Her Cyborg Awakes (Diaspora Worlds) (3 page)

They were in the woods…a fire at the palace…

Something is wrong.

Breathe deeply, calm yourself, a voice he
recognized as being from his past told him. He closed his eyes and breathed in
through his mouth and out through his nose, concentrating.

There was a sound. It was important. He listened.

Far away, so far away, he could only feel the
vibrations through the earth—death! He slid off the pillows onto the forest
floor and placed his palms on the ground—

—The Strafe, attacking his Tier, the entire
contingent in their observation units, dying. Burning, blinding white flashes,
men falling dead in an instant, dead bodies everywhere… 

He knew it well. It had killed his men. The Strafe
was coming!

“Wake. Wake.” He hauled the sleeping woman into
his arms. “We need to get down to the beach, to one of the caves!”

A timer went off in his brain, the timer he was to
obey, for his nightly maintenance. He groaned with confusion .

No—the caves!
He threw the queen over his
shoulder with her blankets over her, and loped toward the beach, ignoring her
protests and squirms. She was round and soft, not strong, not a warrior woman,
and he was able to subdue her struggles easily without harming her. In the far
distance the Strafe slashed through the air, lighting the way with its killing
white light, and the woman screamed in shock, her whole body going tight.

“Underground. The Strafe,” he grunted. She
probably had no idea what the Strafe was. But he knew. He remembered. Fierce
triumph filled him. He remembered, and they would not kill this warrior, or his
queen.

“What’s wrong?” she cried.

The soft voice of his mistress sent a shiver down
his spine. His body was still hard, clamoring for her touch, despite the raging
light. The danger, the excitement flooding his body, his memories, the woman in
his arms. He paused for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed with confusion.

The Strafe moved closer so its individual tines of
killing light were visible.

“We need to get to one of the tidal caves. The
Strafe will kill us.”

“The Strafe.” Comprehension colored her words. He
sat her down, pulled the blanket from her face, then grabbed her hand, and they
raced down the beach.

Kaistril found the section of beach with shallow
caves. They’d explored them before, collecting shells. Once inside, he shoved
her against the back wall of the cave and covered her body with his own.

“The Strafe doesn’t go through soil. We might live
if we…” His words trailed off. She was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes huge
and dark in the night.

“You are different.” His mistress sounded faint.

“Yes. There is no time. Close your eyes,” he said.
“The light can damage your vision.” He pulled the blanket over them, holding it
cupped to her eyes with one hand while he did the          Kaistril listened
carefully but could hear nothing now except their breathing, heavy with fear.
The Strafe was concentrating on populated areas, though it would eventually
sweep outlying areas for strays.

Bright, deadly tines stroked the beach and
suddenly clashed around them, lighting even their closed, blanket-covered eyes.
They sank to the ground as the light sizzled just a few feet from them, close
enough they could feel its strange heat. It disappeared, though they could
still hear it.

Kaistril ran out of their shelter. The Strafe had
returned to the Palace area. “Come on. It has gone straight back to the city.
This is our chance!”

He grabbed her by the hand and ran up the beach,
dragging her along.

“Qy, where are we going?” she wailed.

He paused for a split second, then continued
pulling her along.

“Staying alive is the plan,” was all he said. No
need to tell her it’s a gamble. Soon the Harvesters will be here to kill those
that remain alive…

Her breath was ragged and her legs refused to pull
her any further along the beach. Kaistril threw her over his shoulder with a
grunt. She was no warrior.

“Almost there, I think.” He cut through the woods,
and was soon parallel to the fence surrounding Sirn’s spaceport. Eventually
they came through the woods to a paved road and an open gate with guard towers.
There were no guards.

Kaistril set her on her feet but again grabbed her
hand.

“We want to find the smaller spacecrafts,” he said
as they passed Sirn’s mid-grade war ships that most of the officer’s arrived
in. Sirn’s largest ships did not make landing, of course, but stayed in space.

 
Chapter Three

There were bodies lying around. Sabralia moaned
and averted her eyes, but Qy seemed quite interested and looked at them
carefully.

