The Outlaw Cyborg (Cyborgs on Mars Book 5)

by Honey Phillips

  Although being called to see an officer was never a good thing, he didn’t bother to try and figure out why Captain Pyle wanted to see him. He would find out soon enough. On the whole, life in the military suited him. He had a fixed place to sleep, as much food as he wanted, and exercise for both his body and his mind. Unfortunately, he frequently came into conflict with the foolish regulations to which they tried to subject him.

  As he was ushered into the captain’s office, he gave an inner sigh. Apparently, whatever he had done was worse than usual. In addition to the captain, a four-star general awaited.

  “Wales, this is General Biggs. He wishes to speak to you.”

  “Alone, Lucius,” General Biggs said as John saluted.

  “Sir, are you sure?” Captain Pyle said doubtfully. “Wales can be… insubordinate.”

  It probably didn’t help that the general was at least a foot shorter than John. A short, sturdy man with close-cropped iron-grey hair and a red face, he carried himself with the assurance of a man who knew how to handle himself.

  The general waved a hand. “He wouldn’t be the first. I assure you I have never been bothered by plain speaking. You may go, Captain,” he added firmly.

  “Yes, sir.” Captain Pyle snapped off a salute and departed.

  The general took a seat behind the captain’s desk, and John remained standing at attention as the general surveyed him. If the other man expected his scrutiny to disturb John, he would be in for a disappointment. He gazed over the general’s head, studying the books on the shelf behind the captain’s desk. Paper books were a rarity, but the captain came from a wealthy background and owned an impressive collection of military history and tactics. However, even from here John could see the thin layer of dust covering the tomes and knew the captain had probably never looked at any of them. Considering the disaster he’d made of their last campaign, it might have been better for all of them if he had.

  General Biggs laughed, drawing John’s attention back to him.

  “You’re a cool customer, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Most of your fellow soldiers would be shaking in their boots wondering why a general wanted to see them.”

  John allowed himself a fractional shrug. “I assume that you will tell me why I am here when you are ready. Sir.”

  The general laughed again, then his face hardened. Even John recognized the force of his authority when he spoke.

  “At the battle of Morgan Hill, you disobeyed orders and refused to fire on the rebels. Why?”

  No one else has bothered to ask. John suspected he had come very close to hanging. He had actually been surprised when he was released after only a month in the stockade.

  “They weren’t rebels. They were hungry people with no weapons,” he said honestly.

  To his shock, the general did not immediately attempt to dispute his statement. Instead, he frowned thoughtfully. “And the incident at the factory farm?”

  “They were just kids. Sir.”

  “One of those kids managed to give the captain a concussion.”

  “Perhaps the captain should have ducked.”

  “Perhaps.” A flicker of something that could have been amusement crossed the general’s face. “You have a long history of disregarding orders, Wales.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was no point in disagreeing. Was this the reckoning that he had always known would come? He had been kicked out of every place he had ever landed from the original family he barely remembered to his last unsuccessful attempt at civilian life. He had never expected to be allowed to remain in the military either.

  He briefly considered the possibility of bolting before the general announced his fate. Although he suspected the general would not be the easy target his size suggested, John had no doubt that he could overpower him. The officer’s quarters were close to the edge of the compound, and the element of surprise was on his side. Luck had always been in short supply for him, but with just a little bit of it, he could probably escape. But what then? He had nowhere to go, nothing to which to escape. The military had never been his home, but it was the closest thing he had. Might as well stay and face the music.

  “I take it you have considered your options?” General Biggs asked dryly. “And decided to remain?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” The general raised the hand that had been on his lap and placed a gun on the desk. “I didn’t want to shoot you, although in some ways it might have been easier.”

  “Sir?” Although John kept his face blank, the gun had surprised him, and he wasn’t easily surprised.

  “Sit down, Wales. I’m getting a crick in my neck from looking up at you.”

  This time, he was sure that his surprise showed, but he moved to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sat, although he did not relax.

  “You are aware that Earth Government has sent cyborgs to terraform Mars?”

  It was the last topic he had expected, but he nodded.

  “And you are aware that the cyborgs are former soldiers? Injured too greatly to live?”

  The general’s comment about shooting him took on a new significance, and he tensed, checking the distance to the desk. He was almost positive he could reach the weapon before the general could fire.

  “That’s not a threat, Wales.” The general shook his head when John did not relax. “Do you trust anyone?”

  “No, sir.” He had learned that lesson the day his mother left him at the orphanage.

  “I suppose I don’t blame you.” The general drummed his fingers on the desk. “There are several reasons why I’m telling you about the cyborg program. First, a number of the transformations from soldier to cyborg were not handled well. Despite that, the soldiers—the former soldiers—have adapted and overcome. Especially now that there are human colonists on Mars, they have begun integrating into that society.”

  There was an expectant pause, and John nodded, keeping his face blank.

