by Susan Hayes
A few meters away from the tree line, Striker stopped.
“Thank you. Tonight I’ll sharpen my stick some more. Next time I see one of those things, it’s getting skewered.”
In answer, Striker indicated his knife and mimicked throwing it.
“That’s another skill I’ll have to learn, eventually. Slowly. With a lot of practice. Until then, it’s probably best I don’t start hurling pointy objects around.”
Striker chuckled, nodded, and then held out his hand.
She hesitated, not sure what he wanted. His stance was relaxed, his fingers slightly curled. When she didn’t move, he moved his hand forward a little.
A handshake. That’s all it was. She felt a little foolish as she gripped his hand for a moment. His roughened fingers engulfed her hand and a tiny thrill chased down her spine. Did he want to hold her hand? She’d be quite happy to let him.
Hell, the way he looked, she’d be happy to give him just about any part of her he wanted.
It had been a long time since she’d felt safe enough with a guy to consider letting him get close, but something about Striker made her believe she could trust him. Or maybe she wanted to trust someone. Jade had left a huge hole in her life when she vanished, and so far Maggie hadn’t found any trace or hint of where she might have gone. If she was going to find her friend, she was going to need help, and she missed having someone to watch her back.
Not that she expected Striker to be much assistance in tracking down an errant human. He couldn’t speak and clearly preferred the company of the forest to beings of any species. But he had watched over her. Protected her without her ever knowing he was there. It was a rare man who took action without wanting credit for it. And he was alone, like she was—an outsider.
When he withdrew his hand, she almost moved with him, chasing the warmth of his touch. Almost.
“You’re sure you won’t come to dinner?” she asked.
He shook his head and pointed back toward the woods.
“I get it. I’m in it for the food, not the company. They’re a noisy bunch.”
To her surprise, he winked at her, gestured to himself, and then touched a finger to his lips.
“You are not noisy at all. Which makes you good company.” She decided to take a chance. “Will I see you again?”
He nodded, and a sense of deep satisfaction rolled through her. He was going to trust her. It was a start. To what, she had no idea.
The door to the hall opened and the chatter of female voices poured out. “I’ll be along in a minute. I want to see if Maggie made it back yet.”
Skye was looking for her. Maggie turned toward the noise but then looked back to Striker.
More accurately, she looked at the spot where he’d been standing. He’d vanished. Without so much as a whisper of noise. “No wonder I didn’t know he was following me.”
“Thanks again,” she said in a slightly louder voice. She didn’t know if he could hear her or not, but she didn’t want Skye to overhear her. If Striker had wanted the other cyborg to know he was there, he’d have stayed. That was fine with her. He could be her little secret, at least for now.
The next time she went into the woods, she’d look for him. And she’d bring him something to thank him for his help. If he didn’t like company, he must live out in the wilds, away from everyone.
She’d keep an eye out for something he might be able to use. It was the least she could do for the man who had saved her life.
Striker heard the door open and melted back into the woods. If Skye saw him with Maggie, she’d jump on their internal comm channel and start pestering him with questions. It was clear Maggie hadn’t told anyone else what she was doing, and he wasn’t going to out her to Skye and the others. They’d see it as a problem to be solved. It wasn’t. Maggie was a survivor, and for some beings, that meant planning for every contingency.
He understood that kind of thinking. He was a survivor too. He’d hidden tools and food around his cell and spent days figuring out new ways to create weapons he could use to protect himself and those he needed to protect. It hadn’t been enough. They found what he’d hidden and punished him for it. The ones he’d tried to protect had died. Often by his own hand. He’d never forgive himself for those deaths, even though it was the only thing he could do for his batch-siblings.
The bastards at Reamus Research Station had twisted and broken them, stripped away their humanity with drugs and surgery in their quest for the perfect soldier. Mindless. Soulless. Deadly.
He and his batch-siblings had been created during the war, but unlike most of the other cyborgs, they were never freed. They were sent to Reamus Station instead, trading one hellish existence for another even worse.
Until he’d met Phaedra, he’d thought all humans were the same. Denz and Sevda were part Torski, so Striker assumed their Torski traits made them better. He’d avoided meeting the only other human in the colony. Anya ran the Bar None, a tavern set up at the midpoint of the broad bridge that connected the two sides of the colony. She’d chosen her location well, and the place had become popular with both cyborgs and Vardarians.
Edge kept trying to get him to come try the food there and spend some time with the others. Striker had no interest in doing that. The food dispenser in his home provided him with better food than he’d eaten in his life, and he preferred his own company these days.
Being around the others reminded him of the past, and he kept seeing the faces of all those who hadn’t lived long enough to breathe free air. The ones he’d failed.
He broke into a dead run, moving through the trees so quickly his surroundings were nothing but a blur. It wasn’t that he was trying to outrun his ghosts. He knew better. They were with him every second of every day and would be until he died. He ran because he could. No walls. No cells. No threats or pain. He could run in any direction he chose for as long as he wanted. Running was how he proved to himself he was still free.
