BioCybe (17 page)

“Do I tell you how to run your business?” This whole
argument was more than wearisome, but it had to be dealt with now. Otherwise,
when the time came…

“You’ve been known to make strong suggestions.”

“Sandon…” She used her best wheedling tone, but it didn’t
work.

“No. Levia it’s everything or nothing. I can’t do half-measures
where you’re concerned.”

She knew he meant it, so she exhaled heavily and nodded.
“Okay then, but on one condition.”

He didn’t speak, but he touched her hand.

“You do everything I tell you. Hide when I say. And if I tell
you to get out of there, you go.”

Seconds ticked past, and her heart beat unsteadily in her
chest. “Okay.”

Levia glanced up into the sky, taking in the purplish black
of the clouds. “Weather’s starting to close in.” The wind whistled across the
nearly empty landscape.

“It’s a bad day for shuttle travel.” The grizzle-faced
officer in charge of the station grunted.

It was good that Sandon was already aboard the
Golden
Echo
. She’d flown him back before heading planet-ward, in time to oversee
the refueling and loading of the food stores they’d ordered.

“Yeah, I suppose I should get going.” She turned to the
aging craft Sandon had lovingly named Baby Bird for the two B’s at the end of
its call sign.

“You got a good little machine there, but…” The man’s words
died away.

Levia knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.
Even the best
ships can’t beat nature sometimes.

“Okay, step back while I climb in.” But before she could do
anything, he thrust out a hand.

“I know about the Cybes. You weren’t more’n a child when you
were sent up there. But you protected us. Those of us who know… We appreciate
what you did.”

A hard lump formed in her belly. Others knew about the Cybes.
They thanked them? She wasn’t so sure about that, but… “I, um… Thank you.” She
suddenly felt fiercely pleased that someone else understood, for whatever
reason, that they were just people doing a job they never wanted.

The man stepped back as she climbed aboard, her hands
tugging on the straps that would secure her for the short trip up to the
Echo
.

“
Golden Echo
? This is
Baby Bird
. I’m on my way
home.”

“
Baby Bird
, this is the
Echo
. I hear rough
skies are ahead of you. Is it wise?”

She laughed, hearing Vestang’s careful query.

“Yeah. I should be home soon. Tell Sandon to have a hot
coffee ready for me.”

She engaged the engines and opened a link to air traffic control.
“Air traffic control, this is the GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB. I’m uploading my flight
plan now.”

“Acknowledged, GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB. We have your plan and
are uploading it now.”

Seconds ticked by as she checked the instrumentation and
waited, her fingers drumming on the plastic-type consol.

“GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB, be aware, storms are brewing in your
flight path, acknowledge that you have read and understood them.”

“Yes. Acknowledged.” Sure she’d read them and a sense of
disquiet did run through her, but home and the
Echo
waited. As did
Sandon, and the tiny little dog, Missy, she’d adopted during their time on Cordero.

“Good luck then, GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB. Air traffic control
out.”

She grinned and gunned the engine, the vibrations rippling
over her body. The ship lifted in the vertical ascension that she preferred.

The first arc of lightning drew her attention. She could
almost hear the fizzle and bang as it made contact with the land, while the
roiling clouds, larger and more ominous, loomed ahead of her.

When the ship shuddered, she knew what had happened. A flash
of light appeared on the wing and was joined by a large boom. For a moment
there was only silence, then the wails of the computer blared, and the controls
became slack and unresponsive.

“Shit!” She rose even as the strapping fought to hold onto
her. The ship pitched wildly, until she dropped back down into the seat.

The comm buzzed over the noise, and she reached for the
button. “Levia? What’s going on? The readings for
Baby Bird
just went
haywire.”

“Sandon, I have a bit of a problem. It was a rogue lightning
strike. I need to patch into the neural network to see if I can pinpoint
exactly what’s damaged, but…” She let her words trail away, aware that the
damage could likely be irreparable.

“Damn it, Levia, get yourself back here in one piece.” His
face carried the pinched white look she’d come to associate with concern.

“Just wait for me, okay, Sandon? I’ll be home soon.” She
gave a laugh heavy with false bravado, and darkness filled the screen. “God
knows, I want to come home.”

