Unchained_ A science fiction romance adventure Page 7

  “I have to be honest with you, Russo. It concerns me that you’re sympathetic to our captors.”

  “I’m sympathetic to people in general who have suffered psychological trauma.”

  “Well, could you be less sympathetic to the ones who kidnapped us and threw us in here? And open the forcefield?” Keiko eyed the fob, like she might be thinking of taking it by force. “I think I know where the armory is. We can shoot for that if they’re in C and C.”

  “I don’t think that would work out any better for us than arming ourselves with stunners did. But listen, I’m not giving in. The fact that their brains are essentially no different from ours means that could be a weakness. There are all manner of ways to disable the human brain.”

  “If you mean by using a sedative that you stuff in your bra, that didn’t work any better than my stunners.”

  Skylar blushed. “Touché. But what I was thinking was—” she lowered her voice in case anyone was monitoring them, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered, since the cyborgs had enhanced hearing, “—we get to the medical facilities. I won’t be positive what I can do until I’ve looked around and seen what’s there, but if I can find or create an oneirogenic general anesthetic, we could possibly pump it through the ventilation system in a gaseous form to render everyone unconscious. Then we could comm the fleet, lock up the cyborgs, and repair the shuttle to get out of here.”

  “A sleeping gas?”

  “Yes. The problem would be measuring a dosage and distributing it evenly in a manner sufficient to knock them out for long enough to be useful without delivering a toxic amount.”

  “I don’t think the police or Fleet or whoever comes to fix this problem is going to care that much if the dose was toxic.”

  Skylar grimaced, wishing Keiko was a little more understanding.

  Or was she the one being a fool about all this? Just because she knew Cortez’s reputation and had given his poetry to her dying sister didn’t mean that he was on her side. Hadn’t he, in choosing this path, created a line and stepped over it, marking himself as not on the side of the rest of humanity? Or at least, not on the side of the law?

  “All right,” Keiko said. “Let’s do this. What do you think about stopping at the armory on the way to the medical facility?”

  Skylar would be more comfortable with jet injectors than firearms, but if her ally wanted weapons, so be it.

  She stood and walked toward the forcefield, her thumb on the fob, but heard footsteps from somewhere down the corridor.

  Voices sounded, and she scooted back, slipping the fob into her pocket.

  “Damn,” Keiko whispered. “What now?”

  As Skylar leaned her shoulder against the wall and folded her arms, looking nonchalant and not like someone plotting an escape, Cortez and his still shirtless jail-break buddy, Jerick, stopped in front of their cell.

  “Come to search us again for weapons?” Keiko asked darkly, unintimidated by them.

  “No, but I do take special requests,” Jerick said.

  “Asshole.”

  Cortez held Skylar's gaze for a few seconds before looking at Keiko. “We have a proposition for you.”

  Jerick touched the control panel, and the forcefield lowered.

  The two men stepped in shoulder to shoulder, and the cell felt very small. It occurred to Skylar that she should be concerned, that they could have a sexual proposition in mind, and she found it hard to maintain her nonchalant pose. She believed she could trust Cortez to act as a gentleman, but she didn’t know if she was being a fool. Keiko would say so. And Jerick… Even though he had apologized, she wasn’t sure about him at all.

  “What is it?” Skylar asked.

  “If all goes according to plan—” Cortez’s mouth twisted. “If some goes according to plan, we’re going to need a pilot, someone capable of flying a warship into Hostile Space, to take a few dozen cyborgs away from civilization and to a place humanity need not worry about them again. About us again.”

  “Hostile Space?” Keiko stared at him. “That’s where you want to go?”

  “There’s nothing for us here,” Jerick said.

  The statement made Skylar's heart ache, the idea that these former soldiers—former heroes—couldn’t find a place among other men.

  “Not even for you?” Skylar asked Cortez softly.

  He hesitated before answering. “Not now.”

  Meaning there had been a few days ago, but he’d made his choice, and there was no turning back?

  “You’re asking me to fly you there?” Keiko asked.

  “You seem like a woman who likes adventure,” Cortez said.

  “Not the kind of adventure where you get killed by hostile aliens who don’t like humans mucking up their star systems.”

  “We would protect you,” Cortez said, almost fiercely.

  A weird little tingle went through Skylar, and as silly as it was, she was jealous that the offer hadn’t been for her, that they weren’t inviting her along on their jaunt.

  Not that she would go even if they did. Who would be that insane? To leave their families and everything they knew for an uncertain and dangerous future? Not that she had much of a family to go home to anymore. Damian and Jasmine were gone, one way or another. And her parents… They were on that star cruise of the colonies for who knew how long. They’d been so distant since Jasmine died.

  Their favorite. They had never said that, of course. What parent did? But Jasmine had been smart, athletic, personable, and beautiful. Skylar had spent her whole life trying to shine as brightly as her older sister, but she’d never been as suave, never as agile and pretty. She’d always been more comfortable sitting at a computer station or in a lab doing research than talking to other human beings.

  “You’re welcome to come too,” Cortez said softly.

