Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Other Titles
A Few Cyborgs More
Cyborgs on Mars
Honey Phillips
Copyright © 2020 by Honey Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Pro Book Covers Studio
Edited by Lindsay York at LY Publishing
Chapter One
The bomb exploded just outside of the small cave where they had taken shelter, and Sergeant Jonah Harper saw his newest recruit flinch. The kid looked up and blushed when he realized that Jonah had noticed. Fuck, he was young. But somehow, his youthful enthusiasm and big smile had won over the battle-hardened veterans that made up the rest of the squad.
Hell, Jonah liked the boy too.
“Just shots in the dark,” he said. “They don’t know where we are but they’re trying to smoke us out.”
“Maybe we should send Billy here out on a run, lead them away,” Ice Man said jokingly, cuffing the boy’s head.
“Would that help, Sarge?” Billy asked, his young face earnest.
“Nah. If I wanted to send them on a wild goose chase, I’d send Bixby. He’s too big for them to miss.”
Bixby grinned. He was a big, good-natured man and many opponents had made the fatal error of assuming he lacked intelligence. Instead, he was sharp-witted, surprisingly fast, and deadly with a knife.
Another explosion rocked the cave, and this time a small cloud of dust and rock showered down over them. The rebels were definitely getting too close. Damn Command for sending them on this mission without adequate intelligence. They had been sent to take down a supposedly small group of rebels that were raiding one of the factory farms so vital to feeding Earth’s ever-expanding population. Instead, they had encountered a large, well-organized resistance, and now they were pinned down.
“Any luck with the radio, Rabbit?”
“Sorry, Sarge.” Rabbit shook his head. “The spare battery was damaged as well. I don’t think I can get it working.”
Fuck. He swore under his breath. Sooner or later, one of the bombs was going to get close enough to bring the cave down around them. They were going to have to make a run for it. He studied the fading light just visible through the small opening.
“We’ll head out as soon as the sun goes down. Try and make that ridge above the processing factory. Hold out there until dawn, then try a visual signal to Command.”
Stony silence met his words. They all knew that the run for the ridge would leave them exposed.
“Maybe we should wait until closer to dawn,” Bixby suggested, the last few words muffled behind yet another explosion, and more dust filled the cave.
“Cave won’t last the night,” he said grimly, then noticed the apprehensive look on Billy’s face. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re so skinny they’d have to have a magnifying glass to find you.”
A smile flashed across the handsome young face. “Not so skinny that the ladies can’t find me.”
Good-natured laughter filled the air as they settled in to wait.
The shelling didn’t stop as night fell but that could be to their advantage. The constant barrage had left a mist of smoke and dust in the air that would add to the uncertain lighting and help to conceal them.
“Keep low and move fast,” he ordered. “I’ll lead the way. Bixby, bring up the rear.”
They were halfway up the ridge when disaster occurred. The ground to the left exploded. Rabbit was flung to one side, landing in a broken heap. He heard Ice Man cry out but the sound stopped abruptly, and he looked back in time to see Bixby buried under a pile of rock. A sharp pain sliced through his side as the shock threw him to the ground, but he was distracted by a spray of blood as Billy, too, crumpled and fell.
Jonah dragged himself to the boy’s side. Fuck. Most of his leg was gone and he was rapidly losing blood.
“Sarge?” Billy sounded shocked more than hurt.
“Don’t worry, boy. You’ll be fine,” he lied as he applied a tourniquet to what was left of the kid’s leg.
“You… you’re bleeding.”
For the first time, he felt the blood trickling down his neck.
“Just a scratch,” he muttered, then swayed. Fuck, he was losing blood as well. Didn’t matter. He had to get the kid to safety.
A brilliant flare lit up the night sky, then he heard the sound of an incoming round. He threw himself over Billy’s body just as fire seared across his cheek and the night exploded into chaos. His last thought as he lost consciousness was that he had failed.
He was on fire. Heat consumed every inch of his body, like fire ants running through his veins. When he tried to move, he could feel the restraints holding him down. Had the rebels caught him? What about the rest of his squad? He forced his eyes open.
White walls surrounded him. A hospital? But the two men in lab coats against the far wall looked more like scientists than doctors.
“Where—where are my men?” The words came out hoarse, his voice strained and his throat burning.
One of the scientists approached.
“They didn’t make it. You were the only usable specimen.”
A different kind of pain washed over him. He should never have ordered that disastrous change of position. Bixby, Rabbit, Ice Man, even young Billy with so much life still ahead of him. Their deaths were on his head. He forced the knowledge aside as the rest of the man’s words penetrated.
