Stone Cold Cyborg Read online

  Stone Cold Cyborg

  Copyright © October 2021 by Cara Bristol

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN: 978-1-947203-31-0

  Editor: William Harrison, Celeste Jones

  Cover Artist: Sweet ‘n Spicy Designs

  Formatting by Wizards in Publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  Cara Bristol Website: http://carabristol.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  STONE COLD CYBORG

  Cara Bristol

  Dante Stone is an emotionless cyborg who commands a military space fighter. His ship picks up an SOS call from a settlement on the outer edge of Alliance territory, but by the time he can get there, most of the colonists have been massacred. He rescues the traumatized survivors, including archivist Miranda Lowell and her robot dog. His orders are to deliver the colonists to a space station where they can receive the medical and psychological help they need.

  However, Miranda awakens Dante's emotions in ways he never thought possible, and he begins to hope for a different kind of future. But before he can act, the colonists begin mysteriously vanishing from the ship, and he soon realizes Miranda's robotic dog may hold the clues to saving her, the passengers, and the crew.

  Stone Cold Cyborg was first published as “Spark of Attraction” in the anthology Pets in Space 1. It has been revised with new material and is now available as a single title download.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Titles by Cara Bristol

  About Cara Bristol

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  “How many survivors are there?” Dante asked Lieutenant Commander Lucille Brack as she strode onto the bridge.

  “Two hundred twelve.”

  “Fatalities?”

  “Eleven hundred and fifty-nine New Utopians perished in the Tyranian attack,” his first officer replied.

  “You’re sure we rescued all the survivors?”

  “Yes, we did a thorough bio scan of the planet’s surface and identified and accounted for all humans, alive and deceased.”

  “What kind of shape are they in?

  “Some are handling it well, but others—” Brack shook her head. “Medical is doing their best to treat them, but the Crimson Hawk is a warship, not a hospital or psychiatric ward. Many of the colonists are exhibiting severe symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, others are displaying signs of paranoia.”

  “Of all the possible planets, why the hell did they try to establish a settlement on Verde Omega? What were they thinking?”

  “Probably that the natural resources offered tremendous potential. It’s a beautiful planet, much like Earth was once. If not for the proximity to Tyrania, it would have been colonized a long time ago.”

  “But it is close to Tyrania.” The outcome had been predictable.

  Verde Omega, while technically in Alliance territory, orbited on its far-flung edge, bordering Tyranian space. Everyone in the galaxy avoided it, but the idealistic, live-and-let-live New Utopians were too naïve for their own good. Pacifism offered no defense, mental or physical, against an enemy intent upon decimating entire populations.

  The colonists seeking to establish a homeland on Verde Omega hadn’t caused the massacre, but they’d deliberately put themselves in harm’s way by ignoring Alliance advisories. They should have known it was only a matter of time before the Tyranians violated galactic law and paid them a visit.

  When the Tyranians invaded, New Utopia had sent out a distress call, but solar storms had prevented the signal from getting to Alliance Command for nearly a month. The closest ship, the Crimson Hawk, had responded immediately upon receiving the message, but it had taken another two weeks to reach them. By then, most of the settlement had been wiped out.

  “Keep them comfortable until we can deliver them to Space Station Outpost Fifteen,” Dante said. “SSO15 has the best medical and psychiatric facilities of all the outposts.”

  The aliens had been vicious; killing hadn’t sufficed—they’d tortured the colonists. Recovery would be long and hard. Physical wounds were relatively easy to heal; psychological ones exacted the highest toll.

  “Where did you put them?” he asked.

  “We vacated the crew quarters starboard side over the aft engine bay. They’ve been assigned two to a stateroom. They’re allowed access to the observation lounge and the mess hall, but guards are posted to ensure they don’t go beyond those areas. They are under quarantine until we can verify they aren’t carrying any Tyranian diseases. Besides, we can’t have civilians wandering around a military vessel. It could be dangerous.”

  He wished more could be done for them, but Brack was correct in that the warship wasn’t equipped to deal with traumatized civilians. Nor was he, to tell the truth. Dealing with fragile humans was outside of his wheelhouse, but he couldn’t shake the notion he should do something.

  Dante stroked his chin. “Perhaps I should speak to them.”

  “Negative. You’re needed on the bridge,” Brack vetoed sharply.

  “Excuse me?” He turned a steely gaze on his first officer. He’d known her since they were academy cadets, and after his promotion to captain and being awarded a commission on the Crimson Hawk, he’d hand-picked her to be his second-in-command. He trusted and relied on her judgment. In private, rank ceded to friendship, and they spoke freely. But not on duty, not on the bridge.

  “My apologies, sir.” She held his gaze. “But ionic signatures indicate the Tyranians have not left Alliance territory. There is a possibility the Crimson Hawk could engage them. The civilian liaison and I have everything under control. With all due respect, sir, there is nothing you can do for them.”

