by Alyse Anders
Consumed by The Cyborg
Alyse Anders
Alyse Anders
Consumed by the Cyborg
Copyright 2020 Alyse Anders
ISBN: 978-0-9937319-9-0
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First edition: January 2020
Cover Art by Amanda @ Razzle Dazzle Designs
Contents
The War
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The War
The Sholle came without warning.
Their planet long ago stripped of resources, they search the universe for resource-rich worlds to strip bare, leaving a wake of destruction behind them. Their ships attacked in waves – first small, then ever increasing, until their victims are worn down, unable to resist the inevitable.
Zarlan was the next planet in line, marked for attack.
The Grus sent an army forward to protect their people, evacuating their civilians up to Grus Prime, the space station that orbited Zarlan. The battle was hard-fought, but despite their will to win, the odds were stacked against them.
Until a lone scientist discovered a new weapon, their last hope to save their world.
A cybernetic matrix was implanted into the brain of the dead Grus soldiers – The Fallen – bringing them back to life. Their bodies were cybernetically enhanced, their emotions stripped, leaving them as the perfect killing machines.
The Sholle quickly became the hunted.
The Fallen destroyed the remnants of the Sholle, capturing who they could, killing those who wouldn’t surrender, and driving the rest from their solar system. The Grus were the first race to lead such a defeat over the Sholle, their survival legendary. Joy reigned across Zarlan and Grus Prime, even as their world was left damaged. The deeper fracture came between the now split people – Grus and Fallen.
The Grus high council refused to let these walking weapons reintegrate back with the Grus, terrified of their abilities and enhancements. They were instead given Zarlan to live upon while the Grus would remain orbiting on Grus Prime. Regions were divided, leaders appointed, and the new state of the world was created.
And there they stayed; a people divided for fifty years. The Grus and the Fallen. The living and the re-born.
That was until a ship appeared far away in the night sky…
Chapter One
Rykal stepped onto the shuttle that would take him directly to the Grus Prime station, ignoring the warry looks of the flight crew. Cyborgs rarely left Zarlan, let alone spent any time on the station with the Grus. The memories of war and sacrifices made were too much for either side to handle with simple casual mingling. But Rykal was the designated leader of the cyborgs, and if something needed addressing with the Grus, then it fell on his shoulders to leave the planet and coordinate their handling with the Grus.
Normally.
Today he wasn’t being summoned by Aidric, the high council, or anyone else. As far as he knew, no one was even aware he would be arriving. Rykal had a personal problem, something so minor that Aidric would no doubt call him foolish, but if Rykal didn’t get a solution there was a strong possibility he’d murder someone. The last time a cyborg went on a killing spree, the Sholle were chased from the planet and out of their solar system.
The pilot and co-pilot kept casting glances back his way and talking softly between themselves. Rykal knew there wasn’t an official request for his presence on file, but they still had to do as he told them if they wanted to stay on Aidric’s good side. Rykal recognized the pilot, but the co-pilot was new, young, probably hadn’t even been born until after the war. No doubt he thought of Rykal and all cyborgs as murderous ghouls who couldn’t be trusted.
Boo.
“Please secure yourself, sir.” The pilot called back, his voice somewhat familiar. “We’ll be pushing off momentarily.”
Rykal nodded but didn’t move to comply. It didn’t matter if he was injured; he couldn’t be hurt from something as simple as a shuttle accident. His cybernetic implants and regenerative functions made that next to impossible.
Then again, maybe there was something wrong with them and that was why the itching in the back of his brain was getting worse. Why he’d become so fixated on a sector in space that he couldn’t see beyond it. Aidric would know, and if he didn’t, then at the very least, Rykal would make the bastard do something to fix it.
The lights on the shuttle dimmed, which made the transition from the planet’s atmosphere to the inky blackness of space easier for the Grus pilots. The engines roared to life as the shuttle’s fission reactors turned on, rattling the ship for a moment before the stabilizers kicked in and pushed them free of the ground and straight up into the sky. The shuttle pitched and rolled as the high atmospheric winds slammed against them, sending the small crew off to secure themselves with their restraints. The co-pilot cast a wary glance Rykal’s way, no doubt terrified that he’d get hurt and the young man would be to blame.
These young Grus didn’t understand the basics of what it was like to live life as an enhanced. His cybernetics evened everything out for him – no changes in vision, no equilibrium imbalances, no hunger, little pain. While he hadn’t been manufactured in a factory, there were times when he felt that he might as well have been. The man he’d been before the war with the Sholle was dead, and all that remained was this odd mishmash of circuits and tendons, metal, and skin.
He might as well be dead.
“Business on the station, sir?”
