BioCybe (2 page)

She stared at the ceiling, the halogen lights warm and
bright. It irritated her eyes for a moment before understanding set in. They’d
enhanced
her somehow. “Who... Who is Seven-One-Four?”

She lifted her hand, or tried to, but it was weighed down.
Panic set in, big boulders of worry obstructing her ability to inhale oxygen.
She gulped and gasped, coughing, and expected to expire at any second from
asphyxiation.

“Recruit Seven-One-Four is your new designation. Henceforth,
you will be known by this. You were the fourth recruit to use bay seven-one.
Now I’m concerned, your respiration and breathing patterns indicate
difficulties. Do you require medical intervention?”

The words, so carefully modulated, broke through the
hysteria that threatened to engulf her. “Intervention?” She struggled, hardly
capable of movement, yet she shoved and twisted. Each movement agony, as if
broken glass etched itself along her body. “I don’t want your bloody
enhancements and—”

A beeping sounded, racing faster as her heart worked
overtime. The sound of a door opening with a
whoosh
filled the air.

“Attention. Medical assistance is required in unit
seven-one. Assistance is required in unit seven-one. Code yellow.”

A touch of cold stung the side of her neck and the gray
cloud settled once more, filling her mind until all that was left was the
twilight state of the drug-induced oblivion.

* * * *

Levia’s mind scrambled for something to sum up what she saw in
the polished mirror. She ran her fingers over the cyber-enhanced syntha-derm,
pain spreading through her. The green glyphs glowed as she watched with dawning
horror.

“My face… My face is ruined.” She choked on the words,
knowing that now it was too late. Gone was the face she’d known for seventeen
years, leaving her with the impression of a… She was a BioCybe.

Even the long curls that had been her pride were gone, and
instead shaved patches remained along with some wispy tufts. It was all they’d
left her.

Her gut clenched hard. They’d enhanced her all right—enough
to remove any shred of humanity. They’d made her into some kind of machine and
human hybrid. It never even occurred to her that this might be the kind of
enhancement they’d had in mind.

She ran shaky fingers over her face. “No…” The whisper
escaped, the sound of a wounded animal rising in her throat.

While her skin felt the same, maybe somewhat warmer, the
mirror told a different tale. She watched her fingers tracing the contours of
her face.

At the corner of her vision, a scroll of information told
her that the temperature of her skin was optimal.

She glanced back to the mirror and, while her eyes looked
the same, another scrolling list ran at lightning speed through her gaze. The
upgrade of her visual acuity, information processing time, and even muscular corrections
ran at an ever-increasing rate.

A young medi-tech raised her eyes and scanned the room.
“Theatrical makeup.” The words were little more than a murmur, but stopped
Levia’s growing wail.

“What?”

The door swooshed open and the medi-tech scurried from the
room, her white coat billowing. When the door closed, Levia studied it and the
woman’s words reverberated in her mind.
Theatrical makeup?
What the hell
did that have to do with her ruined features?

“Why me? Damn it, I don’t want this! I didn’t ask for any of
this!” Her anguish was swept aside as fury, cold and hard, ran through her
veins. “I just want to be a girl!” The last word ended on a shriek.

She swept out with her leg, amazed that when she kicked the
bed, there was no ache or hurt. Damn it, her mind screeched, she wanted the
pain. She needed a physical outlet for the burn that scorched the inside of her
chest. The bed itself tumbled onto its side and she watched, horrified, as it
continued its wild movement across the floor of the room, rolling once before
reaching the wall with a clang and crash of twisted metal.

What the…

Slowly, Levia made her way to the misshapen cot, shock
numbing her mind. Glancing down, she noted the dented wall, the bent sides of
the bed. “How the hell did I do that?”

This time when the door opened, she didn’t look up.
Couldn’t. It was as if her gaze was glued to the sight before her.

“You’ve made an excellent transition, recruit.”

The voice behind her echoed in the nearly empty area and she
spun.

A sense of vertigo hit and she clamped her hand over her
mouth. “Urghh!”

