“Come on!” He yelled at her impatiently while she just stared at him. “Alfyt has the access code!”
What had happened to Qy? Could he have his memories back, of the man he once was? Was that even possible? Was this some type of survival programming at work? Sabralia didn’t know what to think or do. But she didn’t want to stay here, alone. She ran after him. They climbed up the service ladder to a small door. Qy beamed the code to the ship and the door popped open. The ship was luxurious and Sabralia gaped at it while Qy rummaged in a locker.
Qy shoved a garment and helmet at her. “Get this on and strap in. Make sure the tube is at your lips.”
She nodded. She’d used a spacer suit once before, when she left her homeworld to join the harem. She pulled on the vacuum safe suit and sat next to him at the control console. He started the ship and then toddled it around the space landing.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding the fuel station. We’re low.”
He found it, and got out to fuel up. “See if there is food. Hopefully it is stocked and we won’t have to make another stop.”
While golden sludge slid down clear tubes to the fuel hold, she found a pantry and kitchen area. It was full of food, including many luxurious things. This ship must belong to someone important. Maybe even Sirn, himself. The furnishings were lovely—there was a white and peach bathing area and a sleep area with a large, beautifully covered bed.
“There’s lots of food,” she told him when he climbed back inside.
“Good. Grab me something to eat and a drink. Kaf, if they have it. It helps me concentrate. You might want to wait to eat, though, until we are off-world, in case your stomach reacts to take off. We have a little time, the sensors show the Strafe is miles away.”
Sabralia found filled pocket breads, which were in self-heating wraps, and several drinks. She watched in amazement as Qy devoured the sandwiches and gulped down three drinks. She did not feel the least bit hungry. Her stomach was tight with nerves.
“I didn’t know cyborgs could eat,” she said, feeling faint. What was happening to Qy? His facial expression was different. More animated, somehow, with expressions she’d never seen on his perfect features. While he ate he turned on various ship systems and scanners.
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “We’ll have time to talk after we get away.” He flipped down her mask and slid the connection, sealing her in, then did the same for himself.
“Let’s see what she’s got.” He closed the hull view panels, blasted the engines, and they shot into the atmosphere.
Sabralia saw the Strafe on his scanview, coming down from somewhere higher above them. She knew it was a space-based weapon. Qy elevated the ship and headed straight for it.
“What are you doing?” she yelped.
“Trust me. This is how we get off-world undetected.”
“How we get off-world undetected?” Panic rose and so did her voice.
“I know a way. Risky, but workable.”
“How risky?”
“Considering our chances of staying alive here are about zero percent, I think we don’t have many options. Now hush. I need to concentrate.”
“Oh no,” she moaned as he positioned the ship parallel to the Strafe. She could hear the deadly thrum and throb of the energy beam.
“Sweet! A chameleon hull. We look like whatever we are next to.”
Qy was almost grinning, and his eyes as they looked at the screen held an intent expression she’d never seen before. She swallowed down a rush of bile. Had his circuits gotten scrambled or something? Was this some type of survival programming? Was he taking her into battle?
“I-I’m not sure we should do this.”
“I’m sure. You’re going to have to trust that I know best here.”
Her cyborg knew best? But they couldn’t think or reason, not really. Could they?
“Qy, maybe—”
“—Sabra, we are going up hard and fast. You will probably pass out, but you will be all right. Make sure the air piece is in your mouth. Now.”
She nodded, tears of fear and shock streaming down her face, and positioned the tube in her mouth while he fastened his own mask. It can’t be healthy to be this afraid…
The speed of their ascent crushed her into her seat, and soon all went black.
Sabralia woke up in a soft bed, covered with silky, warm covers. A delicious aroma of a hot meal filled the room. She was not wearing the spacer suit, though Alfyt’s jacket still covered her gown. She climbed out of bed and noticed right away that they were in light grav. She had to move with care so she wouldn’t careen into things.
