As soon as he saw the vehicle, he brought Ghost to a halt. He didn’t want to take the chance of alarming Quilby. Dismounting, he led the horse over to one of the smaller canyons and left him there while he took off on foot, running along the rocky boundary at a speed no human man could have matched. Why the fuck had that bastard brought her out here?
As he drew closer, he saw Quilby sitting in the shade of the vehicle and leaning against one of the rover’s big tires with a bottle in his hand like a man on a picnic. What was he doing? And where was Hattie?
He crept closer, moving silently next to the rocks. Then, as soon as he got close enough, he took off at a run. Moving almost too fast for a human to see, he raced across open space between them and snatched Quilby up by the neck, holding him at arm’s length to avoid the chance of another needle.
“Where is she?”
“You’re too late, machine,” Quilby gasped, his face turning red.
“No!” he cried, shaking the man like a captured rodent. Agony washed over him. He couldn’t go back to the cold, meaningless existence he had before her.
Quilby choked out a laugh, his hands scrabbling at Morgan’s where they gripped his throat. “Let me go… and I’ll… tell you where… to find… the body,” he wheezed.
“No! I don’t believe you. Where is she?”
The bastard tried to keep his face rigid, but his eyes flicked over Morgan’s left shoulder for the briefest instance. He whirled in that direction. Hattie was sprawled across the ground not thirty feet away, her body still.
“No!” With an agonized cry, he threw the man aside, disregarding the crack of a broken bone as he raced for her.
Her beautiful eyes were closed, her lips parted as if she were calling for him. He cupped her cheek to find her skin still warm and then he realized he was touching her naked skin.
“Her mask. What did you do with her breathing mask, you bastard?”
He turned to find Quilby clutching his arm as he tried to climb to his feet. He started to babble something as Morgan approached, but he ignored him, snatching the mask off and racing back to Hattie to pull it over her head. Adjusting it to maximum oxygen, he searched frantically for a pulse.
There! Faint and erratic but beating. How long had she been without supplemental oxygen? If it had been too long, she could have suffered permanent brain damage. He rocked her in his arms, praying to any power in the universe to bring her back to him just as she had been.
“Please, Hattie, please wake up.”
She moaned, and then her eyes fluttered open. “Morgan?”
“I’m right here, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”
“Quilby… The cavern…”
“Ssh. It’s all right. He’s not going to get away with it.”
He turned to check on the bastard and found him gasping for breath, trying to crawl towards the rover with his broken arm dangling uselessly.
“W-what…”
“Hush now. Don’t try and talk. Just breathe.”
“Y-you came.”
“Of course I did. I was terrified that I wouldn’t find you.”
“How did you?” Her breath was coming more easily now and the color returning to her face.
“Ghost, if you can believe it. He wanted to head in this direction and then I saw the tracks of Quilby’s rover.”
A faint smile tipped her lips. “He’s definitely getting a stable now.”
“He can have whatever he wants,” he agreed, then pulled her closer. “Fuck, I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you.”
Her arm trembled as she lifted it to return his embrace. “I know what you mean. When I saw you in that lab…” She shuddered. “What did he want with you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just to torture me.”
“Thank God it’s over.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Quilby said.
Chapter Twenty-One
Morgan whirled in the direction of the voice, automatically pushing Hattie behind him. Quilby stood in front of him, gun drawn. The bastard must have managed to make his way to the rover. A breathing mask was in place once more and although his left arm hung limp at his side, he had a firm grip on the gun. His face was red with rage.
“I tried to do this the easy way, but you wouldn’t fucking cooperate. I’m tired of this shit. You’re both going to die. I don’t care how valuable you are, you fucking machine.”
“No!” Hattie cried, and he tugged her closer against him, shielding her with his body.
“You can’t make it look like an accident if you kill us both,” he said.
“I don’t give a shit anymore. Besides, I have an even better idea. I think you raped her and killed her. Then, in a fit of remorse, you killed yourself.”
“No one would believe that,” Hattie protested, and he patted her side, urging her silently to remain quiet.
“Wouldn’t they? No one trusts the fucking machines. Hell, an incident like that might even get Earth Government to do away with the whole ranger program. Always sticking their noses in where they don’t belong.”
“No doubt GenCon would be willing to provide a security force,” he said dryly, trying to distract the man while he came up with a plan that wouldn’t put Hattie in danger.
“For the right price,” Quilby agreed.
Hattie’s hand crept down his thigh and he realized she was heading for the gun in the holster still wrapped around his waist. So far, Quilby was focused on him and he needed to keep it that way.
“Your scenario will never work. There is nothing you could do to make me hurt her.”
Quilby gave him an evil grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that part. I know how to rig it up afterwards so that it’ll look like you did it.”
“Any ranger would be able to tell you faked the scene.” Hattie’s hand reached the butt of the gun as he tried desperately to keep the man talking.