Noting the young co-pilot’s half-smiling face, Rykel quickly reviewed the facial recognition files in his memory storage. The man was barely old enough to have completed the training program, and there was no way he’d experienced any trauma beyond what he’d see in a simulator. Rykal had no patience for a child. He said nothing, merely leveled a hard glance on the co-pilot.
The young man’s face paled as he snapped around to stare at the controls.
The pilot snorted and muttered a soft that will teach you.
Gods, Rykal felt like an asshole, but there was no point in pretending to be nice when he was the farthest thing from nice.
Not to mention the itch in the back of his brain was driving him insane.
Growling, he did his best to distract himself and instead focused on his internal systems. Maybe he needed to run another diagnostic, or he’d missed an errant bug that was causing him problems. Code flickered through his consciousness, the numbers and commands that ruled his life, that made him the leader of the Fallen. The thing that saved him, even as it killed who he’d once been.
Nothing was out of the ordinary. Every line of code was the same as it had been since he’d last run a diagnostic. And yet, that bloody itch was still there, growing more prominent the higher the shuttle rose into the sky. A rising crescendo of noise and vibrations, until the roar of the engines died away as the shuttle rattled and thrust its way past the pla
net’s atmosphere and slipped into the silence of space.
Rykal got to his feet and stared out the port window. Normally, he’d look, taking stock of the large and small satellites that whizzed past, noting any changes in their velocity or trajectory. But not today. He leaned closer to the shuttle window and stared at the spot in space that had drawn his attention for days now. He’d used every method possible on the planet to see if there was something present, something that was coming closer to their home, but nothing was able to pierce through the planet’s storm clouds on the southern hemisphere. That was where he knew something was coming, though Rykal couldn’t figure out why or how he’d become aware of this presence.
There was a chance his cybernetics were finally malfunctioning, which would put Aidric in the uncomfortable position of having to permanently deactivate him.
Unfortunate for them both.
“We’re only ten minutes from the station.” The pilot didn’t look at Rykal as he spoke, focused on the shuttle controls. “Who would you like me to inform of your arrival?”
“Commander Aidric.” Rykal could hear the bitterness in his voice, but there was no way he could hide it. Not today.
The pilots shared a glance that Rykal ignored. He turned his attention from the spot in space and instead took stock of the station that he’d once called home, long ago. The bioluminescent black metal exterior panels gave the station a prophetic look and feel, giving the hull an imposing personality that Rykal despised. The energy shield was visible to him, the power cycling shimmer of the barrier registering as a blip in his field of vision. That had been one of the few things that had saved the station when the Sholle had attacked, sending their planet into chaos. Rykal watched as the pilots communicated with the station, and after receiving the code, the shield flickered off, allowing them to pass through harmlessly.
It had been months since he’d given in to the urge to return to the Grus Prime. Ghosts of his past lived there that often left him angry for the course his life had taken. He’d been a soldier working his way through his mandatory service, hoping one day to return back to Zarlan’s surface where he could live out his days building a family. He’d been on Grus Prime when the Sholle attacked them, killing untold thousands of Grus before they’d been able to launch a counter attack.
These days Rykal would take shuttle trips into space to fly around the sector, ensuring that their enemies were well and truly gone. It was all he’d normally need to settle the restlessness that occasionally built inside him. But not this time.
Rykal took his seat once more, knowing once the shuttle landed, things would get out of hand until he was able to speak with Aidric alone. As he grew closer to the docking bay and his cybernetics slipped into range of the station’s systems, his internal protocols kicked in.
Attention cyborg. You are now approaching Grus Prime Station. You are prohibited from connecting your systems to the central mainframe. Failure to comply will result in immediate decommission. Acknowledge.
He blinked slowly, waiting for the last possible moment to send his communication. Affirmative.
The station sent an additional flurry of commands, demands, and requirements, all of which Rykal let wash past him with little notice. The bloody itching was stronger up here and seemed to be growing more prominent with each passing moment he spent in space. Gods, what was wrong with him?
The station’s tractor beam caught the shuttle and would take care of the rest of the landing procedures. The crew kept their faces forward, their hands resting on the command console. At least the young pilot knew that much. The shuttled lurched as the tractor beam dropped it to the floor with a thud. Rykal set his hands on his legs, palms up and opened, and waited.
The shuttle doors slid open, allowing a flurry of security personnel to rush inside, blasters up, and shouting commands at him. Rykal didn’t move, said nothing, thankful that his cybernetics were able to regulate the volume, making their cries little more than a buzzing.
When the chaos subsided, he turned to look at the closest security officer. “Take me to, Aidric.”
“On your feet.” The Grus officer sneered at him and kept his blaster trained on Rykal’s face.
