Kyra patted Peyton’s knee before putting some distance between them. All she wanted to do was crawl into his lap and make them both forget what was going on. “I don’t dink, Captain Elliott. I fix. Remember that. Just focus on that thought while I shut you down.”
Peyton settled himself more comfortably in the chair, not wanting her to know how bad he hated what was about to happen. “Don’t forget your promise about heaven, Dr. Winters. Every soldier in the field dreams about returning to a warm body and a woman’s welcoming arms. Just so you know, I’m going to be dreaming about you while I’m under this time.”
Kyra’s resolution faltered. Her heartbeat thudded hard against her shirt. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Peyton. I don’t deserve it.”
Peyton sighed at the sadness in her response. “You just had to ruin my harmless fantasy, didn’t you? I know what you are, Doc. You’re an evil cyber scientist and I’m your monster. Now let’s get this additional dinking shit over with before I lose the rest of my carefully constructed illusions. And by the way—you definitely talk too damn much.”
Kyra’s hand fisted on her hip. “I beg your pardon. Those are some pretty ballsy insults coming from a man strapped to a medical chair.”
“You heard me, Doc. I’m not taking it back. I may have a few blips in my communication these days, but I damn well don’t stutter about what’s important,” Peyton said, grinning when Kyra glared harder. “Shit woman, you’re really cute when you’re pissed. Let me loose so I can kiss you for real.”
“No. Now I know why I always avoided military men. You just love conflict, don’t you?” Kyra exclaimed.
“Yep. Eat it for breakfast,” Peyton declared, closing his eyes. “Do whatever you intend to do and get it over with, okay?”
Finding it impossible to stay offended, Kyra sighed and finished her restraint checks. “If cyborgs dream while they’re shut down, I hope you have only good ones.”
“Personally, I hope I have x-rated ones of you. See you on the flip side,” Peyton declared, closing his eyes. He heard her chanting another series of the creator codes and decided to record them for further study. Of course if they were voice activated as he suspected, he’d need Kyra’s exact intonation to make it work. He knew a recording wouldn’t even get it right because she had found a way to make sure it always had to be her in person.
When a full minute passed with nothing happening to him, Peyton opened one eye to see Kyra frowning. “Seriously. No more fooling around, Doc. I’m ready when you are.”
“Shut up and let me think. It’s not working,” Kyra said in surprise, walking around in a circle as she thought. “I don’t understand. The secondary processor seems to be ignoring the creator code. How can that be possible?”
Peyton opened the other eye so he could glare with both of them. “The hell you say. What secondary processor?”
Kyra tilted her head until her gaze was on the ceiling. The blank whiteness helped her think. Peyton’s angry comments did not.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you all these details until I had resolved the problem, but yes—you apparently have two sets of cybernetic wiring. Experiments in double wiring were originally done only on cybernetic units whose personalities failed to cooperate with their primary processor. To date, double wiring has never been proven to work correctly or even well. It is not routine.”
“What the hell are you talking about now? Are you saying I’m more of a freak than even you can understand?”
“I’m not sure what I’m saying. I can’t think over your swearing,” Kyra declared, swinging her gaze to his.
She paced around his chair and thought aloud so Peyton would shut up and listen.
“A standard artificial intelligence processor can run some functions from a second set of code, but in cyborgs the commands collide between processors causing a human mental melt-down eventually. You can quiet the human side from expressing itself, but you can’t get the body to completely turn it off. Mental confusion always results because the second processor has to run a duplicate set of creator codes to work.”
“And? So. . ?” Peyton demanded, wanting her to explain what the hell was going on.
“So I don’t know why your secondary processor isn’t responding to me. It has to be running some version of the creator code or it wouldn’t be functional. All I can think to do is to find the secondary panel and attempt a manual shut-down.”
“Manual? Like in more brain surgery?”