Digging around in her pouch, she found the neural interface
and inserted it, glad that she’d taken the time to include the neural upgrade
in this ship. The whole time her gaze watched the wildly fluctuating readouts,
and she used one hand to keep the bird on its upward trajectory.

The moment she patched into the shuttle, she could see the
problem. “Oh God!”

The hydraulic systems were working at a minimal fifteen
percent and degrading quickly. Once they failed, there’d be no flying. To
compound that, the fuel lines had also ruptured. The lightning strike had found
the most vulnerable part of the craft.

A wail erupted from her throat. “Nooooo!”

Levia allowed for a moment of pity before she retracted the
neural interface. There was no use now. The ship was doomed unless something
somehow occurred to her.

She rubbed between her brows as pressure welled. Her mind
careened, searching for ways to get through the layers of atmosphere, to
salvage something from the situation. She was already too far to turn the craft,
and the quick calculations in her mind had the systems dropping to thirteen percent.

The futility of her position was clear, and it froze her all
the way to the marrow of her bones. Levia opened the comms. “Sandon? I’ve
worked out what’s wrong. It’s the hydraulics. They’re… They’re compromised.”

He leaned forward in the viewscreen, and how she wanted to
reach out, to touch him one last time. “You can fix it though? Hook in and—”

Levia shook her head. “No, Sandon. I already plugged in. The
system is leaking fluid. I’m too high to turn back, and I don’t think…” The
first tear dripped down her face. “I won’t make it through the final layer to
escape gravity.”

She didn’t have the heart to share the knowledge of the fuel
rupture. It was enough that he realized she was flying a dying bird so far from
any possible assistance.

The ship wavered and she fought it, grunting out the words
she needed to share. “I wish… If only it didn’t come to this. But you have the
information. Go back to Kefla and…” Once more the ship lurched.

“Levia, just hang on.” His voice dropped an octave.

She wanted to, but the reality was, the end was closing in.
A droplet of sweat rolled down her face and into her eye, mixing with the
tears, making it almost impossible to see. She released one hand from the death
grip she had on the controls long enough to dash the moisture away.

“I can’t. I’m going to turn off the screen in a minute, but
I needed…” The sob locked in her throat, stopping air getting to her lungs. “I
needed to say goodbye. To tell you… I love you, Sandon. I always will.”

His face had paled, but the fire in his eyes shone bright.
“Don’t give up, Levia. Don’t give up on us. We’ll find a way…”

Voices echoed and Levia looked beyond him. Vestang watched
over Sandon’s shoulder as did Jorgenstein.

She tried moving the controls, but the system barely moved
now. Levia knew it was time to let him go. “Say goodbye, Sandon.”

“No—”

“Please.” Thick tears clogged her throat, and she willed him
to understand.

“Don’t ask that of me. I’d do anything for you, Levia, but
don’t ask that. Don’t ask me to give up and say goodbye.” He stretched his hand
to her and how she wished they could touch, just one last time. She gazed into
his face, twisted in the pain of their final parting.

She understood, feeling the tearing inside herself. The
engine sputtered.

“I love you, Sandon. You’ll be in my heart until the end of
time.” Then she reached out and disengaged the communicator with a sob.

The engines were now silent, as the fuel in the tanks was
exhausted, and she accepted that this was it.

She tugged the straps closer, well aware of the futility of
the act. “If I’m going out this way, then I’ll damn well look like a pilot.”

Levia braced for impact.

* * * *

“Do something!” Sandon snarled as the screen went black.

“But… What can we do?” Vestang’s shrill question ripped
through him as memory after memory of their short time together swam through
his beleaguered mind.

His glance around the helm settled on a small modification.
There was a way to save her! The transmitter! The one she’d used to get him out
of the security sector. What was that called? He frowned hard and the
title
instantaneous matter transmission
came to him.

“Get the matter transmitter online now!”

Jorgenstein’s mouth dropped open. “But, sir, Pilot Endrado
hasn’t trained us fully.”

He brushed aside the man’s words. “Don’t care. Get it online
now. There has to be…”

Sandon paced as Jorgenstein took up location at the
engineer’s station. “I have to input her data first.”