Most times he ran until his mind emptied. Today, that didn’t happen. His thoughts kept coming back to Maggie. The sound of her laughter. The way her hair glowed like flames when the sun caught it. How soft her fingers had felt pressed to his skin.
He’d measured her hand during that moment. She’d never be able to use any of the weapons he carried. They were too big. Too heavy. She’d need something lighter with a grip made for her smaller hands. He slowed and then stopped.
Had he actually considered arming a human? On purpose?
Granted, even armed Maggie was about as much a threat to him as a Terran kitten, but still…
Conversations with himself were one of the side effects of spending so much time alone.
“Arming any human is not a good idea.”
Another part of him answered. “She should be allowed to defend herself with more than a fraxxing stick.”
“If she didn’t go out into the woods, she wouldn’t need defending.”
“She came here to be free. Hiding inside the colony isn’t freedom. That’s just another kind of prison.”
The worst part of these conversations was that no matter how many arguments he won, he lost the same number.
It took less than a second to check his onboard systems and plot the fastest route back to the colony. He’d learned the hard way that the river that divided Haven was too wide for him to jump across no matter how fast he ran, and he didn’t feel like swimming today. He’d take one of the outer bridges and hope he didn’t run into anyone who’d want to talk.
A hot meal and a hotter shower were in order. After two days in the woods, he was looking forward to both. Tomorrow he needed to find more material for the project he was working on. Maybe he’d check in with Damos and Tra’var to see if they had any weapons that might fit a human’s hand. If they didn’t have anything yet, they’d need to start making some soon. The newest colonists were going to need them.
4
It was three days before he spotted her in his woods again.
; She was moving more cautiously now, using her walking stick to push aside several rockclaws that blocked her path. She sang to herself as she walked, not one song, but snippets of lyrics from a variety of musical genres all mashed together. It should have been annoying.
He thought it was oddly appealing.
This time, Maggie didn’t take her usual route straight to the tree. She circled the outside of the clearing, doing a full sweep before choosing an approach that was almost free of bloodvine. She spotted the bark spider while she was still several meters away—an impressive feat for someone who couldn’t shift their visual spectrum the way he could.
He thought about stepping in to help her deal with it but decided against it. The spiders were ambush predators. This one wouldn’t attack unless she got too close. It was smaller than the last one and had positioned itself closer to the ground. The worst it could do was drop onto her boot, and no way could it penetrate her shoes with its fangs. She was safe enough.
If she was going to survive out here, she’d need to learn how to deal with any threat that came her way. More than that, she’d need to believe she was capable. Confidence was key. He stayed where he was and watched.
She hefted the staff she carried, shifting her grip several times before she was satisfied. Then she braced her feet and drove the point into the bark spider. Her stance was off and her technique was almost nonexistent, but it worked. The creature never knew what hit it.
“See that, Striker? I got it!”
Son of a starbeast. She knew he was there.
He stepped into view.
“Ha! I was right. You were following me. You are really fraxxing quiet, though. I didn’t hear you at all. How do you do that?”
In answer, he raised his hands and pointed to the barcode on his wrist.
“Right. Cyborg. I forgot.”
She forgot? That detail never slipped the mind of someone in the presence of one of his kind. The Vardarians viewed them as fellow warriors worthy of respect simply because of what they were. The humans on Reamus Station had treated them with a mixture of fear and cruelty. He’d never met anyone who had forgotten what he was. Not if they wanted to continue breathing.
He shot her an incredulous look and then gestured to himself. How could she forget what he was?
“You’re not happy I forgot you were a cyborg?” She frowned at him like he was the one not making sense. “You’re you. Striker. Big. Buff. Blond. Handy with a knife and easy to talk to. If I were to make a list of your attributes, cyborg wouldn’t make the top ten.”
It was like a ray of sunlight hit him in the middle of his chest—a brief flash of light and warmth that faded before he could identify it. It wasn’t a malfunction. But it had been something.
Time to change topics. He pointed to her pack and lifted a hand in query.
“This? More food tabs.” She grinned. “And these haven’t expired yet. Skye asked me to help her do inventory the last few days. These are my payment for services rendered.”
Maggie reached into the bag and pulled out a food pack. “And I made these for you.”
When he didn’t reach for the carton, she thrust it at him. “It’s not going to open itself. Go on. Take it. I wasn’t sure you’d be out here, so I was going to leave it with a note for you to find. This is better, though.”
He took the sealed container from her. Written on the lid was a short message.
* * *
Thank you for saving my ass. I hope you like chocolate.
M.
* * *
“So, do you? Like chocolate, I mean.”
He nodded several times but didn’t bother looking up. He’d never been given a gift before, and he wanted to know what she’d brought him. What she’d made him.
The aroma hit him the moment he opened the lid. Rich notes of vanilla and cocoa laced with sugar. A lot of sugar. He balanced the box on one hand and pulled the lid aside with the other. Once he saw what was inside, he handed the lid to Maggie and scooped up one of his presents.
Cookies. Chocolate ones full of what looked like chunks of chocolate and nuts. He lifted one in a toast and then took a bite. It tasted better than it smelled.