“Specimen?”
“You were a good fit for the cyborg program. Your human life is over. You are now J-817.”
“What do you mean? I’m still human.” If nothing else, the pain racing through him assured him of that.
“Not anymore.”
The scientist adjusted a mirror, pulling it into position over him. One side of his face was gone, replaced by metallic bronze skin that covered his cheek and edged down over his neck. Smooth and gleaming, it mocked him with its perfection.
“What did you do to me?”
“You should be grateful. You would have died otherwise. Now you’re stronger, faster, better.” The man laughed, a satisfied sound. “We made some other improvements as well. Flex your fingers.”
Horrified but determined to know the worst, he obeyed. Sharp blades appeared at each fingertip like deadly claws.
“Excellent,” the man said. “We’ve been experimenting with some additional enhan
cements and this is one of our most successful.”
His fists clenched, the blades cutting into his own flesh, followed by a swift burn.
“Now stop that. Your nanites already have enough work to do healing the rest of you.”
“I don’t want to be healed.” The faces of his men floated through his mind. “You should have let me die.”
“Nonsense. Your body is the property of Earth Government now and they have a use for you.”
“What use?”
“You’re going to Mars, J-817. You’ll be part of the task force assigned to terraform the planet.”
They had taken away his humanity and now they were going to take away his planet? The rumors he had heard—of plans to make Mars suitable for human life, of robots to do the work, of men disappearing—came together with a horrible clarity. Despair washed over him and he began struggling with his restraints, determined to free himself.
“Damn soldiers,” he heard the scientist mutter as the man quickly inserted an IV in Jonah’s wrist.
Ice flooded his veins from the injection site, and he felt his body go limp and numb before darkness closed over him.
Six weeks later, J-817 examined himself in the mirror of the austere bathroom assigned to the cyborgs. The transport ships to Mars were ready and they were waiting for the order to load. He was in uniform once more, but not the brown military fatigues he had worn for his entire adult life. Instead, he was dressed in black—black pants, black shirt, even a black hat. Earth Government must be casting the cyborgs in the role of villains, he thought ironically.
But the uniform was irrelevant. Instead, he focused on his new face. One half smooth, bronze perfection, the other the rugged, ordinary features that were so familiar to him. The metallic skin seemed to mock him, and his guilt and anger flared.
Extending one of his new razor-sharp claws, he slowly gouged a deep line across his cheek. The new skin wouldn’t bleed, but a fiery pain radiated from the mark. He ignored it.
“This is for you, Bixby.”
A second mark. “Rabbit.”
A third. “Iceman.”
The pain was starting to circulate throughout his whole body but he paid no attention, forcing back the nanites that had rushed to his face in an attempt to heal it.
One last cut, the deepest. “Billy.”
He grabbed onto the sink as a wave of heat rushed over his body in a vain attempt to combat the injury while he held back the nanites with every ounce of control he could muster. The metallic skin was no longer perfect—now it reflected his interior imperfections. He brushed his thumb across the wounds, ignoring the flare of agony. He would never forget that he had failed.
Later that day, his face throbbing, he stood in line with the others of his kind, waiting their turn to load. No one spoke; they had already learned to keep their emotions in check, their feelings hidden. The group of cyborgs ahead of him marched aboard one of the transport ships, closely watched by guards armed with the paralytic serum. He supposed they could have protested, fought back, but what was the point? They were no longer considered human, their rights stripped away by the very government they had fought to serve. The majority of humans regarded them with fear and mistrust. They didn’t belong here any longer.
As for him, he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve anything better. Bixby, Ice Man, Rabbit, Billy. The litany of names floated across his mind as he rubbed the scars beneath his eye. Four scars, one for each of his men, all inflicted by his new “enhancement.” Their deaths would always be on his conscience but at least they had been spared this fate.
“Sarge!”
He spun around to find a familiar figure limping towards him. A wave of relief was followed immediately by intense despair. Billy’s entire life had been in front of him. Now he would have nothing but work and isolation on Mars.
“They said you were dead,” he muttered as they were all ordered towards the waiting ship.
“Nah.” Billy winced and rubbed at the seam of his new leg. “Just part of me.”
Despite the attempt to sound cheerful, J-817 could see the apprehension on the young face as they marched on board and were directed to the small stalls that would be their quarters for the long trip.
He had done this. He had condemned that bright young man to a future of darkness and deprivation. Pushing another cyborg away with his shoulder, he placed himself at Billy’s side. He could never make up for what he had done, but nothing else was going to happen to Billy as long as he was alive to prevent it.
