by A. W. Cross
She pushed between the couple, forcing them out of her way. The woman sidestepped too quickly, losing her balance and stumbling. Kalbir’s mouth curved slightly. She stopped in front of Tor, hands on her hips, and slid her gaze over him, lingering on his groin. The curve of her mouth widened, and she continued to stare, slipping her thumbnail between her front teeth. Her eyes flicked up to his face, gauging his reaction. If she’d hoped to discomfit him, she was going to be disappointed; Tor was not the least bit self-conscious about being naked. The two of us stared back at her, waiting.
After a few more seconds, she laughed and switched her gaze to me. She must not have found anything interesting there, because in the next heartbeat she dismissed me and returned to examining Tor—this time, his face.
“Welcome,” she said, extending a slim-fingered hand. He glanced at it, but kept his hands where they were, one over my hip and the other gripping the rail of my bed. “I’m—”
“Kalbir Anand,” I said.
Her hand froze, and her eyes narrowed. Perhaps I was worth consideration after all. “Do I know you?”
“I doubt it,” I said, picking an errant thread from the bed sheet.
Behind her, the couple exchanged glances.
She propped her hands on her hips. “How did you—”
“You said the others are here? The ones we were traveling with?”
“I asked you—”
“We’re here, Ailith,” Cindra said from the doorway.
I slid off the bed, the needle in my arm stinging as it tore free. Unlike Kalbir, I didn’t need to force my way through. The man and woman parted before me, and there they were: Pax, Cindra, and Oliver. They were in better shape than the last time I’d seen them, a shower and clean clothes making them look almost normal.
“Are you okay? They didn’t—”
“We’re fine,” Cindra assured me. “How are you two? We tried to get in here earlier, but they wouldn’t let us, and then they showed us to our rooms, and so we—”
“Cindra, you don’t need to feel guilty for wanting to feel human again. Well, as human as we can be, I guess. Anyway, you smell a lot better.” I laughed at her grimace and tugged at the soft cotton shirt she wore. “And this is much nicer than that crusty old thing you were wearing.”
Stained and stiff with the blood and sweat of your torture.
Cindra looked down at herself and gave me an uncertain smile. “They—”
The woman finally spoke: “We have clothes for each of you. In your size. I know they’re a bit plain, but—”
“It’s okay, Lexa,” the man said, patting her arm. “Hello. I’m—”
“Holding us captive?” Tor asked. “Because I’ve got to tell you, it’s getting a bit old.” He draped a bed sheet over my shoulders and another around his hips.
Kalbir’s bottom lip turned down.
“No, not at all,” the man protested. “We’re—”
“Mil Cothi and Lexa Gillet,” I said. “Pantheon Modern Cyborg Program Omega.”
Tor looked sharply at me. “You know them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” I replied. “After all, they created us.”
The war was never really about us. Normal people, I mean. People argued that it was, that decisions had to be made about the future direction of the human race. But that’s insane, right? How can a few people decide the future of everyone already in the world, plus everyone who has yet to be born? How do people gain that kind of power?
—Love, Grace
“Well, isn’t this just a fucking delight?” Oliver said. “Hello, Mom, Dad. How’ve you been?”
“I can’t feel the signal anymore, Ailith You know what that means? We’re home.” Pax beamed.
So it would seem.
“Look,” Lexa said, “we’re on your side. We’ve been waiting for you. You’re safe here.”
Tor stepped toward her; she stepped back. “Where are we? What did you do to us? Why knock us out? If we’re safe here, why not meet us in the open, introduce yourselves?”
Mil swallowed roughly. “This is our main compound. In the Okanagan. We—”
The Okanagan . My neck of the woods. I hadn’t realized how close we were .
“Mil and Lexa don’t trust you.” Kalbir spoke up from the perch she’d taken on an adjacent hospital bed. “They’re not exactly sure what effect their little cyberization project has had on you.”
“Kalbir!” Lexa scolded her.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
Mil sighed. “Yes, it’s true. Given what’s occurred…let’s just say, it didn’t go as planned. We had hoped to bring you all here to recover, to monitor you as you developed your…abilities. But of course, you know what happened.”
“Why not just bring us here first? Perform the procedure here?”
“We wanted to, but we—”
“They wanted to hedge their bets. You know, in case someone found out about us and, I don’t know, dropped a few bombs? As least this way some of us would survive.” Kalbir ignored the stricken look on Lexa’s face.
“Kalbir,” Mil warned.
“No, no, she’s right. We… I’m sorry. This wasn’t the way we wanted things to go.” Lexa’s voice shook, but her eyes were dry. “We’ve been waiting so long for you. We thought… I hoped… I’m so glad you’re here. Look at you.” She covered her mouth with her hand again and closed her eyes, a tear finally tracing its way down her cheek.
It wasn’t enough to appease Tor. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? We have questions you’re going to have to answer before we even—”
“All right, Colossus, we get it. You’re pissed off, confused, and wearing a bedsheet. Look, why don’t you at least have a shower and put some clothes on? Then get your answers.” She appraised his sheet again. “Not that I’m complaining. In fact, if you need any help with that shower, I’m more than happy to—”
“Thank you, Kalbir. I think getting everyone settled first is a good idea,” Mil interrupted. “If that’s okay with you, Tor?”