  The general sighed. “I suppose I am not reassuring you about my intentions.” He drummed on the desk again. “I assume you have also heard of GenCon?”

  The random question surprised him enough that he answered. “Yes, sir. A powerful corporation with close ties to Earth Government.”

  “Too close, I’m afraid. Although Earth Government has refused to share the secrets behind the cyborg technology, they have revealed enough that GenCon is experimenting with that knowledge. However, the majority of their experiments are taking place on Mars, and we have little to no oversight into the results.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “In part because I am concerned that GenCon could end up in control of Mars. Under other circumstances, I might approve of the Martian colony escaping the leash of Earth Government, but I believe that GenCon would be an even worse master.”

  Considering his own experience with the company, he couldn’t disagree. He had worked—briefly—for one of their agricultural divisions when he first left the orphanage. Given the massive unemployment rates and the endless supply of workers, the company didn’t hesitate to subject their employees to the worst possible conditions. He could have ignored the horrendous circumstances, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that they were adding nutrition-less filler to their so-called protein bars. His protests had resulted in a firing, an attempted beating, and an assurance that he would never work again.

  When he had attempted to report them, his concerns were dismissed. He had also quickly realized that their threat had been real—he was unemployable by any legitimate company. A succession of menial, under-the-table jobs had followed, most of them ending when his uncompromising sense of right and wrong reared its head. So he had ended up in the military, although perhaps that too was coming to an end. He forced his attention back to the general, who was once more discussing the cyborgs.

  “We essentially closed down the cyborg program once the terraforming had reached the stage where human life was viable—with some as
sistance, of course.” General Biggs gave him a speculative look. “However, the program did not entirely cease.”

  John tensed again, his eyes going to the gun.

  The general shook his head. “I will not force you. But I would like you to consider undergoing that transformation and traveling to Mars.”

  “Why me?”

  “Your actions have shown that you can think for yourself—not always an advantage in a military situation, but critically important for this role. More importantly from my perspective, you have shown that you will not inflict damage on the weak. Assuming you accept my offer, I will send you to Mars as a settler—perhaps a farmer or a miner. For right now, I will ask nothing from you except to observe and report. However, to be quite clear, I expect that trouble is coming, and when it does, I will expect you to fight.”

  John considered the idea. The idea of traveling to another planet was unexpectedly appealing. There was certainly nothing to keep him here on Earth, no friends and no family.

  “I would want a place to call my own and sufficient funds that I would not go short on food,” he said, remembering his thoughts on the way to this meeting.

  “Of course. You would be equipped with the same initial supplies as any other settler. Funds will be deposited to your account on a monthly basis in addition to whatever you may earn on your own.” General Biggs drummed his fingers again. “I should warn you that although they have made improvements, the transformation process is quite painful.”

  John shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he doubted it would be the last time that he experienced pain.

  “Do you accept?”

  He took another look at the dusty books belonging to the useless captain. Outside, he could hear the sound of men exercising, but he had never really felt like part of the team. His time in the military had served a purpose, but there was nothing to tie him here. He nodded.

  “Very well,” the general said briskly. “I will inform the captain.”

  Eight months later, J-100 prepared to disembark from the transport ship that had carried him to Mars. Although his outer appearance was essentially unchanged, John Wales was gone, replaced by this new version of himself with capabilities he was still exploring. The trip to Mars had taken over six months and prior to that, he had spent two months in the military labs on Earth losing his human identity. The general hadn’t lied to him—it had been a painful process. But the most painful part had not been the fire surging through his veins as he acquired the nanites that drove his new technology. The most painful part had been losing his human side—and realizing how little there was to lose.

  Now he looked out through the open door and across the enclosed landing field. A wide cement floor surrounded by labeled exits was topped with a segmented dome, all of it covered with orange dust. But even though the actual surface was hidden, he already knew what Mars would look like. He had spent the entire trip studying every piece of information he could find about the planet.

  “Mr. Wales?” the official at the top of the ramp asked, comparing J-100’s identification card to his tablet.

  “Yes.” His cybernetics were buried under his skin, invisible under most circumstances, and the general had asked him to keep them hidden until it was necessary to reveal his cyborg skills. But although the attendant called him by his human name, he knew that he was no longer that man.

  “You have filed for a mining claim?” the attendant continued.

  “Yes.”

  “Report to entrance E. They will provide instructions on how to gather your supplies and—”

  The man continued talking but J-100 was no longer listening. His attention had been drawn to a woman walking briskly across the far side of the landing field. A well-tailored dark suit clung to a tall, slender figure, graceful despite her brisk pace. His enhanced hearing could even pick out the quick tap of her heels. She was moving away from him, and all he could see was a short cap of white-blonde hair, gleaming in the drab surroundings. Despite the dusty, crowded chaos, she seemed to carry an invisible shield separating her from everyone else.

  “Who is that?” he interrupted.

