CYBORG PLEASURE; the Space Madame's Warrior

by Cathryn Cade

  Stitch now had half of his gazes riveted on her, while continuing to monitor Ilya Mondas and his glowing, beeping instruments.

  Playa looked from him to Bek, tears pricking the back of her eyes again. She sniffed defiantly. “So, now you both know. You can—you can begin to treat me like a dangerous freak, and—and warn the others here to watch out for me, lest I put you all under my control.”

  Stitch harrumphed in disgust. “Not me, sweets. I've always known you were Indigon.”

  She stared at him, ignoring the tears running down her face. “You have?”

  He flipped six eyestalks her way and winked, while two eyes continued to monitor his instruments. “Got all these for a reason. I see things others miss.”

  Playa laughed, then choked and had to lift a hand to her face to hide behind. She was afraid to look at Bek.

  He cleared his throat. “I, ah ... wow. Don't know what to say.”

  “Maybe say thanks for saving this woman here,” Stitch rasped. “Playa's right, wasn't for her, Ms Mondas would be dead. And VX here would have that on his conscience.”

  Bek blew out a gusty sigh. “No, that would be on Blu,” he said. “Playa, I've never known you to lie. If you say he forced the 'borg to do this ... I believe you.”

  She hoped he didn't expect her to thank him for his magnanimity. Playa glided closer to the bed and frowned at Ilya Mondas, lying pale and still, the oxycone still hissing softly over her face. “How is she, Stitch? Will she be okay?”

  Stitch pulled a large gesic pad from his medkit and unwrapped it. “Far as I can tell, yes. All systems are reading normal, including brain activity. This gesic will make her feel a lot better. Then I can give her a bit of stimulant and wake her up, or let her come out of it naturally. I'm inclined to let her rest.”

  “What about him?” Bek asked, scowling at VX.

  Stitch was already moving to the unconscious man's side. “First I cut off what's left of this shirt, and assess how bad his injuries are. Then I treat them.”

  “No, I meant how do we contain him?” Bek said. “He's a loose laser cannon.”

  “Well, he's an unconscious one now,” Stitch said, slicing off VX's tee and carefully pulling it away from his wounds. The fabric stuck in the gore of one long slash, and Playa swallowed hard and slid her chair back from the bed. She did not do well with gore.

  “I'll send for a hovercot,” Bek said. “He can sleep it off in a grid.”

  Stitch didn't look up from what he was doing with cleansing spray and a small vac unit. “No. He's my patient, and I say leave him where he is. For the two of us to move him, I'd have to bring up the airlifts, and I think it's better we keep this off the security vids for now, don't you?”

  Bek nodded reluctantly. “Very well. I'll alert a few of my guards, but other than that, we'll keep this quiet.”

  Stitch gave a satisfied snort. “I'll stay and keep eyes on both of them. Let you know when he starts to wake up.”

  “I will stay with you,” Playa said. “I can calm him if needed. He seems to trust me.”

  “Muffins,” Bek murmured, his gaze softening on her. “You were kind to him.” Then he scrubbed a hand through his short hair. “Great God beyond. Leaving you on watch over a dangerous 'borg—just doesn't sit right.”

  She tried to smile, but knew from his look her effort failed. “You know it's the right choice. You have things to do. My staff can fill in for me for the day—I'll just tell them I'm working with Ms Mondas in her office.”

  He jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “I do have things to do. Have to alert my guards to keep one hand on their weapons, and eyes and ears out for trouble. This shit is escalating at warp speed. When she wakes up, we need to have a talk.”

  He gave Playa a significant look, and she nodded. There was no longer time to let events take their course. They must decide what to do—about Blu and the cyborgs. And they must do so now, before anyone else died.

  Well, she had no reason to hide her own powers anymore, so she could help. And maybe this time, she would get it right..

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ilya couldn't breathe. Her throat was swollen and painful, and a heavy, hot weight banded across her chest. As she strove desperately to suck in air, her eyes flew open, and she tried to lift her hands to claw away whatever bound her. She couldn't lift her arms.

  A freckled brown Occulan face filled her terrified gaze, his eye stalks trained on her, his wide mouth pursed in a soothing gravelly croon. “Hush, now, Ms Ilya Mondas. Breathe this.”

