by J. N. Chaney
The three cyborgs rode the lift down in silence. Once it stopped and the doors opened, Rigby couldn’t contain herself any longer.
“We’ve got to do something about him. Do you guys sense something isn’t right with Craig?”
“You’re right. Something isn’t right with him,” said Warren. “He’s been through a lot, but don’t be hard on him. Some people handle what we do better than others.”
Rigby scoffed. “There’s no way to tell for sure, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been a cyborg longer than Craig. I’ve been through just as much as him if not more. I’m not cracking. What’s his deal?”
“Hey,” Thompson hissed, stepping between Warren and Rigby. “What’s your problem?”
The cyborg looked surprised but didn’t back up. “What I meant was, what’s wrong with him?” she said. “Why is he acting that way? I feel like he’s gonna go off any second. He’s the only one on the ship. Are we sure we can risk leaving him behind alone? Someone be in there keeping an eye on him. I’m just really worried he’s going to break something we need.”
“I do know,” replied Warren, making an effort not to snap at her. “I also know that the last thing he needs right now is to see more combat. Leaving him in the ship gives him an important job. It also almost guarantees he doesn’t have to fight with anyone. Thompson and I spoke with him—gave him some stuff to think about. He’ll be fine, so long as we don’t throw him into the middle of something he’s not ready for. Even if we eventually have to remove him from his combat role, he’ll be fine. I’ll ease him into it and we’ll find something else for him to do. He’s capable, smart, and hard working. In fact, he might welcome the transition to a more peaceful task. But I haven’t decided what to do with him yet, so let him be.”
“I will,” said Rigby. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Can you and Thompson handle moving this stuff to the warehouse?”
“Yes,” she said. “Where do you want it?”
“Stick it in the armory they found in the spy center. It’ll be far enough out of the way that we won’t have to worry about someone running off with it, but not so out of the way that we can’t get it if we need to.”
“We got it, boss,” said Thompson. He nodded to Rigby and together they began moving the supplies.
Warren watched them for a few seconds before heading out of the hanger into an area he identified as Dome-6. He needed to check on the civilians. If they and the cyborgs were going to be living together for the foreseeable future, it was time to get to know the people who’d be counting on him.
The residents in Dome-6 were busy. Most were cleaning, but others were repairing buildings damaged during the last Republic assault. Warren recognized the burned-out vehicle and destroyed hovercar from before.
The next street, he knew, would be the site of the pillbox. Whoever had to clean that up had their work cut out for them. Three grenades tossed into such a small area would’ve turned the Commonwealth soldiers into hamburger and coated the entire basement in gore.
“Hello?” a small voice said from behind Warren. He turned around and had to look down to spot the woman. She looked like she was a hundred years old, with white curly hair poking out from under a colorful striped cloth she’d tied over her head.
“Hello,” said Warren. She looked familiar, but he wasn’t certain why.
“You saved me.”
Warren studied her for a moment, imaging her without the colorful cloth. Then it dawned on him. She was the one who’d been trying to hurry across the street. It felt like years had passed since he’d last seen her. He couldn’t help but smile. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she replied, beaming up at him. “Do you remember me?”
“I do. I’m glad you didn’t get hit by that car. And I’m sorry about the damage we did last time we were here.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wasn’t happy, no matter how much she tried to pretend. “Yes, there was a lot. Why?” she asked.
“Why did we invade?”
“Yes,” she replied. The smile faded from her wrinkled lips. Her blue eyes watched the cyborg intently.
“We didn’t have a choice,” he told her.
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not with us. At least, not with how we used to be. The Republic didn’t give us a choice. We couldn’t disobey orders. Not that we didn’t want to—we physically couldn’t. They could have told us to do anything at all. If they wanted us to line up and jump into a volcano one at a time, they could have made us do it.”
“And now?” she asked.
“Now, we’re free. We were slaves before, but not anymore. We’ve freed ourselves. We have no masters anymore, other than those we choose. Even then, nobody is forced to do anything they’re not okay with.”
She sighed and stared at her feet for a few seconds. “I feel like I know you, even though I only know your name. You are different from most of the cyborgs. None of your kind have ever shown any of us any kindness at all. Every time you have been here—”
“Every time?” Warren interrupted. “Sorry, I don’t remember.”
The woman looked confused again. “Yes, every time. You’ve been here many times before, don’t you remember?”
“I don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “The Republic does things to bring us back if we are killed. Sometimes, our memories get damaged and we forget things that happened. I’m sorry for whatever I did.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, waving the apology away. “I was going to tell you something nice, if you’d just shut your trap for a moment.”
Warren felt his eyebrows shoot up and he stifled a laugh.
“I was going to tell you that you were the only one who showed kindness. You destroyed a lot of stuff as well, but I understand sometimes these things are necessary, especially when the Commonwealth are involved. I didn’t mean to run from you last time you were here. I don’t see so well these days, so I didn’t recognize you until I was almost in Jim and Mary’s home. Had I known it was you, I would not have been afraid. I would have stayed out of your way is all. You saved me once before. And I’ve seen you interact with other Reotians. You’re always kind. You never do anything evil to us. You do a lot of evil to the Commonwealth soldiers, though.” She winked conspiratorially before leaning in to whisper, “You always fuck them up bad.”
