by Liz Crowe
“What type of parasite is that?” He touched his stomach. Did he now have one of those creatures inside him too?
“Parasite?” Joan’s face turned pale. “Get it out of me.”
“Parasite.” Surge smiled.
“Technically, he is one.” Doc appeared as irrationally happy. “And judging by how quickly he’s growing, he’ll be out of you in mere planet rotations, Rage’s female.”
“We might have to remove him.” Surge tapped his fingers against his chin. “She’s human. She might not be able to carry him to term.”
“True.”
Rage’s frustration levels spiraled higher and higher. “Will.” He picked Doc up by his neck. “She.” He shook the cyborg. “Live?”
“Yes,” Doc croaked. “Not virus. Offspring.”
“What?” Rage dropped him. “That’s your diagnosis?” Were they idiots? “Cyborgs can’t produce offspring. I know. I was in the breeding programs, was paired with twenty-two human females and one hundred and fifteen cyborg females. None of those pairings were successful.” He narrowed his eyes, questioning Doc’s credentials. “Where did you learn about repairing cyborgs?”
Doc rubbed his neck. “I’m qualified.”
Rage didn’t believe him. Crash. He opened his transmission lines to his friend. Relay these images and all subsequent information to Intrepid. Ask him to search on possible causes. “Are there additional medical staff on board?”
“You don’t need advice from additional medical staff.” Doc glared at him. “This is an image of an offspring manufactured in one of the human’s laboratories.” He tapped the screen and an image appeared. “This is the image of the offspring in your female’s womb.” He reduced the size and displayed them side by side.
They were identical.
Identical.
That meant…
Rage swayed, his view of the worlds, the future, fate shifting.
Because something he thought impossible had occurred. He had created offspring with Joan. She wasn’t sick, wasn’t dying. She would live, spend her lifespan with him.
And she was carrying his son.
“My son,” he roared, falling to his knees, his fingers curling into fists. “I have a female and a son.”
Cyborgs cheered over the transmission lines, their joy almost rivaling his.
Almost.
He’d never felt this happy. Ever. It was as though every pleasure he’d ever experienced, every dream, every unspoken wish, had converged into one.
“Rage?” Joan gazed at him with wide eyes, her hands placed protectively over her rounded stomach. She’d given him this happiness.
“We created offspring, female.” Saying the words made it even more real.
She blinked once, twice, her surprise mirroring his. “How’s that possible, sir?”
“We’ll have to perform tests to determine how it happened,” Doc answered for Rage. “But first, I must inform the captain that we’re now out of quarantine. If your condition is contagious, every cyborg on board will want to be infected.”
Chapter Nineteen
We created offspring, female.
Joan struggled to absorb Rage’s words.
She’d reviewed the research gathered from the breeding programs. There had been zero offspring conceived. No pairings had been successful.
The scientists had expected the breeding programs to work. The genetic blueprint for cyborg mechanics had been inserted into the DNA sequence. The nanocybotics had been modified, allowing for the expansion of their parts as cyborg offspring matured, ensuring both man and machine grew in concert.
But the very nature of the nanocybotics prevented conception. As Rage had explained the planet rotation they’d met, a cyborg’s nanocybotics viewed any fertilized egg as a damaged egg. They ‘repaired’ it, returning the egg to its former unfertilized state.
In a laboratory, a scientist could administer a suppressor immediately before fertilization. That was too complex to be coded into DNA.
Faced with those facts, Joan had realized she’d never have offspring with Rage. She’d accepted that future, thought herself content with one big C Model cyborg to love and care for.
Now they’d have a son.
“You’re certain?” she asked. It was too incredible to be believed.
“We’re certain.” There was no doubt in Doc’s voice.
Surge nodded.
“Our offspring is inside you, female.” Rage rushed to her side, a silly smile lighting his normally grim face. “You’ve made me the happiest cyborg in the universe.”