  Something settled over her nose and mouth, and cool, sweet oxygenated air pushed into her nostrils and down the back of her throat. Her panic flowed with it, and as she sucked in more, the bands of pain around her throat eased.

  She was still constrained though. After gathering her strength, she opened her eyes again.

  “Wha' happen',” she mumbled against the push of cool air.

  The Occulan's eye stalks flicked to her left and back. “You've been injured, and spent time in our portable regen unit. You're going to be fine, you just need to rest. And try not to panic again, yes?”

  Someone moved against her, and Ilya turned her head sharply, knocking the oxycone askew.

  VX lay next to her in the bed, on his stomach. It was his heavy arm that lay over her, trapping her under the coverlet. And something weird was going on with his eyes. They were heavy, as if he'd just awakened too, but there was something else she couldn't focus on.

  Then she scowled as the reality of her situation hit. The Occulan was a medtech, in fitted white cleansuit. Shit, she was in trouble, if she was flat on her back with med instruments floating over her, monitoring and judging.

  “Wha’s goin’ on?” she demanded. Or tried to—her voice was merely a husk of sound, and everything ached, including her eyeballs.

  “There was ... an incident,” the Occulan said, moving the oxycone back over her nose and mouth. “Do you remember anything?”

  “No,” she whispered. She rolled her eyes as far to the side as she could. “Wha's wrong w' V? He hurt too?”

  “Yes. He was injured too. And now he won't leave your side.”

  Ilya frowned, trying to search her memory, but all it did was make her head ache. God, had they been bombed, or something?

  VX's arm tightened, and as he lifted his head, Ilya looked up into his eyes, shadowed by his mask. His face contorted in a grimace. “I ... hurt you,” he rumbled, his breath gusting over her cheek.

  “You?” she repeated, nearly choking as she forgot to breathe. “No.” But strange, violent images crashed through her mind—VX stalking toward her, dripping with blood ... she whimpered in fear.

  “VX,” said a soothing voice from beyond the bed, “You must let her breathe. You see she is well, and awake. Now she needs to be able to move.”

  That was Playa, but why was she telling VX what to do? Ilya watched, bewildered, as VX hesitated, and then lifted his arm from her chest. “Breathe,” he commanded, scowling fearsomely down at her. “Breathe.”

  “She's breathing,” the Occulan said cheerfully. “And much more easily with your giant arm off of her diaphragm. So, how about you get up, VX, and let me examine her?”

  The 'borg turned his scowl on the Occulan, and Ilya managed to lift her hand against his chest. “'s okay,” she croaked. “Let 'im help.”

  That turbulent gaze turned her way again, and Ilya lost herself in the deep beauty of all that heat and power focused on her.

  “I will watch,” he told her. “To see no more—no more hurt.” He shook his head once, as if frustrated.

  'Mawwr's got your tongue,' she thought, but didn't say it because the medtech was shining a bright light into her eyes, which she could've done without.

  Next the Occulan touched her jaw. “Tell me if it hurts.”

  It didn't, until his touch moved lower, beneath her chin. Then pain shot through her, and she jerked, a hoarse whimper racking from her sore throat.

  He lifted his
hands at once. “Done. I'm going to give you something more for the pain now.”

  VX was rumbling again, a deep groan of distress. Ilya patted his chest, so hot and smooth, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look. His eyes were doing that thing again ...

  But before she could parse what this meant, she slid down into sleep.

  * * *

  The next time she woke, she was hot, thirsty, and she had to pee immediately.

  She fumbled her way to a sitting position, slipped from the bed and padded into the lav, closing the door behind her. She relieved her aching bladder, then went to wash her hands.

  She stared at herself in the mirrors with horror. She looked like one of the re-animates in the horror vids Dano liked so much—as if someone had forced her back from the dead, slapped cosmetics on her, and hidden the worst of her death wounds with bandages.

  There was a big bandage wrapped around her throat, smelling of mint and gesics. She pulled it off, and then gasped when she saw her throat. It was mottled with bruises ... in the shape of one huge hand.

  Ilya groaned as memories crashed over her with the force of cruiser-wash.

