BioCybe, Page 4

  “Does the pilot, Zerana Levia, have a life partner?” Gorthos’s purple eyes bulged as he leaned closer, his mottled green-blue scales undulating wildly.

  Sandon grimaced. Gorthos wasn’t the first of his crew to wonder about Levia, but this was certainly the most direct questioning he’d received to date.

  “I don’t believe she is.” His attempt at cutting the conversation short didn’t work.

  “Then, do you think Zerana Levia… As an Illurian, we take a single life partner and I haven’t yet. I’m wondering if she’d agree to the…” He made the signature blipping gulp of the Illurian males in heat. “Would she agree to the Aparvee?”

  Sandon growled under his breath.

  Aparvee was the blooding of life partners and required an ongoing symbiotic relationship between a paired couple. His gut churned at the thought of her partaking of Gorthos’s blood and giving hers in return.

  “You’d have to ask her yourself.” Then he cursed himself silently as Gorthos bared his teeth.

  “You give me permission to address her?”

  Sandon wanted to snatch the Illurian close and tell him that he’d given no such indication. Instead, he shrugged. “It’s up to her. But only when you both leave this craft.”

  Gorthos blinked. “We’d have to leave?”

  “I don’t want romantic complications on the Golden Echo.”

  He waited while Gorthos thought over his words, watching the man finally give a slight nod. “I shall meditate on it.”

  Knock!

  Sandon raised his head to see who was at the door, but he’d closed it. Feeling like several kinds of fool, he cleared his throat. “Come.”

  The door squeaked open and Secombe crowded into the small office. “Sandon, we need to discuss my departure.”

  Sandon scowled. He wasn’t sure yet he thought Secombe leaving would help his situation, but… Neither was he making any real contribution to the crew. Levia was doing an amazing job of getting them from point to point. She’d already proved her weight in gold when the Orchin drive failed, virtually stranding them in space. She’d known where to source the appropriate spare parts and had undertaken the highly volatile negotiations in the Huerazon language.

  “Come on, Sandon. You know she can do everything you require and more. Besides, I’m ready to go home. The harvest will be coming soon and I’m needed.” Secombe loomed over the desk, and Sandon knew there really wasn’t any more time for procrastination.

  “Sure. Tomorrow, so long as nothing crops up.”

  Secombe’s face split into a deep smile. “Great. Everything will be fine, you’ll see. She’s more than capable of flying this bucket. And I can be your stand-in from time to time.”

  Sandon returned a facsimile of Secombe’s grin. In truth, he knew once Secombe left, he would never return. As his grandfather had wisely taught him long ago, you can never go back.

  “Yeah. Okay, well, I guess I better get your payments finalized.” He stood, reaching out to grasp the other man’s hand as another knock sounded on the door.

  When the door flew open, it was Levia, her eyes wide with, he thought, worry and confusion. “Oh, I didn’t realize…”

  “No, actually your timing is impeccable. Secombe here has requested, and I’ve agreed, to him leaving the Golden Echo tomorrow.”

  He watched as Levia bit her lip.

  Secombe cleared his throat. “So, I’ll be getting along then.” Rising from his seat, he headed for the door. He took a moment then shook his head and left the small cabin, closing the door carefully behind him.

  Sandon waited, realizing that she’d probably bolt if he pushed her. It took a full moment before she spoke again.

  “Uh, Captain, could I have a word with you?” She sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, and his hackles rose.

  “Of course.”

  “Uh, I’ve um… I wanted to bring to a problem to your attention. I mean, it’s not big, but…”

  Her voice died away, and frustration built inside him. He hated when people didn’t come straight to the point. “What’s the problem?”

  “The ablution facilities. There isn’t… There’s no facilities for…”

  He could feel her discomfort sweeping out in waves. “Ahhh…” And he did see. In an all male crew, he’d never needed to make a provision for a female crewmember. “Has there been…” He let the words hang, unsure how far to probe.