Kyra dropped her gaze from Peyton’s glare to study a spot on the floor. “Yes. I guess that’s what I’m saying. If you refuse, I have no choice but to leave you strapped in my chair to face your fate alone. You’ve been following your secondary processor’s commands whether you realize it consciously or not.”
Peyton shook his head. “That’s a crock of shit, Doc. I’ve done no such thing.”
Kyra walked to the chair and lifted her wrist until her antique unit was in front of Peyton’s face. Retrieving the disk from her pocket, she loaded it then swiped the screen to play the file Nero and Brad had provided. Peyton’s jaw got tighter the more he watched, but he didn’t respond with his usual amount of anger. She was more alarmed that he seemed to want to deny what he saw even though it was a very human reaction.
When the security camera clip finished, Kyra lowered her wrist and walked to where the bug was stored under her desk. Retrieving it with the end of her sleeve so she wouldn’t put her prints on it, she lifted the device to let Peyton see.
“Not bullshit—fact,” Kyra said stiffly. She replaced the device carefully and backed away to retrace her steps to his side. “Since you’re not responding to the creator commands, I have to try and disconnect the secondary processor manually. Now may I proceed?”
“Fucking shit, yes. Just do what the hell you have to. I’m tried of being everyone’s science experiment,” Peyton declared.
He closed his eyes as Kyra gently turned his head. He felt her tentative fingers exploring his scalp until they paused on a tiny knot. They grazed it lightly just before he felt her depress it. He couldn’t help calling out as a huge bolt of lightning shot through his head.
“Damn it. The door was rigged to protect the access panel.” Kyra’s fingers flew as fast as possible when the secondary access panel finally opened. The secondary wiring had not been elegantly done. Judging by the agony on Peyton’s face, the pain it was sending through him was at excruciating levels—the kind used to shut down the human mind and re-program it to obey cyber commands. Without the controller wiring, they had to be using his own cybernetics to cause the pain.
“Fight it all you can, Peyton. I’m hurrying. I swear I’m hurrying. Whoever did this was a hack. It’s hard to know what will happen if I disconnect anything.”
She used one finger to trace the circuitry and thought she had found the slave processor chip when every muscle in Peyton’s body clenched. He let out an ungodly sound of distress and started spontaneously reciting numerical codes.
Her finger hovered. Should she pull the processor or not? Did she really have a choice?
Before she could make a final decision, Peyton’s whole body seemed to electrify. Self-preservation sent her stumbling back to avoid being fried by the current suddenly running through the chair. He evidently had more prosthetic enhancements than either of them had known about because everything metal in his body sent current surging against the chair restraints.
She could do nothing but watch and see if his torment would end before Peyton broke free. First the chest restraint popped, followed by the one on each wrist. The only restraints left on his upper body were the mobile ones.
Peyton turned his head to her. His eyes were flashing and rolling like something out of a video game. His face was contorted with whatever was happening to him.
“By special apprehension order number 407738 authorized by the United Coalition of Nations, Cyber Unit Peyton 313 is hereby directed as a reactivated military soldier to capture Dr. Kyr
a Winters by any means necessary. Any resistance to apprehension will be answered with the appropriate force necessary to achieve her retention. To avoid bodily harm, Dr. Winters is ordered to proceed with Cyber Unit Peyton 313 to the nearest UCN location to be officially charged for crimes against the UCN.”
Kyra backed up steadily as Peyton reached down and broke the electrically weakened chair restraints still holding his ankles. Now there was nothing to prevent him coming after her except the mobile restraints. She glanced at her wrist controller but again her hesitation in acting was her undoing. By the time she raised her gaze to see where he was, Peyton was already standing in front of her.
He repeated his orders to apprehend her as he reached out to grab one of her wrists. When she instinctively protected the one with the mobile restraints controller, he gripped the other in a tight hold she found she couldn’t break. She vaguely realized his pressure sensor was not functioning correctly when she heard a little pop coming from under his fingers. Kyra called out as pain radiated up her arm to her elbow and was mildly surprised when Peyton instantly released her.