“I wouldn’t patronize him, if I were you,” Oliver piped up. “I’ve seen him pop the head off a Terran like he was a dandelion.”
The muscles in Tor’s neck corded as he clenched his jaw.
“I wasn’t patronizing him, I was merely—”
“Oh for goodness’ sake. C’mon, I’ll show you to your rooms.” Kalbir twisted her hair into an elegantly messy bun and gestured for us to follow.
As we left the room, Mil put his hand on Lexa’s shoulder.
We trailed behind Kalbir down a narrow hall, which opened into a large, circular space.
“We call this the main room,” she said.
It mimicked the forest outside. Well, before the end of the world anyway. The vast floor was a mosaic of browns and grays, and black shadows twisted up the walls and branched out in fractured shades of green. They in turn spread upward, blossoming into the oranges, reds, and purples of a sunset. The ceiling itself was high and arched, like a cathedral.
“Mil told me the ceiling is designed to open and allow the light in. Precious good that does us.” Kalbir snorted.
Instead, round wall fixtures, like tiny moons, emitted a strong light. The perimeter of the room was broken up by a number of doors, all closed, and two open archways. In the center of the room was a large wooden table, polished to a high shine. Cindra trailed her fingers over it as we passed.
“Kitchen’s through there,” Kalbir said, pointing to one of the arched doorways. “And the dorms are up here.” She indicated the arch we were heading toward.
“And what about the other doors?” Oliver asked.
“Those are none of your business. Not yet, anyway.”
Oliver smiled.
Narrow steps led us through the arch and upward to yet another cramped hallway. The elaborate paint scheme of the main room had been abruptly abandoned here, leaving the walls the same quiet beige of the infirmary. At the top of the stairs, the hallway w
idened enough for Cindra to walk beside me.
“We’ve already seen our rooms,” she whispered. “You won’t believe it.”
Like the main room, the hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed.
“Well, you lot already know where your rooms are,” Kalbir said. “Why don’t you show…Ailith, is it?” She linked her arm with Tor’s. “I’ll show you yours.” As they walked away from us, he turned his head to look at me, eyebrows raised.
I nodded.
“I’m going to go take another shower, an extra-hot one,” Pax said. He pointed a few doors up the hall. “My room’s there. Oliver’s across from me.” He wandered up the hallway, humming and running his fingers along the smooth walls.
“Where is Oliver?” Cindra asked. “I swear he was right behind us.”
“Probably up to no good.” I hope those doors downstairs are locked. Not that that would stop him.
“This one’s yours.” Cindra tapped on a door that looked like every other. Sure enough, my name was slotted into a plaque. She opened the door with a flourish.
It was my room. My actual room. From home. Yes, it lacked the tech, but everything else was present and correct, from the pale rose-gold of the walls to the black bedding to the picture on the dresser of a time when my family had been whole and happy, four faces smiling and burned by the sun.
I slid the drawers on the dresser open to reveal t-shirts, socks, bras, pants, and underwear—all in my size. Cindra twirled a pair around her finger.
“They’re not the sexiest panties in the world, but at least they’re clean, right?”
“Right. Definitely worth getting knocked out and kidnapped for,” I replied, opening the closet door. A collection of dresses and coats hung neatly, also just the right size.
“Although,” Cindra said, shifting the hangers so she could look at each garment, “I’m not too sure where they think we’re going to have the opportunity to wear these.”
“Doesn’t it seem a bit strange to you? That they would have everything ready for us? I mean, these clothes are exactly the right size for me. And this room is almost identical to my real one. Is yours?”
“Yes. But they did expect us to live here while we adjusted. They probably just wanted us to feel comfortable and at home. To make the transition easier for us.” Cindra shrugged.
“Yeah, but all of this? How long were they expecting us to stay here? These clothes are for all seasons.”
“What are you getting at?” She stopped flipping through the clothes and looked at me.
“Why would they go to so much trouble if it was just for the short term? I mean, it’s like they picked our lives up and moved them here. How would they even know what our rooms looked like?”
“We were vetted pretty closely, though, weren’t we?” She chewed on her lower lip, uncertain. “They must’ve—”
“Are you going to have a shower or what?” a voice asked from the doorway. Kalbir had returned. “I’ve got shit to do today, you know.”
Cindra bit back a smile. “I’ll see you later,” she said, squeezing my hand.
Kalbir waited until Cindra had left then closed the door and leaned against it. “So, what’s up with you and Tor, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Are you a couple? You seem pretty tight.”
“No, we’re… It’s complicated. And not really any of your business.”
She smiled, the sleek leer of a feral cat. “Good. I like complicated. Bye.” She turned toward the door.
“Kalbir, wait.”
She crossed her arms over her chest expectantly.
“Is this legit? Mil and Lexa? All this?” I gestured toward the belongings that weren’t really mine.