The old woman cackled. This time Warren laughed out loud, causing others nearby to look. One middle-aged man watched the two carefully. It was Jim. The old woman waved and motioned for him to come closer.
He looked nervous, but he approached, and gently moved her back with one hand as he stepped between them. The look on his face told Warren the man would fight if he had to. Even if it meant using his bare fists. Warren could appreciate that.
“Oh stop it,” she said, shooing the man away.
“You okay?” he asked, lowering his arm to allow her to return to where she’d been standing.
“I’m fine, you bully,” she scolded. “If you were worried, you should have hurried to me a long time ago. You’ve seen what cyborgs can do. If he wanted to hurt me, he could have done so a hundred times before you came to my rescue.”
He opened his mouth as if he was going to argue, then slowly closed it.
“Never mind, darling,” she cooed to him as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I appreciate your effort.” She smiled at him before turning back to Warren. “You see, this is how we Reotians are. I am one of the original colonists. There were only a thousand of us back then. We are the ones who set up the first dome, dug the wells, and set up everything else as the rest of the pieces arrived.”
Warren tried to imagine that and decided it sounded less than appealing but didn’t interrupt.
“The first twenty years or so were peaceful,” she recalled. “We spent most of our time performing basic maintenance, teaching the children, and working. Then one day the Commonwealth showed up. We didn’t fight them, because we didn’t ha
ve a reason to. It was only one ship, and they hadn’t dropped any bombs or launched any missiles. They told us they were there to ensure our safety, suggesting they were going to protect us. We believed them. They talked like us, they walked like us, and they looked like us. They also brought us food and supplies—things difficult to get from the Republic.
“Everything was fine in the beginning, but soon they began to act like they were in charge. Some said it would be good for us to have outside leadership, especially since they’d showered gifts upon us like they had unlimited supplies. Others were worried it was a setup—which is what it turned out to be. But I’m getting ahead of myself. One day they started making new laws. When one of the men decided to argue with the CoWs, they killed him. Put one of their guns right to his head and pulled the trigger. Many of our men died that day, fighting them.”
“What kind of laws?” asked Warren. None of this sounded familiar.
“They wanted us to give up our weapons,” she said. “They told us it was for our safety. We told them to pound sand. They didn’t care, and soon enough the fight found us.”
“Let’s not get into that. We’ve talked about this,” said Jim.
“Yes, we have,” she said. Her tone was icy, like it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have again, but she’d give it to him if he asked for it.
The woman clamped her lips together. The man looked like he might want to fight.
When they didn’t speak again, Warren continued. “Once defenses are set up, I plan on returning governance of this colony to its citizens. I’m not going to get involved. It’ll be up to the Reotians on how they want to handle their business. The cyborgs have elected me as their leader, but I don’t plan on becoming the new dictator. I’m new here. If nothing else, the Reotians should have a say in how they’re governed. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would,” said Jim. “Maybe then we can do something sane around here. Do you know how many Reotians have died during the invasions over the years? Thousands. Most because they were trying to fight back like idiots.”
Warren considered that, thinking that someone would have called his plan to free the cyborgs idiotic. “Better to fight back than to live under the threat of constant battle.”
Jim glared at him. “You’re lucky you’re still alive. If it weren’t for Mary and me pulling your ass out of the fire over and over again—”
“Stop,” said Warren. “I can see this isn’t going to go anywhere good, so just stop. We’ll have this discussion later. Not now.”
“Just one question,” said Jim as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his fingers. “I’m curious why, after what the Commonwealth put us through, we should trust you. You people have put us through just as much trouble as them.”
“Because I brought them here,” said Hendrose as he approached from behind Warren. “Because ten Reotians died setting up the plan to bring them here. Because now that we’ve proven it—now that we have an entire First Corps of cyborgs here—we can do it again. One corps should be enough to keep both the Commonwealth and the Republic off Reotis and out of the colony. Imagine what we could do if we freed all of them.”
Jim’s mouth fell open. “We could live in peace from the Republic.”
“Yes. And not only would the Republic be crippled, but both sides will think twice before trying anything. These cyborgs are a lot tougher since the last time we saw them. The Republic was holding them back—not allowing them to think for themselves. They’re clever. They’re tough. And they’re motivated. Nobody is going to want to mess with them, and because they’re here, nobody is going to want to mess with us. We need them.”
Both the old woman and Jim stared at Hendrose with raised eyebrows and closed mouths. “Did you both introduce yourselves?”
Jim hooked a thumb at the old woman. She blushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m Carol.”
“It’s fine,” said Warren, impressed at how quickly Hendrose had managed to diffuse the situation. If anyone asked, he knew who he’d recommend as a member of whatever leadership team was formed once the dust settled.
