BioCybe (6 page)

She waited and listened for the sound of his movements. When
they came, it was after an extended pause. She heard the door open then close
behind him with a thud.

Once more alone, she staggered to the bed and sank down.
“I’m so in trouble.”

* * * *

Making her way back to the bridge was a trial. It felt as if
every crewmember were watching, weighing her every reaction, so they could
gauge how to treat her. Vestang lifted a mug to his lips as she entered, and
even he sputtered. “Oh, Pilot Endrado, uh… Sandon told me you’d be back. I
wanted to—”

The urge to roll her eyes was almost overwhelming. She beat
it back and searched deep within for the balance she’d always relied on.

“Yes, well, as you can see, I need to finalize our orbit and
entry/re-entry plans. You can take the helm.” She remained still, legs straight
just like her back, her arms wrapped around her stomach as if to hold in the
rage and panic that swarmed like angry bees.

She watched him. He was eager, almost child-like, as he
headed for her sling. She sighed inwardly, knowing that to give in once would
lead to further liberties. “Uh, from your own seat, I think, Vestang.”

His shoulders slumped in his classic pose of dejection, and
she grinned in spite of her problems. From the corner of her eye, she could
detect the looming planet, gray-green on the monitors, ascending off the bow.
The one place she’d rather never see again. She gulped silently and laid her
hands on the controls, noting the fine tremor.

Her gaze silently traced the continents and coastlines that
she’d seen from this position only once before.

“Le… Levia?” It was the first time Vestang had ever used her
given name, and she raised her head with a snap, realizing she’d lost herself
in the memories.

“What?”

“Are you okay? You’re looking… You look a little unsettled.”

Her gaze met his and she realized he was watching her. The
how or why of his actions didn’t change anything, now he knew she was out of
sorts and vulnerable. She hated that. The lack of control that went with that
sensation reminded her of the procedures she’d endured all those years before.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just thinking.” She laid her hands flat
against the controls, willing the shaking to stop. It did, finally, but it was
an act of pure will.

“I can go, you know. If you would prefer it.”

The knowledge that she’d brought this level of angst to the
Golden
Echo
reverberated through her. It made her feel cold and scared.
I don’t
want to be alone!
The thought flashed hard and it shocked her to realize
she didn’t. She’d been alone too long. Physically and emotionally. “No. No, you
stay. I just… I’m trying to think.”

He didn’t speak again. There really wasn’t any need, because
in his eyes she could clearly read his concern.

Now, she looked at the view in front of her, noting the
landmasses of gray and the green oceans. It was a pretty planet, or had been
before the war. On arrival, she’d noticed the small gray-blue trees and the
reddish colored ground. She remembered the profusion of miniscule avian species
and the air scented with spicy florals. The wind had been soft and warm,
caressing the exposed skin at her neck and chest before she’d tugged on her
battle-gear. All that had changed suddenly, as her mission data had been
received. The tinny broadcast that had her hurrying for her bike and setting
off. Then she’d been all business.

Her last memory of this planet wasn’t quite so friendly. No,
it was the vision of a battleship looming over the horizon. At the remembered
fear, dread settled in her belly and her pulse spiked.

She shook her head, hoping to clear the frozen sensation
that once again trickled through her.

“Levia?” The voice reminded her that she wasn’t alone, and
with a grunt she pulled away from the viewer.

“Yeah.” Carefully, she lowered herself into the sling and
laid her hands against the console, felt the seep of warmth through her fingertips.
Then she sighed and settled into the task.

Her mind dealt with the computation at lightning speed and
before long, the plotting was complete. She stood, wiping her hands over the
heavy fabric of her pants, as if that would allow her to sweep away the
knowledge of her return to Omega V.

It was too much. Too big and overwhelming, and she shoved
herself from the table and stalked from the bridge while her heart pounded
rapidly in her chest. As the lift stopped and the doors opened, she searched
for the inner well of strength, her hand resting on the metal surround as she
breathed in, letting her lungs expand then exhaled.

“Levia?”

Sandon’s voice startled her, and she jumped. “Sa…Captain?”

“Are you okay?”

The words
I’m fine
rose, but she knew they were a lie.
She wasn’t fine. He could clearly see that, and lying to him wasn’t the answer.

His hand circled around her arm, and she nearly swallowed
her tongue. He gently steered her to his office and sat her down in the seat
opposite his desk. “What’s wrong, Levia? You’re going to have to tell me, so we
can face this together.”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t you trust me to help you?”