He scooped her into his arms, scanning blanket and all, and he spun. The chambers’ lights whizzed around them. She clung to his neck, kicked her feet, and laughed, his exuberance feeding hers.
She hadn’t inadvertently killed the male she loved. She was giving him a son. They’d live and love for a cyborg lifespan, hundreds, perhaps thousands of solar cycles.
The door slid open and Rage abruptly stopped, the cessation of motion jarring Joan. He folded his big body around her, safeguarding her from the intruder.
“First,” Gap crowed, lifting his hands in victory.
“First to arrive in the chambers.” Crash pushed him to the side. “Not first to see the images of our offspring.”
“I was on the same transmission.” Gap approached them, grinning boyishly.
“You were secondary on the transmission.” Crash followed him.
The young cyborg gazed at her stomach. “The difference in timing was minuscule, undetectable to offspring-bearing human females.”
“There’s still a difference.” Crash’s gaze dropped also.
“Touch my female and I’ll pound you into the floor.” Rage’s rumble sent a tremor of arousal through Joan.
Their faces fell, their disappointment adorable.
“On the agri lot, some beings believed that touching a female while she was bearing offspring brought good luck.” The luck was for the being doing the touching. Those same beings believed in dancing naked every sundown. Joan didn’t tell them that.
Rage skimmed his fingertips over her blanket-covered stomach. “We wish for a healthy mother and a healthy offspring.” His gaze slid to the cyborgs. “Only touch my female’s stomach and be gentle.”
“I’ll guide them, sir.” Joan took both cyborgs’ right hands and set them on her belly.
Gap’s eyes widened. “Our offspring is in there?”
Joan nodded. Crash had referred to him as ‘our offspring’ also. As the first to be conceived, would their son belong to all of the cyborgs? She liked the idea that he’d be protected by hundreds of warriors.
“He’s cooing through the transmission lines.” Crash’s face softened. “He knows we’re here.”
Joan glanced at Rage.
“He chatters as much as those two do.” He indicated Gap and Crash. “That’s why I thought my processors were infected.”
“What he isn’t telling you is he now chatters back.” Crash grinned.
Rage frowned at his friend. “I have to. My son howls if I ignore him.”
“Because you’re his father.” Her heart squeezed. Their son recognized him.
“You’re his mother. We’ll create a device so you can hear him also.” Crash lowered his face to stomach level. “He already hears you.”
“Oh.” Joan blinked back tears. Her son heard her.
The door slid open. Vector crossed the threshold, stopped short when he saw Gap and Crash, their hands on her stomach. Fierce yearning flashed across his face, quickly concealed under a mask of indifference.
“Have you arrived to imprison my female, cyborg?” Rage glowered at him.
Red flushed Vector’s cheekbones. “I’ve arrived to congratulate you and to offer my sincere apologies. I learned much about your female during the isolation.” He glanced at Crash. “She’s a female deserving our gratitude and our protection. You’re a fortunate cyborg to have found her. And that you created offspring--” His v
oice cracked.
Vector paused, collecting his emotions. No one else spoke. Joan sniffled, tears dripping down her cheeks, collecting in the seams of her lips.
“That you created offspring,” the captain continued. “Gives hope to all of us. I offer you the shelter of my ship and the devotion of my crew while you await his arrival.”
Rage narrowed his eyes. “My female, the mother of the first naturally born cyborg, isn’t welcome in the Homeland?”
“The council hasn’t yet ruled on your female’s status.” Vector straightened and met his gaze directly. “But as your offspring has been conceived and carried to this stage of his development in space, I assumed you wouldn’t risk his health by changing his surroundings.”
“He’s right, sir.” Joan agreed with that thinking. “The change in gravity can be jarring.”
“It’s logical not to risk it,” Doc added his opinion.
“And if the council rules that my female is to be killed?” Rage braced his feet apart, her cyborg uncaring that he was naked and unarmed. “Will we be fighting your entire crew to keep her safe?”