“Nausea. Hmm, we’ll have to work on that.” The man in front
of her, blond and tanned with piercing blue eyes, scanned her up and down.

She cringed. The single piece coverall had molded itself to
her body, clearly outlining all her assets, and she had the momentary urge to
cover herself at breast and crotch. “I think you’ve already done enough.”
Bitterness, astringent and cold, crept into the words.

“Really? I think, given your earlier demonstration, we’ve
only just begun.”

She retreated as the man stepped closer. “I didn’t ask for
this.”

His lips flattened. “No. But your results indicated that
you’d make an excellent transition. Your general knowledge, mathematical and
scientific understanding, and your awareness of the political situation were
highly ranked. Your psych eval was one of the most promising we’d ever seen. As
for your body, the results showed that your system would accept the
enhancements with ease. Your muscle tone and strength indicated you were
eminently suited to combat.”

She glared at him, wishing she had some kind of laser beam
that would burn him on the spot.

“So, recruit, if you’ll follow me.” His arm gestured grandly,
and for a moment she wanted to jump at him, pummel him into nothing, exactly as
he’d done to her.

The door swept open, and she followed him into the hall then
lunged to the left. Hands grabbed her, shoving her against the wall so hard
that an involuntary
oomph
escaped. The wall shuddered.

“Yes, quick. But not quite fast enough yet. Bring her to the
testing chamber. I’d like to run some further tests before she’s released to
advanced training.”

Levia struggled and fought against the men who restrained
her. “Let me go! I want to go home!”

They didn’t speak, but their eyes glittered with a blue
light and their hands were ice cold. Was this her future? To be a mindless
zombie, holding others captive?

“Please? I want to go home.”

There was no answer to her entreaty, and fear, her new
constant companion, rose again.

Along the corridor, they trotted, her feet never touching
the floor until the doctor stood in an open doorway, indicating they should
bring her in. The men deposited her on the floor and the door slid shut,
leaving her curiously alone.

The room was silent. White walls shone harshly, and she
looked down at the polished wood boards of the floor beneath her feet. She
glanced around nervously. Suddenly, lights flashed at the end of the room and a
viewing platform came into view.

“Where am I?”

“In the testing chamber. Now I’m about to run the first of
your evaluation holograms. Each one will test your body and mind. We need to
see how your reflexes have held up to our work.”

Clicking sounds filtered into the room, and she tensed. “What
do you mean?”

The doctor glanced at her through the barrier. “Prepare
yourself.”

“What?”

A roar sounded, and she spun just as a monster loomed…

* * * *

Several years later

Levia settled her butt on a rock, her eyes scanning the
horizon as she breathed deeply. The battle below was just beginning, and
judging by the massing forces, it would be fierce, long-winded, and bloody. In
her experience though, every battle was bloody. For a moment, she allowed a
memory to trickle through the emotional barriers she’d thrown up and thought of
home. Of Rald and Elda. Of her mother and stepfather. She wondered if they ever
thought of her.

In the long years since she’d entered the assessment center,
she’d changed. None of them would know her from the battle-hardened woman she’d
become. They’d remember the child she’d been when they’d dropped her off. Soft
and innocent.
Childish.

The all too familiar ache settled in her chest. Her family
would likely think she was dead. She’d accessed her files. It was, after all, common
practice for enhanced warriors to want to know what lever the government had
used, to find out what had become of their fictional other selves and their
families. Her opportunity had come several months after she’d entered the
advanced training, and she’d been horrified to see the various ruses used to
cut the connection between herself and her family.

The communicator at her waist bleeped, breaking through the
introspection.

Snatching it up, she flicked the tiny switch at the side and
a video screen appeared as the device unfurled. She acknowledged the
communication with her designation, staring at the viewer. “Seven-One-Four.”

The man on the screen stared at her, his face as impassive
as her own. “Agent Seven-One-Four, you are to find and apprehend the leader of
the Dendaran forces. He must be unharmed.”