The silky words arrowed straight to her gut. “It’s not that
I don’t trust you. It’s just… Look, a lot of stuff inside me is connected to
what I am. What I’ve done and seen. Sometimes that knowledge is…” She wracked
her brain, searching for a way to explain. “Sometimes living with me is hard. I
mean, the memories…”

She looked out the window into the darkness. That was her.
The darkness out there. Lonely with brief streaks of light.

She hunched forward. “I can’t…” Levia covered her face with
her hands.

* * * *

Sandon watched as she hid her face, realizing for the first
time that the barrier she erected between herself and others wasn’t self-sufficiency,
but more an inability to cope with her past.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” The words slipped out,
surprising him at first. But they felt right. Good. “Levia, we’ll be your
family, if you let us.”

The stillness about her spoke volumes. He laid his hand on
her arm, and when she didn’t flinch from his hold, he pressed on. “I can’t and
won’t speak for the rest of the crew, but for over three months, you’ve worked
alongside us. You’ve made the
Echo
more successful than I’d ever
dreamed—”

“But they don’t know. If I tell them…” The words ended on a
defeated sigh, and he hunched down beside her.

“Then don’t tell them. I know and it doesn’t bother me.”

“Then you’re either mad or stupid. I’m a bloody trained
assassin. A killer.” The roar of anger and hurt seared his mind.

“I’m not an idiot, Levia. But you need someone on your side.
You can’t do this alone, because—” He tugged his hand through his hair, his
mind whirling in spinning circles. “You aren’t alone. You’re a member of the
crew. That means no matter how hard you try to keep us—damn it, even me—at a
distance, we won’t give up on you.” The heat licking at his belly rose, urging
him forward. His hand clasped her shoulder, pulled her closer. “You’re one of
us, Levia.”

Her eyes shone and he swore, dragging her closer still. His
lips were mere inches from her cheek when she turned, and he closed the
distance between them.

What started as a simple gesture changed. He stilled as did
she. Lip to lip. His eyes were open, as were hers, and their gazes collided.

Her lips were soft, warm. Unable to help himself, he moved,
caressing the plump flesh with his mouth, rubbing over it with infinite care. When
her mouth opened beneath the pressure of his, any hope of holding onto sanity
disappeared. With a groan, he deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding
together.

Berries, she tasted like berries. Like the lush summer yurdu
berries he remembered from his youth.

Her hand rose, settled against his chest as he breathed in
the scent of her. Then she pushed. Not hard, but enough to repel him. “No.”

The silky veil of pleasure that had settled in his mind blew
away as he realized what he’d done. Glancing at her face, he saw fear and
anger.

“Oh, Levia, I shouldn’t have—”

She cut him off by raising her shaking hand. “No. It was my
fault.”

He frowned. It wasn’t. No one was at fault. “I started—”

“San— Captain, I started it. It was my mistake, and I take
full responsibility for it.” They rose up and she staggered backward, refusing
to meet his gaze.

“Barsha! Levia, we’re adults.” He would be damned if she’d
take it all as her fault. After all, he had been the one to open this
particular Pandora’s Box.

“No. I know better than to let my emotions cloud my
judgment. You felt sorry for me, and sought to—”

“That’s just garbage, Levia!” The rush of emotions nearly
stole his equilibrium. “See? On here, you don’t get to accept the
responsibility for stuff going wrong. As the captain, that’s my job.”

The surprise on her face should have been gratifying, but it
wasn’t. It broke his heart to see her lost expression.

“But… I don’t understand. I mean, I crossed the line.”

“We both did. And what’s more...I enjoyed it.”

With a shake of her head she backed away. “But you can’t.”

“Why not? Give me one damned good reason.”

“Because I’m not human. I’m damaged…” A tear, fat and heavy,
plopped from her lashes and trailed down her cheek, smearing the makeup she
wore. Beneath he detected a green tracery. When he lifted his hand, she shied
away.

“You’re Levia. An amazingly talented pilot and someone I’d
like to get to know better.”

She jerked away at his words, eyes flashing as he cursed
himself silently for pushing without adequate thought.

“You want to know me? The real me?” Her voice rose, taking
on an angry edge, and she raised a hand, swiping away the makeup so the green
glow shone through.

Anger and horror churned as his gaze roamed over the
revealed cybernetic tracery.