“The council won’t ask for her death.” Vector lifted his chin. “She’s our future.”
“If they do?” Rage pushed.
“If they do, I’ll add my guns to yours. I will defend your female and your offspring with my life. I pledge that on my honor as a cyborg.” Vector’s gaze slid to Joan. “I hope to find my own female some planet rotation in the future.”
“There were one hundred females in a birthing class at Joan’s Academy. They have no males to protect them.” Gap grinned.
Joan inwardly groaned. The young cyborg remained fixated on those females.
“Female, what are your thoughts?” Rage looked at her. “Chambers on a warship would be secure.”
Their offspring was a cyborg. They were designed to develop rapidly, to provide the Humanoid Alliance with warriors quickly. Their son would be born within planet rotations, full grown within a solar cycle.
And a warship would be safe. Vector had sworn his loyalty. He didn’t appear the type of cyborg to take his honor lightly.
“As long as Gap, Crash and the other cyborgs in our fleet can board this warship, I have no objections, sir.” She smiled first at Rage and then at Vector.
“I can’t stop them from boarding.” The Captain’s lips twitched. “Your cyborgs are eager to celebrate the offspring they’ve claimed as theirs. Prepare for an invasion.”
“Fraggin’ hole. They’ll all want to touch my female’s stomach,” Rage grumbled.
“Is that a possibility?” Vector glanced at Joan’s midsection and she swallowed a groan. She’d be rubbed by every cyborg on board the warship by the end of the planet rotation.
“We accept your offer.” Rage ignored the question and held out his palm. The two males exchanged a bone-jarring handshake. “We’ll require chambers.” Joan’s stomach growled. “And nourishment bars.”
The cyborgs laughed.
“You’ll also require training,” Vector dared to add. “You have to be ready, at any time, to defend your female and offspring.”
The laughter stopped. Joan sucked in her breath. Her cyborg prided himself on being the best warrior. He wouldn’t appreciate the implication that his skills were substandard.
“Draw a sword and you’ll see how much training I need.” Rage glowered at Vector.
“I plan to.” The Captain’s eyes gleamed. “Choose twenty of your best males and I’ll choose twenty of mine. We’ll meet in the training room for a mock battle.”
“Battle,” Rage scoffed. “If there’s no possibility of death, it’s no battle.”
A slow smile spread across the other C Model cyborg’s face and Joan grew alarmed. She didn’t want the challenge to escalate to killing.
“You said cyborgs don’t fight each other,” she reminded the captain.
“This is training, not fighting.” Vector’s gaze remained locked with Rage’s. “There’s zero probability of death but, I assure your male, there will be pain.”
Rage straightened. “I won’t be the being feeling it.”
“We’ll see.”
Joan rolled her eyes. Pain, she could deal with.
*****
One planet rotation later, Joan watched from the protected viewing area as Gap limped from the battle square, his simulated body armor tattered, very real blood oozing from his shallow wounds.
“He should be given a pain inhibitor.” She worried her bottom lip.
“He won’t agree to it.” Crash appeared unconcerned. “All of the other cyborgs refused it and he wants to impress them.”
As predicted, Gap waved Doc away from him. The young cyborg slumped on a long bench, beside his defeated comrades. They slapped his shoulders.
“He’ll heal quickly,” Crash assured her. The cyborgs around them cheered as one of Vector’s males conceded. “The weapons can’t inflict deep wounds.”
“I heard they feel like deep wounds.” Barrel nudged Crash’s back. “And a kill imitates death. I’ve signed up for the next battle.”
He sounded as excited as Rage appeared. Her big cyborg was at the far end of the square, wielding swords with both of his hands, gleefully dispatching his opponents, his face splattered with blood. Vector did the same at the opposite edge of the battlefield.
“They must be clearing the space before they face each other.” Joan splayed her fingers over her belly.