She clutched her wounded hand to her chest as she stepped out of his reach. “I think you broke my wrist, Peyton. Are you still in there at all? Don’t let them do this to you. I set you free so this couldn’t happen again.”
For one moment, Kyra saw his face smooth out and his eyes slow to move back and forth across her and the lab. Peyton looked first at her, then at the room, and finally at the wrist she still clutched to her chest. She knew she’d lost him though when he resumed citing his orders to capture her.
“No. I can’t let you deliver me to them just because I care what happens to you,” Kyra said firmly.
As she spoke, she inched away from Peyton, moving toward the door. She could never outrun a cyborg, but the mobile wrist restraints just might be able to incapacitate Peyton enough to give her time to escape. If that happened, she wanted to be as close as possible to the lab’s only exit.
“Stop walking,” Peyton ordered. “Continued resistance will result in the use of more force. I have consulted my data banks. You are identified as Dr. Kyra Winters. You must proceed with me to the nearest UCN location for processing.”
Kyra shook her head. “Sorry, Captain Elliott. But I’m not going with you today.”
She watched Peyton take two steps in her direction before she managed to use one numb finger to swipe at the controller on her good wrist. Current shot through Peyton’s body, sending him to his knees. Kyra almost peed herself in relief when it worked. But when he started to climb to his feet again, she shook her head and sobbed for what she had to do.
“No. No. No. I’m sorry, Peyton. I’m so sorry. I have no choice but to do this. Death would be a better fate for you than the things Norton will do once they get you back.”
Wincing, Kyra used a knuckle on her injured hand to run the restraint power adjustment to maximum. Then she yelled out in frustration as she swiped at the send command. It was not what she wanted to do to a man who she had only wanted to save from this fate. Damn Jackson and Norton for making her take these measures.
The maximum voltage the wrist unit could convey to his mobile restraints surged through Peyton and sent him to the floor again. This time he hadn’t even called out as he fell.
Groaning with the knowledge that she might have mortally wounded or even killed him, Kyra looked at the lab’s door and planned to make a run for it. She could escape now. She knew she could. If his cyborg body was capable of healing itself, this was probably the one and only chance she was going to get to do so.
Her gaze went to Peyton’s twitching body still prone on the floor. Her mind flashed back to his kiss—the one he’d given her earlier without asking first. Peyton wasn’t a bad guy—he was one of the good guys. But at the moment, he was some scientist’s tool—some scientist like her—another Frankenstein doctor trying to create the perfect monster.
“You’re stupid for not running. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid,” Kyra chanted as she ran to kneel by Peyton’s head.
Using her unbroken left hand, she rolled Peyton’s face until she found the secondary access panel just above his ear. Wishing her right hand was still functional, it took several attempts with her uncoordinated left to pull all the chips she could from the compartment. She left the wiring, but finally yanked out and threw the secondary processor across the room.
Just as she was standing up to run, Peyton raised his head and looked at her in complete confusion. His tortured gaze rooted her feet where she stood. “Peyton? Are you still with me?”
In answer, he swept out with his arm, taking her down to the hard concrete floor in one swipe. Kyra heard another crack just before the world went dark.
Chapter 13
“Dr. Winters, I know it’s hard but it’s time to wake up again.”
“No. Leave me. . .alone.” Kyra heard the commanding female voice, but didn’t want to answer. If she had died and gone to hell, she’d just as soon not know about it yet.
“Just wake for one minute and then you can sleep again,” the stern voice ordered.
Kyra opened one eye. The light made her squint. A pretty woman in her early thirties met her gaze behind black framed glasses. “Am I in hell?”
The woman sighed at her question and looked around. “Pretty close I think. This is some sort of off-the-grid bunker slash lab out in the middle of East Bejesus, Nowhere. It might as well be hell. Feels like hell as far as I’m concerned.”
