Captured by the Cyborg (7 page)

“Why don’t you hold your protests and arguments until we’re alone?”

She tossed her head in dismissal, and a jolt of pain shot between her shoulder blades.

Her wince did not escape his sharp, cyborg eyes. “At least go to the infirmary.”

“There’s no need. I’m all right.”

“You’re stubborn.”

She flexed her shoulders in defiance and veered away from the uncomfortable realization they sounded like a couple experiencing their first spat. They weren’t lovers, and they had nothing to fight about. They’d had a one-night tryst. The end.

So why couldn’t she forget? Why did she keep reliving the encounter? Perhaps she should be grateful he had touched her scars and brought her back to her senses, because otherwise she might have lain with him, confided more, curled up next to him as if tomorrow would never come. With little coaxing, he might make her believe in the impossible—that she could fly again. Look at how much he’d gotten her to confess in a short transport ride. She’d never intended to tell him about Alonio.

They reached the stairs, and Dale charged upward. Unable to outrun him on his own turf, she trudged after him.

His office appeared as it had the day of her interview, utilitarian but messy. She moved to the wide windows. They were tinted, and, from the shop floor, they reflected back like mirrors. From inside his lair, a panorama of the shop sprawled out. In one corner, low walls demarcated Diagnostics and Repair. She’d been smart to ask to move her workstation behind two pillars.

May as well get this over with. She turned to face him.

Dale stood on the opposite side of the too-small room, his dark eyes unreadable. He gestured to a chair piled with debris. “Do you want to sit?”

“No.” She wouldn’t be staying long. She twisted her hands. This was so hard.

“I would have come to speak to you sooner, but I believed you needed a few days to process what happened. I’m thinking now that was a mistake.”

He shouldn’t have tracked her down at all. “The mistake was in what we did. Let’s not compound it. Let’s agree to go our separate ways.”

“Is that what you want?” His neutral expression slipped, and she could see pain underneath. Without intending to, she’d hurt him.

“It’s for the best.” For him. He already cared too much. During orgasm—both of them—as she’d feared she might, she’d drifted into his head and connected with his cyber network. She hadn’t intended to and she’d yanked away as soon as she could. In his headspace for the briefest of moments, it had been long enough to catch the drift of his emotions, expressed by his human side, but recorded by his microprocessor.

He cared more than he should.

She could hurt him more than she already had. She could use him for the comfort and safety he provided, mess with his emotions, and deliver the killing blow when she left. Alonio
would
kill him if he caught up with her and gathered so much as a hint they’d been intimate. From the way Dale stared at her now, it wouldn’t be hard to guess.

She had to break it off permanently. A sharp pang shot through her.
This is for the best.
“What happened shouldn’t have occurred, and I don’t want to repeat it.”

He stepped closer. Too close. She held herself rigid so she didn’t sway into his arms.

“Then, I won’t bother you anymore.” He ran a hand over his head, and she remembered how his cropped hair had bristled again her palm. Not quite as rough, but similar, to the shadow on his jaw. Raspy. So different from her, from Faria men. “Tell me one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“Your name.”

“M-my name? Illumina Smith.”

“Your real name.”

“T-that is my real name.” Alarm tumbled in her stomach. Her surname was false; her first name nearly so, although she tried to get it as authentic as she could. No direct translation from Faria to Terran existed. It was akin to translating scents into words. To describe a flower’s fragrance as sweet didn’t capture the smell at all. She averted her eyes from his piercing gaze.

“All right.” His expression shuttered, and he assumed his place behind his desk in an obvious dismissal.

She sucked back the tears and marched out. Behind the closed door, she sagged against the stairwell. Something
thudded
inside the office.

“Illumina,” she whispered in Faria. “My name is Illumina.” She shoved off from the wall and ran down the stairs as fast as her trembling legs could go.