“Thank you.” His words were barely intelligible, but that was as much the fault of the mouthful of food he was talking around as his damaged vocal cords.
“Holy fraxx. You can talk?” Maggie’s expression shifted from shock to anger in a heartbeat. “You sewage sucking bilge fish! You let me think you couldn’t… but you can. Why?”
“Hurts.” True enough. Speaking more than a few words irritated the scar tissue. A few sentences and he’d feel like he’d gargled gravel. The doctors said if he used his voice more it would get stronger and the discomfort would fade. He didn’t want that. The pain reminded him of the one who’d crushed his throat. The man he’d put down a few seconds later. Dag. His last surviving brother… or what was left of him after the scientists had finished working on him.
“Well, fraxx. I’m sorry. I thought…” She shook her head and didn’t finish. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. So you can speak, but it’s easier not to?”
He nodded and then made a decision. “Few words okay.”
“Which means you could have told me your name the other day.” It wasn’t a question.
“Mm-hmm,” was his noncommittal reply.
“But you didn’t want to.”
“Don’t talk to strangers.”
She laughed. “Even ones whose life you just saved? But you’re talking to me now.”
“Cookies.”
“You like them? I didn’t know what to get you as a thank you, and cookies are one of the few things I know how to make.”
He had another mouthful of cookie by that point and didn’t try to speak again. He just raised his hand and lifted his brows. He wanted her to keep talking.
“Yes, I made them. I convinced the cook to let me use the kitchen for an hour today. In exchange, I taught her the recipe. She was working out how to quadruple the batch sizes when I left. I suspect the colony is about to be flooded with double chocolate chip cookies.”
He didn’t doubt it. The cyborgs had all been prisoners for years, fed nothing but food tabs and algae broth. Any new food was embraced and devoured, especially sweets. He made a show of tucking the box under his arm.
“Don’t worry, no one is going to be coming after your cookies. No one knows I’m giving them to you.” She winked at him. “You’re my secret. I didn’t mention that I saw you out here.”
He cocked his head in query.
“Why? Because I didn’t want to have to answer a bunch of questions about what I was doing out here. They don’t know about…” Maggie gestured to the tree stump. “Not unless you told anyone?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t mentioned meeting Maggie. Hell, he hadn’t spoken to anyone but her, Edge, and his Vardarian forge master friends all week.
Maggie looked relieved. “How many cookies is it going to cost me to buy your silence?” She grinned at him. “I mean, now that I know you can talk.”
“One cookie a day.” Not that he planned on telling anyone about Maggie. He was her secret, and she was his.
“So, I’ve already bought almost two weeks?” Her smile turned wicked. “I was ready to go as high as a dozen a week.”
“Sold,” he said.
“Oh no. That’s not how bartering works. You stated your price, I accepted. The deal is done. A cookie a day.”
He pointed to the box, to her, and then to the stump.
She brightened. “You want me to bring them to you here? Sure. I can do that.”
He held out his hand to her. She reached out but stopped before making contact.
“If you teach me how to protect myself from things like those bugs, I’ll make it a dozen a week.”
“Bark spiders.” The words tore at his throat. He’d spoken too much today.
“Is that what they’re called? Don’t they have too many legs to be a spid
er?”
He shrugged. They were spider-like and spent their time hiding on tree bark. The name fit well enough.
“And you didn’t respond to my offer. Lessons for baked goods. A trade?” she asked. Her voice had a note of doubt in it that hadn’t been there before. She wasn’t sure of his answer.
Neither was he. He didn’t spend much time around other beings, but Maggie was different. She liked the woods, too. And if he didn’t help her, she could get hurt or killed out here.
He took her hand and shook it, nodding.
“So, you’re going to teach me?” Her smile was so bright it felt like he was standing in a beam of sunlight.
“Mm-hmm.” He almost hummed his answer. He’d learned that was easier than trying to talk once his throat got irritated.
“Thank you. That means a lot to—” A bolt of lightning arced down from the sky and slammed into a tree not far from the edge of the clearing.
Thunder boomed and Maggie opened her mouth in a silent scream of fright. Her fingers closed around his hand in a death grip, but she held her ground and didn’t let fear overwhelm her.
Fraxx. Standing in the middle of the forest was not a smart place to be during a lightning storm. Especially not the ones on this planet. The storms here were violent, coming on fast and often lasting for hours. He needed to get somewhere safe.
No. He needed to get them somewhere safe.
The colony was too far, and he didn’t want to deal with the questions they’d face if he appeared with Maggie. There was only one other place to go.
He shoved the box of cookies into her hands. “Hold.”
“What was that? Why? Hey!” Maggie protested as he swept her into his arms. A fireman’s carry would have been easier for him, but there was no way she’d be able to hold on to the cookies if she were over his shoulders.
He turned and ran.
“What the fraxx was that?” she asked again.
“Lightning.”
“But the sky was clear!”
“Not for long.” His words came out in a rasp and he deactivated his pain receptors. The short-term solution would let him keep talking now and pay for it later.