  “No! Nothing like that, but… I can jerry-rig something in my shuttle if you prefer. In fact, that would be preferable to me too. I have full berthing facilities and…” She shuffled on the spot.

  “I’m not sure that would really be satisfactory. After all, how would we arrange an interface should we need you in a hurry?”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem. I can assure you of that. Once I—” She didn’t redden, but she dipped her face down to the floor. “Look, Captain, I’d be much happier with that arrangement. With your permission?”

  “What you’re suggesting is not exactly common practice.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d be more than happy with it. So, if you’d give your permission...”

  He could understand her situation. Sharing facilities with the men couldn’t be easy. She needed privacy, but it grated on him. “If I allow it, it can only be for a short while. It’s my responsibility to provide adequately for my crew.”

  There was a sudden stillness about her, then she nodded. “For now.” She turned away, ready to leave.

  “Fine. Oh, and Levia?”

  She glanced back at him.

  “One day, you’ll tell me what you’re running away from. I know you don’t interact with the rest of the crew, and I’ve seen the way you jump when taken by surprise.”

  Her eyes widened and she gulped. “I’m not running.” Then with a single swift move she turned the handle and pulled the door open.

  * * * *

  Levia settled back onto the sleeping platform in her shuttle. It was better this way, at least now she could log into the ship’s systems and no one needed to be aware. The syntha-net fed directly into her enhanced synapses while she rested and her brain could upload and download system updates without any echo of the files on the Golden Echo’s comm drives.

  The quiet blip blip of the system lulled her to sleep.

  “Seven-One-Four, report.” The echoes of the general’s voice irritated her. Cold and remote, as it had always been, and no matter how much she shrank away from it, the sound grew louder and more insistent.

  She rolled to her side as she sought to block out the sound.

  “Seven-One-Four, report now.” This time the voice changed, morphed. Deepened, just like Sandon’s voice. “Report, now.”

  Sandon? When did I start calling him that? For an instant, the fear that choked her melted away and she lay back, peaceful sensations filling her. That didn’t last long though.

  “Seven-One-Four? You’re a BioCybe?” Horror and loathing filled the air, and she squirmed harder, trying to get away from him. The deep, oily emotions that she railed against rose, eclipsing the feeling of belonging that had recently begun budding.

  “Get away! You can’t see me like this.”

  Through the gray mist a face emerged. Sandon’s face. Dismissive and cold. “You didn’t tell me you were a BioCybe. It’s bad enough having a woman on the Golden Echo, but a Cybe? Pack your things and go. We don’t want you here. Cybes only bring danger, and your lot is the worst. An assassin! How many innocent men, women, and children have you killed? Murdered?”

  “I didn’t… I didn’t ask for this. Please! You have to understand…”

  He grimaced, the action chilling her to the core. Her heart pounded like a combustion engine inside her chest.

  Icy cold terror filled her. “Don’t make me leave. I haven’t… I’m not an assassin. I don’t want to leave. Where would I go?”

  “You don’t belong here. Not among real humans. Go back to your manufactured life with the others like you.” He sneered,
and she shrank back.

  “You don’t mean that. You’re not like the others.”

  “Not like them? I’m just like them. You aren’t human, and we don’t want your kind here.”

  The final words, ‘we don’t want your kind here,’ reverberated over and over in her mind, while she twisted against the bindings. The white walls of the room closed in on her. Suffocating her. Crowding closer and closer. Each individual tile seemingly doubled in size, and the astringent scent of disinfectants filled her senses.

  Once more, she was in the medi-bay, with bright halogen lights shining down. It was cold and she shivered, realizing she was naked, the syntha-derm gleaming brightly. “Where’s my skin? I don’t want to see the artificial skin.”

  Gloved hands reached out, pushing her back as she struggled, and the cold blue eyes shone as the lights dimmed. “Nooo… Nooo! No!”

  She woke with a jerk.

