“Ah, Mrs. Lewis,” Quilby drawled. “Somehow I should have known that you’d come poking that long nose of yours where it doesn’t belong. Still, I suppose it saves me a trip.”
He reached around and unfastened her holster, his hand lingering unpleasantly on her body before he cast the gun and holster to one side.
“Where’s Morgan?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady. “What have you done with him?”
“Morgan? You mean that machine of yours?” He lowered his gun and took a step back, studying her face. “You know, I think you should see. I’ll take you to him. That way.”
He gestured down the corridor and when she hesitated, he began to raise his gun again. She took a deep breath and went in the direction he indicated. If he was taking her to Morgan, at least they would be together.
The passageway turned a corner and opened up into a huge cavern, so high she could barely make out the roof and stretching into the distance on either side. She stopped in stunned amazement. Directly across from her, an enormous opening looked out over a breath-taking view of the planet. Robots scuttled around busily, and she could clearly make out the beginnings of a town. But this was nothing like New Arcadia. Wide streets ran between what appeared to be large residences and although only a few had been completed so far, they screamed luxury. Gleaming white and spacious, they looked like the pictures of Mars that were so common on Earth. As a final touch, each of the villa like buildings was surrounded by… gardens?
“How did you get those to grow?” she gasped, momentarily forgetting her situation as she gaped at the vibrant patches of green surrounding the buildings.
“Arctic plants. Specially bred for this environment.”
On a closer look, she could see that they weren’t actually the Earth gardens they appeared to be, but the resemblance was remarkable. There were even a few small trees growing here and there.
“Don’t they freeze?” she asked as he made an impatient gesture for her to start moving again.
“Underground heating in the entire complex,” he said shortly.
“I don’t understand. This is going to be beautiful. Why is it so important to keep it a secret? Everyone would love it.”
“Everyone? You mean a bunch of dirty farmers?” He barked out a harsh laugh. “They aren’t getting anywhere near this place.”
“But—”
“Just shut up and get going.”
He shoved her so hard she almost fell, but she bit her lip and kept walking. He forced her to the far end of the finished area, to the entrance of a grey rectangular building. Not even the robots occupied this section of the cavern. She balked at the door and he laughed.
“What are you afraid of?” Quilby smirked at her. “Don’t you want to see your robot?”
“He’s not a robot!”
“He’s a fucking machine. And there’s only one way to treat machines.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you. Inside.”
All of her instincts were screaming a warning but if Morgan was truly inside, she wanted to be with him. And with Quilby’s gun at her back, she didn’t have much choice.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to find when she walked through the door, but it certainly wasn’t a tidy office setup, very similar to the administrative office where she had worked on Earth. In fact, the neatly arranged office, the way the desk was organized…
“This was Winthrop’s office, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. He used to come here and play at working,” he sneered. “Oh, don’t look so sad. He was just another rich bastard. The only difference between him and the rest of them is that he wanted to play at being a homesteader so he bought himself a plain little commoner for a wife to help him look the part.”
The words stung a little deeper than she would have liked but she refused to let him see her hurt. “You weren’t exactly in his class, either, Mr. Quilby.”
He laughed. “Oh, I’m going to be rich soon enough, really rich. Let ‘em look down their noses at me then.”
“They will,” she said quietly. “If you’re not born one of them, they’ll never accept you.”
His face darkened and his hand tightened on her arm. “Yeah, well, I’ll be rich enough not to care.”
“You’ll care.” She knew all too well how soul-destroying it was to be so completely out of place. To see a polite smile on someone’s face and know that they would be making cutting remarks about her as soon as she turned her back. The constant little jabs and insults. She suspected that Quilby, with his inflated ego, would find it even harder to bear. But he wasn’t going to listen to her and it wasn’t why they were here.
“Where’s Morgan? You said he was in here.”
“Far door.” He actually let go of her arm as he pointed. The fact that it might be a trap of some kind crossed her mind in the few seconds it took to fly across the room, but she didn’t hesitate. She pushed the door open and froze. Morgan was chained to a metal table, eyes closed, an IV tube running into his arm, and a monitor beeping. Except for the chains, it was horribly reminiscent of her mother’s last days. She wasn’t going to lose him too. She couldn’t.
“Morgan,” she whispered. He hadn’t stirred when she entered the room and he didn’t respond now as she bent over him, tears dripping down on his chest.
“What have you done to him?” she demanded fiercely as Quilby followed her into the room.
“Do you know those chains are titanium?” Ignoring her question, he walked over to the table and yanked on one of them, the cuff digging into Morgan’s flesh. His body jerked but he still didn’t open his eyes. “They have to be to hold one of these fucking robots. That’s how Earth Government used to control them for their experiments.”
“Experiments?” she asked, horrified. He had never mentioned that.