“Strafe kills,” he said.

Farther on they saw a body in gaudy civilian
clothes, not a uniform.

Qy dropped her hand and ran to it. “Yes.” Fierce
triumph colored the word. “This is perfect.” A hard smile, an expression she’d
never seen before on Qy, flashed over his face. He dug through the clothing and
yanked the bright red and blue jacket off the deceased.

“That’s Alfyt!” She suddenly recognized the head
of the Harem and of the cyborgs.

“Yes. Could it be more perfect?” Qy tossed the
jacket over her shoulders and she squealed.

“He died of the Strafe, not some disease, and just
moments ago. And you need to cover up. That transparent dress is distracting.”

She gaped at him.
Distracting?  He’d seen her
naked hundreds of times.

Qy turned away, pulled off Alfyt’s arm com and
inspected it. Then he grabbed Alfyt’s bags, and headed toward a spaceship that
was just a few yards away.

“Come on!” He yelled at her impatiently while she
just stared at him. “Alfyt has the access code!”

What had happened to Qy? Could he have his
memories back, of the man he once was? Was that even possible? Was this some
type of survival programming at work? Sabralia didn’t know what to think or do.
But she didn’t want to stay here, alone. She ran after him. They climbed up the
service ladder to a small door. Qy beamed the code to the ship and the door
popped open. The ship was luxurious and Sabralia gaped at it while Qy rummaged
in a locker.

Qy shoved a garment and helmet at her. “Get this
on and strap in. Make sure the tube is at your lips.”

She nodded. She’d used a spacer suit once before,
when she left her homeworld to join the harem. She pulled on the vacuum safe
suit and sat next to him at the control console. He started the ship and then
toddled it around the space landing.

“What are you doing?”

“Finding the fuel station. We’re low.”

He found it, and got out to fuel up. “See if there
is food. Hopefully it is stocked and we won’t have to make another stop.”

While golden sludge slid down clear tubes to the
fuel hold, she found a pantry and kitchen area. It was full of food, including
many luxurious things. This ship must belong to someone important. Maybe even
Sirn, himself. The furnishings were lovely—there was a white and peach bathing
area and a sleep area with a large, beautifully covered bed.

“There’s lots of food,” she told him when he
climbed back inside.

“Good. Grab me something to eat and a drink. Kaf,
if they have it. It helps me concentrate. You might want to wait to eat,
though, until we are off-world, in case your stomach reacts to take off. We
have a little time, the sensors show the Strafe is miles away.”

Sabralia found filled pocket breads, which were in
self-heating wraps, and several drinks. She watched in amazement as Qy devoured
the sandwiches and gulped down three drinks. She did not feel the least bit
hungry. Her stomach was tight with nerves.

“I didn’t know cyborgs could eat,” she said,
feeling faint. What was happening to Qy? His facial expression was different.
More animated, somehow, with expressions she’d never seen on his perfect
features. While he ate he turned on various ship systems and scanners.

He looked at her for a moment, then shook his
head. “We’ll have time to talk after we get away.” He flipped down her mask and
slid the connection, sealing her in, then did the same for himself.

“Let’s see what she’s got.” He closed the hull
view panels, blasted the engines, and they shot into the atmosphere.

Sabralia saw the Strafe on his scanview, coming
down from somewhere higher above them. She knew it was a space-based weapon. Qy
elevated the ship and headed straight for it.

“What are you doing?” she yelped.

“Trust me. This is how we get off-world
undetected.”

 “How we get off-world undetected?” Panic rose and
so did her voice.

“I know a way. Risky, but workable.”

“How risky?”

“Considering our chances of staying alive here are
about zero percent, I think we don’t have many options. Now hush. I need to
concentrate.”

“Oh no,” she moaned as he positioned the ship
parallel to the Strafe. She could hear the deadly thrum and throb of the energy
beam.

 “Sweet! A chameleon hull. We look like whatever
we are next to.”