* * * *

Dale slammed his fist on his desk. She’d walked out. Just like that. Without so much as a good-bye, see-you-around, it’s-been-real. If sleeping with him had been so awful, why had she done it at all? She’d been as active a participant as he. Touching her back had upset her, but he’d assumed once she had viewed it in the context of what had occurred, she would get over it. Giving her time to think had had the opposite effect of what he’d hoped. She’d grown more certain she didn’t want to see him.

She wouldn’t even tell him her real name.

He had only himself to blame. Within minutes of meeting her, he’d known she was using an alias and had falsified credentials. That she turned out to be a crackerjack programmer and troubleshooter didn’t count. She’d lied about everything—and he’d offered her a position anyway! What kind of an idiot hired a job applicant who lied?

Nor could he leave it there. Oh no. He had proceeded to have sex with her. “Don’t fuck the staff.” Wasn’t that rule number one in any business?

Had her ex really attacked her or had she fabricated the tale to garner sympathy? He knew little of Faria society. Maybe they had some archaic, fundamentalist form of justice. An eye for an eye. A wing for a wing. She could be a criminal.

Her distress in the transport seemed so genuine.

However, she’d lied with a straight face at the interview. The only tell had been those flashes of luminosity.

He had a known liar working on sensitive projects. An employee who guarded as many secrets as she had access to. He should fire her, but morale and respect would plummet if word got out that they’d slept together. Had her section noticed the way he mooned over her?
This is why fucking the staff is a bad idea.

From the stairwell outside his office wafted a song so pure and lovely, every hair on his body stood on end. His toes curled. Nanocytes vibrated. He’d never held with religion, but he could only compare the musical notes to the hallowed sound of an angel’s voice.

Impossible for a Terran to vocalize.

Was Illumina singing in Faria?

Dale bolted out of his seat and flung open the door. The passage was vacant.

Hold for the monthly reports
, Charlie said.

One by one, status updates pinged into Dale’s head: the financials, shop safety stats, the production rotation, the spacecraft-delivery schedule, and personnel reports.

Got ’em.
He opened and scanned the delivery document. Yep, Baby was on it, slated for Xenia in nine Terran solar days. Rather than send a pilot to deliver her, he would fly her himself so he could negotiate with the emperor for more ZX7Ms. Now that the bugs had been worked out, the manufacture of future ships ought to be smooth sailing.

I know you’ll go through the reports on your own, but I’ll highlight a few items
.

His assistant was so efficient. Dale’s cyberbrain processed data quickly, but he relied on the human part to make judgments about that information. Charlie saved him time by handling a lot of the minor details himself.

Charlie continued,
You’ll be pleased to note we have a delivery date for the ZX7M.

Saw that. I’m thrilled. I assume my schedule is open?

I cleared it.

Good job. Thank you.
Once
he’d feared Baby would never be ready to leave the nest. If not for Illumina, she likely wouldn’t have.

Forget her.

Come again?
Charlie asked.

Crap. He’d transmitted the thought to Charlie’s computer.
Nothing
. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Anyway, I also wanted to bring to your attention the employee leave report. The next staff shuttle departs next week.

Okay…
His focus more on high level matters, he didn’t concern himself with R&R requests. He scanned the monthly summaries, but supervisors coordinated staffing in their respective areas. The only employees he had to manage were his direct reports: the supervisors and Charlie.

I put myself on the shuttle, pending your approval.

Already?
He frowned. He didn’t begrudge Moonbeam workers time off, but routines had only returned to normal since Charlie’s last R&R
. You just came back from leave, didn’t you?
Three weeks and two days ago, his cyberbrain noted. The same day he’d interviewed Illumina, his human mind recalled.
Dammit
. He had to stop associating
everything
with her. Had to cease watching for a glimpse of her through the window. Quit letting her invade his thoughts. They’d slept together once. Done. Finished.

So why did he keep hoping she’d revisit the observatory? In granting her access, he’d also programmed the computer to notify him if she used the descender. She hadn’t been back since that night. They hadn’t spoken in the week since she’d slammed the lid on any future intimate encounters. Either she was avoiding him or she was damn lucky.

I think I mentioned my meemaw isn’t doing well. She’s been on my mind, and, well, I need to visit her. Just in case.

