Cyborg

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

  It wasn't muscle fatigue. The vibration rapidly became more and more pronounced. A whine joined it. Within a few moments the entire cabin around her was quaking as if it would disintegrate any moment.

  They were taking off.

  Mindlessly, she began tugging at the knots again.

  A heaviness settled over her, pressing against her harder and harder until she could scarcely breathe. Abruptly, the heaviness vanished. She began to float upward. She'd levitated perhaps two inches from the bed when the artificial gravity kicked in and she hit the mattress once more.

  She lay gasping for breath, staring at the shaking hull above her head while the vibrations slowed and finally subsided altogether.

  They'd taken off.

  She'd lost her only chance of escape.

  Chapter Five

  Amaryllis wasn't certain how much time passed while she lay on the bunk, too shocked and dismayed even to think beyond the litany that kept running through her mind that she'd lost any chance of escape. After a while, her training kicked in and a calm settled over her.

  She couldn't escape, at least not until the cyborgs reached their final destination. Once there, she could assess the situation again. They had ships. She might have a chance of stealing one and escaping. If not, she might have a chance of stowing away on an outbound vessel and escaping from it once it reached deep space.

  There was no point in even trying to come up with options, however, now, when she had no idea of what she would be up against. What she needed to do was to try to assess her current situation and figure out a way to survive.

  Dante was the only one who knew that she was human.

  If she killed him, there would be no one to give her away.

  She cringed inside at the thought and struggled to banish her revulsion. She'd destroyed dozens of cyborgs. There was no reason to be squeamish about it now, particularly when this one represented a serious threat to her.

  What would be the repercussions of doing so, however? Would he be missed? If so, would they immediately suspect that there was a human on board? Or would they think it was one of their own?

  She shook that problem off. She could face that when the time came. The problem was she had no weapons and no idea if she could find one. She didn't have much hope of overcoming him in hand to hand unless she could take him off guard.

  And what were the chances of that now that she'd shown her hand?

  Not good, she decided, but she could do nothing but wait anyway. Maybe, over time, she could lull his suspicions?

  Maybe the key to doing so was already in her hands?

  He'd hidden her. There had to be risk involved in doing that, and yet he'd gone to great lengths already to keep any of the others from discovering what he had.

  Why?

  The only possibility that presented itself was that he'd taken the notion that he wanted her for himself.

  She dismissed it. It seemed too farfetched a theory. It kept teasing at her mind, though, little snatches of memory feeding it.

  He hadn't saved the readings of the scan. She'd been too unnerved at the time to realize it, but she remembered now that he'd studied the read out and then shut the device off without saving the readings to memory ... except in his own memory.

  He'd been angry after he'd taken her to the showers, accusing. She'd been too surprised and angry herself by his strange behavior to figure out exactly what he'd been accusing her of, but it occurred to her after a while that he'd implied that she was trying to use her training against him ... the art of deadly seduction.

  She'd never tried that particular method of overcoming a cyborg. She'd thought the entire idea ludicrous if these things were, as The Company claimed, merely defective machines. A woman might seduce a man and overcome him while he was distracted, but a machine? Anyway, she didn't feel confident enough in her femininity to consider seduction a realistic possibility for her. It seemed more likely that any attempt would be ignored, or worse, a source of amusement.

  She was so deep in thought, she hardly registered the sound of approaching footsteps until they halted outside the cabin door. The sound of the keys being depressed jerked her from her abstraction, however. She held her breath, staring at the door as it opened.

  Dante stepped through and closed the door behind him.

  Moving to the bunk, he settled beside her and began tugging at the restraint. His lips tightened into a thin line when he saw the results of her efforts to free herself.

  Pain shot through her arms as the feeling began to return when he'd untied her. Carefully, he lowered her arms, examining her wrists. She would've jerked free except that she had no use of her arms at the moment.

  It was just as well, she realized, mentally kicking herself.

  She was supposed to be trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

  Her wrists, she saw as he examined them, were raw and bruised from her efforts to free herself. “That was.... “He hesitated as he met her gaze. “An exercise in futility."

  "I didn't know that until I tried though,” she retorted tightly.

  "You should have deduced that I had tied a knot adequate to hold you."

  "But then I'm not a cyborg."

  He said nothing for several moments. “No, you're not."

  Amaryllis reigned in her temper with an effort.

  When she said nothing more, he returned his attention to her wrists. “You have done more damage than I had thought possible. You skin is ... delicate. Will this repair itself without aid of medicines?"

  "In time."

  "How much time?"

  "How would I know that?"

  He looked both surprised by her comment and irritated. “You do not have nanos?"

  "For infection and internal, life threatening injuries, yes."

  To her relief, he released her hands at last, settling them on her thighs. “I did not intend to cause you injury, but to protect you from...."

  When he didn't finish, Amaryllis asked, “Your fellow cyborgs?"

  "Yourself. To keep you from taking foolhardy chances."

  Amaryllis gave him a look. “If you have such a low opinion of humans, why are you ... doing this?"

