by Kit Tunstall
“That’s not a problem.” As she spoke, Raven tapped a few buttons before she unfastened the device around her wrist and passed it to Carrie. “I’ve programed in the coordinates, and it will lead you straight there. Just don’t take it off or ignore the directions it gives you. And let me show you how to use a weapon before you leave.”
Impulsively, she leaned forward and hugged Raven with one arm. After a brief hesitation, the cyborg responded with a hug of her own. “Thank you for this. I’m sure the war will be over soon.”
After a brief crash course in using one of their weapons, the wave of optimism buoyed her as she left the base surreptitiously, having thrown a rain poncho over her clothing. It was one of the things Rote had packed in her luggage, and she took it as another confirmation of her role.
With its muted gray fabric that blended into the background of the landscape, the poncho also served as a way to obscure her identity when she was outside. She started to walk, following the device’s instructions, and almost broke into song, though managed to restrain herself. Revealing her presence wouldn’t do her any favors if the synthetics, or even other cyborgs, caught her.
The cyborgs would probably try to send her back to base, and the synthetics would either immediately execute her or simply take her into custody to face the humans. She preferred to meet them on more equal footing, rather than from a jail cell.
It seemed like she walked forever, and the terrain didn’t help, being often rough and hard to traverse. Despite that, Carrie persevered while following the directions provided by the device Raven had loaned her. Finally, after walking for nearly two hours, the device chimed to announce she had reached her destination.
She paused, standing in the middle of a clearing. There were remnants of buildings around her, but it was impossible to tell from what time frame. What remained wasn’t enough to indicate if they had been the style common during her era, or if they had been built since then and destroyed by acts of war.
Either way, it was a haunting sight, and it sent a chill down her spine. She could be seen from any number of places without having the same ability herself. There was nothing in the clearing except debris and a pile of boulders. She walked a few steps over to them and positioned herself in an attempt to find a semi-comfortable spot while she waited.
She could barely make out the sun, so it was difficult to tell the time of day, but the device on her wrist measured the time that had elapsed. She was there for an hour and fifteen minutes, restless and bored, as she continued to look around, her hand on the gun Raven had provided. The cursory training she had received didn’t exactly give her confidence in being able to efficiently wield the weapon, but it provided a small measure of comfort to have it nearby.
Finally, she thought she heard the furtive scrape of footsteps. That made Carrie jerk upright into a standing position as she stared around her. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to the left. A figure stood there, though it was impossible to make out much about him or her from the distance and the haze obscuring the air around them.
She squinted and took a step closer as the other person also took a step nearer to her. She caught a glimpse of the face obscured partially by a hood from a heavy duster. From what she saw, she was confident it was a person, and fully human. With dark skin and kinky black hair, she was fairly certain the human was African-American.
Carrie started to approach slowly, but froze at a sound behind her. She turned to face it, gasping when she saw something completely unfamiliar in front of her. She hadn’t yet seen a synthetic, especially up close, but she could only assume that’s what this was.
It had gleaming silver skin that looked surprisingly flexible, but was clearly metallic in origin. The synthetic moved with precise grace and economy of motion that suggested it had been expertly engineered. It had a semi-human face, though there was no sign of expression, or perhaps even the ability to form expression, judging by the semi-rigid metal epidermis covering its features.
She lifted a hand, trying to show she was harmless. The Synth raised its hand in what she first thought was a mimicry of hers. Before she could take any hope in the gesture, a hole opened to reveal a port in its palm.
“Don’t shoot. I’m a human.” As she uttered the words, she wondered if the synthetic would even recognize them. Did they have access to the same database as the cyborgs? If so, they should be able to translate her version of English into something they could understand. If not, and human language had evolved significantly in the last four hundred years, they might not understand her at all.
There was a bright flash of light from its palm, and something that looked like blue plasma discharged. She watched in fear and awe, and it was a brief show. It wasn’t even a millisecond before the pain began, almost fully encompassing her left side. It hurt so badly that she couldn’t even scream.
Carrie immediately dropped to the ground and started convulsing, agony unlike she’d ever known consuming her. As abruptly as it had begun, the weapon ceased discharging, and the synthetic appeared to stand there in a daze for a moment before turning and walking away without looking at her again.
She was too embroiled in anguish to try to comprehend why she’d been granted a reprieve, but she had fallen in such a way that allowed her to see the same figure she briefly observed before the synthetic attacked. It was already slithering away, and anger was the last thing she experienced as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Clearly, the synthetics were still working for the humans, and she had been foolish to walk into their trap. She had bought into Rote’s words about having some great destiny in the scheme of things and an ability to end the war, but she had been a fool about that too. She should have listened to Davis. She had no more thoughts after that as the pain overwhelmed her ability to process it, and she found relief in a state deeper than unconsciousness.
***
“You should have come to me sooner,” said Davis as he glared at Raven. It was the third time he’d said almost the same words to her in the half-hour she’d been in his company, as they looked for Carrie. They were following the coordinates the daily communication had provided, and they should be there soon. They were keeping a demanding pace, but none of the cyborgs around him complained.