“This is what I am. I’m not a woman. I’m some kind of
freakish walking, talking computer!”

This was the real Levia, the woman damaged by decisions and
actions taken by governments. The one with shattered emotions, always expecting
to be slapped back. Anger surged within his chest. That they could do this to a
person, to a woman…to Levia, was unforgivable. But now wasn’t the time to tell
her, so he reached out his hand.

“Levia, I…”

She stepped further back into the dark corner of his office.
“No. I’m not interested in promises. Promises have never done me any favors.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He watched as
she dragged in breath after breath, chest heaving and eyes closed.

“I just need to regroup. Right now, I can’t think straight.
I’ve completed the computations already. I’m going to clock off for the day.
Tomorrow morning…” She shook her head, and his stomach churned at seeing the
uncertainty and pain etched on her features.

“Levia—”

“No. Not now. Please. I just need…”

Sandon narrowed his gaze, assessing her reactions. How the
hell could he give her what she wanted if she didn’t even seem to understand
the emotions that drove their encounter?

She spun on her heel, tossing an “I’ll see you in the
morning,” at him as she marched through the door.

No matter that he wanted to grab her, he held himself rigid.
Following her and demanding an explanation, or anything else, would undo all
the good he’d done. And compound the mistakes he’d made.

The shuttle flew smoothly under Levia’s careful instruction.
Each move considered and weighed in the split second before she acted. Her
whole focus was to get down to the benighted planet in one piece. Sandon had
requested she stay for the negotiations and she’d agreed, though in all honesty,
it had taken every ounce of willpower to do that.

“So, what will you do while I’m in the meetings?”

She didn’t look at him, her face a hard mask as she tried to
ignore the reality that she was heading down to Omega V sort-of voluntarily.

“I have some handbooks to study, then I’ll run some training
exercises.” If she kept the answers cool and remote, maybe he’d stop talking so
she could just invest every ounce of her attention on the shuttle.

“Really? You won’t go sightseeing?” He sounded incredulous,
but his words were like cold daggers, slicing at her.

Go sightseeing?
If only he knew.
“No. I plan to stay on
the shuttle.” Her words didn’t wobble and she allowed a second to congratulate
herself.

“Look, Levia, I don’t know why—”

Before he could say any more, she whipped around in her
seat, pinning him with her signature cold assassin stare. “With all due respect,
Captain. I’ve no inclination for idle chitchat right now.” Turning back to the
console, she released the grip she had on the arm of the chair. If he continued
down this path, then she wasn’t sure just how the hell she could control
herself.

“I’m… I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Sighing seemed rather pointless, so she started checking
their trajectory, realizing just how close it was to the one she’d used last
time. Her lips thinned, and in an instant, her mouth dried.

In her mind, she ran through the entry sequence, letting its
familiarity soothe her tightly coiled nerves. Braking vanes, rear thrusters,
wash off speed—

“You know, whatever is bothering you will always be better
if you…”

Closing her eyes didn’t help, neither did the death-like
grasp she had on the nav-stick. “Look, I don’t
want
to talk about it.
Nothing shared about it can make my
issues
go away.”

She sucked in an unsteady breath, hoping the increased flow
of oxygen would shake her rattled nerves into some semblance of normality. It
didn’t work. Her insides churned and roiled like an angry ocean, lapping wildly
at her stomach until she was sure that she’d lose any food she’d managed to
keep down.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded contrite, and when he reached out,
the warmth of his skin burned her chilled extremities.

“Please. Let’s just… Silence is best right now.”

A beep sounded, and she wanted to thank any deity that was
listening for the gift of interference.

“Make sure you’re well secured. Once I answer this hail,
we’ll begin our approach.”

“Unidentified craft, present your credentials.”

“Omega V ground control, this is GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB
requesting entry. We are en-route to co-ordinates Beta-Zeta-Nine-Five-Five.”
She transmitted the required documentation via wireless link, her fingers tense
on the button.

“One moment GE-Five-Zero-Nine BB. Checking your credentials
now.”

The silence in the cabin thickened, and for a second, she
wondered if they’d work out who she was and deny them entrance. Either that or
shoot them from the sky.

She waited in silence, her eyes scanning the radar for any
sign, however infinitesimal, that they’d be denied. One minute passed, then
another.

