by S. E. Smith
He cleared his throat. “Good.” One problem solved.
Footsteps outside drew close. “Somebody’s coming,” he whispered.
Solia handed Mittzi to him, and he tucked her inside his jacket and fastened it.
“Meow?”
“Shh!” he and Solia warned as the panel slid open.
The ward supervisor had a nondescript unlined face, her features symmetrical, unremarkable. Her age was indeterminate; she could have been fifty—or thirty. She scanned the room, the jerk of her eye movements so slight it would be virtually undetectable—except to a cyborg whose programming noted minute variations. “Why is the entry panel closed?” she demanded. “What is going on in here?” Her voice conveyed suspicion, but her blank expression didn’t change.
“We were talking,” Solia said.
“You do not need to close the door to talk.”
“You do if you want privacy,” she said.
“Rules are rules. The door must remain open.”
Mittzi batted her paw against the inside of his jacket.
“What is wrong with your uniform?”
“I have a symbiont.” He fabricated a story. “It keeps my heart beating.”
Solia choked to cover a laugh. He didn’t dare glance at her, or he would crack up, too. He crossed his fingers that his “symbiont” wouldn’t meow.
“You should get a cybernetic cardiac unit,” the ward supervisor advised. “They are far superior to human organs or symbionts.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Remember, rules require doors remain open at all times in the event of an emergency.”
“Won’t monitors alert the medical staff of an emergency?” Solia asked.
“The rules require—”
“We understand,” Guy said. “We’ll leave the door open.”
The ward supervisor executed a sharp pivot and left the room.
“Android,” he and Solia said in unison.
Guy unfastened his jacket a little to let Mittzi stick her head out but kept her tucked inside, his back to the open door.
“How did you know?” Solia asked.
“She has a cookie-cutter face,” he explained. “Her eyes, her nostrils are exactly the same size. Her nose and mouth are centered perfectly. Her hair follicles are spaced the same distance. How did you figure it out?”
“Her voice sounded close to organic, but I detected a slight digital signature. I wonder if an android could be programmed to speak to the Ka-Tȇ?”
“The ward supervisor had the right personality,” he said.
“Guy!” She gaped at him, but humor twinkled in her eyes, and her lips twitched.
“I apologize,” he said. “I insulted androids everywhere.” He tucked Mittzi’s head inside his jacket. “I’d better put her on the ship before they send an organic life-form who won’t be fooled into believing a kitten is a symbiont.”
They laughed again, the intimacy of shared humor warming his chest. Then came regret. This is what I’ll never have. “I’ll keep Mittzi until you’re ready to leave.”
“Will you bring her back for a visit?”
He nodded. “Of course.” He touched her shoulder. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
Eleven
“Anytime you’re ready.” The therapist stepped out of the way.
Moment of truth. Solia had bristled at ten days of therapy restriction, limiting her to repetitive strengthening and flexibility exercises. She’d wanted to spread her wings and fly! Now that she had the go-ahead, fear slithered through her. What if her wings didn’t work? What if she couldn’t lift off? What if she couldn’t stay aloft?
Arms folded, Guy leaned against the wall, a picture of relaxation and confidence. As he had every day after her first therapy session, he’d come to watch her progress and offer encouragement. He buoyed her when the arduous, sometimes painful therapy caused her spirits to flag. Not having a guarantee was hell, but the therapist pushed her harder and longer with each session, and she’d grown a lot stronger.
Now she would find out if the pain and hard work had been worth it.
Guy pushed away from the wall and flashed a thumbs-up.
Solia inhaled a deep breath. I can do this.
Crouching, she unfolded her wings and leaped. Contracting her dorsal muscles, she brought her wings downward in a strong stroke, forcing a draft over the top, which increased the pressure underneath. She lifted off the ground.
I’m doing it! I’m doing it! Another downward stroke, and another, and she became airborne. The flowing breeze caressed her face like a familiar lover’s kiss. Oh, how she’d missed this! Flapping, she glided around the therapy gym. Who needed air? She could soar on euphoria alone. She climbed to the dome ceiling then swooped low on a rush of air and emotion.
“I’m flying! I’m flying!” She laughed as tears coursed down her cheeks.
“You are, sweetheart, you are!” Guy applauded.
Round and round the gym she went. Muscles in her back contracted and released. Wings moved up and down. Giggling, she buzzed her therapist, who ducked then she flew high and circled.
Euphoric, she flew a lazy figure eight then glided to ground level, settled on her feet then leaped into the air again because she could.
She flew for fifteen minutes before her therapist waved at her to end her flight session. Her first time airborne since the capture and attack, she considered ignoring him, but fatigue had begun to set in, so she landed and folded her wings like a good little patient. She skipped to Guy. “I did it! I did it!”
“You sure did!” He caught her as she bounded into his arms, and he swung her around. Laughing, they twirled together in a dance of shared joy. His hands gripped her waist, holding her against his solid, muscular rock-hard body. Warm, masculine musk filled her senses and created an unexpected pang. Their gazes locked. His eyes beamed with happiness for her, but as they stared at one another, the emotion turned heated. Abruptly, he set her on her feet and stepped away.
