Stone Cold Cyborg Page 3

  “She ran away? Why?”

  She flushed and twisted her hands. “Uh, I had activated Sparky. He…uh…tried to bite her. She got scared and ran—I haven’t switched him on since that happened.”

  He sighed. “I must insist you keep the bot powered down,” he rebuked gently. “So the unit scared your roommate, she fled and never returned. Did you report her disappearance to the liaison?”

  “Warren Ochoa is missing, too.”

  “What?”

  “He’s not in his office or his quarters. No one has seen him in days. He hasn’t been to the mess hall.”

  He eyed the tablet computer she’d set on the table. “If you haven’t seen the liaison, how did you obtain the passenger manifest?”

  She flushed guiltily. “His office was open. I’m an archivist. Accessing records is what I do. I, uh, used his terminal and sent a copy of the manifest to a handheld.”

  This was unacceptable. Dante pressed his lips together. He wasn’t mad at Miranda. The liaison was supposed to represent the colonists, act as go-between them and Lieutenant Brack. If he’d made himself so scarce that no one could find him and had left his terminal unsecured thus allowing a passenger to access the ship’s records, he had violated security protocols.

  “I know I probably broke the rules but—”

  He arched his brows. “Probably?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do! People have disappeared!”

  “How many?”

  “Nine at least.” She tapped her tablet’s screen before sliding the device across the table. “Here are the names.”

  He scanned the list. With the exception of the liaison and the roommate, the names didn’t mean anything to him, but the individuals had to be accounted for. Security needed to be tightened, a more responsible liaison needed to be appointed, and Dante intended to have a word with his first officer. Why wasn’t she dealing with this issue?

  Perhaps she was aware and was handling it. But why wouldn’t she have mentioned it in her status reports?

  “What about Lieutenant Commander Brack? Have you seen her? Did you report it to her?”

  Miranda nodded. “I’ve seen her in the unit a couple of times. She said I was mistaken. As an archivist, I maintain accurate records and chronicle events. I deal in facts and data. I wouldn’t report people as missing unless I was absolutely sure they were.”

  “What do you think happened to them?” He was curious to hear her theory.

  “I think somebody abducted them and took them off the ship.”

  After what she’d suffered on Verde Omega, paranoia could be forgiven. He chose his words carefully. “You have done your research. While your conclusion the colonists are not on the ship is logical, the likely explanation is that they are on the Crimson Hawk somewhere. If by some infinitesimal chance they had managed to steal a highly guarded space pod or were forced onto one, it wouldn’t be without anyone noticing or without them leaving a computer signature. I would know if someone had left the ship. They have to be here somewhere.”

  “How did they get past the guards stationed outside our unit?”

  How indeed. “I’d like the answer to that myself,” he replied and tapped his commlink.

  “Yes, captain?” his first officer responded.

  “Please do a headcount of the New Utopians. Verify that they’re where they’re supposed to be.”

  “There are two hundred twelve, sir. They are in the quarantine area.”

  “Count again. A few of them may have strayed. You can start by locating Mr. Ochoa, also Althea Withers, Carolinda Haverson, Benjamin Yves…” He read from Miranda’s list.

  “Anything else, sir?”

  “When did you meet with Mr. Ochoa last?”

  “This morning.”

  Miranda was shaking her head.

  Dante didn’t know what to believe. Well, actually he did: Miranda was wrong. She’d sneaked aboard a robot with a dangerous malfunction, and after promising to keep it powered down, switched it back on, allowing it to attack a colonist. She’d further violated the rules by accessing the liaison’s terminal without authorization. Why should he give any credence to her concerns? Because he was attracted to her? If anything, his inappropriate, futile interest offered reason not to believe her. Personal feelings should not factor into a captain’s decision.

  However, her earnest manner and honesty in coming clean convinced him of her sincerity. She genuinely believed something was amiss, and she’d readily confessed her rule violations.

  Besides, it was possible the colonists had managed to leave their section. The survivors had proven their craftiness by outwitting the Tyranians for a month and a half. “Do a complete manual head count and report back to me ASAP,” he ordered Brack.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The commlink closed.

  “When I hear something, I’ll let you know.” He handed the tablet to Miranda.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  They were seated side by side, their knees almost touching. An odd expectancy hummed through him. Blood rushed in his ears, and he imagined he heard her heart racing. Impossible. His cyborg hearing was acute, but not that sharp.