  He studied her a long moment and finally shrugged, rising from the bunk. “I must return to my duties before I am missed. I will bring food for you when I return."

  When he'd gone, Amaryllis moved to the door of the facilities. After listening to make certain no one was about, she went in, took care of her needs and rushed back to the cabin. She would've liked to soothe her hurts with cool water, but she didn't dare linger too long in the facilities.

  She'd had worse and endured.

  The burning subsided in her wrists after a while. Exhausted from the pain of her injuries and the shocks she'd endured one after another since their craft had crashed, too wary even to consider leaving the cabin and, despite everything, bored beyond belief, Amaryllis finally curled up on the cot and allowed sleep to overtake her. She woke when the sound of the key lock being punched alerted her to imminent company.

  As much as she hated to admit it, relief flooded her when she saw that it was Dante.

  As promised, he brought food for her—enough for several days from the bounty of it. There was no place to sit except the floor or the bunk. She chose the bunk, folding her legs and bracing her back against the bulkhead. Dante settled beside her at the other end of the bunk, watching her.

  "Have you eaten?"

  "Yes. This is for you."

  She was starving, but discomfited by his attention. “Where are we going?” she asked finally, more to distract him than because she expected him to answer.

  He hesitated. “We discovered a world well beyond the human colonies."

  "In unexplored space?” she asked, surprised.

  "Not now."

  Amaryllis frowned thoughtfully. “The Company was certain the cyborg stronghold was near the outer rim."

  "They were wrong. Does that surprise you?"

>   "Not particularly. They're wrong more often than not. That's what comes from having a superiority complex."

  Amusement entered his eyes. “You think we are guilty of the same."

  It wasn't a question. Amaryllis shrugged.

  "We were created with all the advantages of human beings and none of the disadvantages."

  "You think so?"

  That effectively silenced him for several moments. “I am as human as you are. Why do you consider me a machine and yourself ... human?"

  He couldn't have said anything more certain to cut her to the quick than that. Amaryllis lost her appetite. Ignoring the question, she very carefully covered the food and looked around for someplace to put it.

  "You are finished?"

  "Yeah."

  Dante frowned. “You have hardly eaten any. No wonder you are so tiny."

  Amaryllis glared at him.

  Something flickered in his eyes. After a moment, he took the food from her wordlessly, rose from the bunk and placed the containers in his locker.

  She was staring at the floor when he returned to the bunk. She studiously ignored him as he stood over her, eyeing her curiously.

  Finally, he settled on the bunk beside her. “You are offended."

  "You are so fucking observant."

  His brows rose. “Why were you reconstructed with bionics? Were you injured in duty?"

  "I don't want to talk about it,” Amaryllis snarled.

  "You have no data banks,” he observed pensively.

  "No shit.” ThankGod he couldn't access her memories!

  "The gutter language does not become you."

  "Does it bother you?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, I don't give a fuck,” Amaryllis snapped. “Ifeel like using it."

  "Why?"

  "Why don't you just go ... recharge or something?"

  His face tightened with anger. “I derive energy from food, the same as you."

  "Really?” Amaryllis said sarcastically. “I had no idea we had so much in common."

  "I don't particularly care for the sarcasm either,” he said tightly.

  "Too fucking bad."

  He caught her jaw in one hand, forcing her to look at him. She made an aborted attempt to pull free, but realized fairly quickly that she couldn't. Instead, she glared at him coldly. He studied her in angry silence for several moments before his expression softened. “I wounded you."

  Surprise at his perception flickered through her. “You wish,” she said derisively, but not nearly as convincingly as she would've liked.

  "You are wrong. I do not wish it at all,” he said. “And I think we have much more in common that you are willing to admit."

  "Wrong. We have nothing in common,” Amaryllis said tightly, feeling her anger rise once more as it occurred to her to wonder if he meant to bring up her bionics again.

  "You may hate me for what I am, but you are not ... indifferent to me."

  The comment took the wind out of her sails. “What?"

  Releasing her jaw, he trailed his fingers lightly down her throat, across her collar bone and down between her breasts. Amaryllis’ breath caught in her chest as he traced a light circle around each trembling globe. Even through the cloth, his finger felt like a firebrand. Her nipples puckered, stood erect, begging for his touch.

  Her reaction embarrassed and infuriated her. Before she thought better of it, she swung at him. As if he'd anticipated her retaliation, he caught her wrist mid-air, pushing her back against the bunk and pinning her with the weight of his body. His eyes gleamed as he stared down at her. “I am cyborg, no more than a machine. Surely you are not offended by my touch?"

  Amaryllis swallowed with an effort.

  After holding her gaze for several long moments, his gaze slid downward, settling on her breasts, heaving now with her efforts to drag in a decent breath of air. With deliberation, he leaned down, covering the tip of one breast with his mouth. Heat, like fire, instantly flowed through her, clouding her mind. She tensed, tried to block her mind to the pleasure that immediately assailed her. Her heart began to thunder in her ears so frantically that she could hear nothing but its drumming and the rush of air as it sawed almost painfully in and out of her laboring lungs.