  Reality impinged. She was alone in her tiny shuttle. No one was there and no one knew. The wild thudding of her heart slowed.

  Her body shuddered as cold trickled down her spine. It was a trick of course. She didn’t really feel cold, the syntha-derm warmed her body from the inside. It wouldn’t let her suffer anything like that.

  She dragged the syntha-net away from her naked form and rose on unsteady legs. The sensation of wetness on her cheeks startled her. She was crying. For the first time since she’d been enhanced.

  Stumbling to the tiny ablutionary unit, she gasped and shuddered. “It was only a dream.”

  In her mind though, it took on a much larger theme. She was an abomination. Something no one wanted. A murderer and assassin.

  “I’m not that anymore. Now I just want to be Levia Endrado. A normal citizen.” But she wondered, could she ever be just that? Was there any hope of a normal future that included a mate and children? Or would she forever be an outsider?

  The notion that she could never be like anyone else continued to be the hallmark of her existence thus far. Everyone who’d ever heard of BioCybes knew only the basic story. That BioCybes were unnatural creatures, cybernetically enhanced and devoid of normal human emotions and responses. Essential in warfare, but unwanted reminders of a bloody history they’d rather forget.

  “I’m more than the sum of my cybernetic parts.” Telling that to the mirror didn’t make her feel better. No, rather it reminded her that she was alone, just as she had been since the day she’d attended the testing.

  Not for the first time, she wondered about her family. Where were they? Did they ever think of her? Had they mourned her? Where would her brother and sister be now? Did they even remember her?

  She blinked away the tears that sheened. Crying doesn’t fix anything, she told herself fiercely. She wondered though, why now and why here? What had changed enough that she let loose the scorching emotions she’d contained for so long?

  She tugged at the last feeds that connected with her brain, refusing to allow any more of these self-defeatist emotions to be backed up into her memory systems.

  It didn’t dull the pain that remained, the pain she’d struggled with for years. Nothing could do that, but it made it easier to bear when she blanked it out.

  With a sigh, she turned on the ablution system.

  Sleep never came easily after the nightmares, and she’d rather use the time usefully. There was always plenty to keep her occupied.

  Chapter 3

  The run to Omega V was routine. They’d made the trip a million times, and with a satisfied sigh, Sandon checked the status of their route. Ahead of time and ahead of budget.

  Since the new pilot—Levia—had joined them, they’d been ahead of the game more often than not. She was accomplished and capable, sure of what she was doing at all times. He found it intriguing that this time she seemed to be laboring under some kind of heavy emotion—one that made her short and even more antisocial than before.

  He’d tried, more than once, to engage her, to find out what was wrong, but so far, she hadn’t even agreed that she was stressed. Instead, she’d brushed off his every request with a slight shake of her head, but he’d noticed that, while she’d never been chatty before, now she was utterly withdrawn, focused on the task at hand to the exclusion of those around her. Or in spite of them, he sometimes thought.

  He reviewed the data he’d accumulated about her. It wasn’t a thick file by any stretch of the imagination.

  She was in her late twenties, well credentialed with a military history—the majority of which was classified as Unbreachable. That knowledge had given him pause. An unbreachable file had increasing levels of security encryption and not even the best hacker had ever managed to squirrel their way through the layers. Not that he’d heard of anyway. “Damn it all.”

  She was adaptable, well trained, and more than happy to accept any task, no matter how distasteful. She’d never asked for shore leave.

  He frowned at that. “I wonder why.” Maybe, like himself, she was an orphan. But even as the thought occurred to him, he shrugged it off. He certainly enjoyed visiting the many planets along the way. If anything, she actively shied from the occasions he’d requested her presence, and if she did have to accompany him dirt-side, she always claimed it was better that she remain with the shuttle.

  He stood, arching his back to relieve the pressure that had built in his spine. A grunt of satisfaction later and he headed for the door to his office. This time, he’d order her to take downtime.