Kyra tried to smile at the woman’s sarcasm. She raised her right hand to her head, alarmed when she saw it was in a cast. “What happened to my hand?”
The woman pulled up a chair. “You have a broken wrist, Dr. Winters. There’s a healing band applied under the cast. The break should mend in a few more days. What do you remember?”
Kyra lowered her hurt hand back to the bed. “My head hurts too badly to think right now.”
“I know. Your head is bandaged too. As best as I can determine, you have a moderate to severe concussion. There’s also a pretty nasty gash on the back of your skull. I taped it shut and wrapped wound gauze around it. Stitches weren’t possible at the time. I’m glad you’re finally awake. We were all starting to wonder if you were in a coma.”
Kyra turned her head slowly against the pillow. The movement made her feel dizzy, but at least her vision was starting to clear. “How did I get here?”
“Nero—ultimately. I mean he’s the reason this place exists, but a big cyborg dude carried you in here. I must say that I’m really curious about his story. Borg Man spends his days in the com room doing research but comes around every hour to check on your condition. This is the first time you’ve been completely awake in five days. He doesn’t seem to sleep much because he spends his nights with you sitting in a chair.”
“Do you know what happened to put me in this condition?” As much as taking in information hurt, Kyra found she still wanted answers about how much the woman knew.
“Well, I have no idea how you fell. No one told me and I didn’t ask. With Nero, I’ve learned you’re better off not asking questions and just doing what he says. I’m technically on ‘vacation’ here while I’m taking care of you. His cover stories only work if you follow protocol.”
“Nero? What’s Nero got to do with this?”
This time when her head throbbed, Kyra lifted her left hand instead of her right. She felt her face and then ran a hand up to her forehead. Sure enough there was a gauze bandage wrapped tight. She remembered Peyton squeezing her wrist too hard. She remembered pulling all the chips from the second compartment in his head. She remembered looking down at him. . .his arm sweeping out. . .and suddenly full memories of her fall to her lab floor returned. Reliving them was painful. Her attention was harshly pulled back to the present when the woman started talking again.
“Nero isn’t here just now, but I’m sure he’ll check in shortly. I don’t know who’s been more worried about you—him, Brad, or Borg Man.”
<
br /> The list of those concerned didn’t surprise her. They were the only ones who knew what was really going on. “Head hurts bad. Can I have some water and maybe some pain medicine?” Kyra asked.
The woman stood and nodded. “Sure. My name is Ella. I’ll just slip out to the commissary and bring you something back. Now that you’re awake we can remove the IV and the take-care-of-your-business tubes. Welcome back to the land of the living, Dr. Winters.”
“Thanks,” Kyra said, closing her eyes. It eased the insistent throb in her head to be in the dark.
After she heard Ella’s footsteps receding, she opened her eyes again and met Peyton’s intense gaze with shock. Her survival reflex kicked in, making her scream, but the sound came out as an unimpressive croak while she thrashed around the bed trying to escape. Extreme pain shooting through her head with every movement made her want to throw up. She felt gentle, but insistent hands pressing her down firmly into the mattress.
“Kyra—stop. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. . .ever again. . .I swear. Nero and Brad checked what you did to me and it seems to have worked. They don’t think I’m going into psycho soldier mode ever again now that the secondary processor is gone.”
“I’ll believe that after I’ve tested you myself. We’ll get to it soon, if my head doesn’t explode off my shoulders first,” Kyra said.
Peyton looked at the busted up woman in the bed who dared to challenge him even after he’d attacked and hurt her. Her audacity when she was afraid was a huge turn-on for him. Too bad the last thing Kyra Winters needed at the moment was some perpetually horny guy lusting for her. She was now officially a UCN fugitive and that had to be dealt with first.
“Okay, Doc. You can check the mostly empty holes in my head if you must, but if I’m going back in the chair, it’s going to cost you big this time,” Peyton teased.
He sat down in the seat Ella had vacated and crossed his arms to stare at her.
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