“How are we supposed to know you’ll keep your word?” asked Jim, still sounding suspicious.
Hendrose pointed a finger at him and inhaled sharply, probably to deliver a scathing retort. Warren motioned for him to stop and turned to the man.
“That’s a fair question,” the cyborg said. “Unfortunately, you won’t know for sure until I do it. You and I both know there’s no way to prove it to you until it happens.”
“And what’s to stop you from seizing power once you hand it over?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s time to have a little faith. Maybe a lot of faith. I know what the Reotians have been through. I understand the basics of your history and how many people have died just trying to make this a safe place for everyone. The cyborgs have been through a lot as well—and no, this isn’t a contest. I need you to understand and accept that both groups of people, the cyborgs and the Reotians only want to live in peace. The best way to accomplish that is to do it together. I guess what I’m asking for is the opportunity. If you give the cyborgs a chance, we won’t let you down.”
Jim looked unconvinced. Hendrose and Carol watched him carefully.
“Fine,” he said. “I guess I don’t really have a choice. Do I come to you if I have a complaint?”
“Yes. Me or the cyborg named Lukov.”
The man turned, thrust his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers, and walked away. Another woman, probably his wife, joined him about ten meters away. She whispered to him and glanced over her shoulder several times.
“That one’s trouble,” said Carol. “Always has been, always will be. He thinks we should have thrown in with the Commonwealth, regardless of what they may or may not have done. He says at least they have humans—real people—fighting on their side. He doesn’t trust cyborgs. Doesn’t think you’re really people inside there. He thinks you’re just computers.”
“My kind has given him plenty of reasons to feel that way,” admitted Warren. “I don’t want you to get involved unless you feel like you need to, okay? We’ll sort this out later, but right now I need to get back to the hangar to check on the preparations. Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” she said, giving him another big smile. “I’m old, but I’m feisty.”
Warren laughed, nodded politely to her and Hendrose, and headed back to the hangar.
17
An explosion drew Warren’s attention to the far end of the hangar. He stared, frozen in place, as he watched the aft of the ship for fire or debris falling to the floor. The echo was wrong for the sound to have come from so far above him. It was muffled and sounded like it had come from somewhere closer.
Everyone stopped moving, including the people who were loading particle cannons into the drop ships. After a few seconds, their eyes shifted to their nearest environmental vent.
“It’s stopped,” a woman near Warren whispered to another standing next to her. “The ventilation stopped. What happened?”
Sabotage, Warren thought. He hadn’t considered the EV system. As a cyborg, he had his own backup oxygen supply. He could go without air longer than a human. But regular humans needed air all the time. Unless they were confined to an EV suit of their own, they’d die.
Warren took an air sample and thought about how long it would take for the people to run out of oxygen at the current rate of consumption. There was more than one unit and they could turn the one in the nearest dome up to help, but they’d risk burning it up before they got the one for the hangar replaced.
OXYGEN REMAINING: 128 MINUTES
That wasn’t so bad, unless he figured in the amount of air that would be lost every time they opened the airlock to get another gun deployed.
OXYGEN REMAINING (BREACH CONDITION): 38 MINUTES
Shit.
The saboteurs knew what they were doing. The Reotis resistance was being punished for doin
g nothing, and for doing something, equally. No matter which way they turned or what choice they made, it would be the wrong one.
“Everyone find Mason Curet,” Warren said over the general cyborg channel. “He should be near the guns. I’ll be near”—Warren looked around for a marker and noticed the printer he was near had a big number on it—“the number four printer.”
Two seconds later, Lukov announced, “He has been found and is coming to you now.”
Warren glanced around and spotted the man running full tilt toward Warren. He was swinging his arms and legs like he was working on his form for some competition.
“I’m here,” he wheezed.
“Well don’t die on me or you’re no good.”
Curet nodded, missing the joke.
“It appears the EV system is down,” Warren said. “I need you to go check it out. Grab whatever personnel you need and fix it. We need it up in thirty minutes. The sooner the better.”
The civilian’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not good. How about I go start figuring out what happened, and you find the people I need?”
“If you know their names, start there.”
“Whitney, Boer, and Robert,” he said, ticking them off. “I’ll head to the EV and figure out what’s going on.” Without another word, he sprinted toward the far end of the hangar.
Warren relayed the names to the other cyborgs, and thirty seconds later he spotted three civilians hurrying toward where Curet had disappeared. Satisfied, he started to issue a command over the private line when a cyborg named Art McNabb reported a fire in Dome-6.
The name sounded familiar. When Warren asked his internal computer to scan his records for a mention of the name, he remembered why: McNabb had bought it hard during Warren’s first battle. Or, the first one he could remember.
“What’s in Dome-6?” Warren asked.
“What? You mean like assets or something?”
“Yeah, something,” Warren grumbled. “What’s there?”
“It’s a habitation dome,” McNabb replied. “Just a bunch of people in their shitty little houses is all. Nothing important.”