His gentle smile lessened the sting. “You flew like an angel,” he said. “I’m so very, very happy for you, sweetheart.”
An odd awkwardness hovered on the air, but it couldn’t dampen her relief and joy. She could fly again!
“You did very well,” said her therapist.
She jumped; she hadn’t heard him approach. Solia whirled around. “What’s next? When can I do it again?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he replied. “If it goes as well, you can fly in the afternoon, too. Then, the next day, we’ll increase the flight duration. By the end of the week, you’ll be ready to leave.”
“That’s wonderful!” A measure of her excitement dimmed with her mixed fortune. She was thrilled and looked forward to resuming her life, but, once she left the facility, Guy would vanish from her life. She would only have memories and Mittzi to remember him by.
The therapist stepped to the computer to update the medical records.
“Come on,” Guy said. “I’ll walk you to your room.” He cocked his head. “Or, if you don’t want to go back yet, Cybermed has a garden.”
“Yes, let’s go there.” Now that their friendship had an end date, she didn’t want to miss a second of his company.
“Tell me if you get tired.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. Forced to walk during her convalescence, her legs had grown stronger.
They didn’t have to foot it the entire way; they caught a horizontal transporter that zipped them to the other side of the space station. “Many people undergoing cybernetic transformation and receiving prosthetic limbs can’t walk far in the beginning, so there’s assistance,” Guy explained.
She gasped in delight when they entered a garden filled with trees, bushes, grasses, and flowers from across the galaxy. Squat purple and pink trees from Xenia added dramatic color, roses and peonies from Terra perfumed the air, leafy Arcanian bushes with pop-up eyes watched over everything. A bubbling fountain harmonized to the melody of bir
dsong.
“It’s beautiful!” She tilted her head to watch a cawing bird with brilliant plumage circling against a realistic but faux-blue sky. A winged rodent leaped from one tree and glided to the next. Buzzing insects zipped from flower to flower.
“Shall we take a stroll?”
“Let’s!” she said.
They set off down a stone pathway, and she sensed the gaze of an Arcanian shrub following them. She giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“The bush! It’s watching us.”
“Yeah, it’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” he said. “Have you ever been to Arcania?”
She shook her head.
“Many creatures on the planet have multiple eyes—by multiple, I mean more than two, including the Arcanians themselves. They have six of them, which they can move independently.”
“You’ve seen a lot of wondrous things,” she said.
“I have.” His eyes blazed.
He means me! Solia silvered under his appreciative scrutiny, but she sensed strong ambivalence. Longing warred with regret, but regret would win. He wants me, but he won’t act on it.
Guy had sought out her company, conversed with her, laughed with her. Often touched her in small ways he wasn’t aware of. His attraction radiated clearly—but so did his turmoil over it, and their predictable parting left her feeling rejected.
“Look!” He touched her elbow and pointed to two fuzzy balls with tails rolling in lavender grass. “Aren’t those from Faria?” His touch lingered on her arm longer than necessary to get her attention.
“Yes. Those are moochins.”
He leaned in and whispered, “We could sneak Mittzi in here. She would love it.” His breath sent shivers up her spine, as did his use of the plural. We. Like they were a couple sharing a life, an intimate moment.
“We could,” she agreed. Kiss me.
He wouldn’t, though—and shyness prevented her from making the first move. Don’t be such a fraidy moochin. She’d survived capture by Quasar, an attack by the Ka-Tȇ—not to mention surgery and a painful rehab. What was so daunting about telling a man she liked him?
She wet her lips. “We would have to do it soon. I-I leave next week.”
“After your next flight, I’ll grab Mittzi and meet you back here.” His conspiratorial smile set her heart to pounding.
Do it. Say something. “When I leave, I’ll miss”—you—“Cybermed.” Coward!
“You will? I didn’t miss it. Cybermed saved my life, but the surgery and rehabilitation were long and painful. I was glad to be discharged.”
“I meant…the garden.” She winced. Just say it. Tell him how you feel.
“I hear Faria has lovely gardens.”
“You’ve never been to Faria?” she asked.
“No. I would like to visit someday.”
Someday. “You should. I could be your guide. Show you around.”
“I’ll look you up,” he said. His tone said he’d never visit.
She was a job to him. He might be attracted to her, but that didn’t count for anything. The euphoria of flying should have been enough to buoy her good mood, but the magic of the day dulled, leaving her dispirited. “I’m getting a bit tired. We should go back.”
“I’m sorry. Of course.” He gripped her elbow to assist her, and she seesawed between wrenching away to protect her heart and leaning into him to soak in his presence. In the end, she did neither—she walked beside him, her heart aching.
Alone in the conference room, Solia knotted her hands in her lap. Why had she been called? Who would want to speak to her? She’d been resting in her room when a man with military bearing summoned her to a vid conference.
“Who is it?” she’d asked.
“I am not at liberty to say,” he’d said. “Come with me. You do not wish to keep him waiting.”
“Keep who waiting?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Then he’d deposited her in the vid room and left. Where she waited. Keeping her waiting was okay, apparently.
