Hunted by the Cyborg with Bonus Page 13

  “That was like a slalom course.” Brock switched to hyperdrive and let the computer take over.

  “Good job,” Carter said.

  “It saved us a lot of time.” Brock eyed him. “Swain should take a look at the wound.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I’m fine. My nanos will take care of it.”

  “Quasar may have tainted the bayo-blaster. Doesn’t it seem strange they stabbed you rather than shot you?”

  “The idea occurred to me, but I get my nanos upgraded regularly, and if the tip had been poisoned, I’d be sick by now. I’m fine. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be healed.”

  “Will you wait that long to see Beth? Or are you going to show up bloodied and injured and scare her half to death? A few minutes in the regenerator or an injection of hypernano serum could have you back to normal a lot quicker.”

  “I’ll go see Swain.”

  * * * *

  They landed on Cy-Ops’ private airfield, and the PeeVee picked them up as soon as they popped the hatch. Blood soaked Carter’s shirt. His body’s natural coagulants, boosted by nanocytes, should have staunched the flow, but something wasn’t working. Brock had been right again. The Quasar bayo-blaster had been tainted.

  The PeeVee delivered them into the secret garage at the Galactic Trade Center where they boarded the vertical transporter. He shot another message to Beth’s PerComm. I’m back on site. I’m anxious to see you, but I have to take care of something first. Are you free for dinner?

  Light-headed already, he swayed as the transporter descended, the swift vertical movement not helping his balance. He flattened his palm against the wall, leaving a bloody handprint.

  Brock’s voice faded in and out. “Fuck, you’re not just bleeding, you’re hemorrhaging.”

  “Yeah. I think so,” he deadpanned. His cyberbrain had signaled an alarm warning of hypovolemic shock.

  The doors opened to the Cybermed floor, and he staggered off. Brock grabbed his arm. “Let’s get you to medical. Did you alert Swain?”

  “Doing it now.” Just arrived on site. I was stabbed with a poisoned bayo-blaster. I think I’m bleeding out, going into shock.”

  His legs crumpled, and he started to fall, but Brock caught him. “Medbay 1 is right up here. Can you get there?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  I’ll meet you. Where are you? Swain replied.

  On the way to Medbay 1.

  Gray fog closed in. His ears buzzed. His legs had turned to Arcanian tar. Carter willed his failing nanos to keep him conscious. Leaning on Brock, he was hardly of aware of where they were going.

  “This is it,” Brock said, and steadying him with one hand, reached around to palm the access pad.

  No! Not Medbay1! Swain fired back. Use Medbay 2.

  His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “The doc says…he says go to—”

  Medbay 1 opened. Carter’s blurry gaze shot beyond Swain to Beth. Her horrified expression was the last thing he remembered before he keeled over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What’s wrong with me?” Beth knotted her hands. Swain peered at the screen readout. After the pain had rendered her unconscious, she’d come to in the medical facility.

  Puzzlement knit the doctor’s brows. “I can give you two answers. According to the scan—nothing. You’re as physically fit and healthy as a human being can be.”

  She braced herself. “What’s the second answer?”

  “I don’t know.” Swain lifted a shoulder. “The second answer is it’s a mystery. If you had a tumor, an arterial blockage, a parasite, a genetic defect, a disease process, the scanner would detect it.”

  “What’s your best guess?”

  “I do have a couple of hypotheses.”

  “For stars’ sake, tell me!”

  “First, it could be—for lack of a better term—accelerated growth pain. Cloning forced maturation faster than nature or genetics intended. A baby has eighteen to twenty years to grow to adulthood. You reached adulthood in a few months. The rapid growth could have side effects. Animals have been cloned for centuries; however, human cloning is relatively new. Long-term effects aren’t documented.”

  “And your other theory?”