  She might have been completely naked for all the difference the thin fabric made.

  She was sorry she wasn't.

  She wanted to feel the moist heat of his mouth on her skin.

  As if he'd read her mind, he nudged the fabric aside and covered her nipple with his mouth, sucking, teasing the sensitive tip with his tongue. She gasped as a fresh rush of mind sundering sensation boiled through her. Her belly clenched almost painfully. Her femininity quaked, gathering heat and moisture.

  With an effort, she summoned her defenses, closed her mind against the maddening stimulus, certain that he would stop if she could convince him she found no pleasure in his touch.

  He seemed to sense her battle. Instead of accepting the lie she tried to tell with her body, instead of teasing her and then releasing her, he continued to suckle and torment her nipple until her shaky defenses crumbled, until she was drunk with the euphoria of pleasure, her mind chaotic, and she became so weak she felt as if she would black out.

  It wasn't until all resistance was leached from her and she went limp that he ceased to torment her. It took several moments to gather the strength to lift her eyelids when he released her at last and lifted his head to look at her once more. She couldn't even manage a look of reproach, certainly not one of indifference.

  Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he rolled off of her and lay down on the bunk on his side, tugging at her until he'd tucked her back against his chest. “Rest now."

  It took several moments for that to sink in to her heat fogged brain. Rest? Amaryllis thought, abruptly outraged. Her whole body was on fire!

  How could he do ...that and then just fucking stop?

  As irritated as she was, Amaryllis only tensed, yielding without any more protest than a slight resistance. She'd had time to cool, if only slightly, and time to remember, belatedly, that she was supposed to be lulling him into a false sense of security, supposed to be trying to seducehim so that she could overcome him.

  She stank at this.

  It didn't take a mental giant to see that she was in far more danger of being seduced than he was.

  She also had a bad feeling that the longer it took to accomplish such a mission, the less likely it was that she'd be able to go through with it. Machine or not, he had personality. It might be as maddening as it was appealing, but it wasn't something that she could feel indifference about.

  It was one thing, she realized, to target an unknown entity, trust that it was no more than a runaway machine, and blow it to bits. It was quite another to cozy up to one who looked, and felt, and acted like a human being and commit an act that would feel like cold blooded murder.

  She was fairly certain she wasn't going to be able to go through with it.

  Why couldn't he have been like he was supposed to be? Cold. Mechanical. Unfeeling. Why couldn't he have been insane?

  Damn him anyway! How could he have seen through what she'd been so carefully hiding from herself? She wasn't going to be able lie to herself, or to him, that she was immune to him.

  Maybe it was merely a psychological reaction to being taken captive? She'd never been captured before. She'd had training for it, but no scenario had been anything like this. The expectation had been that she would be tortured—with pain, not pleasure.

  Maybe she hadn't properly assessed the situation to start with? Maybe killing him was not only not necessary to her own survival, but entirely the opposite? Contributing to her downfall?

  "It would be easier to avoid broaching a painful topic if I knew what it was."

  Despite her distraction, it didn't take her two seconds to realize he was harping on their earlier disagreement. Amaryllis gritted her teeth. “Jeez! Could you just drop it? It doesn't matter."


  "If it didn't, you wouldn't be angry."

  She tensed, considering rolling from the bunk and stalking across the room to put some distance between them. His arm tightened as if he knew exactly what was running through her mind. She relapsed, fuming.

  He fell silent. She didn't know if he was sleeping or not, but his hold didn't loosen and she found she couldn't maintain either her anger or her tension. Slowly but surely it seeped away. The desire he'd aroused in her didn't.

  He was warm. He breathed. His body was hard, but in the sense of well honed muscle and tissue, not cold metal.

  He felt good.

  He felt damned good.

  He's a machine! She mentally screamed at herself.

  Why the hell had they made them so real? Stupid, conceited, megalomaniacs! What was it about humans and their preoccupation with perfection anyway? Why create something so perfect it was better than the real thing? Because they liked to think they could do a better job than nature? Hell, that wasn't all that damned hard! Look at her! A freak of nature if there ever was one. She should never have been born at all, much less survived outside her mother's womb.

  She should be glad he'd pushed that particular button and summoned her personal demons. It was enough to remind her to keep her distance in every way possible.

  If she could just keep reminding herself of that, she might get through this.

  Chapter Six

  Amaryllis didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry that Dante hadn't pursued the matter. On one level, she harbored a good deal of regret. She couldn't recall ever having been so quickly, or thoroughly, aroused that she'd become lost in it. She was sorry it had ended without the promised fulfillment, especially since the incident seemed to have left her body in a ready state that showed no signs of going away and only added to the tension she was already feeling about her situation.

  On another level, she realized that she'd been spared a step that she would never have been able to retrieve. If Dante had possessed her, given her the pleasure his touch promised, she feared she would've been addicted to his touch in a way that she would never be able to free herself from.

  She didn't want to be tied to him in any way. She couldn't afford to be. Her life might well depend upon escape and she couldn't afford to be torn by conflicting desires.