Qy was standing in the kitchen area, attending a meal. He was wearing just a thin pair of spacer knit leggings, no shirt, and high soft spacer boots. Somehow he’d removed the implant on his torso, and the one on his temple. Neat newskins covered the wounds left by the implants. She saw another newskin on one arm.
“What happened to your implants?” Her voice was hoarse.
“While you were sleeping I took them off.”
“Is that safe?”
“Yes, we take them off frequently for maintenance.” His arm and leg implants remained. The thigh implant showed clearly under the thin knit.
He saw her glance. “The arm and leg implants are information systems. They come in handy.”
She nodded. She couldn’t think of anything to say. It was as if her thoughts were frozen.
It finally dawned on her that they were not moving. There was no sound of the ship’s engines. “Where are we?” The view screen was dark, and the pilot section was dimly lit.
“Hidden on a chunk of rock. You slept for a long time, nearly twelve hours. I have coordinates set, but I want to rest and eat. I need to remove a tracer, which is a technical chore. I want to take it off after a good sleep. Until then, the magnetic aspect of this rock will conceal us. Once the tracer is off we’ll be virtually undetectable. We can get safely away.”
“Are we safe now? We got away?”
“Oh yes. The sentinels in orbit could not distinguish us from the Strafe. We jumped orbit with no problems at all.”
It seemed impossible they could be safe after the events of the past few days. Sabralia sat down, and hid her shaking hands from Qy.
“The tracer works when we are moving, so with our engines powered down we’re good.”
Cyborgs didn’t sleep or eat, and Qy never carried on conversations, though he did answer questions. She watched his every move.
“Where are we going?”
“Katherine Hub. I calculated and we have enough fuel. Stinsen Hub is actually closer, and anyone else fleeing the coupe will probably go there. But I did some careful calculations and we can make it to Katherine on the fuel we have. There are a few sub stations out there where we could buy more fuel, but I wouldn’t trust any of them. I shut down several unneeded systems, including Life Support on the utility level. So don’t go down there.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“Lower level.” Qy waved toward a door. He stirred vigorously, then spooned food onto two gilt platters.
“Maintenance systems are down there, they probably won’t be needed during our trip. If they are I can either wear a suit or reset the Life Support.” He set a platter and some utensils in front of her. “From Katherine Hub we will have time to decide what to do.”
“You know how to calculate fuel, Qy?” Sabralia asked, the tension in her body so tight pain shot through her neck. This was not the cyborg she knew, who had to be taught every little thing and given orders.
“And what have you done with your hair?” Her voice was getting high and squeaky again.
His hair, those long glossy curls, had been divided into locks of tightly matted hair that hung in a wild mass to his shoulders, and the front of his hair was pulled back into a knot at the back of his head, almost covering the section where the temple implant had been. He looked barbaric and his face some
how looked harsher, more masculine. Part of that was his expression. His face was no longer bland and emotionless. There was no slackness in his mouth now.
Qy turned to her and slid those pale blue eyes up and down her body, a gaze the cyborg had certainly never used before. “Pretty curls were fine for the maidservant, my lady. But now I am once again a warrior. I wear a warrior’s hair. My Tier wears their hair in this style as a sign of camaraderie.”
His eyes slid over her once more, pausing on her breasts, which showed because the jacket hung open. She swallowed nervously and yanked the jacket over her, but her nipples hardened as though there was a chill.
“You remember your past?”
“Two nights without the maintenance removed the cyborg drugs from my system. I believe my memory returned fully when I heard the Strafe. My Tier fell to the Strafe.” He turned away abruptly.
Qy was a cyborg name. “Wh-what should I call you?” She pushed the platter away, unable to choke down food. Qy took it and put it in a food keeper.
“My name is Kaistril. Go bathe. You will feel much better after you bathe and eat a real meal. There are spacer knits in the cupboard.”