“Who’s going to believe them?” Quilby grinned again. “Just protecting one of their own. I’ll have GenCon scientists swear that it happened just the way I said. The only part I’ll regret is that you won’t be alive to see me take your woman, to watch me make her scream and beg.”
“I’d never give you the satisfaction,” Hattie said fiercely as she pulled out the gun in one smooth move and aimed it at Quilby. Morgan kept his position in front of her, poised to leap if Quilby made a move.
The other man looked startled, then sneered down at her. “You’ll never pull that trigger. None of you settlers have the guts to use a gun—all you know how to do is shoot at a holographic target.”
“I’m quite prepared to shoot you, Mr. Quilby.” Her voice was calm, even though he could feel her trembling.
“Then you better do it, because I’ve had enough of this shit.”
Morgan saw Quilby’s gun hand start to rise. He threw himself in front of Hattie just as Quilby pulled the trigger. Almost simultaneously, a second shot echoed in his ears and he saw a crimson bloom appear on Quilby’s chest before he collapsed to the ground. A searing pain ran up his side but he ignored it, frantically turning to check on Hattie. She was staring at the still smoking gun in her hand, a dazed look on her face.
“I shot him.”
“Yes, you did,” he said gently. “And it was an excellent shot, sweetheart.”
“I told you I knew how to take care of myself,” she said, her voice trembling.
He started to reach for her, and another bolt of pain shot through him. Well, fuck. He’d been shot.
Her eyes widened in panic. “Oh my God, Morgan, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine,” he tried to reassure her. “Just a flesh wound.”
His nanites were already rushing to the area, sealing off the blood vessels to stop the bleeding and beginning to knit the flesh back together. But their focus on the wound, combined with the lingering effects of the drug, left him feeling unusually weak.
“We need to get you to a medic,” she said frantically.
“You can’t ride in that condition. Can you climb into the rover?”
“Of course,” he said confidently, but when he rose to his feet he swayed dizzily.
Hattie immediately placed herself under his arm, helping to brace him. He managed to make it to the rover, but he was shaking by the time he climbed in, heat rushing through his veins.
“You’re so hot,” Hattie exclaimed as she helped him sit.
“Part of the healing process,” he gasped.
“Are you sure you don’t need a medic?”
“I’m sure.” His surroundings wavered as his vision started to dim.
“If you insist.” She started the rover, then hesitated. “I forgot. Where’s Ghost?”
“Behind that next outcropping,” he whispered. “Going to… sleep now. Don’t… worry.”
And he gave into the darkness.
Hattie tried not to panic as Morgan slumped against the seat, his eyes closed. He had said he was going to sleep, and she had seen for herself how quickly he could heal. He might even be better by the time they reached the habitat. He’d better be, she thought, surveying his big body. There was no way she could lift him down from the rover by herself.
Driving slowly along the canyon walls, she reached the outcropping he had indicated and found Ghost pacing back and forth next to the big rock.
“There you are,” she said with relief.
At the sound of her voice, Ghost picked up his head, then pranced over to the rover. She unsealed the door and leaned out.
“Can you follow us home, Ghost?”
Of course, he couldn’t respond but he turned and placed himself next to the vehicle. When she started up again, he easily kept pace and she breathed a sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about.
Morgan still hadn’t moved by the time she pulled into the vehicle shed and shut the doors behind the rover. Leaning over, she stroked his face anxiously.
“Morgan, are you all right? Come back to me, love.”
His eyes gradually opened, dazed at first, then clearing at the sight of her face.
“I’m fine, sweetheart.”
“You’re not fine. You have a hole in your side.”
He probed it cautiously and winced. “It’s not quite as healed as I hoped, but it will be.”
“Can you get out of the rover on your own?”
“Of course I can.”
Despite his confident words, he still swayed as he reached the ground and she tucked herself under his arm to support him as he lowered himself onto the rover’s step.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just a little shaky. I suspect that the remains of the drug in my system are slowing down my healing.”
“What was that stuff?”
She wiggled onto the step next to him, taking comfort in the warmth and strength of his body.
“One of the compounds they used to control us,” he said bitterly. “It freezes our nanites so we can’t heal. Our cybernetic parts don’t function as well and our strength is compromised.”
“How horrible.”
“The worst part is the sense of helplessness. But even though it’s effective, it doesn’t stay in our systems long. I’m glad Quilby was fool enough to turn it off.”
“He didn’t. I did.” She giggled at his expression. Attracted by the sound, Ghost meandered over and dropped his nose on her shoulder so she patted his head.
“How did you do that?” Morgan asked.
“I threw a bottle at him, then turned it off while he was distracted. Unfortunately, I know a lot about how IVs work.” The familiar pain washed over her at the thought of her mother, but she suspected that her mother would be very happy that she had found someone to love.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
He hugged her and she nestled closer, the three of them sitting quietly together until at last he sighed and stretched cautiously.
“That’s better. Come along, sweetheart, we have work to do.”
“The chickens are calling,” she said ruefully.