The screen flickered, and then a man’s image appeared. Perhaps it was an illusion created by the vid, but he appeared to be one of the biggest men she’d ever seen—except for Guy and the other men who were undergoing transformation to cyborg. She’d run into some of them as she entered and left the therapy gym. Was the man on the screen a cyborg, too?
“Hello, Solia,” he said. “I’m Carter Aymes. You’re wondering what this is all about.” His smile was friendly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his posture or his direct gaze.
She straightened. “Yes, I am.”
“I’m with an organization called Cyber Operations. You’ve already met my colleague, Guy Roarke.”
So Guy worked for Cyber Operations. He’d said little about his “work,” and any time she had brought it up, he’d changed the subject. What exactly did Cyber Operations do? And how were cyborgs involved? It was a short leap to connect Cybermed with Cyber Operations.
“I’ve been following your progress.”
He had? That sounded…ominous. Or maybe he was checking on his “investment”? Cyber Operations must have footed the bill for her surgery and rehab. She’d be forever grateful, but would Cy-Ops expect a return on its investment?
“I can’t imagine what you want to talk to me about, Mr. Aymes.”
“Carter, please.” He smiled. “I’ll get to specifics in a moment, I promise. I believe you intend to resume mapping ancient languages?”
“Yes.” What else could she do? If Guy had shown an inclination to pursue a relationship, she might have considered other options, but that hadn’t worked out.
“I have a proposition. An offer.”
Was this where Cy-Ops demanded payback? We fixed you so you could fly; now you owe us? She did owe them, but how high would the price be? Did Cy-Ops own her now?
“Guy has informed me of your special language abilities, that you understand the Ka-Tȇ.”
“I understand their language, but I don’t have the anatomical vocal structures to speak it.”
“How much do you know about cyborgs?”
She lifted a shoulder. “As much as the average person, I guess. Cyborgs are like remanufactured or reengineered humans.”
“Close.” Carter smiled. “What turns humans or any intelligent life-form into a cybernetic organism is a microprocessor in the brain and nanocytes, robotic cells programmed to their specific DNA. The microprocessor interfaces with their organic brain. To cut to the chase, with the appropriate programming, cyborgs have the ability to communicate in every language—except one.”
“Let me guess—Katnian?”
“That’s the one. Your abduction and rescue have heightened the need for us to learn Katnian.”
“I don’t think anyone other than the Ka-Tȇ can speak the language.”
“Not naturally, perhaps, but electronically? We’ve begun a research and development project for an AI Katnian vocal simulator. Until we learned of your ability to communicate with the Ka-Tȇ, we didn’t realize it was possible to communicate with them. We intend to write code translating the Katnian language and then mimicking the sound using a voice implant—”
Alarm shot through her, and she jumped to her feet. “I’m no guinea pig—” She put a hand to her throat.
“No, no,” Carter said. “You wouldn’t be a test subject. We need you as a translator, to help us decipher the language, convert it into code, and then determine if what is being transmitted electronically is accurate. We would test the device on androids first, and if it works, it could be incorporated into cybernetic microprocessors.”
“Oh.” Her face tingled, signaling she was silvering with embarrassment. She dropped into her seat. Being contacted out of the blue by the clandestine Cy-Ops had caused her to jump to conclusions. She already had one implant—her language assist one. She had nothing against cyborgs—how could she, she was half in love with Guy already—but she didn’t desire to bec
ome one. “That makes sense,” she said in a small voice.
“I would like to offer you a position with Cyber Operations on the KVS Project, the Katnian Vocal Simulator. The job comes with a lucrative compensation and benefits package, and the satisfaction of potentially saving lives. Our goal is to stop the trafficking that provides the Ka-Tȇ with prey, but, until that happens, a vocal simulator will give our agents an edge of protection in the field to enable them to rescue more people.”
She and Guy had barely escaped alive. He had managed to outrun them, but only because she’d been able to warn him. Otherwise, he would have run into them and couldn’t have fought off an entire pack.
“I see where comprehension would be helpful, but what will talking to the Ka-Tȇ gain?” They were vicious, merciless creatures.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. We haven’t tried to communicate with them because we haven’t been able to. However, Quasar has engaged in commerce—albeit of the horrific kind—and avoided being slaughtered themselves, which suggests communication may be possible. I have a hunch the Ka-Tȇ understand other languages, although they can’t speak them. Or maybe they can. Those are some of the questions we might get answered if we can communicate. In any case, the KVS project will make Cy-Ops agents safer if they land on the planet.”
No agent should have to risk his life the way Guy had done. Solia shuddered. If she could help…Guy and Cy-Ops had saved her life and restored her ability to fly. Maybe, in some small way, she could repay what she owed and protect someone else. She would do it for Rachel and the others who’d died on Katnia. “Where would I work?”
“At the research facility at Cy-Ops HQ. I can’t divulge where it is, and you’d be transported under blackout. Project details are classified. You won’t be able to discuss or share your work with anyone.”
“When would I start?”
“Immediately. Upon discharge from Cybermed, a ship will transport you to HQ.”
“What about my job? What will I tell the Farian ambassador? This will leave him in a lurch.”
“Not a problem,” Carter said. “I have connections with the Association of Planets, and I can be quite convincing.”