by Eve Langlais
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why isn’t the balloon deploying?”
“Those frukxing drones broke it.” She slammed various levers and twisted dials, to no avail. The ship remained caught in the strong gravity pull.
As if to add to the insult, the inside of the ship began warming. He glanced at a temperature gauge.
“It’s boiling outside.”
“Must be the lava poles heating the oceans alongside them,” she mused.
He grabbed the steering wheel. “If we’re going to crash, we might want to ensure it’s on land so we don’t cook ourselves.”
“Where is land?” she retorted, pointing to the directional dial, which spun uselessly.
“I’m going to say…” He raised his hand with the cog inside and waited for his thumb to point. “That way.”
“Why that way? It’s behind us.”
“Because.” He wasn’t about to tell her that the metal in his body insisted on it. He’d only add credence to her atheist beliefs. Or was the fact the gears guided him a sign he was becoming like a god?
Perhaps she is jealous. An insidious thought that he shook off. He spun the wheel, veering the air ship around in the blinding mist. He had no idea if he’d aimed them the right way when he pushed the forward lever as far as it would go, hopefully chugging them away from the boiling sea.
“I think I see something,” Ursy exclaimed.
Indeed, the fog began to thin, and far below, the ground appeared as a dark smudge with hints of wispy steam. A decent enough place to land, problem being they weren’t heading for the cleared area. The Bandit was on a crash course with the towering trees just beyond.
“Brace for impact!” he yelled, snaring Ursy into his lap. Both arms latched around her, he activated his boots so they stuck to the floor in case his butt didn’t remain in the chair.
Just in time. The Unicorn Bandit slammed into the forest and bounced around, the massive trunks of the trees remaining firm. The impact as they hit jaw-jarring. And then they weren’t ricocheting anymore but plummeting straight down, nose first. He held Ursy’s head tucked into his shoulder and murmured, “See you in Mecha heaven.”
15
“Heaven? No such thing. When a Siyborgh dies, the body decomposes and their metal parts are recycled. There is no other place. No reward. Just death.” – The Agnostic’s Guide to the Mecha Bible
The crash left her stunned. Ursy, worried about the smell of smoke, managed to drag Wulff from the wreckage of her ship. It involved much cursing and huffing, alternating between laments over losing her precious ride and panic that she might lose Wulff, too. He’d not so much as twitched since she regained consciousness. Yet even knocked out, he held on to her.
He kept me safe.
And for once, she had nothing disparaging to say or think about it. Because she would have done the same for him.
At least he breathed, if shallowly, his complexion a worrying shade of gray. She found no signs of injury on him other than a huge knot on his head, probably caused by a random item flung around the ship.
She cradled him in her lap, brushing back the silky strands of hair and cursing at him. “Don’t you frukxing die on me, do you hear me, Woofy? What happened to having a hard head?”
He didn’t move.
For some reason moisture pricked her eyes. Why wouldn’t he wake? “I’ve seen you take harder punches,” she hissed.
Rustling from the forest drew her attention. Placing his head gently on the ground, she stood, drawing her weapon. She lowered her goggles and flipped to the lens that would give her the most information. Everything appeared with a heat signature. The trees, the bushes. Even the ground glowed, making it difficult to discern what she heard.
She held herself still. The sound of foliage moving came again, tickling the cog earring she wore, making it swing and giving her a direction. She whirled and almost fired.
A three-eyed creature with several pointed ears stared at her. Rather cute with its lavender fur. Its nose twitched, and she could see the fright holding it frozen. She had no quarrel with it, so she went to holster her gun, only it remained level and fired. It took a few blinks to realize she’d shot the creature.
But I didn’t mean to.
She stared down at her hand. Not the first time she’d acted contrary to her thoughts. Just never so blatantly.
A groan behind her had her whirling to see Wulff stir and rise to a seated position. “Since you killed dinner, does this mean I have to cook?”
Rather than reply, she threw herself at him, too relieved at seeing him alive to care how it looked.
He took her momentum and fell over on his back, leaving her on top.
“I’m happy to see you, too,” he murmured.
“I wasn’t worried,” she lied.
“Then I guess you don’t need a hug and kiss.”
She actually did. Which was why she frowned at him as he rolled her off his body and stood instead.
He stretched, popping the kinks in his limbs as he looked around. “We made it to the forest.”
“Your skill at stating the obvious didn’t suffer I see.”
“Do we know how far we are from the object we spotted from space?” he asked.
She shrugged. “None of the ship’s sensors are working, and we’re too deep in the forest for the goggles to penetrate.”
“The air is good,” he noted, taking a deep breath.
A good thing or the crash would have killed them both. Or her at least with her unmodified lungs.
“We should build a fire before nightfall,” she observed, noticing the waning light filtered through the branches.
“A fire might attract predators.”
“I am not eating that raw.” She pointed to the dead animal.