He hung back, heart in his throat as he watched the failing
trajectory of the shuttle on the forward screens. “Come on.” The chant didn’t
help. Not really.

“Captain? Will this work?” Vestang hovered over his shoulder,
his eyes huge. “We can’t… She’s a good pilot. Surely…”

He jerked his head in a tiny shake. “No. The ship is dead.”

It was clear now that Levia meant more to him that just a
pilot. He hadn’t told his crew in so many words, but they knew, and they would
work miracles for him. If anyone could save her, it was his crew. He hoped like
hell his crew was half as capable as he’d always thought they were.

Sandon swiveled back and watched as Jorgenstein swore and
swiped a hand over his face.

“Arhhh!” The sound of success echoed, and Jorgenstein
turned, hand outstretched. Sandon looked in the direction he indicated, and he
saw her outline appearing before him, still strapped into her command seat, her
face wet with tears and her grip white-knuckled.

“Levia!” He pounced, freeing her from the constraints of the
seat then enfolding her in his grip.

“Sa… Sandon? How the hell?”

His heart pounded in his chest, and he fastened his lips
over hers.
To hell with the no fraternization rule.
He needed her as
badly as she likely needed him.

Her hands reached up, clasping him back, while he tasted her
again. Thankful for the opportunity to hold her close once more.

When he pulled back, she sighed.

“Don’t ever do something crazy like that again!” The words
slipped out, and she frowned.

“Like what?”

“Give up. I’m never letting you go now.”

A smile crept over her features, warming his frozen
extremities. The ones he hadn’t even known were chilled.

* * * *

Levia hated this phase of planning a mission. On the screen
ahead of her was the dossier she’d put together. Everything they’d gleaned
since Mayerber joined the Dendarans.

It was sparse, unlike his file with the Jurans.

“Damn it, where’s the trigger?” She’d been closeted away for
the last three hours reviewing the files without success. Frustration had
become her new best friend, she thought, consciously unclenching her hand.

Not for the first time, she wondered what he remembered, if
anything of his life before he’d become a Cybe. They didn’t like them to go
back and investigate what had happened to their families.

“His evals showed an incomplete memory retention.” They’d
known that since early on. But they couldn’t be sure what the Dendarans had
accomplished with him. “I wonder…” She tapped her finger against her lips as
she slumped into the seat.

Once more, she brought up his medical records, searching for
details of his psych paperwork.

“Nothing.” Levia pushed out of her seat again and resumed
the loping pace she’d adopted while thinking over a problem.

She’d already investigated the manner in which he carried
out his assignments. He’d been cold and ruthless. A single shot or broken necks
were among his favored method. Close and personal or distant and clinical. It
seemed to depend on the prey.

What had changed? She remembered the meeting with him on Omega
V. Back when she hadn’t realized that he was Ordan Mayerber. When he was hiding
under the assumed name of Michelin Andres.

The attack felt personal. He hadn’t wanted to kill her. Clearly,
there was more anger to it at that point, almost as if he’d wanted to punish
her.

“It wasn’t a hit. It was a need to
hurt
.” She whirled
and headed back to the computer. Levia called up every shred of information
she’d amassed. “I’m missing something. But what?”

Document after document scrolled past as she scanned,
looking for something, some marker that would explain what had happened.

The seventh evaluation focused on the changes to his persona
after the initial rounds of enhancements. She frowned. The oblique reference
was too vague. “There has to be more.”

She whipped back to his recruitment documents, her eyes
picking out one single term.
Rehabilitation commensurate with incarceration.

“Rehabilitation…”

No one had ever spoken about his background. Hell, her
mother barely even mentioned her biological father. Was there more? Something
she hadn’t known?

With shaking fingers, she accessed the government database
and tapped in his real name, the one that had been stripped from his memories
and replaced with his new identity. Orton Endrado.

Classified.

She growled with frustration and entered her override
password.

Unbreachable.

The door opened, and she looked up to see Sandon enter. “How
are you…”

“Don’t ask. There’re more layers of encryption and passwords
than I’ve ever seen before. And to make things worse, the file is marked
unbreachable
.”
When Sandon smiled she frowned deeper. “What?”

“I have this friend—”

She leaned toward him. “What exactly do you mean, you have
this friend?”