs that proved whether Ely was male or female. All it proved was that everyone, on all sides, was dirty. He had a strong sense of smell, one of the strongest for a Cyborg, and even that sense was less reliable amongst the grime.
It smelled like shit and he was equally disgusted and at home in it.
I’ve been in here for eighteen hours and eighteen minutes.
Eighteen hours and eighteen minutes was enough for his ship to be on the other side of the galaxy. It was enough time to make it halfway to the nearest wormhole. Gunner couldn’t account for the time he’d spent rebooting but based on previous reboots, he had been down for less than an hour.
Someone coughed and he jerked fully back into himself.
Gunner looked around with a sneer and found the guy on the opposite side of him staring. He sniffed again out of habit and was flooded with the detritus that only reminded him he wasn’t where he was supposed to be: with his girls and APOLLO and on his ship with his acquisitions. Even his clothes were beginning to betray his smell.
Gunner stood.
Everyone stopped to watch.
He searched his cell and made a show of testing out the bars, careful not to bend and break them as he did so.
“No way out, man,” the man on his right said. The one who’d tugged his jacket.
Gunner shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to try. What’s your name?”
“Royce, you?”
“Gunner,” he murmured and settled his eyes on Ely. Who refuses to acknowledge my existence. He appeared to be asleep but Gunner knew better. He knew he was listening. Listening to everything. Like me.
Gunner’s eyes moved to Kallan, one cell beyond, who murderously glared at him. The man had given up on dealing for his jacket several hours ago.
“Is your name for the tattoos on your cheeks or the other way around?” Royce asked.
“The other way around.” Gunner circled his cell. Three walls of bars surrounded him with a full wall at his back. The tip of his boot toed the vent that dipped and ran directly across the center and into the units on either side of him. There was a grated hole in the middle of it and one in each cell as well. He looked up to the paneling above, which he was sure opened up into restraints.
Without giving himself away, he couldn’t reach up high enough to touch or take it apart.
“They use those sometimes,” Royce said, interrupting his perusal. “The guards trigger them from the panel on the other side of your unit door, opens up to restraints.”
“Figured out that much,” Gunner muttered.
“Never a good sign when that happens. The last guy they chained up didn’t make it and it took a while for him to die too. When they were done, they left his corpse for days before androids came and cleaned up.”
“What’d he do?”
“Refused recruitment. They made an example of him.”
It’s what I’d do. String someone up and make an example out
of them.
Gunner moved to his cell door and studied the metal paneling outside the bars. He couldn’t fit his hand through to reach it but he could feel the electricity and connection regardless. He eyed the mechanism on the empty unit opposite of him and memorized the interface, the order of the numbers, and then mirrored it in his head. He threaded his fingers through the one-inch opening and felt around.
“We’ve tried everything. Those panels are unreachable and indestructible. Even wasted good water gels trying to short-circuit them,” Royce said.
Idiots. Of course they’re indestructible. You should see my brig.
His could hold a Cyborg, at least for a time, depending on who. He once locked Dommik in it and it took the spider almost a full day to get free. Mainly because he refused to shift. Gunner mused at the memory and the hundreds of images he had of his brethren in his ‘other’ form now. It took Dommik that long to transform and slip his winding, metal arms out from the laser barricades to reach the other side of the room and release himself.
There was nothing quite like making a man live with his most hated self and capturing it on a hard drive for future use. Sometimes he even sent the images marked ‘high priority’ to Dommik for fun.
It’d been worth it. Until then, Gunner had never seen the spider as an actual metal beast.
Dommik’s new assistant is going to have quite a fun time when she finds out.
He wondered how the redheaded girl managed to get on an EPED Cyborg ship in the first place. His eyes trailed back to Ely.
Kat looked like a woman. Even from across the universe and on a fuzzy feed, he knew instantly that Dommik’s assistant was a female. But within feet of Ely, he was unsure. His jackal said female, his machine said male, and the man couldn’t quite rationalize either.
Ely was tall and slender from what he could tell despite his oversized clothes. He acted like a man, tried to at least, but there was a certain type of...vulnerability about him. The kind of vulnerability that made him want to poke and see what would happen, and possibly protect it. Maybe it was because Ely appeared to be too young to be in such a shitty situation, or maybe it was because he was really a she. And this place was no place for a woman. Especially one without a gun.
Gunner drew in a breath. His nose filled with the worst smells of humanity again as he turned back to Royce. “Have you tried blood?”
Royce canted his head and looked at his cell door. “Blood? Blood can’t do anything that water can’t and no one’s giving up that amount of blood to pour over it.”
“Water doesn’t conduct electricity, Royce,” he said. “Blood has shit tons of salts and metals in it and is a, let’s just say, a very good conductor.”
Suddenly, Ely stood and moved to his cell’s locking mechanism. The action drew Gunner’s attention. He watched as Ely threaded a slender hand through the bars to feel around. Just like he had moments before.
Royce huffed. “No one’ll risk dying to get their door open.”
“No, I suppose not. Ely, what do you think?” Gunner cocked his head, taking in the scene. Ely’s fingers stretched out and felt around the interface. Thin hands, long fingers, steady despite the situation. His visual honed in. Not weak, but searching specifically. This wasn’t the first time Ely had played with the locks.
A twitch was Ely’s only response. Ignored.
Smiling, Gunner walked to the grated hole in the center of his cell with his eyes still on him. “Royce,” he called out without looking at the man, “what’s recruitment?”
“Keep your mouth shut!” Kallan fired out. “Don’t tell him shit.”