Suddenly, a blare of the comm unit cut through the air. “GE-Five-Zero-Nine
BB, you are cleared for entry. Please be aware, we are experiencing greater
than usual turbulence, and make the necessary amendments. On landing, you will
submit to a full scan before you are escorted to the official units. Your entry
pattern is being transmitted now. Do not deviate, otherwise we will take all
necessary action. Ground control out.”

“Friendly lot, aren’t they?” Sandon’s hoarse voice was the
only sound as she scanned the comm unit for the information that would make
their entry legal.

“They never were before, and I doubt they ever will be.”

Sandon reached out and touched her hand as she spoke.
“You’ve been here before?”

She realized she’d given away more of her secrets and damned
herself. “A long time—a lifetime ago.”

Then she shrugged away from his touch and carefully entered
the information into the ship’s databanks.

Satisfied that she’d completed her task, she set about guiding
the ship through the layers of atmosphere, her gaze rarely leaving the readings
for the shielding of the tiny shuttle. It skittered wildly, pulsing to the red
zone once, and she held focused on it, her hands moving quickly to compensate
for the extreme temperatures.

Finally through, Levia’s hands skimmed over the controls,
letting the shuttle dance its ballet against the buffering forces of nature. It
dipped and wove, and she heard what sounded like a groan.

“Hang in there.” She spoke through gritted teeth as the ship
bucked.

He grunted in response, and for just one moment, the pain
and horror of her past slid away while she allowed the real Levia, the woman
who gloried in overcoming difficulties, to shine through. Once they’d exited
the turbulent atmosphere, she buried that persona as beeps trilled in the
cockpit.

Her hands flew over her keyboard and more than once she
wished she’d been able to employ the neural net to more effectively interact
with the shuttle. Sadly, this tiny craft didn’t have the necessary inputs.

The ground rose up before her, vast tracts of fields, and
here and there she spied outposts before the shuttle leveled out and she began
the final approach. The airfield was just as she remembered. She gulped, but
her hands remained steady.

Levia rechecked the landing position, spying it, and hovered
the craft just above, while the thrusters gave a burst, then another. The ship
floated to the ground and settled with a kiss.

“Are we…”

Unable to control her mirth at his discomfort, she swung
around to look at him. Any laughter that rose melted away at the green tinge to
his skin. “Ahh… If only you’d told me you got motion sick in bad conditions. I
could have given you something.”

He coughed. “Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. It’ll be
better heading back to the
Echo
.”

His words reminded her of where they were, and instantly her
shoulders tensed. “Yes. The sooner we head back, the better.”

* * * *

Levia walked slowly, as if some great big band was pulling
her back to the shuttle, yet why would that be? Sandon had already ascertained
she’d been there before, but his knowledge of a lot of these planetary systems
was sketchy at best. He made a mental note to follow that up.

Up the hall of the spaceport, a bunch of delegates made
their way toward them, and Sandon noted more than one flinch at the sight of Levia.
As soon as she spied them, her persona turned cold and formal; clearly any
planned interaction with them had to be suffered. She hadn’t seemed surprised
though.

“Captain, how did you come into contact with your
pilot
?”
He heard the menace in the security officer’s tone and his hackles rose.

“Why?”

“Well, it’s clear you’re neither Dendaran, nor Juran. So how
does someone from another sector come to be associated with…” The man’s words
died away on an unspoken insult.

“I can’t see how that would matter as long as she is capable
of her work. Do you?” Of course, he knew what they meant. He was from the Ormoran
Sector, far enough away from the fighting to remain neutral, but that didn’t
mean he was unaware of the frictions between these two factions.

The man speared him with a sharp glare. “We usually don’t
allow…” The official looked away, as if discomforted by the thought of what he
was about to say.

The burn that had spread through Sandon since they’d waved
the identity wand over Levia’s arm flared just a little hotter. “Who don’t you
allow?”

The man, General Vodsevors, hardened his gaze as they
entered a large white building after exiting the long tunnel they’d followed
from the entry point. “We’ve arrived at our destination. Your pilot...well,
she’ll have to present herself to the munitions and military wing for the
duration of your stay. I’ll arrange a suitable escort for her.”

Levia turned, her eyes narrowed and lips pulled tight. He
noted the flare of her nostrils, and for a moment a spurt of concern filled
him. “Levia…”

“It’s okay, Captain. I fully understand what they are
saying.”

When he reached for her, she flinched, and the others who
were gathered around them stepped back, as if she were some primed and
dangerous weapon. On one level, he supposed she was exactly that. After all, in
her previous life, she’d been an assassin.

