Unchained_ A science fiction romance adventure Page 6

  “Recording,” a computer voice announced, and Jerick pulled his thoughts back to the present.

  “This is Professor Diego Cortez, formerly Captain Cortez, commander of the Black Star, Space Fleet. After years of fighting through legal channels for the rights and rehabilitation of cyborg veterans of the war, including those imprisoned in Antioch Asteroid, I have been forced to take more drastic measures. I cannot stand idly by and watch as more of my people are killed for crimes committed by accident. You, Mr. President and General of the Space Fleet, are the ones who made us, who turned us into killing machines. And we killed for you, exactly as we were designed to do. But we are still men. We don’t deserve to be put down because we’re no longer useful, because we now struggle to fit back into civilized society, a society that is quick to forget how instrumental we were in driving back the Hrorak and ensuring humanity remains free.”

  Jerick found himself staring at Cortez as he spoke, almost enraptured as he listened to him say everything he believed, everything he’d written about when he’d still had access to a computer and the network. It made sense that Cortez would feel the same way as he did, but it amazed Jerick, nonetheless, to hear him identifying as cyborg rather than as human.

  “I have secured Antioch Asteroid,” Cortez went on. “The staff is locked up, and I am in the process of freeing the cyborg inmates. You have deemed that they are no longer worthy of a place in society because they couldn’t always control their strength, because blows a normal man might inflict without leaving a bruise turned lethal. Inadvertently, in so many cases.”

  Jerick winced. That was exactly what had happened to him.

  “But you forget that there was nobody there to rehabilitate them, to help them integrate back into society and to learn to control the great strength that served them—and you—so well in the war. They were simply discharged with orders to stay out of trouble. Easier said than done.” Cortez lifted his chin. “I am prepared to take these convicted felons off your hands, to a place outside of civilized space, away from Earth and the thirteen colonies.”

  Jerick stared at the side of his former commander’s face, startled by the new information.

  Humans didn’t fly outside of their own space. There were hundreds of alien civilizations out there that claimed the other systems, and those aliens had already made it clear they didn’t like humans and wouldn’t permit them in their space.

  “Right now,” Cortez said, “I hold the prison staff hostage. I also have an ex-fleet pilot and Dr. Skylar Russo, a neuroscientist of some renown. So far, none of these people have been seriously harmed. However, you can expect that to change if my demands are not met.” His voice turned cold as he spoke this last sentence. “You have two days to send a pilot and a fully supplied warship to Antioch Asteroid, one with food and water to last at least six months for a crew of fifty. You will turn the warship over to me. I will take all the cyborg prisoners and any others that wish to leave Colonial Space, and we will head into Hostile Space. There, we will live or die based on our own abilities. We won’t bring trouble back to Earth. In short, I will take the Cyborg Problem, as some reporters have called it, away. All I require is a ship. And I require it in two days. Or people will start dying.”

  Cortez tapped a button.

  “Recording ended. Transmit?”

  “Yes,” Cortez said.

  He sighed and looked over at Jerick. At some point, Tek Tek had left C&C. They were alone in the room.

  “Is it a bluff or will you kill people?” Jerick asked, curious. And wondering if he could volunteer the guard Stavis to go first.

  “We’ll see,” Cortez said, his face still masked.

  Jerick squinted at him and tried to guess if he’d laid all his cards on the table or if he had more up his sleeve. This was simple for one of Captain Cortez’s plans. Did he truly expect the government to give in to blackmail? It certainly wasn’t Fleet policy.

  “I figured with all your poetry books out there, you’d have money enough to buy a ship,” Jerick said, smirking and throwing his drawl in there, though he wanted information, not just to joke.

  Cortez grunted. “Nobody buys poetry books, and I took a big pay cut when I got out of the fleet.”

  “Really? I’ve seen the pay scale for captains. It was better than sergeants, but I don’t reckon many officers got out and bought houses with pools in New Vegas.”

  “Correct. And the university pays less.” He smiled faintly. “It’s an honor to teach and mold young minds.”

  “Sounds horrific.”