  VX, stalking into her bedroom with death in his gaze, blood on his body as if he'd already killed and was coming for her next. VX grasping her, slamming her up against the wall and then strangling her with one huge hand. 'It's all your fault,' he'd roared.

  The lav door slid open, and VX filled the opening, wearing only a pair of fitted pants. Scowling, and moving into a threatening stance. He'd come to finish her off.

  With a whimper of terror, Ilya scuttled backward, into the open showerdry. She fumbled for the controls. The door opened behind her and she darted inside, slamming the clear hatch shut after herself. Shit, her palm laser—where was it? She was never without her baby.

  “Lemme alone,” she croaked, pressing back against the cerametal wall. “I'm linking the guard captain—they'll be here in a few secs.”

  VX advanced, prowling across the lav to stare at her through the clear door. He shook his head, and lifted one hand to plant it against the glass. “No,” he said. “No more ... no more hurt.”

  “VX, move back,” Playa called from the lav door. “You're scaring her. Move back, 6and let me speak to her.”

  The cyborg rumbled his displeasure, and for a long moment Ilya waited, trembling, drenched with perspiration. Would he smash the showerdry door open to get to her?

  But with one last, dark look at her through the glass, VX stepped back, giving Playa room to glide into the lav, and between him and the showerdry. “Thank you,” the petite woman crooned. “This was a good choice on your part, VX. Now I can speak with Ilya, and let her know that she's safe with us—with you. That you're now under your own control, and no one else's. That what happened was not your fault.”

  Playa was speaking as much to her as to VX, Ilya realized. Reassuring her. Right, like a little woman in a hoverchair could hold off an enraged cyborg.

  “I'm linking Bek,” Ilya said, hopefully just loud enough for Playa's ears.

  Playa held up one hand. “That's fine, isn't it, VX? We're all working together to solve this.”

  As if it had been a problem, a tech puzzle instead of him attempting to murder her, Ilya thought with a spurt of rage. Although ... why hadn't he succeeded?

  “Yes, ma'am?” Bek said crisply in her ear.

  “Need you here,” Ilya replied, her voice hoarse. “So you can explain to me what the quark is happening?”

  Her assistant spun around in her chair, her gaze contrite. “Oh, I'm so sorry. Of course you don't understand what happened.”

  “I'm on my way,” Bek called. “Playa, you got a hold on him, or does Stitch need to tranq him again?”

  Playa's dark blue eyes widened in distress. “No, no more tranqs. I promised him that. I'll handle him.”

  She spun away, and glided toward VX, holding out one hand to the open door. “VX, please come with me. We must give Ms Mondas a little time to herself. She'll come out when she's ready.”

  Which might not be anytime soon. Ilya watched with mingled fear and resentment as the huge borg gave her one last, dark look and then turned to precede Playa from the lav.

  She darted from the showerdry to her dressing room, where she grabbed her spare tech kit from her duffle, and carried it back to the showerdry with her. If she wasn't sticky and reeking of gesics, she'd just throw some clothing on, but she wanted to be clean.

  If only she could scrub her mind clean too—empty it of turmoil and the fear that waited to spring at her from every shadow.

  She took the fastest showerdry of her life, one eye open at all times. Her tech kit—which contained a small laser, two flashbombs and a couple of other nasty little surprises—hung beside her, the soap and hot water streaming harmlessly off the treated fabric.

  Then she hustled into the dressing room and pulled on the first clothing she came to, which was the soft beige lounge pants and top. Not feeling covered enough, she grabbed the cashmere wrap and bundled it around herself. There, that was better. Bracing herself, she ventured out into her bedroom, laser hidden in her palm.

  VX stood by the far wall, Playa beside him in her hoverchair. Bek stood just inside the door, arms crossed, frowning gaze on the pair. Stitch was perched on the bench at the foot of the bed, his medkit floating beside him.

  Someone, Playa at a guess, had ordered a tray, which hummed softly under the weight of carafes, bottles and dishes. Ilya swallowed, wincing. She'd kill for some hot tea, and yeah, she meant that literally.

  She glared as all gaze snapped to her. “This is way too many people in my bedroom. We'll go to my office.”