“Not all of them. Mainly just the first ones.” He pressed a button and Morgan’s whole body locked as his muscles went rigid. “Shame he ain’t awake enough to feel that, but we thought it better to keep him under.”
“We?”
“Let’s just say my business associates.”
He pressed the button again. Even though Morgan was unconscious, his body shook and his face contorted in a rictus of pain.
“Stop that! Don’t hurt him, please. What do you want?” Tears still streamed down her face as she faced him. Her desire to keep her homestead, to claim her land, seemed meaningless now compared to having Morgan back with her. “Do you want the claim? I’ll sign it over right now.”
Quilby shook his head. “It’s a little too late for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know about the entrance, not to mention this place.” He gave her a slow, evil grin. “I’m afraid you’re going to have an unfortunate accident. We’ll get the claim back anyway.”
Terror spiked her heartbeat, but she kept her head high. “Morgan will never let you get away with that. As soon as he gets out of here, he’ll come after you.”
“He’s never getting out of here,” he said with a cold finality that sent chills down her spine.
“I don’t believe you. And even if he doesn’t get away, they’ll look for him. You can’t just make a ranger disappear.”
“Sure I can. Driven mad with grief at your death, he’ll ride off into the desert, never to be seen again.” He assumed a pious look. “I won’t even make your accident his fault.”
“No one is going to believe that story!” she cried.
He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they? Accidents happen all the time on Mars. The death toll is really quite shocking.” The false casual air disappeared. “Now come along with me.”
“No! Why did you even bring me here?”
His face hardened. “Because I wanted you to know what you did. You should have given up the fucking claim and gone to work on your back like I told you. You caused this and I want you to think about the hell he’s going to endure while you’re dying.”
; “No!”
She darted around the far side of the lab table. When he scowled and came after her, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find—a bottle of water—and threw it at him. He ducked and swore as it caught his temple, and she took advantage of the distraction to turn off the medicine pumping through the IV. If it was keeping Morgan unconscious, maybe waking him up would give him a fighting chance.
Quilby advanced on her and she threw another bottle, but this time he ducked and kept coming, his face dark with rage.
“Enough of that, you skinny bitch.”
She saw him raise his fist but she couldn’t get out of the way in time. The impact to her jaw sent a shockwave of pain through her system and the world went black.
Chapter Twenty
When Hattie regained consciousness, the whole side of her face throbbed and it took a moment before she could focus enough to see Quilby leaning over her. They were no longer in the cavern and she was lying on the ground, her body weak and unresponsive, while his face swam in and out against the Martian sky.
“I-I can’t move.” Even her tongue felt thick and unwieldy.
“A little something from our pharmaceutical division—a short term paralysis which leaves no trace. Not usually fatal, unless, of course, someone has a pre-existing heart condition.”
“W-Winthrop?” Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“He was no longer a team player. All he had to do was manage the fucking construction project and keep his mouth shut. Instead, he got cold feet and started talking about doing the right thing,” he scoffed. “We had no choice but to eliminate him. Of course, at the time we thought removing you wouldn’t be much of a problem, but he protected you better than we anticipated.”
“B-bastard,” she whispered.
He sneered down at her. “Soon to be a very rich bastard.”
Without waiting for a response, he started positioning her limp body, his hands lingering unpleasantly on her flesh.
“W-what are you doing to me?”
“Preparing you for your tragic death. Although…” He leaned closer and squeezed her breast, hard, sending a spike of pain shooting through her slack body. She tried to fight him, but her arms were too weak to do more than flail helplessly.
“You’re such an uppity little bitch that I really wish I could teach you a lesson.” He squeezed again, then thankfully lifted his hand. “Still, don’t want to confuse the autopsy report. Just another unfortunate accident. Goodbye, Mrs. Lewis.”
To her horror, he bent over and kissed her, forcing a thick red tongue so far into her mouth that she gagged. It wasn’t until he pulled away that she realized why he’d been able to do it and why her head was spinning.
“M-my m-mask!”
“Missing, I’m afraid.” He pulled his own back down over his face. “It will be found later, clogged with dust. You really should take better care of your things.”
He turned and began to walk away. “But don’t worry. You won’t be alone. I’m just going to sit here in the shade with my nice bottle of water and watch you die.”
His words made her realize how thirsty she was, her mouth dry except for the loathsome remnants of his saliva. The pale sun beat down on her.
I have to get up. I have to move.
She tried to roll over, to work her way to her knees but her body wouldn’t obey her commands.
“Morgan…” she whispered as her eyes fluttered closed.
A sense of urgency forced its way into Morgan’s unconscious mind, and he awoke in a state of panic. Although an IV had been inserted in his arm, the debilitating medication no longer surged through his system and only an icy coldness remained. He tried to sit up, but chains fastened to his wrists halted him.
Chains? He had been chained to a metal table. Why the fuck had Quilby done that?