  “I did consider contacting everyone I knew, including some of the cyborgs out there doing all right, to try and get the funds together, but a modern warship costs millions. I admit, this is the part of my plan I’m most uncomfortable with—essentially stealing a fleet warship—but I don’t want to take dozens of men into Hostile Space in anything less. I’m hoping we can find unexplored territory, someplace that hasn’t been claimed by any species, and stake out a little moon or planet, but we’re more likely to run into irate aliens out there, aliens that won’t be delighted at seeing humans. I want firepower as well as good men.”

  “Understandable. Huh, exploring space. I never thought to dream of that when I fantasized about escaping. I admit, you’ve got me excited, sir.”

  “Oh? I didn’t even have to take off my shirt.”

  “I’d be more excited if you took off that awful jacket. Who knew elbow patches had come back into style?”

  “They’re trendy at the university. Even the students are wearing jackets with them.”

  “Students that get beaten up a lot?”

  “I don’t know. I stay out of their affairs and don’t break up fights. Too much potential for trouble.”

  Jerick’s humor faded. “Tell me about it.”

  Cortez met his eyes and looked like he wanted to ask a question, but he didn’t.

  “I wasn’t breaking up a fight exactly,” Jerick said, answering what he was certain Cortez wanted to ask. “When those men got killed. But they were doped-up hoodlums, and they were trying to steal from a couple walking down the street. This was in my old neighborhood. I went back there after the war. Didn’t know where else to go. You know it was never a good place.”

  Cortez nodded.

  Jerick licked his lips before going on, finding the memory of the event painful, even more than two years later. He wanted Cortez to know. To understand. But he felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to control his anger or his power. That he’d been like some rabid dog.

  “They jumped out of an alley and were in the process of cutting the man’s banking chip out of his finger when I heard the commotion and came over to check. One had the woman from behind, holding her and groping her while she tried to get away. I… should have warned them, I guess. Should have told them I’d knock them on their asses if they didn’t get out of there. They were—I don’t know—twenty maybe. Young and stupid. But I got that rage like I do sometimes and just saw all red. I forgot what I was, the power I had. And I tore into them. Threw them into walls. Punched them into the next street.” Jerick, lost in the memory, was barely aware of Cortez standing silently and listening. “A security drone floated in near the end, recording footage. By then, the man and woman I’d been defending—helping—had run away. Terrified, I’m sure. I get it, but to the camera—and the police that went over the footage later—it looked like I was some maniac out there, killing for the pleasure of it.”

  Jerick swallowed and stared at the deck. “Three of them died. Guess you read that in the report. Three others were hospitalized. I was arrested. Tried. Convicted. I explained that I’d been helping a couple, but the survivors all said they’d just been minding their own business, and I’d attacked them for no reason. It surprised me and appalled me that the judge took their word over mine, an ex-soldier who’d fought in the war, damn it. I kept hoping that couple would hear about the case and step forward to explain what had happened. But they never did. And I wa
s sent here.

  “I guess… I knew I deserved it, but it was hard to swallow. I used to get in fights all the time as a kid in that neighborhood. It’s just how you defend yourself and those you care about there. But I wasn’t a cyborg then. I wasn’t…” Jerick looked at his hands, seeing the blood of the past on them. “So strong,” he whispered. “Too strong.”

  Cortez let out a long sigh. A sympathetic one, Jerick thought. Good. He didn’t know what he would have done if Cortez hadn’t understood. But somehow, he’d known his old captain would.

  “What about the doctor?” Cortez asked.

  “Branigan? That was actually someone else. I took the heat because I was already slated for execution. Figured it didn’t matter. But he was an evil bastard, Cortez. He was studying us. Worse than that, he was removing the implants of the cyborgs that were killed and selling them on the black market to people who think they can get them installed and become superhuman themselves. As if that wasn’t horrific enough, some more cyborgs started simply dying in their cells of unknown causes. I knew that so-called doctor was responsible. One of the cyborgs caught him in the act one night, then got the confession out of him when he had his hands around the doctor’s throat. I was there. I saw.” Jerick shook his head. “You know the worst part? Nobody here, not the rest of the staff or anyone out there—” he waved vaguely to indicate all the Earth colonies, “—cared about cyborgs mysteriously dying. They think we’re fucking animals, Cortez. As if we’re not human anymore just because the military scientists gave us some enhancements.”