  Once on the bridge, it took only seconds to scan the companionably silent area. She crouched in front of an open conduit cupboard, tiny light playing over the tangle of cords housed behind the brushed metal door.

  “Try that now.” Her voice was muffled, but as always, he was intrigued by her extensive knowledge of the electronics and mechanics of the craft.

  A muffled “yeah, okay” was the response, quickly followed by a loud yell of “you got it!”

  She pulled back from the small cupboard and gave a hiss, obviously scraping herself against a sharp edge.

  “Are you okay?” He couldn’t help himself, extending his hand to her. When she turned with a startled yelp, he saw a ragged tear of her bodysuit.

  “Oh, Captain. Yes, I’m fine.” She turned away, as if hiding the evidence of the accident, and he frowned. She didn’t brush the dust from her face or even the fine cob-webbing in her hair, and he thought it unusual. If it were him, that would be the first thing he’d attend to, because he hated the feel of it against his skin.

  His fingers itched to reach out and deal with it, but it was clear she would shy away from any such action, so instead he gave a tiny shrug.

  “You might like to go…”

  “Uh, of course, Captain. But first I need to ensure that the cover is securely in place.” He watched as she dealt with the opening, replacing the panel so it was once more in position before she rose up. “Now, if I may be excused…”

  He reached out a hand as she started to move away. “Just a moment, I need to talk to you about…”

  She glanced in his direction, her gaze unwavering. “About what, Captain? You’re happy with my performance, I take it?”

  “It’s nothing to do with your performance. If anything, you’re too good at what you do. You need downtime, so I’m ordering you to take it when we reach Omega V.”

  If he hadn’t been watching intently, he would have missed the way her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. “You want me…”

  “Yes.” He knew his tone was harsh, but the tiny quiver of her lips warned him that this was unsteady ground.

  “I don’t need it, Captain. Not at the moment. I’ll tell you when—”

  “No, Levia. You see, I won’t overwork you, and to my mind that’s what’s been happening since you’ve come aboard. You need time off, and I’m ordering you—”

  “I don’t cope well with being handled, Captain. When I need the time—”

  “It’s an order, Pilot Endrado. Take the time however you please.”
>
  Her lips thinned at his harsh order. “Very well. I’ll take it in my shuttle.”

  That wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear. “After you transport me to the surface, you will take three days. Shore leave or other, I don’t care. But take it, you will.”

  She gave a nod of understanding. “Three days then.” She spun on her heel and stalked away from him.

  “Uh, Sandon? I don’t think she’s very happy with you right now.”

  Damn, he’d forgotten Vestang was present on the bridge. “Maybe not, but it had to happen.”

  He felt the familiar frustration and confusion clouding his mind once more. Why did she have to fight him? Surely she could see that all he wanted was the best for her? But then reality intruded. Vestang had heard every word.

  “Not one more word, Vestang. Hear me?”

  Vestang was the biggest gossip on the ship, and within an hour or two all the crew would know the specifics of their conversation unless Sandon went out of his way to impress the importance on the man. He hated that he’d not been more cautious.

  Vestang blushed and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  The walk back to his office didn’t take long, but he used it, his mind rolling over her words and reactions. There’d been fear in her eyes, he realized. But what was the cause of it? The threat of downtime? Their location? His incautious attitude? None of them made any sense. But hell, since when did much to do with her make any sense to him?

  * * * *

  “It’s an order, Pilot Endrado.” The words pounded through her consciousness, and the bitter taste of gall had her clapping her hands to her mouth. Even here, inside the safety of her own shuttle, she couldn’t escape the demons that rode her hard.

  Omega V. The very thought of that benighted planet had her guts churning wildly.

  “I don’t want to do it. How can anyone make me go back there?” She locked her knees together and closed her eyes as the urge to flee rose inside her.

  Omega V was the scene of not just her defeat, but so much more. A sob nearly escaped, but she clamped down, hard, on her emotions, lips held tightly together as she wrestled with the memories.