If she had been a cat, I would’ve seen her fangs. “Of course not. But, given the circumstances, what choice have you got other than to accept it? What’s happened has happened. Does the how or why make a difference at this point?” Her eyes narrowed. “And besides, it seems like you already have some inside knowledge. How do I know you’re legit?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you know my name? Lexa told me who you all were…but how did you know who I am?”
She didn’t know about my ability. Did Mil and Lexa? If not, they would all find out eventually.
“I can see things. About other cyborgs.”
“What? Like the future?”
“No. Like…things that have happened or are happening. I saw your sister’s wedding. And I saw what happened to Adrian and Ros.”
She stepped back as though I’d slapped her. “You’re lying.”
“Your sister’s name is Ahar. She wore red. You wore green. You wanted to wear black, but your mother wouldn’t let you. And you’re glad Ros and Adrian died.”
She gripped the doorknob so hard her knuckles turned white.
“I can see memories. And sometimes the present, the way the person who’s experiencing it does. It’s a bit random, though.” Maybe she would find that comforting.
“Do Mil and Lexa know?”
“I don’t know. But if they don’t, I’m sure you’ll tell them.”
She lifted her chin, her mouth set in a prim line. “They need to know.”
“Do they? Or do you need them to know? That’s why you’re here, right? Making conversation, asking me about Tor? They want to know what we know, what we are.”
She considered me for a few moments then slowly unwrapped her hand from around the knob. “Okay, yes.” She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Although, c’mon, have you seen Tor?”
“Yes,” I said pointedly, “I have.”
She gave me a wry smile. “Let’s call a truce. For now.” She wandered over to my dresser and picked up the picture frame. “Look, I will tell them. But they’d find out anyway. I know you probably don’t trust them. I wouldn’t either, considering what you’ve been through.” She wiped a smudge off the glass then put it back down. “Cindra told me,” she added.
Maybe we did get off on the wrong foot. Other than the fact that she’s obviously attracted to Tor, what reason do I have to dislike her? She’s in the same position we are, and she’s one of us.
I sighed. “Okay, truce. Look, I’m sorry I’m being so… It’s just—”
“No, I get it. I’d be the same.” She turned to leave, and I touched her lightly on the arm.
“Can I ask you a few things before you go? About the other cyborgs?”
“I thought you knew everything.” Her expression was haughty.
“It doesn’t quite work that way.”
“Fine. What?” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the door.
“Where’s Callum? And Eire and Ella? Why didn’t they come to meet us? They are here, aren’t they?”
Kalbir frowned. “Callum’s right across the hall from you. He’s had some kind of breakdown. He constantly talks to himself and someone named Umbra. Eire’s in a coma. She never woke up, but they won’t unplug her. Not yet.”
“And Ella?”
“There is no Ella. Not as long as I’ve been here. Where did you hear that name?”
“From Eire. She was thinking about someone named Ella.”
Kalbir stared at me incredulously. “You mean you can hear what she’s thinking? I assumed she wasn’t thinking at all anymore. Weird.” She rubbed her hands over her arms like she felt a sudden chill. “She’s practically a vegetable, so who knows what’s going on in there? Maybe she’s confused. Or maybe your power isn’t up to much. Whatever, just stay out of my head, or I’ll take yours off.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, get showered and dressed. I can’t wait to see how this meeting goes.”
There were consequences to Victor’s actions he’d never imagined. Instead of the gift of life, his creation brought about the end of everyone and everything he held dear. And try as he might to stem the flood of destruction, he’d unwittingly set in motion a chain of events that could never be undone.
; —Cindra, Letter to Omega
I followed the raised voices downstairs, arriving to find the others gathered around the table. Only Oliver remained composed, drawn up to the table with his hands folded in front of him on the glossy surface. Cindra had linked arms with Pax, and they whispered back and forth, Cindra querying him as he shook his head. Tor leaned forward over the table, his palms flat against the wood and his t-shirt straining over his shoulders.
“No, Mil, absolutely not. We’re not doing anything for you. Not until we’ve gotten some answers. We have no idea who you are, and you’ve given us no reason to trust you.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Tor turned to face me. His black hair was tousled, and though he’d showered and changed, he still looked like he had in the wilderness, his eyes shadowed and watchful. “They want to perform tests on us. See what their ‘procedure’ has actually done.” He gripped the back of one the chairs, his fingers digging deep into the soft leather.
Mil raised his hands in supplication. “Look, we want you to be willing to do this. But—”
“But what? If we don’t agree to let you poke around inside us, you’ll what?”
“Remember the stasis? The forced waking? The homing signal? Getting you here? If you don’t cooperate, we can force you. I don’t want to, but I will.” He matched Tor’s bearing, his spine stiff and jaw set.
A small part of me admired Mil for having the balls to stand up to Tor, who towered over him by a foot and was nearly three times his width.
“Mil, we—” Lexa stepped between the two men.
“No, Lexa. We built them.”
“That doesn’t mean you own us,” Tor insisted.
“I own parts of you. Don’t make me do this.” Mil removed an oblong object from his pocket. A series of buttons covered its surface. There was the reason for his confidence.
Tor started around the table toward him.
Mil held the device up to this mouth, pressed a button, and spoke into it.