  “Who is who?” the official asked impatiently, then looked up for the first time. He gulped when he took in J-100’s size. “Who are you asking about?”

  “That woman, over there at the far end of the hangar.”

  The man strained to see, and J-100 hoped she was visible to human eyes and that he hadn’t given away his enhanced vision. To his relief, the man’s eyes widened.

  “You mean Ms. Gatling?”

  “I don’t know. Blonde, dark suit.”

  “That’s her.” The attendant lowered his voice confidentially. “She’s the managing director of GenCon operations on Mars. I know women are scarce up here, but you’d be better off forgetting you ever saw her.”

  “Why?” he demanded, even though if she was working for GenCon, he would have no choice but to avoid her.

  “She’s scary. And so cold she could freeze off your balls with one look. They call her the Ice Queen.”

  Ice Queen? Some part of him was absolutely certain she was not as cold as she appeared to be. He forced the thought aside. Their paths would not be crossing, no matter how tempted he was by the idea. He had work to do.

  But as he started down the ramp, he took one last look in her direction. She had turned to survey the busy area, and he could finally make out her face. Delicately carved features and pale, perfect skin. Her eyes were blue, a pale, almost icy shade, and for a moment they seemed to rest on him. He knew it was impossible—she was only human—but the shock of that contact went through him like a thunderbolt. For an interminable second, the two of them stood frozen, and then she was gone, disappearing behind a big door at the far end.

  His instincts urged him to go after her, but he had made a commitment and he would not go back on his word.

  Chapter Three

  Serena followed her bodyguard away from the main landing field and into the area reserved for GenCon specific traffic, but for once, her mind was not on her job. When she had looked across the hangar and seen the huge figure coming down the ramp from the newly arrived ship, something like a shock of recognition had gone through her. It was ridiculous, of course. It must have been his size that caught her attention. The settlers were often large men and of course, the cyborg rangers tended to be big, but he was the largest man she had seen on Mars. Normally, she disliked oversized men, even though she had trained herself never to reveal that fact, but something about this one had made her feel safe rather than threatened.

  Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. She knew better than to believe that any man was safe. When necessary, she used them to further her purposes, but she would never make the mistake of relying on one again.

  With the ease of long practice, she forced him out of her mind. Time to greet the latest of GenCon’s experiments. Her heart beat a little faster, the hope that she usually tried to suppress making her unexpectedly anxious, although she kept her face as smooth as always.

  GenCon was attempting to reproduce the cyborg technology used by the military for their own use. By doing so, they hoped to circumvent Earth Government’s laws removing all rights from the cyborgs. Success would mean huge profits from wealthy citizens of Earth eager to leave the overcrowded and polluted planet but unwilling to put up with the restrictions of the Martian environment.

  But there was another reason behind GenCon’s desire to replicate the technology. The corporation’s long-term goal was complete control of Mars and its barely tapped wealth of minerals. The cyborg rangers had proven to be a formidable wrinkle in their plans, and they were determined to overcome that obstacle. She had little interest in GenCon’s plans for the planet. Although her share in the profits would be quite considerable, her only real interest was in the regenerative possibilities created by the nanites used in the process.

  Her hope for that technology took a sharp plummet when the man she had been wait
ing for emerged from the ship—if she could call him a man. White, almost plastic-looking skin was molded to an expressionless face. He moved quickly down the ramp, but he walked with an unnatural gait. The cyborg rangers, despite their cybernetic components, were still clearly men. This hybrid looked more like a robot than a human. Although no robot would immediately have launched into a litany of complaints about his journey.

  “I must say I was unimpressed with the quality of the accommodations on your ship. For the amount of money which I have paid GenCon, I expected nothing but the finest. The bedroom was far too small, the bathing room completely inadequate, and the food…” The disgust in his voice was clearly apparent, but his face didn’t change.

  “I’m sorry if you were not satisfied, Mr. Carrington. There are some limitations imposed by space travel that we have not yet been able to overcome.”

  She wondered if he could hear the lack of sincerity in her polite words, but in her experience, the very wealthy found it hard to believe that anyone didn’t sympathize with them. “Hopefully you will be pleased by your residence,” she continued calmly. “Although—as you were warned—the city is still under construction.”

  “As long as the residence itself is complete, I suppose it will do. For now.”

  She turned to lead the way to the waiting rover, ignoring the underlying threat in his voice. He would learn soon enough that he had little to back up his threats. He already appeared to have forgotten that he had agreed to the transformation to avoid a prison sentence back on Earth.

  He sneered again at the big six-wheeled rover, and once they were on the surface, he made a disgusted sound. “I thought the terraforming process would be further along. It’s still nothing but sand and rocks.”

  “The atmospheric pressure has been stabilized to the point where pressure suits are not required and people can walk on the surface with only a breathing mask.”

  “Which I will not require,” he interrupted.