Rykal wouldn’t let the hate in the officer’s voice demean or degrade him. With pride, he rose to his feet, taking pleasure in the way the six fully armed officers stepped backward to keep their distance from him. They should be afraid. Their weapons and body armor would do nothing to stop him if he wanted to tear them apart. Not that they needed to know that bit of information; it was best to leave them with their illusions.
“Thank you for the transportation.” He nodded to the pilots but kept his tone cold.
The security officers surrounded him as they made their way through the station toward wherever Aidric had indicated their meeting would occur. It had been over a year since their last face-to-face conversation, and nearly a decade since they’d last spoken of anything beyond the security of his people or the station. They’d been close once, inseparable for many years, and Rykal couldn’t help but wonder if Aidric wished things had turned out differently. A lot had happened between those days and now – fifty years, an entire war, and the bloody fallout later – most of which had destroyed their relationship.
The hallways that they were leading him down had been cleared of personnel, giving the station an abandoned feeling. The data washed over him as they moved, allowing him to store the details for later analysis. He recognized the corridor as one that led to a secure conference room where Aidric often held his interrogations. Not a complete surprise, even if the lack of trust was another barb added to the wounds Aidric had inflicted on him.
The door slid open as they approached, and the security guards slipped to the side, with one stepping behind Rykal. “Inside – wait for the Commander.”
It took every ounce of his resolve to not turn around and punch the man. Rykal did as he was told and waited for the doors to lock behind him before he allowed himself a moment to ease the tension from his muscles. The room was sterile – white walls, black stone flooring, and brown utility furniture – the least hospitable place on the station. Typical.
Rykal could have sat, but there was no point because he knew Aidric was watching him. The moment he’d let his guard down, the commander would arrive, and the mood would change yet again. No, it was better to keep his barriers firmly in place. Thankfully, it was only a matter of minutes before the doors slid open once again, revealing the square jaw grimace and steely-eyed glare of Aidric.
Aidric’s green eyes narrowed on Rykal the moment he entered. His pale green skin starkly contrasted against his grey uniform, making him appear as detached from his surroundings as Rykal knew him to be. Aidric was almost as cold and reserved as any of the Fallen on the planet below; his intellect only rivaled by his need for control. Rykal didn’t move, didn’t back down from the silent posturing, the inevitable dance for dominance they’d undergo whenever they came face-to-face.
“Hello, big brother.” Aidric had a way of announcing their familial relationship in such a way that it sounded like a curse rather than a greeting. Perhaps to him, it was.
Rykal waited for his cybernetics to regulate the rush of adrenaline that surged through his body. “Aidric.” The door was closed, leaving the two of them with a bit of privacy. No doubt, they were being monitored somehow, but Rykal cared not. “I have a problem.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Ah, there was the hate Rykal had come to love and cherish. “There’s a problem with my code. Another flaw. Seeing as you’re the one who created it, you must be the one who can fix it.”
Aidric lifted his chin and stared directly into Rykal’s eyes. That got his attention. “What’s wrong? Have you started attacking your kind? Running rampant and causing upheaval wherever you go?”
“No.” Rage curled in his chest, threatening to explode out. “Why would you ask that?”
“It’s happened with your kind
before.” Aidric held his gaze, making the statement even more painful. “A defect with no solution but to deactivate the cyborg.”
“Would you enjoy doing that to me?” Rykal took a breath as his code frantically worked to keep his rage in check. “The Fallen are the same as you.”
“You were once, but not any longer.”
They stared at one another, and for a moment Rykal believed Aidric would send him back to the shuttle and the planet below without even listening to his problem, no longer caring about him or the fallout of what Aidric’s meddling had transformed him into. Finally, Aidric pointed to the chair closest to him. “Sit, and I’ll take a look at you.”
Gods, things would never be the same between them ever again. He looked to where Aidric indicated, a spot close to the computer console where he’d be able to run diagnostics. It didn’t matter that Rykal knew this was the best and only way to handle things, now faced with the prospect of having his insides inspected, it was difficult to make himself move. Checking the cybernetic code wasn’t as simple as plugging a cable into the back of his head and running a scan; Rykal had to mentally release the security protocols that prevented someone from hacking into his command center and using him as a weapon without consent. He was allowing Aidric access to his very essence, exposing his thoughts and emotions.
“I promise to only review the relevant codebases. I have no interest in meddling where I’m not wanted.” Aidric’s back was to him, but his tone had softened. “Sit.”
The itching in the back of his mind was still there and getting stronger by the second. Best to get this over with. The sooner he had Aidric look at the code and figure out what was wrong, the sooner he’d be able to get back to his life on Zarlan. Opening the fastening of his shirt, he pulled it off, leaving his body exposed and cybernetics accessible.