Kaistril? Could it be? I thought cyborgs were made from human remains. How could he have a memory? Sabralia watched him for a moment, confused. Alfyt had told her they had no memories because they were truly dead before they were processed. But in just this short time, he looked so different than Qy, even though he had the same face and body. He talked different. He was a man, not a cyborg.
Sabralia fled to the bathing room and just stood for a moment. Taking her clothing off made her feel exposed. He’s not my cyborg anymore, he’s a stranger. She locked the door. In the past she daydreamed about her cyborg changing into a man, a gentle, courtly man, who was refined, attentive. One who played a lute and recited love poems.
Kaistril did not seem to be like the man she daydreamed about. He seemed more intense. More everything. Commanding…dangerous…
She bathed in a water shower, though the luxurious bath had other options. Her skin was covered with sand from the beach, and dried sweat from their escape.
The spacer knits were soft and thin, and pale blue gray in color. Spacer knits were specially made to be resistant to any form of dirt or bacteria, and were healthy for the wearer’s skin in the artificial environment of a spacecraft. The knits were able to adjust to body temperature, to keep body heat stable, and they stretched for an extremely comfortable fit. She was glad to get out of the sheer dress, which was never warm enough. She recognized a hygenie and stuffed the gown inside. While she didn’t intend to wear it again, there was no point in leaving it around dirty. The cupboard held high sock-like boots, like the ones Qy wore, that fitted themselves to her foot size, and made the ship’s gravity more normal for movement.
Sabralia dried her hair by herself for the first time in years. Qy always did her hair. But now he was Kaistril. A warrior, he said. Was he a good man? He was a good warrior, that much she could tell. But how did he treat women? Like walking pleasure centers? Like slaves? Was he rough? Did she escape the Feast for nothing?
Could she bear it if her loyal cyborg turned out to be a cruel man?
Sabralia walked out to the main area and Kaistril raised his head from the platter he was loading with food. He looked at her…and looked at her some more, eyes roving up and down her body.
“What’s wrong?” He’d seen her naked daily, but she suddenly felt self-conscious.
“Nothing is wrong. The knits are thin. I can see your lips.”
She raised a hand to her mouth, frowning a little.
“Not those lips.”
Her eyes opened wide. Did he mean…?
He was smirking. Yes he did!
Chapter Four
Sabralia fled back to the bedroom and threw on Alfyt’s coat. Heart pounding, she wondered if she should lock herself in the bath. He was every bit as crude as she’d imagined Sirn’s Officers. And now she was stuck here alone with him.
After a while, Qy came into the doorway. “Come eat,” he said.
“I’m not very hungry, thank you,” she replied.
Qy came further into the room and she watched him warily. “I should not have said that,” he said. “I rarely spend time with gentle women, and the women I know are not easily offended.”
She nodded. For some reason, speaking was difficult around this new Qy.
Her food was on the small table when she came out, and Qy was plowing through a plateful. She sat gingerly on the chair.
Qy flicked a glance at Sabralia. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will not rape you. I am not one of Sirn’s lawless men.”
Sabralia had no idea how to answer that, but it did put one of her fears to rest. A little. She ate a bite of the meal he’d prepared, some type of creamy meat and pasta. “It is good,” Sabralia said, somewhat surprised.
“I like to eat, so I learned to cook when I was a schoolboy in New Prague.”
“You are from New Prague? Where is that?”
“It is on the edge of the Puregen Systems, where Sirn is concentrating his moves.”
She’d thought he might be Puregen, a genetically altered, lab-created human. He had that perfect face and body, and his eyes were a rare sky blue. “You are Puregen?”
“Yes, but my homeworld does not have a Puregen constitution.”
She looked at him blankly. “I didn’t know there were Puregen constitutions.”
He grinned. “That means that non-Puregen humans can hold citizenship. On Puregen constitution worlds, only Puregens can be citizens.”