  She dropped her gaze. “Well, I’d…uh…I’d better let you get back to running the ship.” She slipped off the stool.

  Don’t let her go yet.

  “You’ve gained weight,” he said. Of all the stupid things to say! His conversational skills with the opposite sex had rusted from lack of use.

  “The food on the ship is very good,” she said. Her lips curved with a small smile. “And I’ve been eating a lot of it. Besides hunting down the colonists, the Tyranians destroyed our food stores to ensure any surviving stragglers would die of starvation.”

  She’d endured a harrowing experience, fighting for survival for six weeks until the Crimson Hawk had arrived on Verde Omega. If the ship had been any farther away, every single colonist would have perished. If Miranda had become a little anxious, paranoid even, well, it was understandable.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked.

  “Good as new.”

  “I’m so sorry about what happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it. With my nanos, the bite wound had healed by the next morning, and all traces had disappeared the day after. Just give me your word you’ll keep the bot deactivated.” He’d healed fast, but if the K9-500 bit a human, the outcome wouldn’t be so good.

  She crossed her heart. “I learned my lesson. I had assumed when you grabbed me to keep me from falling, it triggered protective programming in Sparky, but he hasn’t been performing to spec lately.”

  “He needs to be inspected.”

  “I intend to do that when I get to the space station. Sparky was a gift from my father. Dad gave him to me just before he left on a short-term assignment—but he never came back. He got killed.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sparky saved my life, when he bit one of the Tyranians.”

  No wonder the bot was so important to her. “Maybe I could examine him?” Dante offered.

  He needed to avoid this woman—not find ways to spend time with her. A relationship between the captain and a refugee passenger would be inappropriate—not to mention short-termed. Once the ship docked, they would go their separate ways, as they should. And if he already ached at the idea of never seeing her again, how much worse would it be if he got to know her better?

  But he wanted to help her. Nothing could erase what she’d suffered, what she had lost, but he might be able to fix the bot so she could use it for the remainder of the journey.

  “There’s an android lab aboard the Crimson Hawk. I’m no coding expert, but as a cyborg, I run diagnostics and install upgrades on my own programming so I know a little something about AI software. I can examine…uh…Sparky for glitches and possibly repair them.”

  “You’d do that?” Her face lit up with a beautiful, glowing smile. He felt as if
he’d been punched in the chest. He tried to remember what it had been like to be with a woman before becoming a cyborg, but the memories had faded. There had to have been desire, but he couldn’t recall feeling so off-balance. Certainly he hadn’t felt as if all his circuits had lit up. He didn’t have circuits then.

  He nodded. “I’d be happy to. I need to speak to my first officer and get to the bottom of the disappearances. Then I’ll arrange to inspect Sparky. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Four

  “Captain!” Miranda was surprised to see Dante so soon. She’d only spoken to him yesterday. He had to be a very busy man; she’d expected it would take several days before he contacted her.

  He stood straight as a soldier at attention, his chiseled expression forbidding. Bad news? Or not? He projected an unapproachable demeanor, and she had yet to see a real smile from him. His imposing presence caused her stomach to flutter—and not only because of nervousness. His features were too rough, too hard, for him to be deemed handsome, but that only enhanced his masculinity. He was the most male man she’d ever met.

  “I have an update for you,” he said.

  “Come inside.” She widened her cabin door and stepped back.

  Dante hesitated, then ducked to enter, his shoulders barely squeezing through the width. His gaze immediately shot to a rigid Sparky, teeth bared the way they’d been when she’d deactivated him as he’d lunged at Althea. She’d removed him from the locker and stood him in the corner. She couldn’t interact with him, but just having his body there made her feel a little less lonely.

  Miranda rubbed her hands together. “What did you find out?”

  “All two hundred twelve New Utopians have been accounted for and are in the unit.”

  “Are you sure?” She could almost swear more colonists had disappeared since yesterday.

  “Lieutenant Commander Brack had the ship’s computer do a lifeform scan, and then on my orders, a manual headcount.”

  Yes, she’d been through the roll call. With the rest of the colonists, Miranda had lined up in the corridor while the obviously annoyed lieutenant commander had marched through the unit with a personnel recorder. The look she’d shot Miranda had made it plain she knew who was responsible for the assignment she considered beneath her rank.