Qy was almost grinning, and his eyes as they
looked at the screen held an intent expression she’d never seen before. She
swallowed down a rush of bile. Had his circuits gotten scrambled or something?
Was this some type of survival programming? Was he taking her into battle?

 “I-I’m not sure we should do this.”

“I’m sure. You’re going to have to trust that I
know best here.”

Her cyborg knew best? But they couldn’t think or
reason, not really. Could they?

“Qy, maybe—”

“—Sabra, we are going up hard and fast. You will
probably pass out, but you will be all right. Make sure the air piece is in
your mouth. Now.”

She nodded, tears of fear and shock streaming down
her face, and positioned the tube in her mouth while he fastened his own mask.
It can’t be healthy to be this afraid…

The speed of their ascent crushed her into her
seat, and soon all went black.

Sabralia woke up in a soft bed, covered with
silky, warm covers. A delicious aroma of a hot meal filled the room. She was
not wearing the spacer suit, though Alfyt’s jacket still covered her gown. She
climbed out of bed and noticed right away that they were in light grav. She had
to move with care so she wouldn’t careen into things.

Qy was standing in the kitchen area, attending a
meal. He was wearing just a thin pair of spacer knit leggings, no shirt, and
high soft spacer boots. Somehow he’d removed the implant on his torso, and the
one on his temple. Neat newskins covered the wounds left by the implants. She
saw another newskin on one arm.

“What happened to your implants?” Her voice was
hoarse.

“While you were sleeping I took them off.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes, we take them off frequently for
maintenance.” His arm and leg implants remained. The thigh implant showed
clearly under the thin knit.

He saw her glance. “The arm and leg implants are
information systems. They come in handy.”

She nodded. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
It was as if her thoughts were frozen.

It finally dawned on her that they were not
moving. There was no sound of the ship’s engines. “Where are we?” The view
screen was dark, and the pilot section was dimly lit.

“Hidden on a chunk of rock. You slept for a long
time, nearly twelve hours. I have coordinates set, but I want to rest and eat.
I need to remove a tracer, which is a technical chore. I want to take it off
after a good sleep. Until then, the magnetic aspect of this rock will conceal
us. Once the tracer is off we’ll be virtually undetectable. We can get safely
away.”

“Are we safe now? We got away?”

“Oh yes. The sentinels in orbit could not
distinguish us from the Strafe. We jumped orbit with no problems at all.”

It seemed impossible they could be safe after the
events of the past few days. Sabralia sat down, and hid her shaking hands from
Qy.

“The tracer works when we are moving, so with our
engines powered down we’re good.”

Cyborgs didn’t sleep or eat, and Qy never carried
on conversations, though he did answer questions. She watched his every move.

“Where are we going?”

“Katherine Hub. I calculated and we have enough
fuel. Stinsen Hub is actually closer, and anyone else fleeing the coupe will
probably go there. But I did some careful calculations and we can make it to
Katherine on the fuel we have. There are a few sub stations out there where we
could buy more fuel, but I wouldn’t trust any of them. I shut down several
unneeded systems, including Life Support on the utility level. So don’t go down
there.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“Lower level.”  Qy waved toward a door. He stirred
vigorously, then spooned food onto two gilt platters.

“Maintenance systems are down there, they probably
won’t be needed during our trip. If they are I can either wear a suit or reset
the Life Support.” He set a platter and some utensils in front of her. “From
Katherine Hub we will have time to decide what to do.”

“You know how to calculate fuel, Qy?” Sabralia
asked, the tension in her body so tight pain shot through her neck. This was
not the cyborg she knew, who had to be taught every little thing and given
orders.

“And what have you done with your hair?” Her voice
was getting high and squeaky again.

His hair, those long glossy curls, had been divided
into locks of tightly matted hair that hung in a wild mass to his shoulders,
and the front of his hair was pulled back into a knot at the back of his head,
almost covering the section where the temple implant had been. He looked
barbaric and his face somehow looked harsher, more masculine. Part of that was
his expression. His face was no longer bland and emotionless. There was no
slackness in his mouth now.