  From the start, Brack had taken a personal interest in the colonists’ well-being, requesting to oversee their care on the ship, which he’d readily granted. “You have more important matters to deal with on the bridge. I can handle the colonists. You did delegate the task to me.” She paused. “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Wasn’t that what you just did?” he said dryly, but motioned for her to continue.

  “The colonists are emotionally brittle, terror-stricken. They must be handled with kid gloves. The smallest slight could further traumatize them.”

  Meaning he could traumatize them. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he no longer had the means to express his concern. His coldness intimidated many people. If he could have felt enough emotion to feel embarrassed, he would have. But any feeling, even anger, was rarely more than lukewarm.

  His cyborg brain excelled at military strategy, logic, and analysis. Hand-holding and hugs? Not so much. He’d never been a people person, but after the transformation to cyborg early in his military career, he’d lost the ability to feel and express emotion. Cybermed doctors had assured him the microchip brain implant and the robotic nanocyte i
nfusion wouldn’t change him, but they had. He’d been one of the unlucky ones to suffer a rare side effect. He’d emerged from surgery with memory intact, body strengthened, cognition enhanced, and emotion erased.

  He’d become cold, dispassionate, his name a perfect descriptor of his manner: Dante Stone.

  Undistracted by feelings, he’d executed his duties with laser-focused precision.

  Enemies, detractors, and even friends, nicknamed him Stone Cold.

  What rank and file perceived as a flaw, his military superiors considered as an asset. He’d catapulted over those with greater seniority, and now commanded the most powerful warship in the Alliance Command Space Force fleet, with one thousand personnel serving under him.

  He’d watched on the view screen from his consult room as the terrified New Utopia survivors boarded the vessel. The colonists had sought to build a new Eden, but had been thrust into hell instead. Lives had been irrevocably altered. They could never be “normal” again. He identified with their plight. He would never be normal again either.

  He had nothing to offer to ease their pain. There was no reassurance he could give. They were safe now, but they couldn’t recover what they had lost, any more than he could.

  “You’re right, of course. I’ll leave the care of the colonists in your capable hands.”

  * * * *

  Dante knew he should keep his distance and let his first officer deal with the colonists, but the idea he should check on them himself continued to gnaw at him. So, the next morning, he decided to pay the New Utopians a brief visit and reiterate that he and his crew would do everything in their power to make them as comfortable as possible.

  He figured the best way to speak to them would be to drop in during breakfast when they were all together.

  “Woof. Woof.” As he rounded the corner, heading for the mess hall, he cocked his head. Did he hear barking?

  “Woof. Woof.”

  Canine barking? Someone had brought a dog on board? Orders from Alliance Command had been to rescue the humans on Verde Omega, not other lifeforms. Animals, even domesticated ones like dogs, were known carriers of disease. They could easily be infected with alien microbes that could sweep through and decimate a contained population like the crew of a warship. A warship had no animal quarantine facility. Given that Verde Omega had been invaded by Tyranians who carried who-knew-what, an animal aboard could pose a health hazard.

  About a dozen New Utopians congregated outside the mess hall. In the center of the group a dog jumped around, wagging its fluffy tail like a metronome.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Who brought this animal on board? Explain yourself!”

  The colonists cringed in fear, and belatedly he remembered his first officer’s admonition. “It’s the captain! Stone Cold!” someone whispered, but his cyborg ears heard it as if they’d shouted it.

  “It’s my dog.” A young woman stepped forward. “Sparky, sit!” she said, and the animal quieted and settled on its haunches. The clean civvies the crew had rustled up hung sack-like on her scrawny frame. Stringy, dull brown hair drooped around a face sunken from malnutrition, but he rocked back on his heels as if he’d been sucker punched. His chest constricted, and his stomach flip-flopped. A heat totally inappropriate for the situation surged through him. He sent a rush of nanos to calm his racing pulse.

  “What is your name and position?” he said.

  “M-Miranda Lowell. I’m the archivist for New Utopia.”

  “Why did you bring this animal on board?”

  “I couldn’t leave him behind!”

  “You have potentially endangered your fellow colonists and my entire crew.”

  “Sparky poses no threat.”

  “Where is the liaison?” He diverted his attention from her, away from his disconcerting physical reaction.

  “Here.” A civilian employee stepped out of the crowd. “I’m Warren Ochoa.”

  “Remove the canine from this ship. Animals are not allowed.”

  Miranda Lowell recoiled.

  “Captain, we’re a parsec away from the nearest life-sustaining planet,” Ochoa said. “The only way to remove him would be to…airlock him.”

  “No! You can’t do that!” The woman rounded on him, horror flickering in eyes too large for her gaunt face. She couldn’t have had much to eat while running from the aliens. Surviving colonists had fled the invading horde with only the clothing on their backs. Her mongrel appeared in much better shape, healthy and well-fed, its short coat groomed and shiny. She hadn’t been giving her limited sustenance to the dog, had she? “Please, don’t airlock Sparky.”