“A homesteader’s work is never done,” he agreed, then smiled at her. “But we can handle it.”
He stood with a little less than his usual grace and turned to give her a hand. She ignored it and rose to her feet.
“I don’t want you making that any worse,” she scolded.
“It really is fine.” He looked out the big doors at the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. “I think it’s too late to ride into town today. Let’s get the chores done and I’ll make some calls.”
“You need to rest—I’ll take care of the chores. Why don’t you go take a bath? That is, if it won’t hurt your wound.”
“It won’t but it’s not quite sealed and I’m not going to contaminate the bath water. We’ll both do the chores and then after supper, we’ll take a bath. Together.”
He winked at her and she shook her head at him.
“You’re hopeless. Just please take it easy?”
“I will,” he promised, and they went to work.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hattie, wake up.” Morgan’s urgent voice penetrated a very pleasant dream she was having about the previous night. Despite his injury, he had proven very creative, first in the tub, and then in the bed.
“What is it?” she mumbled.
“Vehicles approaching.”
“They’re taking more supplies to the cavern?” Still half-asleep, she didn’t understand his concern.
“No. They are headed here.”
Her sleepiness disappeared at once. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but they aren’t wasting any time. Please get dressed. Just in case.”
“In case what?” she asked, but he was already gone.
Dressing quickly, she went to find him. He was standing in front of the windows in the main dome, watching a cloud of dust approach from the direction of town. He had dressed as well, his gun fastened around his waist and his ranger star gleaming on his chest.
“I can’t see well enough to tell who it is,” she said quietly.
“GenCon.” He didn’t take his eyes off of the oncoming vehicles. “A rover and a wagon.”
“A wagon. Why would they bring a wagon?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” He turned to her. “You should take Ghost and leave. Ride back into the canyons until this is over.”
“Until what is over?” she cried.
“I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.”
“Morgan, the hours I spent waiting for you to come back yesterday were the longest hours of my life. I don’t want to be separated from you again. Whatever is coming, we will face it together.” She buckled on her own gun, then put her hand in his.
“All right, Hattie.” He tugged her closer against his side. “I don’t want to have to search for you again either.”
The vehicles drew to a halt, the gleaming GenCon white smeared with orange dust. The door to the rover opened and a mountainous man descended.
“Is he a cyborg?” she whispered.
“He’s wearing a breathing mask so I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find he was taking some type of enhancement drug,” he said grimly.
After a suspicious glance around, the big man turned back to the rover and carefully helped a woman down. Hattie gaped at her in astonishment. The strange woman looked like a wealthy stockholder about to step into a board meeting. An obviously expensive navy pantsuit was perfectly tailored to her slim frame, her hair was exquisitely cut, and her high-heeled pumps gleamed. Even the small breathing mask looked custom designed.
“Mrs. Lewis. May I speak to you?” she called.
“We can’t ignore her. Do you want to talk in here or out there?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t want them in our home.”
“Very well. Let’s go.”
He pulled on his duster and helped her into her coat. They emerged from the airl
ock to find the woman waiting patiently, now flanked by two of the giant men. Morgan took up a similar position at Hattie’s side.
“Mrs. Lewis. I am Serena Gatling, Managing Director of GenCon Product Development.”
The woman’s low, pleasant voice caught Hattie off guard, but then she looked at her eyes. Although they were perfectly accented with discreet makeup, the blue shone flat and cold. Hattie had never seen anyone with eyes so dead. A shiver shot down her spine.
“That was Winthrop’s position,” she managed to say.
“Exactly. I don’t know how much he told you about his work here…”
“Very little,” she said honestly. “He said that the company wanted him to homestead a claim while he was checking on some things for them.”
“And that’s all?” Serena’s body relaxed almost imperceptibly.
“Yes.”
“I see. I’m afraid we’re in a rather awkward position. You see, this land was specifically chosen because of its proximity to the escarpment.” She gestured gracefully at the towering rock wall on the horizon.
“Why?” she asked bluntly.
“It’s a site of great scientific interest.” Serena lied so smoothly that Hattie wouldn’t have hesitated to believe her if she hadn’t seen for herself what the rock contained.
“That’s nice,” she said neutrally, and the other woman’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
“As a result, I’m afraid we really need to take possession of this claim.”
“And I’m afraid that it’s not available. It is my claim, registered in my name.”
“We are prepared to offer you a much larger replacement parcel.”
“No, thank you.”
“I don’t think you quite understand, Mrs. Lewis. This land rightfully belongs to GenCon.”
“No, Ms. Gatling. You don’t understand. This claim was legally granted to Mrs. Lewis by Earth Government.” Morgan stepped forward, letting his duster swing open to show his badge. “It belongs to her, no matter what you think.”
Serena’s eyes flicked to his badge, then to his face. Her two bodyguards tensed.
“I really do not want this to become an unpleasant situation.”
“Like the last GenCon representative?” Hattie asked dryly.
The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg Page 15