  “Hypothesis,” he corrected. “A hypothesis is a guess. A theory is a scientific explanation supported by evidence. A theory—for example, Evolutionary Theory—has been tested and substantiated. It’s possible SGP may be involved—subliminal gestational programming. When you were developing in the gestation tank, messages or signals may have been transmitted to your brain. The bombardment could have caused headaches.”

  “Transmitted how? With electronic signals?”

  “Two ways—via sound waves or electrical impulses via electrodes.”

  “What messages would Clo-Ventures transmit?”

  Swain shrugged and spread his hands. “The company itself? None that I can imagine. Why would they? The focus is on producing clones for their clientele. But if a client requested something specific…”

  “The O’Sheas.”

  He nodded.

  “Like maybe to train me to behave like their daughter?” They could have tried to program her thoughts and actions.

  “Could be.”

  “Do you know why I passed out?” The headaches were bad enough, but how would she function if she continued to keel over without warning?

  “A reaction to the pain. A self-defense mechanism.”

  That made the most sense of anything he’d said so far. The pain had been blinding; the worst she’d ever experienced. “Will I have these headaches for the rest of my life?”

  “Not necessarily. If it’s related to accelerated maturation, the pain should dissipate over time. If SGP is causing it, that, too, might wane. I can try administering a pain blocker.”

  “Will there be any side effects?” She didn’t need more problems.

  “None.”

  “Do it, then.”

  “Hold still. You’ll feel a little pinch.” A robotic arm swiveled around and injected her in the neck.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You can get up now.”

  She slid off the scanner bed, and the blue beam of the sterilizer decontaminated the unit.

  “Tell me if you experience more pain or another fainting spell. If that happens, we can—” Swain froze, alarm flickering in his eyes, before he banked it. “I’m sorry. I have to go. There’s been an…emergency. Please wait here. I’ll send someone to escort you back.”

  Emergency? How did he know that?

  He charged for the exit.

  It slid open.

  An injured Carter, his torso bloodied from chest to hip, leaned against Brock Mann. His shocked, pain-filled eyes met hers before they rolled back up into his head. He went limp. Brock tried to break his fall, but Carter hit the floor with a thud.

  “Get him in the room.” Swain grabbed an arm and leg on one side, and Brock took the other. Together, they carried him to the bioscanner.

  “What happened to him?” Besides the profuse bleeding, perspiration beaded his pasty-white face, and his lips were blue.

  “I’m sorry. You can’t stay,” Brock said. “You’ll have to wait in your office. I’ll come update you as soon as I can.”

  “I sent for an escort,” Swain said.

  “I’m not leaving.” Her throat tightened with anxiety.

  Swain looked at her. “Brock is right. Time is critical, and we can’t work with you here.”

  “I won’t get in the way, I promise.”

  Morhain and Butler, who’d arrested her at the hotel that first day, barreled into the room. Beth scowled. “I don’t want to leave.” How could they throw her out like this? Expect her to stand by and wait? Brock and Swain both were aware she and Carter had a relationship. He could be dying! Fear clawed at her, and tears pricked at her eyes. What if he didn’t recover?

  “Your call, Brock.” Swain cut off Carter’s shirt. “W
ith Carter incapacitated, you’re in command.”

  She flinched at the sight of his bloody, raw torso. He looked like he’d been cut open with a…sword or a saber.

  Swain peered at the medscreen. His fingers worked so fast, they almost seemed to blur. A machine came down, and a pink light scanned Carter’s body.

  “If I was injured, Pia would take their heads off if they tried to remove her from the room,” Brock said.

  She would, too. Let them try to eject her! She glared at Morhain and Butler.

  “There’s only so much I can do with her here,” Swain said.

  “I can handle it. I won’t pass out or get in the way.” The treatment couldn’t be more gruesome than the injury. He had been sliced open.

  “She has the appropriate security clearance…” Brock said.

  What did a security clearance have to do with anything? What was the big secret here?

  “She doesn’t have the need-to-know. She’s only an Aym-Sec employee,” Swain said.