  Rules were rules, and while he might have been inclined to bend them after what she’d been through, he had to put the health of the people first. He had a crew of one thousand and two hundred-plus refugees. The latter, physically compromised and half-starved, were in no condition to fight off an alien contagion. Who knew what they might have already been exposed to? He couldn’t let himself be swayed by beseeching eyes and a rush of heat.

  “I would not airlock an animal. It could be placed on a bullet pod and shot on ahead to SSO15.”

  Her eyes flashed, and she jutted out her chin “No! He stays with me. He’s all I have left. I won’t let you take him.”

  He sympathized, but the safety of the passengers was paramount, and he couldn’t let a slip of a girl undermine his authority. Insubordination would spread. He turned to the liaison. “Get with Lieutenant Commander Brack and remove the animal. That’s an order.”

  He shouldn’t have come. If he hadn’t known about the animal, he wouldn’t have been forced to deal with it. But now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t.

  Brack had warned him. He wasn’t cut out to deal with people. The colonists who weren’t outright terrified were shooting daggers of anger at him. Disgusted with himself, he pivoted, preparing to return to the bridge, when the woman leaped in front of him.

  “I’m keeping my dog. You try to take him, and…and…you’ll be sorry!” Anger animated her entire face, giving him a glimpse of what she looked like when she was healthy.

  That inappropriate, unwelcome sexual heat flared low in his abdomen. “Do not threaten me.” Dante leveled a stare that caused those under his command to quake in their boots. “The order stands. Now, move out of the way.”

  “No.” She planted her feet wide apart.

  Gently, he grasped her arms to shift her out of his path.

  Behind him, the dog growled.

  “Sparky’s not a live animal! He’s a K9-500 bot!” She wrenched away, and in her weakened condition, lost her balance. He lunged to catch her before she fell.

  The mongrel snarled, charged, and latched its teeth onto Dante’s ankle.

  Chapter Two

  “Sparky, no!” Miranda grabbed her robotic dog and tried to pull him off the captain. This was awful. Stone would airlock him for sure. “Release, Sparky, release!” she cried, but the companion-model robot hung on. “Let go!”

  The captain bent, and gripping the dog’s upper and lower jaws, tried to pry its mouth open with his bare hands.

  “Don’t hurt Sparky!” The cyborg captain could break him, dislocate his jaw.

  “Hurt him?” He peered up at her. “Might I remind you, its teeth are imbedded in my leg?”

  She reached under the collar for the power switch on the dog’s nape. He jerked, released the captain’s ankle, and fell over. Still. Silent. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, wringing her hands. “He’s programmed to protect me, and he perceived you as a threat.” Maybe if she’d explained at the start her dog was a canine artificial intelligence model, all of this could have been avoided—but at the captain’s edict, she had panicked.

  She scooped Sparky up and clutched him to her chest, stroking his soft synthetic fur. He looked and acted so lifelike, sometimes she forgot he was a robot. They’d have to eject her from the ship before she’d
allow them to remove him. If they put him on a pod to the space station, how could she be sure she’d get him back?

  He hadn’t been bothering anything.

  Well, not until he bit the captain.

  If Stone’s eyes had been cold before, they were positively frigid now. She’d never seen such a chilling expression.

  Blood stained his pants leg, and he pulled it up to reveal a lacerated ankle. Though small in size, the K9-500 had a jaw like a vise and sharp metal teeth. If the bot had attacked an ordinary human, damage could have been severe. Dante Stone was a cyborg, a computer-enhanced human with biomimetic parts. She’d heard cyborgs were immune to pain and practically indestructible. In her short time on the ship, she’d also heard the captain was one cold S-O-B.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It doesn’t hurt much, though, right?”

  “Of course, it hurts!” he snapped. “Why would you think it doesn’t?”

  “Don’t you have those nano thingees to dull the pain?”

  Her fellow colonists were staring, watching the interchange, waiting to see what would happen. Would the captain toss her into the brig? Airlock poor Sparky?

  “All of you, disperse!” He waved at the gawkers, and they fled for their cabins. She wished she could slink away to her quarters, too, but she knew without being told, there was no way he would dismiss her yet.

  Captain Stone regarded her from his immense height, muscles bunched and corded under his uniform, gaze forbidding, features chiseled. Rock was softer than his expression.

  Her anger had faded, and without fury to give her courage, her knees shook. Staring eyeball to eyeball with him was almost as bad as facing down the Tyranian in the greenhouse. No—no one was that bad. The alien had been hideous. Its red eyes had glowed with malice. And it stank.

  Sparky had saved her. The K9-500 had leaped into the air and attached itself to the creature’s scaly arm. As the Tyranian had attempted to shake off the bot, she’d decapitated the attacker with a scythe. Then, she’d grabbed her dog and fled. She’d been on the run for a month, scavenging for whatever native flora she recognized as edible, which wasn’t much, and hid wherever she could, until the Crimson Hawk had arrived, fought off the aliens and rescued the survivors.