“Levia, go with them.”

Her gaze was frigid, but she gave a small nod. “Yes,
Captain.”

His escort caught his eye. “You should leave her here with
my men. I’ll take you to the meeting chamber.”

He couldn’t spare a backward glance as he was marched
through a doorway, but an urgency rose in his chest. The sooner he completed
this particular transaction and got out of there, the better. Perhaps then she’d
tell him, share with him, whatever nightmares she carried with her.

“Ah, Captain, welcome to Omega V.” The man rose, his arms
flung open in an attitude of welcome.

Somehow, Sandon doubted Levia was receiving the same
greeting. His gut burned at that thought, but he pasted a smile on his face. He
was there to do a job.

“Captain Daria is accompanied by his
pilot
.” The
general inflected the word
pilot
and the admiral opposite peered around
him.

“And where is this pilot?” The general frowned deeply as
Sandon gritted his teeth. Sandon knew what was coming, but until the necessary
greetings were concluded, he’d have to wait.

“She’s a Cybe.” The words dripped with hatred, and Sandon
had to control the instinctive flexing of his muscles.

“No.” The admiral launched himself from his chair and it
slid back. The wheels squeaked in distress as the man clutched the wooden table
in front of him. “You know the rule, Vodsevors. No Cybes on Omega V.”

“She’s my pilot and here as my guard.” Sandon snarled the
words, and the admiral turned back in his direction.

“We don’t allow Cybes. They caused far too much destruction
last time.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, there was no information
concerning that in the briefing notes pertaining to this mission. Now, since I
am here as an emissary of the Juran Commonwealth, and duly endorsed by them,
imagine if I must return to the
Golden Echo
and advise them of this
situation? That my pilot has been forbidden from landing on and acting as my
guard while here.”

The admiral blinked. Once.

Sandon held his breath. This could be a make-it or break-it
moment, but on a purely visceral level, he refused to let Levia face this kind
of discrimination alone. He wondered how many other times she’d been in this
position. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe this was why she
was always so skittish and distrustful and his heart ached.

“Be that as it may, we do not allow Cybes—”

Sandon turned on his heel, fully aware that this kind of
brinkmanship could go horribly wrong. “Fine, summon my pilot and we’ll leave Omega
V immediately.”

The general was sweating, a fine line of beading appearing
on his lip and hairline. “Admiral, what about…” The general was earnest, his
face pale. “We have to repatriate the bodies.”

“Wait!”

Sandon stilled at the admiral’s bellow, but he didn’t turn
around.
Hold the line, Sandon.

The general cast a meaningful glance at the admiral who
sighed. “Fine. But she will be contained during the time here.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “Contained?”

“We can’t have bloody Cybes on the streets. She will remain
in the military wing until you leave. Does that satisfy you?”

“Not really. I want to know she will be safe while here.
Then she will be returned unharmed.” A thought sprang up. “I want to be sure
she will not be used as a guinea pig or examined during her time here either.” He
remained facing the general, feeling that this was the weakest link. The
silence stretched out, but he waited.

“Fine! She will be unharmed, not examined or otherwise.”

Finally, he turned and faced the admiral. “Good. Then we can
get down to business.” With a studied arrogance, he stepped up to the seat and
lowered himself into it.
Bloody Omegans thought they had the wood on me? I’ll
show them!

* * * *

Behind the bars in the military brig, Levia watched the
coming and going of the personnel. It wasn’t her first time locked up, and she
seriously doubted it would be the last time. After all, during her time on the Dendaran
vessel… She shied away from the memories. They wouldn’t help. So instead, she
reclined on the narrow bunk, watching the others on the far side of the bars
watch her. Of course, they all knew what she was. They’d jeered her in the
first hour or so, but she’d ignored them and they’d eventually become silent.

One in particular, his badge showed him to be Michelin
Andres, was a vicious looking guy. He kept shooting angry looks in her
direction.
There’s something familiar about him.
She didn’t know what,
but the knowledge gnawed at the back of her mind like a nagging ache. He was
tall, with a long scar bisecting his forehead and cold, blue eyes that she was
sure would freeze her guts if she let them. She thought he would love to get
her alone and maybe exact some retribution.

Levia snickered to herself as she gazed at Andres. She
seriously doubted he could take her down. She was a trained killer. No matter
how hard or bad he thought he might be, he wasn’t in her league.