  Brock, Swain, Morhain—they were all Aym-Sec employees, weren’t they? What did he mean, only? There was something they weren’t telling her. She pressed a knuckle to her mouth. “Please let me stay. Whatever happens, I want to be here.”

  Brock met her gaze. “I’m sorry.” He motioned to the guards then jerked his head. He looked uncertain all of a sudden.

  “Carter set the protocols if something happened to him and he became incapacitated,” Swain said. “Something did. He’s not in a position to make decisions.”

  As she had several times in the past, she got the impression conversations beyond what she could hear were occurring.

  “She stays,” Brock said, and dismissed the two guards.

  * * * *

  Fading in and out of consciousness, Carter marshaled his remaining nanos and fought to remain alert. In accordance with policy, Brock and Swain intended to eject Beth.

  He shouldn’t be hemorrhaging. Nanos should have stopped the bleeding hours ago, and the wound should have begun to knit together. He couldn’t die now! He’d finally met the one woman he might be able to share his life with. But, before that could happen, she had to know the whole truth about him. He had to reveal his biggest secret. Maybe this wasn’t the right way. Maybe blood loss had impacted his judgment. His mouth worked, but he couldn’t force the words out.

  Focusing all his mental capacity, human and computer, he accessed his wireless and shot a message to Brock and Swain. Let…her…stay.

  She’ll find out about Cy-Ops. Once she learns you’re a cyborg, she’ll realize the rest of us are, too, Brock said.

  “Carter set the protocols if something happened to him and he became incapacitated,” Swain was saying. “Something did. He’s not in a position to make decisions.”

  Fuck it. He set the rules. He’d break them. Want her to stay.

  He’d always put Cy-Ops before his personal happiness. Maintained its secrecy. Never shared what he was, what he did, where he went. Never opened up to anyone. Over the years, it had become easier to avoid intimacy and rely on the android sex workers at Darius 4 than to get involved in relationships doomed to fail.

  Except, the razor-sharp edges of longing and loneliness had begun to cut into his psyche. He didn’t want to spend his life alone anymore.

  But, what if Swain couldn’t save him? What if he died? Was it wrong to put Beth in that position? Have her watch him die?

  I’m not going to die. He’d been in bad shape before. He would survive this, too. He would fight, and Swain was the best doc around.

  “C-can I hold his hand?” Beth asked.

  “All right. But, stand back. When the machine moves, you’ll have to get out of the way,” Swain said.

  Carter tried to squeeze her fingers, but his grip had no strength. He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t move. What the hell had been on the bayo-blaster?

  Arms folded, Brock stood off to the side.

  Swain scowled at his medscreen, and then a robotic limb swiveled out and pumped a load of shit into Carter’s neck. I’m giving him synthetic plasma, a triple dose of hemo-gen to speed the replacement of lost blood cells, and some nano-temp to help slow the bleeding, while I program a new set of nanocytes keyed to his DNA, Swain explained to Brock, obeying the protocol, which placed Carter’s second-in-command in charge. He’s going to need a complete nanofusion. What the hell happened?

  I’m conscious…dammit, Carter said.

  Then shut up and let me work, Swain snapped back.

  Quasar stabbed him with a bayo-blaster, Brock said. I’m pretty sure it was poisoned.

  That would explain his condition. The bleeding from the stabbing resulted in a loss of nanocytes. The poison began to destroy the remaining nanos, causing more bleeding, resulting in a greater loss of nanos. Once he’s stabilized, I’ll run an analysis to identify the chemical composition of the toxin. He’s lost 40 percent of his blood volume, and nearly 80 percent of his nanos.

  Nanocytes acted like little micro-bots operating at the cellular level. Many were helper-bots, assisting with natural processes and functions like respiration, heart rate, blood clotting, and temperature control. Not a good thing to lose. Am I going to survive?