Raven just nodded, looking miserable. “I should’ve come to you immediately, General. I’m sorry. Carrie just seemed so certain…” She trailed off with a sigh. “I was hopeful too. I’m still hopeful. Maybe she hasn’t returned because she’s busy negotiating peace.”
Davis snorted. “Don’t be naïve, RVN.” She flinched when he used the designation rather than the informal name Carrie had assigned her.
She nodded, looking utterly miserable, but not speaking further as they covered the last two klicks at a grueling pace.
He saw her body before he’d even topped the hill. Davis had already been moving at a rapid clip, but now he broke into a run. He reached her side in seconds, dropping down beside her on the ground as his equipment scanned her. He was relieved to find a pulse, though it was frighteningly weak and thready. Her blood pressure was low, barely enough to sustain her, and her body temperature had already dropped two degrees from optimal.
She clearly hovered on the edge of death, and the explanation was visible for all to see. Deep burns covered the left side of her body, and parts of her were simply gone. He couldn’t imagine how much pain she had endured. It looked like she had been subjected to the same weapon they were now using against his brethren, but Carrie didn’t have their rapid healing abilities to counteract any of the damage.
It was amazing she was still alive. He didn’t know how the synthetic responsible had made the error of leaving her that way, because they usually continued until they killed, but he was thankful for the lapse. Perhaps they weren’t as thorough with disposing of humans, though he wasn’t certain why the synthetic would have attacked a human anyway—unless a human gave the order. The thought chilled him while
stoking his anger, but he pushed both emotions aside to focus on her.
OWN dropped down beside him, his equipment more sophisticated. He used the handheld device to examine her, and his expression was grim. “We have to get her back to base right away.”
“Can you save her?”
He hesitated for a long moment, and his uncertainty was visible in his posture and his expression long before he ever answered. “Probably not, but I intend to try, General.”
***
Davis paced as he waited for Carrie to regain consciousness. Owen believed it would be any time now, judging from the stability of her vitals. He had other duties to which he should attend, but he wasn’t leaving his mate in this state until she had awakened, and he had a chance to talk to her.
As though responding to an unspoken cue, she moaned softly and started shifting on the thin metal bed. He rushed to her side, bending over her and carefully taking her right hand. The left would be sore for a while as it healed. “Carrie?”
She let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan. A moment later, her eyelids fluttered open slowly, her pupils widening before she winced and closed them tightly again. Clearly, she had photosensitivity, but that probably wasn’t unusual, since she had been out for so long.
OWN estimated she had been unconscious for at least two hours when they had found her, and it had been another six hours since they had returned to base, and he had spent four of those repairing her. The last two had been devoted strictly to much-needed rest and regeneration, but her eyes had been closed for the better part of a day.
“Carrie, can you open your eyes?”
Slowly, they drifted open in a more leisurely fashion, as though she was bracing herself for the intrusion of light. That must have done the trick for her, because she was able to open her eyes fully. For a moment, he glanced at the left one, unable to look away. He’d seen those kind of eyes for most of his life, but it was startling to see in the face of his mate. It didn’t make her any less beautiful to him, but it was definitely different.
“What happened?” Her voice was rough and raspy, and part of that was likely due to the trauma and the healing involved. OWN had to replace an entire section of her esophagus. A second later, before he could answer, her eyes widened, and horror was reflected in her right eye. Clearly, she recalled the events that had led her here.
He put a hand on her face, cupping her right cheek and gently stroking it with his thumb. “You’re safe now, and OWN…Owen…believes you’ll fully recover.” He didn’t tell her how close it had been, and he deliberately omitted the information that she had physically died and been gone a full five minutes while Owen worked on bringing her back.
It was at that point he had used his status as her mate, and as leader of the cyborgs, to authorize Owen to do anything necessary to save her life. He accepted full responsibility for the decision, and he would bear the brunt of her anger.
“I’m alive? How is that possible? The pain was so much.”
He nodded. “And you didn’t have regenerative capabilities then, so it’s amazing that you survived. With cyborgs, they generally attack until the cyborg is dead, or they are. Perhaps they were laxer with a human.” He frowned as anger overtook him. “Did a human order this to be done to you?”
She hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. After doing so, she winced, clearly feeling pain from the motion. “I saw a human just before the synthetic attacked me, and he or she was running away when I fell. I think you were right. You were all right. It’s a trap meant to lure us into the open so they can destroy us, whether it’s one at a time, or as a whole. I was a fool for trying.”
He squeezed his hand around her right hand more firmly. “You weren’t a fool for trying to end this. It was a bad decision, but you had good intentions.”
She let out another small sigh. “I’m still amazed to be alive. Owen must be a miracle worker.”
Davis hesitated, searching for the right answer. “He’s not a miracle worker, but he has amazing technology at his disposal.”
She frowned, and the first hint of apprehension appeared in her expression. “What do you mean? Just how did he save me?”
Carefully, Davis put his arm behind her back and sat her up, holding her in a seated position. He reached for the mirror that was waiting nearby, having already discussed the scenario with Owen before his healer had agreed to leave the room and allow Davis to handle the revelation. He passed it over with bated breath, preparing himself for a number of reactions.