  “I know,” Cortez said quietly and came forward and gripped his shoulder.

  Jerick closed his eyes and struggled with the emotions tightening his throat.

  “You going to be able to keep from killing Russo?” Cortez asked.

  Jerick thought of the feel of her breasts under his hands and snorted. He loathed doctors and had a lot of reasons to, but killing her wasn’t quite what he had in mind now. But since he had no idea what kind of relationship she and Cortez had started up, all he said was, “I’d be a fool to harm your Number One hostage, wouldn’t I? You can’t tell me the government is going to send you a warship in exchange for any of the twits that work here.”

  Cortez squeezed his shoulder and let go. “Probably true.”

  “They may nuke the asteroid from space and pretend they did what they could.”

  “They’ll send a rescue mission and try to extract the prisoners. That’s SOP. We’ll have to be ready.”

  “You think they’ll risk that? Against us?”

  “I doubt they’ll just hand over a ship and a pilot. Unless someone volunteered to fly us away… and who would volunteer for a mission into Hostile Space?”

  “Why’d you ask for all that, then?” Jerick asked.

  “Start high and be prepared to negotiate to a lower level. That’s how it works.”

  “But we would need a pilot. None of our people got the neural chips or jump training.”

  “I know.” Cortez looked toward the doorway. “I had a thought about that.”

  It took Jerick a moment to guess what he meant. “The shuttle pilot? You think she’s going to want to go along with us? Did you see how quick she was to shoot at us?”

  “Maybe if we offered to let some other people go, she would be willing to sacrifice herself, especially if we made it for a set amount of time. Eventually, we can find someone else and let her go.”

  Jerick made a skeptical grunt.

  “I read her record on the way out here. Sacrifices aside, she doesn’t have much of a family back home. She might be interested in exploring uncharted territory if someone could suitably charm her.”

  “Don’t look at me.” Jerick realized Cortez must have been thinking about adding the pilot to his team during his shuttle ride out here, or even before, if he had researched her. “I’m not the one who recites poetry for women. I just pat them down while you ogle them.”

  “I wasn’t ogling them. I was watching you.”

  “Because it excites you to see me handling a woman’s curvy bits?”

  Cortez blinked, as if the joke had startled him. Or as if, for some weird reason, he hadn’t realized at first that it was a joke. But he recovered and said, “I wanted to make sure it didn’t excite you.”

  “Of course it excited me. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a woman?” Even as Jerick spoke, the image of Russo’s perked nipples flashed into his mind again. His groin stirred at the memory and at the notion that he and Cortez might be heading back down to visit the women, to “charm” them. He struggled to push away the thoughts. God, when had he gotten so horny? “But I am a professional, despite baggy orange trousers that suggest otherwise.”

  Cortez glanced down at those trousers. “I suspect you’re lucky that they’re baggy.”

  Jerick wouldn’t have thought any talk of sex could embarrass him, but this conversation—and memories of that search—were getting him aroused, and he found the idea of his old commanding officer seeing the evidence of that mortifying.

  Cortez didn’t study his trousers for long, but Jerick’s hopes that he hadn’t seen anything were squashed when he said, “You better stand behind me when we go in to see them.”

  “Maybe you could just lend me your jacket,” Jerick muttered, his cheeks hot.

  “You think the elbow patches could quell your erection?”

  “I was thinking of draping it strategically over my arm, but you’re right, the elbow patches alone might do the trick. That is one unsexy suit, sir.” Jerick almost suggested that Cortez take it off when he charmed the women, so that his odds would be better, but didn’t want to give his groin more fuel to inspire its turgidness. For some reason, the idea of a shirtless Captain Cortez standing in front of a perky neuroscientist had his libido humming.