  Skylar blinked, realizing he was speaking to her. For a moment, she had the strange sense that he’d read her thoughts. How much did he know about her? She wasn’t the favorite of the journalists that he was, but she knew there were articles out there on her and her work.

  One side of his mouth crooked up. “From childhood’s hour, I have not been as others were. I have not seen as others saw. I could not bring my passions from a common spring.”

  Skylar had no idea what to say to that. Whose poem was it? His? Some famous dead man’s?

  She snatched the first quotation that went through her mind in a vague notion that it might be the right answer. “All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen.”

  His eyes crinkled.

  “Wrong one, sir,” Jerick said, drawing both of their gazes.

  He pointed at Keiko. “You were supposed to charm the pilot with your poetry.”

  Keiko, her arms folded across her chest, glowered at both of them.

  “That was Poe’s, not mine,” Cortez said, then extended a hand toward Keiko. “I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace where never lark, or even eagle flew. And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod the high untresspassed sanctity of space, put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

  Keiko’s face didn’t noticeably soften.

  “That poet was a soldier—a pilot—back on Earth,” Cortez said. “Only a couple of decades after man first took to the skies. He died at nineteen in a mid-air collision. Pilots have a long history of leading dangerous lives.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Keiko said. “You asking the other people here to come with you, or just the women?”

  “If there are others with useful qualifications, I would be open to taking them, male or female.”

  “You sure you’re not having some fantasy about flying out into unknown space and colonizing a planet with a couple of willing wenches for breeding stock?”

  Skylar's mouth dropped open. Willing wenches?

  “Maybe you should be reciting these poems with your shirt off, sir,” Jerick said. “It might work better.”

  Skylar flushed, remembering her earlier thoughts o
f Cortez’s chest.

  “Is my attire where I’m failing?” Cortez asked.

  “The fact that you’re wearing some, likely.”

  “Unfortunate.” Cortez backed toward the corridor.

  “We’re leaving?” Jerick asked.

  “I’ve made my offer.”

  Jerick frowned. “We don’t have indefinite time, sir. Especially now that you’ve delivered your ultimatum.” He turned his frown on Keiko. “If she won’t do it, we need to think about backup plans.”

  “Plan away,” Keiko said. “I’m not flying any felons to—”

  Skylar gripped her wrist, and Keiko stopped speaking.

  “We’ll think about it,” she told the men.

  She sensed Keiko glowering at her, but she didn’t rescind the words.

  Cortez’s eyebrows twitched, but he didn’t speak again, merely waving for Jerick to join him outside the cell.

  They reactivated the forcefield and disappeared down the corridor.

  “I’m not piloting them,” Keiko growled.

  “Let’s not issue any definitives that’ll make us less valuable in their eyes.”

  Skylar reached into her pocket and rubbed the fob but decided they should wait a while before trying it, long enough for the men to go back to whatever they’d been doing. Maybe even until the night cycle on the station. Would the cyborgs relax then? At the least, they ought to sleep in shifts, meaning fewer men would be roaming the corridors.

  After leaving the women’s cell, Cortez headed through the entry room and to the lift doors, but Jerick raised his hand and said, “Wait, sir.”

  Cortez paused as Jerick headed to a blank wall. He found a subtly placed button to push, and a view screen appeared, a dozen camera displays coming up. Jerick tapped the only one with people in it, the two women, and it enlarged to fill the space. The view was from above, and Dr. Russo—Skylar, Cortez decided to think of her—stood near the forcefield while the pilot paced the cell.

  “I don’t think they have any intention of helping us,” Jerick said. “Let’s confirm that so you can stop worrying about them and implement whatever your backup plan is. I know you have a backup plan, sir.”

  Cortez grunted but didn’t deny it. It would be convenient to have a willing pilot along, but he would capture a military one and use force if necessary.

  Jerick swiped a finger, turning the sound on, and the women’s voices grew audible through an embedded speaker.

  Cortez frowned, both at the idea of spying on them—though it was admittedly wise to know what one’s enemies were plotting—and at spending more time on this. He needed to check on the other cyborgs that had been freed, decide who was dependable enough to arm, and get everyone ready for the attack force the government would send.

  Still, he found himself drawing closer, curious about what they would talk about when alone.

  “…even if I wanted to help a bunch of inmates—which I don’t—and even if the idea of exploring uncharted territory was somewhat appealing, I’m not getting on a ship full of male cyborgs, not putting myself at their mercy. We’d be the only women and helpless among them. My brain can come up with all sorts of torture scenarios.” The pilot—Keiko—rubbed her face.

  “Cortez said he wouldn’t let that happen,” Skylar said.

  Keiko dropped her hand. “And you believe him?”

  “Yes.”

  That simple statement surprised Cortez, and her faith in him made him feel… he wasn’t sure exactly what. That he’d like to get to know her better. She’d seemed to understand exactly what he’d been thinking when he’d spoken of loneliness, however obliquely it had been. Did she, too, know what it was like to be surrounded by students, colleagues, and even friends, yet so often feel the outsider?