Chapter Eight
Carrie took the mirror with her left hand, and just looking down sent a jolt of horror through her. All the skin on her hand and upper arm that was visible with the garment she wore was now light blue, with the luminescent circuit-veins she’d come to associate with cyborgs. “What happened to my arm?”
“It was incinerated. There was nothing left to salvage, so Owen made you a prosthetic.”
She held the mirror for a moment before laying it on her lap so she could test her grip. She tightened her fist and released it slowly. She was amazed that it felt exactly the same to do the process as it had for her entire life. It looked different, but it didn’t feel any less intuitive than her own hand would have.
She breathed a small sigh of relief as she lifted the mirror again, at first conscious of how tightly she held it before quickly realizing it didn’t require any thought on her part. It was practically autonomic, just as it had always been. She didn’t have to think extra hard to bring up the mirror to look at herself either.
Carrie let out a gasp of horror at the first sight of her face. The creamy complexion was gone, replaced by light blue skin and a network of visible blue veins delivering the nutrient fluid throughout. The shape of her nose was different from what it had been. It was now a stellar example of classical perfection, rather than the shorter, stubbier version she’d had all her life.
At first glance, her lips appeared to be the same, and her eyelids and eyes were the same too. It was only when she looked closer, bringing the mirror nearer, that she realized there was a difference. Her left eye was no longer brown. Instead, it was black, with a clear iris. “My eye?”
He squeezed the hand he still held, and it provided an amazing amount of reassurance, considering with what she was dealing. “Owen will calibrate it to match your other eye the next time he sees you. It wasn’t a priority when he was trying to save your life. This is the eye’s default setting, but they’re programmable to match the recipient’s other eye. Had you ended up with two artificial eyes, you could have chosen whatever color you’d like.” He said it in what he probably meant to be a lighthearted way, but his levity sounded forced.
“Is my right eye still my right eye?” She was certain it was as she stared at it, abruptly realizing she had a better range of vision with the left eye than she’d ever had before. That alone suggested her other eye was the original. “How much of my face did he have to replace?”
“He had to rebuild almost the entire left side, along with part of the right side. There was structural damage to your skull and cheekbone, so that was reinforced with a metal polymer. He chose to replace all your skin on your face to give you a uniform look, so you wouldn’t end up with half of it blue and half of it your original color. He assumed you would prefer that.”
She nodded, though she wasn’t certain. Was it better to be completely blue, or to be half-and-half? The question prompted a rise of hysteria, and she had to breathe several times to stave it off. “What else?”
He let go of her right hand to pull down the sheet covering her, revealing the left side of her body.
She cried out in shock at the sight of her body neatly bisected almost exactly down the midpoint. Everything to the left had blue skin and the network of luminescent veins, while the right side looked like the body she had been born into.
Panic was threatening to take over, and her body twitched. Her left leg jumped off the table and slammed back onto i
t with a thudding sound that jarred her. “My leg too?”
Davis nodded. “He couldn’t save what little remained, so he amputated and replaced it with a prosthetic. It will feel just like your leg when you walk and use it. I promise you that.” He tapped one of his legs as he said the words, clearly reminding her of his own prosthetics. The difference was, he was uniformly blue everywhere, not a patchwork freak put together by a mad quilter.
“You should have just let me die.” Those were the last words she managed as she dissolved into tears. Hard sobs escaped her, abrading her raspy throat, and the more she tried to rein them in, the more difficult it became.
She thrashed and fought against him as panic overwhelmed her, only briefly aware of NKI’s return, followed a step behind by Owen. She couldn’t spare a thought for them. She was too busy trying to escape from the bed and the firm hold Davis maintained on her. Carrie didn’t know where she was going to run, or why she was trying to escape, but she felt the deep-seated need to flee.
“Hold her steady,” said Owen.
The words filtered through her brain, but had little meaning. A sharp prick in her neck accompanied them a moment later, which only added to her panic. She increased her efforts to escape, until lethargy abruptly overtook her. In seconds, she had slumped against the metal bed with its thin mattress, allowing all of her pain and betrayal to reflect in her eyes as she caught Davis’s gaze. He flinched, but didn’t look away from her as her eyelids slowly drifted shut, and she sought escape in oblivion.
***
The next time she woke, Carrie felt far calmer. She suspected they had given her something to ensure she would awaken that way, but she was grateful for it. She didn’t want to succumb to panic, as she had earlier. She didn’t want to seek escape in the sedative either. She woke with a calm certainty that she would have to accept what happened to her, and that it had been necessary to save her life.
That didn’t mean she had to like it, or even truly feel appreciative for their efforts, but the alternative was death, which wasn’t a choice at all. She could either live like this, as half-human and half-cyborg, or she could cease living at all. That thought sent a pang through her, and faces of all the people she loved came to her. Penny’s was among them, but Davis’s was the one that dominated her thoughts. Whatever they had, and whatever was forming between them, it was precious enough that she wouldn’t throw it away.