“Here’s to hoping its family doesn’t smell it and come for revenge then.” He stalked over to it, and while he prepped the meat, she couldn’t help but scan the forest over and over.
She hated alien planets. Especially uncharted ones. The uncertainty put her on edge. Would they be the smartest things on the surface? The most dangerous? No way of truly knowing.
Entire scouting expeditions had been known to go missing visiting the wrong place. Some to never be found again. Others were left dead and arranged in warning piles to leave a planet alone. Would that happen to them?
“Stop thinking so hard. You’re steaming from the ears.”
“Am not.” As if she were a child, easily teased, she slapped her hands over her ears.
He laughed. “Okay, maybe not steaming but definitely worrying too much.”
“Someone has to. Perhaps you haven’t noticed but we appear to be stuck on a planet with no ship. Or are you going to tell me you can fix that?” She swept a hand at the wreckage.
He squinted at it. “Might need a few welds.”
“And a crane, along with supplies and tools we don’t have.”
“So you’re just going to give up?”
“No. But allow me to have a few moments to resign myself to the fact that we might live out our lives on a lost planet.”
“At least you’d have me.” He grinned.
It shouldn’t have warmed her. Yet it did. Right down to her toes.
“People will worry about us.”
“Then they’ll go looking and maybe find us. In the meantime…” He winked. “I know what we can do.”
The pulse that started between her legs had a fine idea as well.
He handed her a skewer, and she took a moment to realize he meant for her to eat.
Lucky for him, it tasted delicious. And the sex after made a nice dessert.
Only as they lay in each other’s arms on the mattress salvaged from the ship and dragged out to be placed under a lean-to he constructed did she muse aloud, “Ever wonder what it would be like if we weren’t hunting gears?”
“Peaceful.” He didn’t even hesitate. “Since coming of age, haven’t you felt it? The pressure to find more and more c
ogs. To become better than everyone, even your friends.” He glanced down at her.
“I keep thinking if I could just get one more gear, I’d be happy. Complete.”
“But we no sooner take it into our body than we’re following the rumors of the next one.” He sighed.
“My mom and dad gave up gear hunting after Zak and I were born.”
“Mine never stopped,” he reminded. Wulff’s parents abandoned him while he was still young and died searching.
“At least they took the time to have you.”
“Would you cease for a child?” he asked.
“I never thought about it.” Mostly because she never imagined herself staying with someone long enough to want children.
“I have,” he admitted. “And decided when I do become a father, I won’t go hunting anymore.”
“You’d settle down like Jwls?” She turned in his arms to look at him.
“Yes. And I’d have more than one progeny, too.”
“How many?
“Maybe three, or four. After all, someone has to keep the Siyborgh population from diminishing.”
A valid point. Already their numbers dwindled, as those seeking gears in desperate and dangerous places lost their lives, the quest becoming their only priority.
“Four? Your poor wife.”
“What makes you think she’d hate being the mother of all my children? I’d help with the raising of them.”
“You? Change diapers?”
His lips curved. “Why not? It can’t be any worse than cleaning up after Ray when he’s enjoyed himself too much in a bar.”
“Where will you find this wife?” she asked lightly, and yet her heart stilled as she waited for his reply.
“Are you really going to ask?” His lips brushed hers. A sensual promise, and for a moment, the old Ursy wanted to shove him away and declare she was not a baby-making machine.
But who really was she?
A gear hunter who was tired of always moving around, looking for more and more mecha parts.
Could she handle a life of peace? What would she do with her time? Because she didn’t see keeping a home and raising children as the most fulfilling occupation. She’d need something more. Something to stimulate her mind.
Until she figured it out, her body didn’t mind pretending.
She rolled on top of him, kissing him with a sensuality that followed through to the sex. Their joining was a slow, yet intense affair. His fingers dug into her thighs and buttocks so hard he probably left marks. But she forgave him. After all, she orgasmed so hard she almost broke him.
She saw a heaven she didn’t believe in.
And afterwards, snuggled in his arms, she almost wished she didn’t have a cog to prevent contraception.
16
“Raise your child to respect the mighty gears and Mecha Gods.” – The Mighty Mecha Bible
The following day, they packed as much gear as they could carry and set off. Ursy thought Wulff chose a direction at random. Little did she know he didn’t have much of a choice.
He’d yet to tell her of the behavior of his cog. Ever since they’d arrived, it hummed inside his flesh. He would have even sworn it whispered. He just couldn’t understand what it said.
It led them through the forest, the tree trunks towering so far overhead he could only catch small glimpses of the sky. The air remained moist, making everything around them damp, including their clothes and skin. Life flourished in this band of land caught between the steaming seas, yet they’d seen no signs of sentient beings. No buildings or roads. Only wild plant and animal life.
Hunting proved plentiful. Water no problem to find. A bower to make love to Ursy easy to create with a pile of leaves.
Wulff couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Nor had he ever seen Ursy smile so much. She even unleashed her elusive laughter. The real kind, not the derision she usually meted out.