“Oh.” Sabralia felt stupid. Her schooling had ended at age sixteen with her marriage, and the harem did not get current news of the War.
“You are from Coloun, correct?” he asked.
“Yes. It is an agricultural world that supplies Sirn’s forces. Not Puregen. Of Terran descent.”
“So is New Prague. Settled about five generations ago.” She nodded. “Coulon was settled in the same Diaspora.”
Qy helped himself to more food. “I think Sirn may be dead. You might be a widow, little queen.” His look was intense, and she floundered around, trying to think of why he would care about her widowhood.
“How did you come to marry Sirn, anyway?”
“I was married as part of a treaty. We—my cousin was my guardian—thought it would be better for our planet. Our weaponry was far out-classed by Sirn. We had no chance against him.”
“Why didn’t you live in the Palace of the Wives?”
“I didn’t get pregnant with Sirn’s child, so I lost favor right away. I must have offended him in some way…I don’t know. I doubt he remembers my name. I will not mourn him.” She looked down at her plate, finding the intense way Qy looked at her disconcerting.
“Good.” Qy stood and moved to her side. “If he is dead I will have you declared a citizen of New Prague and so you can divorce him, since he is not recognized as a citizen. And he is an enemy of my homeworld.”
“You can’t do that.”
He grinned. “Can too. I’ll copy you out our laws. I’m the captain of this ship—it is mine by spoil of war. In our laws, that is like being a judge and a governor. Once we get to New Prague, I can declare you a citizen.” His grin deepened and she was struck by the difference in his smile compared to Qy’s sweet, gentle one. “Then you would be a free woman. Free to be with me. If you choose.”
Hot blood rushed to her face. She ducked her head and pushed food around on her plate. “Wh-what do you mean, Qy?”
“Kaistril is my name. I mean we will be alone on this ship for several weeks. We could pleasure each other.”
Her fork clattered onto the plate with a clank. She shoved from the table to flee to the bathing area where she could lock the door. Qy—no, Kaistril, because Qy would never intimidate her—blocked her way.
Steely hands gripped her upper arms. She struggled against him, but found his strength too much.
“
I told you I was not one of Sirn’s lawless rapists. I have no intention or desire to hurt you. You are safe here.” His lips curved slightly. “Or, at least, as safe as I am out here alone in space in the middle of a war.” They stood in silence for a moment, bodies lightly touching. She couldn’t halt her rapid breathing that brought her breasts up against his hard chest. He let her go, removed his utensils from the table, and took them to the hygenie. “Finish your meal.”
She stood, undecided for a moment. But what real defense did she have if he was one of the lawless men, if he…?
Finally, she slid back into her chair.
“Tomorrow I will remove the tracer from this ship. In three days the orbit of this rock will take us beyond their sensors and we will head to the Katherine Hub, virtually invisible. From there I go to New Prague. You are welcome to come with me. I am not forcing you into anything.”
If Sirn is dead, then I’m free. Sirn had loomed so large for so long, she felt dizzy at the idea of being free of him.
“If Sirn is dead, then I could return to my homeworld. But if he is alive, I can’t go to Coloun. They would alert him to my presence.”
“Even if Sirn is dead I do not think you should go back to Coloun. I do not think you are ready for such a journey by yourself, little queen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you would be in rough, lawless places, with people you can’t trust. Since Sirn’s invasion, the treaties and contracts that kept the hubs and common lanes orderly and safe are gone. Far different than an Emperor’s luxurious palace.”
He thought she was useless and weak. That knowledge made her feel awful. Blood rushed up into her face. “I think I would manage. And how do you know, anyway? You’ve been a cyborg for years. And quit calling me little queen. I have a name.”
“All right. Sabralia.” He grinned in a cocky way. Then his expression got more serious. “Even longer than three years ago the rule of law was ripped away from this system. It became each world for themselves, which made the way even easier for Sirn’s Forces. I think you would be better off staying in New Prague.”
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 3