  Yeah, but you almost bit the big one, Swain said. If you’d arrived ten minutes later…

  Give it to me straight. Don’t sugarcoat it, he quipped. He gave Beth’s hand a squeeze.

  Her gaze flew to his face then to Swain. “He can move!”

  “He’s going to make it,” Swain said.

  She burst into tears.

  “D-don’t…cry,” Carter croaked. His thoughts had become less muzzy, and his strength was returning.

  She clasped his hand between both of hers, hugged it to her chest, and cried harder.

  He hated scaring her, but her tears touched him. Nobody had wept for him before.

  Swain swiveled on his stool. “I’ve got him stabilized. A permanent fix is in the works. We should clean him up.” He looked at Beth. “You’re going to have to release him.”

  She sniffed. “All-all right.” She kissed his knuckles then stepped away from the scanning bed.

  “The next part might sting. Do you want goggles, or will you keep your eyes closed?” Swain asked. “It will take about two minutes.”

  “No goggles.”

  The machine whirred, and the transparent top of the scanning tube closed. Carter shut his eyes. Moments later, a mist sprayed over his body, the heaviest concentration on his torso. His skin tingled, but the spray must have contained a topical anesthetic besides an antiseptic because it caused no pain.

  Then there was a slight suctioning sensation over the wounded areas. Another misting, more suctioning then warm air blew over him.

  “All done,” Swain said.

  He opened his eyes as the cover retracted. He lifted his head to examine his ribs. With all the blood washed away, he could see the injury. Jagged, but the edges were closing up. The nano-temp was doing the trick.

  She stared. “The cut is healing already. How is that possible?”

  “That’s for Carter to tell you,” Swain said. Your DNA specific nano serum is ready to be infused.

  Let’s do it, he said.

  The robotic infuser located a vein on his arm and injected the replacement nanocytes. A renewed vigor and strength hummed through him. What happens to the old nanos infected by the poison?

  The serum contains some nanophages to destroy the compromised cells.

  How long before all this is complete?

  I’ll let you leave in about an hour.

  Beth’s eyes were wide. He could imagine her confusion. Nobody healed as fast as a cyborg. The gash in his side was knitting together. It was obvious now how much his nanos had been compromised. He should have recognized the seriousness of his condition when he didn’t immediately start to heal.

  Still shaky, he wiped a tear from her face. “I’m going to be fine.”
>
  Her smile quivered. “I’m glad. So glad. But…I don’t understand how this is possible.”

  “We’ll talk. Promise. I’ll tell you all about it tonight, okay?” He didn’t think she would have a problem with him being a cyborg, but he was still nervous.

  “All right.”

  Then it hit him. He cocked his head. “Why are you in medical?”

  “I got a bad headache,” she said.

  “She fainted,” Swain added.

  “Fainted? Is she all right?”

  “Diagnostic scans say she’s in perfect health. She wanted to know what might be causing her headaches despite the good scan, so I made a few guesses—which I probably shouldn’t have. I’m quite confident, Beth, that you’re going to be fine.”

  Brock approached. “While you continue to mend, I’ll get back to work.”

  I’d like to talk to Swain. Will you take Beth to her office?

  Will do.

  “I’m going to be here a bit longer. Brock will escort you out of here. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  She hesitated, as if to argue then sighed. “Okay.”

  Beth left with Brock.

  “Now, tell me the whole truth about Beth,” Carter said to Swain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Beth sank onto the tiny divan in her unit in the employee housing section. Brock had suggested she take the rest of the day off, and, under the circumstances, it had seemed like a good idea. Concentration would be impossible. Nobody had admitted as much, but she’d gotten the impression Carter had almost died. There’d been so much blood.

  By the time she’d been coaxed out of the medbay, not only had the hemorrhaging ceased, his injury had healed to the extent it appeared a couple of days old. She was so relieved he was going to be okay, but she couldn’t imagine what Swain could have given him that would have such a dramatic effect. No one healed that fast.