He remembered Charlie mentioning his grandmother had been ill. With Baby’s delivery coming up, the timing was bad, but what could he do?
Of course you have to go.
Crap.

Thank you.

I assume Andrew will fill in again?

Not this time. He’s on the shuttle, too. Regular R&R.

Andrew was no Charlie, but at least he was familiar with the routines.

I’ll find you a good temp. Don’t worry
, Charlie said.

Charlie. Andrew. Dale opened the shuttle report to see who
else
was on the list he should know about.
Giorgio
. His chief test pilot. Jokester and hell-raiser. He crossed his fingers the pilot had learned his lesson after his last R&R when he’d spent most of his vacation in an alien jail after an altercation at a space casino. He continued perusing the list. Besides names, the report included the reason for the leave, such as a family emergency like Charlie’s, employee illness, R&R like Giorgio’s or—

Final separation. One name listed.
Illumina Smith
. He reeled like he’d been punched. She was quitting?

Why? Because they’d slept together and she found it uncomfortable to work for him? Or because he’d cranked up the awkwardness by downgrading her security clearance and ordering March to remove her from sensitive projects? He didn’t
think
she’d vandalize anything, but he couldn’t risk it. Her background was a tangled web of mystery and lies complicated by their indiscretion, and, until he could determine her trustworthiness, she had no business working on top secret projects. He’d been negligent to allow it.

So she was sneaking away. She hadn’t had the balls to tell him to his face.

He’d never see her again.

Man, he was fucked up. She was an employee, nothing more. They’d had the proverbial one-night stand. No ties. No commitments. No promises. No morning afters. It was better for both of them that she left. He should be relieved. He wouldn’t have to worry about possible sabotage or wonder what he would say if he ran into her. And he could stop hoping he would.

Boss! Are you there?

I’m here,
he replied.
Sorry. What did you say?

I said, I may not need to be gone long. If things get harried, and you can send a special charter for me, I might be able to return sooner.

Without another word, any warning, she had quit! Where would she go? Did she have another job lined up? He didn’t even know her real name. He clenched his fists.

Boss?

Uh, set up whatever you want. I’ll approve it.

All right. I’ll keep you posted.

The second the transmission disconnected, he shot out the door. Halfway down the stairs, common sense righted itself. What the hell was he doing? He would confront her and do what? Demand an explanation? Ask her to stay? Let her tell him to his face again that sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of her life? Because hearing it was
so
pleasant the first time.

Let her go.
The departure was best for both of them. He was too obsessed with her, and she was uninterested in him. He stomped to his office.

* * * *

Sweat stung his eyes as Dale pummeled the punching bag, striking hard and fast. Gloves diffused the impact, but each blow registered as a satisfying thud against his knuckles. In the wee morning hours, the employee gym was deserted. He could work out frustrations without an audience.

He’d landed another powerful blow that caused the bag to sway when his cyberbrain signaled him he had an incoming hail from Brock Mann, a former Cy-Ops teammate. He delivered another punch before tugging off his gloves and opening a channel.

Hey,
he greeted his buddy
.

I hope I didn’t wake you. I was going to leave you a message.

Nah. I’m awake all hours these days. What did you find out?
He wiped his face with a towel and tried to pretend his heart thudded from exertion and not because of what Brock might tell him.

As you suspected, Illumina Smith is a complete fiction. There is no record of anyone with that name being born on any planet. The Terran Cyberscience Institute and Infinity Corporation were hacked, the records of her enrollment and employment planted.

Of all the cyborgs, his former teammate had the most advanced computer brain. If Brock couldn’t crack a code or hack into a computer, it couldn’t be done.
You’re sure?
He had to ask anyway.

I even searched by first name alone. Turns out it’s unique. There isn’t a single female in the entire galaxy with that name
.

Not even Illumina herself since the name was an alias. His gut knotted. It was stupid to feel betrayed. He’d needed to cover all bases, but he’d had a good idea of the outcome when he’d asked Brock to investigate.
Well, thanks anyway. Anything on the music?