A bond now existed between them, stronger than anything he’d imagined. More stimulating, too. He’d begun thinking in terms of them and the future. Not that he said much aloud.
What if he commented on something and she used it as an excuse to put distance between them? He would do nothing to ruin the thing blossoming between them. He’d made an error in mentioning children, but to his surprise, she didn’t withdraw after.
After more than ten planetary revolutions, where a full cycle of day and night passed, the cog in his thumb became unbearably hot to the point he kept shaking his hand as if that would cool it.
Ursy noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
As if to refute his lie, the cog flared, and he uttered a sharp yell. “Ow.”
“What is it? Did something bite you?”
Not a bad question given there were insects with quite the pinchers in these woods. It made a good excuse. “Yeah. I’ll get over it.”
“Let me see.”
See what? He didn’t have a bite. “I’m fine.”
“Show me.”
For some reason, he tucked his thumb behind his back instead. Which only served to draw her narrowed gaze.
“What are you hiding from me, Woofy?” She resorted to his nickname, and he scowled.
“It’s nothing. Just a stupid gear acting up.”
“What gear?” Her gaze narrowed.
“The tiny one from the drone.”
Her brows rose. “I thought that thing long gone. Didn’t they confiscate it when they arrested you at the market?”
He shook his head. “They never found it because I absorbed it.” He held up his thumb and showed her the outline of the cog under his skin. “It’s been misbehaving of late.”
“Misbehaving how?”
“Getting hot. Giving me direction.”
She exploded. “It’s talking to you?”
“Not exactly. More kind of nudging me.”
She paced. “It’s probably the reason my ship mutinied. That thing in your thumb wanted us to come here.”
He couldn’t disagree, so he remained silent.
“What’s on this planet? Why did it bring us here?”
“Maybe that big pile of latmevilium we saw from space acted as some kind of magnet.”
“Or maybe less magnet and more a hive mind calling it home.” She stared at his hand and frowned. “Which means we might be expected.”
She arrived at the same conclusion he had days ago. “What should we do?”
“What can we do? It’s not like we can turn back. Or get off the surface. I guess we keep going forward and find out just where that cog is taking us.”
“Or we stop right here and say frukx it. We build a house. Make a life. Forget all about cogs and gears and Mecha gods.” They could do it. There was running water nearby, plenty of wood to build a shelter.
She snorted. “Give up before we see this through? You know we can’t do that.” She grabbed his hand and held it up, staring at the thumb. “You should have told me.”
“I should have.”
“You must be feeing guilty. You didn’t even argue.”
“Not all of us have a problem admitting when we’re wrong.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
“That maybe it’s okay to change our minds about things.” Did she see the subtle nudge?
“What if you think you should change your mind, and do something you swore you wouldn’t, and it gets all frukxed up?”
Without saying anything, she’d said it all. He drew her close and softened his tone. “Aren’t you the one who says to always take a chance?”
“When it comes to a mission. This thing”—she moved her gaze from his face to the chest in front of her—“between us, it’s…” She trailed off, and he could see her struggling for words.
“It’s scary as a cog getting dissolved in acid. I know. You think I don’t feel it?”
“I don’t know. You’ve never said anything.”
The reminder had him smiling. “For a good re
ason. I thought you’d hit me.”
She slugged him hard, and he bit back a gasp, especially since, right after, she plastered herself to him and purred, “I don’t know yet what I want. But tell you what.” She glanced at him through lashes at half-mast. “If we don’t find anything or we’re stuck on this planet, talk to me again about your plan to live off the land.”
“Really?”
She began to walk and cast him a coy look over her shoulder. “There are worse things than spending our lives in paradise.”
He might have argued the paradise part except if he had Ursy around, did any of the rest really matter?
It was two full cogs later that they found the road, or at least a section of it, paved in stone, pitted with age, and partially overgrown. The only reason some of it had become exposed was due to a heaving in the ground that thrust it through and past the forest that tried to cover it.
Once they knew it existed, they could follow it, sometimes stopping to dig just enough to ensure they remained on track. Not that Wulff needed help. The cog in his thumb gave him a jolt if he so much as took too many paces in the wrong direction.
More and more, he thought of digging the chunk out. He’d never felt like such a puppet. Not with any of his other gears. Could it be they’d just been subtler with their manipulation?
It chilled him to think he might not be in charge of his own thoughts and actions. But how to be sure? And if they were controlling him, then what? To remove the sentient latmevilium would render him mundane. It could even possibly kill him. Being stronger and more capable was second nature. Could he really give that up?
He had to look at the facts. He was a warrior who could more than hold his own. Smarter, too. Before the alphabet cog, each spoke of the metal ring shaped in a letter, he couldn’t even read, a learning disability solved by his upgrade. Now, he had an eidetic memory, which had come in handy more than once.
That was just the physical. His life was happy. If the latmevilium really did command him, then at least it had him making good choices, the kind he could live with. There was nothing to complain about.