Gunner’s smile grew. Royce hesitated.
“Tell me, Royce, and you can have my jacket.”
“What the fuck!” Kallan shot to his feet.
Ely stopped investigating the lock and now looked straight ahead. Gunner followed his gaze through the bars to the grey wall across the room.
“Tell me, Royce, and it’s yours.”
Ely shivered and turned toward him. I always fucking win.
Gunner stopped his gaze from flashing red and capturing the moment. Ely’s focus shifted to search his face, his mouth. He stilled as Ely took him in, his eyes moving across his body. Gunner stood with his feet slightly spread, his back straightening, knowing he was being checked out.
Whether it was a woman checking him out, or taking him in like he was just another dangerous obstacle, didn’t matter to him. Mostly because he was a dangerous obstacle.
He liked having Ely’s focus. Why?
Gunner combed his fingers through his bangs and brushed them back. He couldn’t quite make out his neighbor’s features beneath the thick smudges of dirt over them. Ely had the dirtiest face of everyone in the brig.
Strike for being a female. Dirt as camouflage. Clever.
“Recruitment is when they need to fill a replacement in the crew,” Royce said, interrupting Gunner’s thoughts, and Kallan roared. “They come here first and offer the spot or spots and we get a chance out of here.”
“Why haven’t you all joined then?” he asked indifferently, his attention remaining on his neighbor. Ely moved back to his usual spot against the wall, sliding down to rest in the center of his cell.
“Sometimes it’s a game,” Royce answered.
Gunner pulled his arm slowly out of one sleeve and let it fall to his back. “What kind of game?”
“The kind where it’s all a lie and you’re signing up to be beaten or killed.”
“The odds are not in favor then?” He tugged his jacket the rest of the way off and let it slide down to his fingers. Every move he made was being tracked but he only made a show of it for him.
Gunner shook his jacket in Ely’s direction. He opened his eyes and frowned. Gunner sniffed the air again and gritted his teeth. Nothing.
“Even if they take you, doesn’t mean they won’t take you after a whole lot of pain.”
“Ely,” Gunner said, ignoring Royce, “you never answered my question.” The grip on his jacket tightened. Answer it and I’ll give you the jacket instead. He wanted to give it to him, he realized, not Royce. Nor anyone else. Ely shivered again under his perusal. I could make you warm. It’s up to you.
Silence was all he got from his victim. Stoic, annoying silence. Ely’s irises weren’t just a mere mud brown. There was a spark of amber in them, gold, like his swirling beer. Gunner smiled softly.
“About the blood?” he whispered. “What do you think?”
Still, no answer came forth.
Gunner turned away and approached Royce, dropping his jacket against the bars for the other man to work it through. Seconds passed by as it was tugged to the other side, followed by minutes of questionable silence that weighed between him and Ely. Gunner waited for him to speak. But he didn’t.
Royce slipped on the jacket. Ely’s shivers deepened.
Strike for male.
Gunner clenched his hands. Eighteen hours and forty-five minutes.
He re-took his place with his back against the wall and stared across his cell at the endless grey metal that held Ely’s unwavering attention.
I’m going to get him to speak.
Royce now had his jacket for the time being, which sat like a stone in Gunner’s gut. Just the thought of the grimy stranger tainting his territory with his scent irked him. He would get it back. Soon. Kallan hissed his displeasure on the other side.
He never thought he’d feel a kinship with a man like Kallan, but woefully he now did. They both wanted Ely to speak.
Gunner raised his internal temperature to offset the encroaching chill in the air and dove back into his work, moving his shoulder against the bars. His bar mate stared straight ahead. Gunner lowered his voice.
“Did you think I was going to kill him?” he asked.
Ely sighed.
“I think you did.” Gunner settled in. “I thought about it but I didn’t want to give myself away...”
He waited for a response but once again, g
ot nothing. He gritted his teeth.
“If you move closer, my body heat will warm you.” Truth.
Nothing.
“I know what you are,” Gunner bluffed.
Still nothing. Ely didn’t give him a single damned cue that he was listening. Gunner wanted to ram his fist through the metal between them and take hold of him but he knew the second he did, dozens of men and androids with guns would be triggered. They’d set upon him and he would be one step farther from finding out where his ship was.
Gunner rested his shoulders back and gave up. His control over the ship’s security continued to strengthen and with it, his need for revenge.
Time eventually slipped by as the cycle progressed and nothing else occurred. The quiet conversations had died at some point when he hadn’t been aware, but now that he was, he realized a new tension filled the air.
It was different from before, heavier, broodingly so, and filled with anticipation. He found himself staring at the door with everyone else.
And he knew, long before the rest, when the guards approached.
Two men walked into the brig with an android following behind. They headed straight for him.
THE DOOR OPENED FAR too soon and Elodie’s eyes snapped to the men walking through. The first thing she felt was disappointment that her dad wasn’t one of them. Fear replaced her disappointment when they closed in on her dad’s old cell. Déjà vu struck, and for a split second, she saw the events from that evening played out again in her head once again.
This time instead of her dad, it was the new man playing the lead role.
Elodie had counted every minute that had gone by, knowing that it was a countdown to something bad, and the man who invaded her safe place only made the count that much harder. She knew Gunner hadn’t actually discovered her secret. It was impossible without evidence, and she wasn’t going to give him any if she had a say about it.
If that meant silence, so be it.
She stole glances his way when she knew he wasn’t looking at her. But every time he caught her, she felt trapped, caged, ensnared. No other man had made her feel that way before, not even when there weren’t bars between them.