  “Just because you’ve been alone in a cell so long,” he muttered to himself. “Naked possums could get you excited right now.”

  Cortez glanced back, and Jerick recalled that his commander’s hearing was just as enhanced as his own. Someday, he would learn not to mutter around other cyborgs.

  6

  Skylar touched her thumb to the fob. The forcefield buzzed and dropped. Keiko, who’d been pacing in circles, occasionally thumping an irritated palm to a wall, jumped.

  “Was that—

  Skylar tapped the fob again. The forcefield returned.

  “We can get out any time,” Skylar said. “Good.”

  “Is that why you flung yourself against Cortez’s chest?” Keiko asked. “I wondered.”

  “Well, it’s why I tripped and tried to fall. I only ended up against his chest because his reflexes were too good and he caught me before I hit the deck.” Skylar touched her shirt, remembering the heat of his chest through their clothing, the way she’d been able to feel the contours of his hard muscles.

  She lowered her hand, annoyed with herself for being so aware of these men’s bodies.

  “It’s a shame when your captors are gentlemen and keep you from falling,” Keiko said.

  “It almost ruined my efforts.”

  “We better put those efforts to use now.” Keiko pointed at the forcefield. “Feel free to lower that again.”

  “I will, but let’s figure out where we’re going first. They could have someone monitoring our cell with a camera.” Skylar looked around the walls near the ceiling. She didn’t see a hole anywhere, but that didn’t mean much. Such things could be disguised easily enough.

  “True,” Keiko said, lowering her voice and also eyeing the ceiling. “But nothing has changed. We need to get to C and C to send off a comm message.”

  “I think that’s where they went. Cortez said, ‘The colonies will find out shortly.’”

  Keiko tugged at her ponytail and paced. “If we could find where the staff is being kept and free them…”

  “They’d likely be captured again. Or worse. These men were elite soldiers in the war.”

  “We c
an’t do nothing.” Keiko frowned at her. “Look, I can understand why you want to hide and wait this out, because you think you’ll survive, but you know what? Hostages don’t always make it. What happens when the government doesn’t meet his demands? He’ll start killing hostages. It’s possible they’ll consider us less expendable than the prison staff, since pilots aren’t easy to come by, and I assume neurosurgeons or whatever you are aren’t either.”

  “I’m a neuroscientist.”

  “Like there’s a difference.”

  Why did everybody keep saying that?

  “There’s quite a difference, though admittedly, I am both. I started as a surgeon before shifting to the research side. If you were to develop a brain tumor while we were here, I could operate on you.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Skylar had been sitting on the bunk—the shelf—but she rose to her feet and waved her hands placatingly in the air. “Look, I’m not content to hide and let them decide our fate. I’m just thinking of options that aren’t likely to see us recaptured five minutes after we get out of here.”

  Keiko sighed and stopped pacing. “All right, good. And I’m sorry if I’m being… huffy. I’m just frustrated with this whole situation. This is a run I do three or four times a year, usually only if Lieutenant Oxford is on leave or flying the CEO around. I shouldn’t have been stuck on this run at all, and now…” Her fingers flexed in the air. “I hate having my fate in someone else’s hands. It’s why I became a pilot. So anywhere I flew, I’d be the one manning the helm.”

  “I understand. Though I’m never in control of anything, so maybe that’s why I’m more accustomed to being manhandled. Cyborg-handled.”

  Keiko snorted. “Neuro-thingies don’t get to control their own fate?”

  “It’s complicated. And political. I ended up here because… I’m not good at sucking up. Also, someone didn’t understand that cyborg brains aren’t what get tampered with when they have their surgeries, and there’s not going to be some surgery that we can do to fix them. They’re human beings with human brains who were suddenly given super powers. As if that doesn’t create complications enough, they were then pushed into combat for years and had to deal with all the stress of people—aliens—constantly trying to kill them. Lots of the non-enhanced soldiers are having a hell of a time trying to reintegrate into civilized society too. It’s just that when they have episodes and lash out, the results aren’t as likely to be deadly.”