A further look around revealed that he was in some kind of lab—one that bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the one that had turned him into a cyborg. A shiver ran up his spine as he surveyed the room and the array of horribly familiar equipment surrounding him. At least this lab wasn’t teeming with scientists anxious to perform their tests.
Yanking at his bonds, he realized that the chains were made of titanium. Without the drug invading his system, he probably could still break them, but it would take time and he had a feeling that he had none to spare. The need for haste tugged at him.
As he methodically tested his shackles for weaknesses, a fierce grin twisted his lips. Fucking idiot. While the chains were titanium, the table they were attached to was not. Steel he could handle. He pulled steadily on one length with his cybernetic arm until he heard metal groan, then gave a sharp, hard yank. The chain came flying out of the broken steel buckle. He had never been more grateful for his cybernetic parts. Once he had a free hand, he made short work of the other restraints before removing the IV.
As soon as he was free, a quick search through the lab drawers revealed the key and he removed the cuffs before he inspected the rest of his surroundings. The room was eerily silent and he couldn’t detect any noise from the other side of the door either. He extended his senses, searching for any other presence, and caught Hattie’s scent.
She had been here; he was sure of it. And the only other scent he could detect: Quilby.
Rage and fear vied for dominance. What had that bastard done with her? If she had seen him on the table, he knew that she would never have left him willingly. He had to find her. Abandoning his caution as the sense of urgency flared again, he charged into the next room only to find an innocuous office space.
All he cared about was that the room was empty. The need to hurry was beating at him, urging him on. He flung open the door and found—a partially built city? Construction robots zoomed around busily, very similar to the ones he had supervised when building the power plants, but these were focused on more domestic endeavors. Where the hell was he?
He surveyed the far away roof and the wide opening overlooking a crater and realized that he must be inside the escarpment. No wonder they needed the constant influx of supply wagons. Although he could see several of the massive 3D printers producing building panels, it would take a vast quantity of material to construct a town of this size.
Other than the robots, he couldn’t see any signs of human life. Unless someone was inside one of the half-completed buildings…
“Hattie!” he yelled, throwing caution to the winds in his desperation to find his woman. His voice echoed out across the vast cavern.
There was no response.
No one emerged from any of the buildings and the robots continued on their self-appointed rounds. Even if she had been unable to respond, he didn’t think Quilby would have ignored him. His heart sank. She wasn’t here. But where was she?
Morgan found the central passageway into the cavern—being sculpted on this side into an elegant archway. He ran for the entrance. Just before he reached it, the gleam of metal half-concealed against the wall caught his eye. He pulled it out to reveal Hattie’s holster and gun.
Fuck! She had definitely been here, and she would never have voluntarily given up her gun. Buckling it around his waist, he hurried on.
No vehicles waited when he emerged into the pale sunlight and he swore violently. He would be traveling on foot and he had no idea which way to go. As the sound of his voice echoed across the rock, Ghost appeared from one of the surrounding canyons.
“What are you doing here? Dammit! Hattie rode you out here after me, didn’t she?”
At the sound of Hattie’s name, Ghost stepped closer, nudging him with his head.
“I know, boy. We have to find her.”
He mounted, then paused in indecision. Where to begin? The dusty surface held the same confused jumble of tracks as it had before, no new marks standing out from the rest. Should he head towards town or to the homestead? Or did Quilby have some other hideaway? Trying to ignore the panic gnawing at his insides, he forced himself to think. Although the town held the GenCon o
ffices, the same reasoning applied as to why the man wouldn’t take Hattie there. There were too many prying eyes to make it safe, even if Quilby had rendered her unconscious.
Now that Quilby thought Morgan was out of the way, the homestead would give him privacy if he was trying to force Hattie to turn over the claim. Despite the best efforts of his nanites to regulate his body, his pulse raced and his stomach churned at the thought of what that persuasion might entail.
Homestead first, he decided and tried to turn Ghost in that direction. For the first time ever, the horse balked at his command.
“Dammit. I don’t have time for this,” he muttered as he started a quick diagnostics check. “I have to go after Hattie.”
Before he could complete the check, Ghost started off along the canyon wall. He swore again as he tried to turn the horse but the animal refused to respond. Just as he was reaching for the shut off switch, he looked down and saw the tracks. Rover tracks clearly imprinted in the dust. They might not be fresh of course—with no rain, tracks remained imprinted in the soil until they were obliterated by the wind or a dust storm—but given Ghost’s odd behavior, he was prepared to take the chance.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
He signaled for more speed and the horse took off, flying over the desert. From what he could see beneath the horse’s flying hooves, he was following the tracks. The rhythm of the hoof beats echoed the pounding of his heart, the same sense of urgency that had haunted him since he regained consciousness increasing with every step. By the time he spotted the rover in the distance, his muscles were stiff with tension.
The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg Page 14