She allowed her gaze to leave the screen and scan the scene
before her. Already the forces had cut a swath, bodies littering the ground
around them. “The battle will be fierce.”

“Unharmed, Seven-One-Four. The general—”

“Fine. Unharmed.” She didn’t much care what the general
wanted, but she’d heard these words before. Knew exactly what would happen if
she didn’t follow his orders to the ultimate degree. She had the scars on her
back to prove it.

With an assassin’s eye, she picked up the various small
melees that made up the battle. The screen at the corner of her left lens
identified the many combatants on the field.

“Who exactly am I seeking?”

“A Captain Ordan Mayerber.”

She filed the information away, knowing her optical implant
would alert her when she’d located him. “Fine. I’m scanning now and will
apprehend as soon as—”

“Mission control out.”

The screen turned black, and she hissed. “I really hate the
way they do that.”

She stood, brushing off the seat of her pants. Sound carried
from the field ahead of her—crashing and whirling, bangs and screams.

The clank and whir of a dozen automated land-based units
caught her attention, and she sighed. At least there weren’t flyboys whizzing
over top right now. They tended to fire indiscriminately, and that would make
her job a whole lot harder. Levia hitched her leg over the speed-bike she
favored and pumped the engine. It roared loudly, and she made a mental note to
overhaul the machine on her next downtime.

Precision and skill were on her side as she sped down the
side of the escarpment to the battleground. Her optical implant cataloged every
face, deceased or otherwise. She’d need the information when she reported.

More than once, Levia threw the bike to the side, effecting
a roll-over maneuver in an attempt to avoid injury. The scent of battle rose,
sharp and acrid in her nostrils, but she blanked it out. A brief flash on her
lens flared as identification was made and confirmed. She tugged the bike in
the direction indicated.

Even as she did, a rumble sounded, growing louder, and she
raised her head, swearing fiercely as a ship appeared on the horizon. She
swore. “Barsha!” Time was definitely running out now. That was a Juran
destroyer in the air ahead of her, and that meant…

She scanned the field again, urging her optical lens to seek
the missing captain, but he wasn’t to be seen now. A ripple of sensation rolled
over her, as if every hair on her body stood to attention, and the breath in
her chest froze.
The hallmarks of matter displacement
, her fogged mind shrieked.
Her hands gripped the controls of the bike harder and she roared in the
direction where she’d last seen the benighted captain.

A bright white light filled her vision and she screamed,
ducking her head, pain spreading through her. The bike careened wildly,
whipping from side to side until it hit something solid. With a shudder, it
went down, taking her with it.

Agony, excruciating and breathtakingly sudden, stole her
consciousness.

* * * *

Two years later

Sandon grinned, raising the tankard of ale to his lips and savoring
the bitter taste of the brew.

“It’s good. Fresh and biting. Just like you prefer.”
Secombe, his second, smirked. “But you won’t talk me into staying more than the
year I promised you.”

“I need you, Secombe. Where the hell am I going to find
another pilot with as much skill and determination as you?” Sandon placed his
open hand on the table between them, palm facing up. “You’re the only one…” He
shook his head.

“Look, Sandon, I can’t stay longer. My family needs me on
the farm, and I never promised to stay forever. Just long enough to pay the
bills and get them out of the financial situation. I’ve done that. You’ve been
a great boss, but it’s time I thought of my other responsibilities.” Secombe
blinked, and for a moment, Sandon saw the hard-headed teenager Secombe had been
when joining the crew of the
Golden Echo
. His blue eyes were darker and
his face leaner, but it was an older version of the green pilot who had
initially signed on.

Regret and sadness filled Sandon. He liked Secombe. A lot.
He’d been talented, but unpracticed, when they’d met. Now he was seasoned, knew
instinctively what Sandon needed, and best of all, he wasn’t caught up in the
Juran Commonwealth and Independent Planetary Authority wars.

“So how do I replace you?” He took another long draw of the
ale, hoping it would dull the scratchy sensation that swelled in his chest.