Home > Stone Cold Cyborg(4)

Stone Cold Cyborg(4)
Author: Cara Bristol

 However, the lieutenant commander and Warren Ochoa, the liaison, would report the violation.

 The hail sounded again. What if the lieutenant commander had dropped in unexpectedly, passed by, and heard barking? Quickly she shut off the bot and plunked him onto his pad before running to the communication unit. “Y-yes? Who is it?”

 “Althea.”

 She sighed in relief that her secret was safe—and that her roommate had returned. She and the other woman had been acquaintances rather than friends on Verde Omega, but after sharing a cabin for five days, they had grown closer. Then two days ago, Althea had left one morning and not come back—until now.

 Miranda flung open the door. “Why didn’t you just come in? Where did you go? I was getting worried—” Her jaw dropped at her roomie’s appearance.

 Althea’s eyes were bloodshot, her hair was tangled and matted, and she wore mismatched, rumpled clothing—a man’s shirt with her leggings. The shirt was buttoned wrong. She looked like she’d had a wild few days.

 “Oh…” Miranda hunched her shoulders and averted her gaze. No judgments. If Althea had found solace in sex, more power to her.

 “Are you alone? We need to chat,” Althea said.

 “Of course! Don’t stand outside. Come on in!” She couldn’t wait to hear the juicy details. Appearance alone hinted at quite a story, but she hoped Althea wasn’t planning to vacate their cabin and move in with whoever she had hooked up with. They’d been starting to become friends, and Miranda would miss her company. But you had to grab happiness when you could find it. She wondered if Althea’s hook-up was somebody from Verde Omega or a member of the crew? That would be interesting. She thought of the captain and knew without a doubt he would never fraternize with a passenger.

 Her roommate hesitated, glancing up and down the hall.

 Miranda peered around her. “Who are you looking for?”

 “You.” Althea slipped inside, the door slid shut, and she leaned against the wall surveying their quarters. Her gaze sharpened as it settled in the corner. “You said you were alone.”

 “I am alone.”

 “What’s that?”

 “What’s what?”

 “That,” Althea pointed at Sparky. She had to be joking.

 Miranda laughed, then frowned when Althea didn’t even crack a smile. “Are you all right?” She eyed her disheveled appearance with concern now. “Did something happen to you?”

 “Nothing happened. I’m fine,” she said tersely and pushed off from the wall.

 Miranda moved toward the K9 bot. She didn’t feel comfortable insisting Althea talk if she didn’t wish to, but her roomie had asked to chat. Not quite sure what was going on, Miranda said, “I think Sparky is malfunctioning. I need him to be quiet, but his vocal software keeps activating. Let’s see if he barks now.” She reached under his collar and switched him on.

 Snarling and snapping, he leaped at Althea, going for her throat.

 “Sparky! No!” Miranda caught the leash and yanked him back.

 The other woman shot out of the cabin.

 As if short-circuiting, the bot shuddered, snapping its jaws, fighting the lead, trying to chase the fleeing woman.

 Miranda deactivated him, then dashed after her friend. “I’m sorry! Come back. It’s okay! I turned him off!” But Althea had disappeared.

 Returning inside, Miranda picked up the rigid, silent bot. His teeth were bared in a frozen snarl, making him look vicious. She petted his synthetic fur. “Oh, Sparky. What is going on with you?” She felt sick. He’d bitten the captain and had tried to attack Althea. She could overlook one incident, but two had to be taken seriously. He could go haywire at any time and attack someone else—or even her. She had no choice but to do as the captain had ordered and keep him powered down all the time. With a heavy heart, she stowed him in a storage locker and shut the door.

 * * * *

 Beneath Dante’s feet, the Crimson Hawk hummed as it hurtled through space. Arms clasped behind his back, he stared through the observation window at the stars. When off duty he tended to avoid the public areas of the ship, preferring the solitude of his consult room or his cabin. Lately, however, he’d found himself drawn to the observation lounge.

 Two weeks had passed since they’d rescued the colonists, and in another two, they would dock at SSO15, the New Utopians would get off the ship, and he’d never see Miranda Lowell again.

 What would happen to her then?

 Dante had looked into her background. Miranda’s mother had died of the plague when she was a baby. She’d lost her father in a spaceship explosion when she was a teenager. She had no siblings, no other close family. The New Utopians she had considered her surrogate family had been killed in the massacre. She hadn’t been lying when she said the robotic dog was the only thing she had left.

 And he’d threatened to eject it from the ship. He’d never forgive himself for that.

 Brack had been correct to try to deter him from interacting with the colonists. He assumed he used to have better people skills before becoming a cyborg, but that was so many years ago, honestly, he couldn’t remember.

 As a young military cadet, he’d suffered from delusions of valor. Oh, the space soldier he could be! The cyborg program had promised to make him stronger, faster, more powerful, a better warrior. And it had. Except in losing his emotions, he’d lost his humanity.

 The tradeoff hadn’t been worth it. But there was no going back. A human could become a cyborg, but a cyborg couldn’t become human again.

 He had more in common with the canine bot than with the crew and passengers. Maybe cybermed should have given me a personality chip.

 Would Miranda take her dog and resettle on another colony? Or would she remain on the space station? Only rarely did he use his R&R, and never at a space station, but he had accrued a lot of unused leave.

 After the massacre, no one would fault the colonists for playing it safe and staying on SSO15. As massive as an Earth metropolis with all the services and amenities, the space station could provide one with a comfortable, full life. While not uncomfortable, the Crimson Hawk was built for war, not creature comforts. The “amenities” provided for basic needs only. No frills, except for the observation lounge, and even its seating was more utilitarian than inviting.

 Dante sighed. A few married crewmembers had husbands and wives on board, but until now, he’d never considered how little military life had to offer spouses. If the Space Force had wanted you to have a spouse, they would have issued you one. There was a lot of truth in the old joke.

 Just as well Miranda would be leaving the ship soon.

 In a roundabout way, he’d tried to inquire about her welfare.

 “How are the New Utopians doing? Any problems? Are they handling the confinement okay?” he’d asked Brack. He’d read the medical officer’s report verifying the colonists were free of communicable diseases, but the quarantine remained in place for their safety. There were many places on a military fighter where civilians shouldn’t go.

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