  “You’re naive for someone with so many degrees,” Keiko said. “Even if he’s honest, there aren’t any guarantees he’d remain in command out there among a bunch of felons. They could kill him. Or hostile aliens could kill him. Then what? Then who’s running things? That shirtless brute in the orange pants?”

  Jerick grunted. The noise sounded a touch distressed, and he glowered over at Cortez, as if it was his fault the women knew his name and not Jerick’s.

  “I believe his name is Jerick,” Skylar said, surprising Cortez again. “And you’re correct. It would be good to know who the second-in-command is before agreeing to anything.”

  “I’m not agreeing to anything, no matter what. I’m finding a way to escape, and we’re getting out of here, ideally while leaving them all drooling in their sleep so they’ll easily be collected by the fleet and locked back up.”

  Cortez stirred, wondering if that was their plan—and if they believed they had a way to enact it—or if it was mere fantasy. He hadn’t forgotten that Skylar was a doctor—a neuroscientist—and that if anyone could figure out a way to leave cyborgs drooling, it would more likely be she than some fleet commandos. When they had found the various pill packets in her bra, he’d wondered what she’d planned to do with them. Some had been sedatives, but others had less obvious uses.

  “I do believe we should try to escape,” Skylar said slowly, thoughtfully, “so we can’t be used as pawns and we can face this all on our own terms, but… I didn’t realize before what they wanted to do. Maybe Cortez’s plan is logical. For them and for humanity in general.”

  “Logical? Great, I’m imprisoned with someone who has Stockholm Syndrome after three hours. Was the pat down that pleasurable to you?”

  Skylar looked down—blushing?

  “Maybe she did like it,” Jerick whispered. “Even if she was glaring daggers at me the whole time. No, that was the other one, actually. The doctor was looking at you.” Jerick cocked an eyebrow at Cortez.

  Cortez did his best to make his face a mask and also to not think of that moment when Skylar had stood with her shirt dangling around her neck, more than a hint of appealing skin visible. Though he’d done his best to keep his gaze on her face, primitive thoughts had stirred in the back of his brain, and he’d wanted to be over there, touching her breasts right alongside Jerick.

  Alongside? Instead of, he should have thought.

  “Skylar,” Cortez corrected quietly, aware that she hadn’t moved since the pilot spoke, that she hadn’t responded with the emphatic no that he would have expected.

  “You’re on a first-name basis with her now, are you?” Jerick asked.

  “I just think,” Skylar said, finally responding, “that it’s not a bad idea for them to go off and found their own colony or simply explore the galaxy on their own ship. I can see why that would appeal to them. I do think it’s sad that we—society—haven’t been more understanding and found a way to make a home for them—for all of them—among us. They chose to let themselves be experimented on for the greater good of humanity, so they could go out and fight with power that equaled that of our alien enemies, and now that we don’t need them anymore, we’re finding it’s most convenient to forget about them, to shunt them away. I get the feeling from Cortez that even the ones who successfully went back to their own lives don’t truly feel like they belong anymore.”

  Cortez stood stone-still, his jaw resting on his fist as he listened. He was aware of Jerick beside him, glancing at him, and he didn’t want to react, didn’t want to show that Skylar's words affected him. He hadn’t expected either of the women to be sympathetic to the cyborgs. To him. Skylar’s empathy made him want to adjust his plans, to take her along instead of using her to trade for a ship. She almost seemed like she would be willing to go. Would she?

  “I’m starting to like her,” Jerick said.

  “I thought the pilot would be more your speed,” Cortez said, though he could understand why Jerick, of all people, would long for someone who understood him.

  “Oh, I like feisty girls as much as the next man, but the doctor—Skylar—isn’t what I expected. I’d let her mess with my brain.” He smirked. “Or my cock.”

  Cortez gritted his teeth at
the crude language. He’d heard it all the time as a military commander, even though he’d tried to encourage his men to use more civilized words, but he’d grown less accustomed to it of late, back in the academic setting.

  “I don’t think that’s her area of expertise,” was all he said.

  “I bet she’d develop an interest if I walked in there naked.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “We could separate them and find out.” Jerick wriggled his eyebrows at Cortez.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but Cortez thought he read an offer in his eyes, an invitation as well as a request for permission. We.

  The image of Skylar’s breasts in Jerick’s hands returned to his mind along with a desire to see more than hints of skin. To see all of her naked.

  Cortez shook his head. They’d barely even spoken. This fantasizing was stupid and pointless.

  “We have a mission to focus on,” Cortez said.

  Jerick snorted, but the smirk remained, flirting with his lips. “I knew you’d say that. You haven’t changed.”

  “Have you?” Cortez wondered at the haunted look that he occasionally caught in his old comrade’s eyes.

  “I’m sure I have. I think the desire to be a hero and sacrifice myself for others has withered up and died. This place is designed for that, to make you wither.”

  Cortez almost said something sympathetic, but Jerick was looking down at the floor and seemed embarrassed to have made the admission. Men didn’t talk about such things, after all.