  “You'd be better off in bed,” the medtech said in a mild voice that said he didn't expect to be listened to.

  Ilya opened her mouth to argue, and then noted with surprise that the room seemed to be moving around her. Were her legs shaking that badly? Yep, they were.

  VX moved, surging across the room to her. Ilya had no time for fear as he swept her up against his chest and bore her to the bed, where he deposited her gently against the airpillows, and pulled the covers up over her. “Stay,” he commanded.

  She would've argued, but she was too relieved to be off her feet.

  “Okay, back off,” Bek ordered behind VX. “Move away from her.”

  VX gave her one last look, his fingers trailing over the satin coverlet. “Safe,” he mumbled, and turned to walk away. Leaving her unharmed. She didn't get any of this.

  Then Ilya spied the plas-bandages covering his broad back.

  “Wait. What happened to your back?” she croaked.

  “Sh-sshh, stay put,” the medtech said, moving in beside her. “Let's get you a hot drink and some nutrition, and then you can hear the details.”

  “No.” She could hardly force her voice over her swollen vocal chords, but she made them work. “I wanna know now.”

  VX turned to look at her over his shoulder. “I am ... punished.”

  He'd been punished? “For attacking me?” Who would do that? It surely wasn't part of Bek's guard duties.

  “No,” Playa said, gliding forward, her face flushed with fury, her eyes flashing. “Not for injuring you—that came later. No, first they whipped him until he was raw and bloody, and half out of his mind with pain. Then they sent him after you, telling him you'd caused trouble for all the cyborgs and for their keeper—probably told him you'd started the Solar Wars too, I don't know.'

  'What matters,” she went on, “Is that VX did not choose to attack you, Ilya. He was forced to by a clever and diabolical man who I am extremely ashamed to say shares my planetary heritage. Indigon.”

  Leaving Ilya reeling from this, Playa turned to the hovertray. “Now. Let's get you some hot, sweet tea and some nutrient gel. VX, you sit here. You must eat and drink as well.”

  Ilya watched dumbly as the huge, battle-scarred cyborg obeyed, sitting slowly on a chair near the bed and waiting silently. He gave Ilya a sidelong l
ook, and her heart contracted at the intensity of the sorrow and shame mingled there.

  She lifted a hand to reach out to him, hesitated, and the medtech placed a warm mug in it. “Here you go, ma'am. Drink up. Green tea with plenty of Pangaean honey and a little protein gel.”

  Ilya drank. The hot, sweet tea flowed across her tongue and down her throat. With a sigh of pleasure, she drank some more. When VX accepted a mug, but merely held it, watching her from his mask, she lifted her own mug, urging him to drink. When he did so, Ilya closed her eyes and sank back against her pillows.

  What the hells was she doing? He'd nearly killed her ... just moments ago, she'd remembered everything, and been terrified by the sight of him ... now she wanted to pet him like a lost catamount kit. This place was making her rezzed. Pretty soon she'd be ready for the padded grids.

  She forced her eyes open, and drained her mug, feeling the sugar and nutrients soak into her system. “All right,” she said. “You'd better tell me the rest.”

  So they did.

  When Playa, Bek and Stitch had finished relating their part in VX's attack and the aftermath, Ilya lay silent for a moment. Then, unable to remain still, she thumped her feet to the floor and stood, swaying. “I'm gonna kill that quarking slimer,” she rasped. She waved her little laser. “Blu can't treat my 'borgs li' that.”

  Stitch ducked. Bek dove for Playa's chair and yanked her down with him.

  VX rose and moved to Ilya, one great hand palm out before the laser. “No,” he said, reaching for her with his other hand. “Not shoot them. Help ... together.”

  Dizzy, Ilya allowed him to gather her close. Her face planted on his bare, warm chest, and she sagged in his arm. “'kay,” she agreed. She let him pull her laser from her lax fingers and lay her back in the bed. She gazed up at him. “But ... he hurt you.”

  His eyes did that weird thing again, and a memory fluttered deep in the foggy recesses of her mind. Her very foggy mind. “Uh-oh,” she said ... only no sound emerged.

  Instead, the darkness pulled her down again.