Chapter Two
Eleven years later...
“The ship will be landing in twenty minutes. As soon as the All Clear sounds, please gather your personal belongings and proceed to the disembarkation area. Any stored belongings will be waiting for you in the cargo area. If you have any questions or need assistance, please check with the uniformed personnel.”
Daisy clutched her stomach as a wave of nausea rolled over her. She was finally here on Mars. Married to a man she had never met. A reckless choice, driven by desperation, but this unknown man had to be better than the one she had escaped.
A few deep breaths and the nausea vanished. Her tiny collection of clothing and personal items was already packed, all of it fitting neatly into one small piece of luggage. It was a pitiful display, but she was grateful for every item she had managed to collect in the frenzied panic before the ship departed Earth six long months ago. Her new husband had generously provided a weight allowance for additional luggage, but she had neither the time nor the funds to take advantage of it. At least she had managed to sew herself a few more items of clothing during the journey.
As the countdown to landing sounded over the ship’s speakers, she sank down on the small bunk, thankful that her unknown groom had provided a private room, even such a tiny one. She had spent most of the journey cooped up in here, choosing to study all of the available material about homesteading on Mars rather than mingling with the other passengers.
In the first couple of months, loneliness had occasionally driven her out into the common areas, but the other travelers were predominantly male and she didn’t trust any of them. She sighed. Would she ever feel comfortable in the presence of men again? To not wonder if a smiling, handsome face concealed an evil heart? She hoped her new husband was an ordinary-looking man.
As the minutes ticked away, she rubbed her stomach in slow, comforting circles and tried to find some of the optimism which had once been an intrinsic part of her nature.
When the All Clear finally sounded, she rose unsteadily to her feet and wrapped her thermal coat around her. It was the largest one she could find, swamping her small figure, but she appreciated the concealment. She jammed a knit hat down on her head then donned a full-face breathing mask. Looking at herself in the mirror, she managed a smile. Only the pale circle of her face was visible behind the breathing mask, framed by the black hat and big black coat. She could have been anyone.
The anonymity suited her. She thought she had covered her tracks, but the idea that Richard might come hunting her haunted her dreams.
As she stepped out into the corridor, a big man in GenCon overalls almost ran her down. The GenCon corporation controlled the majority of the industry on Mars and sponsored most of the immigrants. Their logo was a common sight on board.
“Watch out there, ma’am,” the man said with a friendly smile as he caught her arm to prevent her from falling.
She couldn’t control her flinch and his smile faded. He studied her face, then said gently, “There’s no need to be afraid. Is someone waiting for you?”
“M-my husband.”
“Good.” He looked her up and down with a slight frown. “We’ll be disembarking into an enclosed hangar. You don’t need all that gear yet. Are you sure you want to meet him this way?”
“I’m sure.” She needed all the protection she could get.
Another group of men came barreling down the corridor, laughing and talking loudly.
�
�Watch out.”
Her new acquaintance positioned himself between her and the oncoming men. Although she appreciated his concern, the position left her trapped between his body and the wall, and her heart thudded painfully in her chest as her stomach rolled again.
“P-please move,” she whispered.
Her new acquaintance slapped one of the men on the shoulder, sending him on his way with a playful shove, but he immediately turned back at her words. One glance at her pale face, and he backed away, holding his open hands out to each side.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.” Her mouth was dry but she managed a weak smile. He did seem trustworthy, but then again, would she ever be able to trust her instincts again? She studied him nervously. He had a broad, homely face beneath close-cropped dark hair, turning gray at the temples. His rough looks and anxious face reassured her.
“Look,” he said gently. “I can tell you’re scared, and I know I’m a big guy, but I’ve never hurt a woman in my life.”
She nodded, and the smile came a little more easily this time.
“I’m going to walk to the hangar with you.” Before she could protest, he continued, “You’re a little bit of a thing and I don’t want you to get run over by more of those clods.”
Her hands clenched, but he had a point. Her small size and deceptively childlike appearance had caused enough trouble in the past. She nodded reluctantly.
A wide grin split his face. “Don’t worry, ma’am. They call me Big Tom, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Would you be more comfortable if I walked next to you or behind you?”
Behind her? Where she couldn’t see what he was doing?
“Next to me,” she said quickly.
His face softened. “Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to carry your bag?”
She drew herself up and thrust out her chin. “I can manage.”
“I’ll bet you can.”
A Few Cyborgs More (Cyborgs On Mars Book 3) Page 1