Crash dipped his head. “That and Vector is giving Rage time to grow accustomed to his weapons. The weight and feel is slightly different.”
They’d decided upon primitive weapons—swords, daggers, axes, because guns, they agreed, were not feasible with so many opponents in such a small area and the feigned deaths were too quick for their satisfaction.
She didn’t expect any different decision from her fight-happy cyborg. Joan watched him eliminate two cyborgs at the same time. She suspected their son would be as prone to violence. He would have C Model cyborg traits.
“Is this what females like—fighting?” Crash hadn’t the typical cyborg tendency for violence, deeming to sit out the battle.
“This is what I like,” she admitted. Rage’s skill for killing made her feel safe. “But I’m not every female. At the Academy, there was a male enrolled in the technology program. He couldn’t fight but he could develop defense systems no unauthorized being could access. Females followed him around campus, waited for him outside his chambers.”
“He was human?” Crash’s top lip curled.
“Humanoid.” Joan wasn’t certain which species he was. Rumors had said he was mixed.
“I could access his systems.”
Her lips twitched. Rage’s friend might not be able to fight but he did have the typical cyborg confidence in his inherent abilities. “If the females had met you, they would have followed you around also.”
“I need one female, not multiple, and she will only follow me.” Crash lifted his chin.
A howl redirected Joan’s attention. Intrepid lay on his back, the tip of Vector’s sword pressed against his neck. Vector’s lips moved.
“What’s he saying?” She didn’t have cyborg hearing.
“Increase the auditory levels for our human female,” Barrel yelled.
Metal clanged. She recognized her cyborg’s grunts as he waged mock war.
“Answer me.” Vector leaned forward and blood dripped down Intrepid’s neck. “Do you concede?”
“Never.” The cyborg’s eyes blazed.
“You are as obstinate as your leader.” This was said with a mixture of appreciation and disgust. “You wished for pain. This is pain.” Vector twisted his sword.
Intrepid’s body convulsed. Crimson coated his body armor. Joan covered her mouth with her hands, his death appearing too real for her senses.
The big cyborg lay still for one, two, three heartbeats and then gasped. “Frag.” He coughed blood as he sat upright. “That stung.”
V
ector laughed. “You fought well.” He reached out, gripped Intrepid’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “After I dispatch your leader, we’ll share a beverage.”
“You won’t dispatch Rage.” Intrepid staggered out of the battle square. “He’s the best.”
Vector turned his head. Joan followed his line of vision. Rage stood above his opponent, in the same position Vector had been moments ago.
“This is a battle.” His eyes blazed with blue energy. “There’s no conceding in battle.” He twisted his sword, mock-killing the other cyborg quickly.
The cyborgs around Joan stomped their feet and yelled their approval.
“That cyborg won’t make that mistake again.” Crash nodded. “Rage made him a better warrior, might have saved his life.”
That was the brutal world they lived in. One error could result in death. The peace the cyborgs had found in their Homeland could evaporate with a single invasion.
Joan knew that better than any being. Her parents never expected the attack on the agri lot and they paid for their lack of preparation with their lives.
The two remaining males in the square—Rage and Vector—swaggered toward each other. This would be a battle to the mock death also. She read that truth in her cyborg’s scarred face. He would never concede, would never ask his opponent to surrender.
Which made last planet rotation’s actions more meaningful. Rage had surrendered for her, had agreed to possible imprisonment to protect her.
He loved her. She’d realized that before he’d said the words.
“You trained your cyborgs well.” Vector circled.
Rage did the same, juggling his swords, his long black hair hanging around his scarred face. “Your cyborgs are as skilled.” His biceps bulged. Joan gazed at him with pride. He was big and fierce and hers. “I’m enjoying your mock battle.”
“I thought you would.” Vector grinned, his white teeth flashing in his gray face. “Are we chattering or are we fighting?”
Joan laughed, knowing right then and there that the two cyborgs would be friends. Both of them were more prone to action than conversation.