  Check and double-check. Data didn’t lie. If everyone was present and accounted for, then obviously Miranda’s impression had been in error. She felt more than a little embarrassed at having caused such a ruckus. She’d involved the ship’s first officer and its captain!

  She needed to let it go. But…but…“If everyone is accounted for, then where’s Althea? Warren Ochoa?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Brack informed me she relieved Mr. Ochoa of his duty as liaison and will be appointing someone else. As for your friend…” He glanced at Sparky, his face locked in a snarl. “Perhaps she chose to bunk with another colonist.”

  But why hadn’t she seen Althea in the corridor or encountered her in the mess hall? Wouldn’t Althea have had the courtesy to inform her she was moving permanently?

  Not necessarily. She’d vanished once before with no warning or explanation, and then Sparky had attacked her. She could be afraid of coming to the cabin.

  “She probably is rooming with somebody else.” Miranda hunched her shoulders, feeling really embarrassed now. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. For listening to me, for checking. I’m sorry for causing such a fuss.” She shook her head. “I really thought colonists were…I was wrong. I promise I won’t bother you anymore.”

  His lip quirked in what could have been a smile. “Does that mean you don’t want me to look at Sparky?”

  She dropped her jaw. “You still want to?”

  “That is the other reason why I came to see you.” A real grin widened on his face.

  She was stunned by the transformation. Stone Cold had vanished. Dante’s whole face lit up, erasing the grimness, the fierceness. Her mouth dried, and she realized she was gawking.

  She wished the situation could be different. Since their talk yesterday when he’d listened so attentively to her half-baked theories she’d begun thinking of him as Dante and not “the captain.” But he was the captain. He would never be interested in a lowly New Utopian archivist, and in any case, she would be leaving the ship soon while he would remain with his vessel. They would never see each other again.

  But she wanted to spend this afternoon with him. Her first impression had been that he was cold and heartless, but he was exactly the opposite. He genuinely cared about the colonists and had done what he could to help her. Sparky had bitten him, and yet he was willing to try to fix him because he knew how important the dog was to her.

  Her father’s untimely death and the Tyranian attack had demonstrated that tomorrow couldn’t be taken for granted. Tragedies could happen at any time. Falling for Dante might lead to heartbreak when they parted company, but in the meantime, she’d have one afternoon of his company. And, maybe he could fix Sparky.

  “Thank you. I would like that very much,” she said.

  She picked up the K9 bot and stroked his silky fur. “You’re a good dog. Dante’s going to fix you.” Embarrassment flooded her face as she realized she’d slipped and used the captain’s given name. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that.”

  An emotion flashed in his eyes before it banked. “I liked hearing you say my name. I like even more that you think of me as Dante,” he said hoarsely.

  Her lips parted in surprise, and she could almost feel the temperature in the cabin rise as the heat sizzled. She hung onto Sparky and stared at Dante. She felt sure her longing must be reflected on her face.

  “Let’s take a look at your dog,” he said gruffly.

  * * * *

  The colonists shot her sympathetic glances as she marched beside Dante with Sparky clutched in her arms. Probably they assumed she’d gotten in trouble and the K9 bot was being confiscated.

  The guards, however, didn’t even blink as they exited the colonists’ area. Of course, the ship’s captain and anyone with him could come or go as they pleased. And Dante himself cut an imposing figure. She supposed that even if he hadn’t been the captain, few would challenge him.

  However, the presence of security showed the impossibility of a colonist leaving the quarantine area and strengthened her conviction that she had been wrong.

  They strode through passageways that all looked alike. Function superseded comfort or aesthetics on the warship, and there wasn’t much to see—just a lot of dull, gray metal, making her appreciate the relative comfort and awesome views of the observation lounge. Finally they reached the robotics lab.

  She expected technicians to be busy at work, but the lab was vacant.

  “The lab isn’t used much,” Dante explained.

  “You don’t have androids on the ship?”

  “Some—in case we encounter biological weapons or need a bomb diffused. Haz mat bots undergo regular, routine servicing so we’ve never had one malfunction.”

  “Sparky has never been in for maintenance,” she said.

  “How long have you owned him?”

  “Ten years. There have been no changes to his software since my father gave him to me.”

  “He shouldn’t have needed much in the way of upgrades. A K9-500 is much less complex than a military haz mat android. The simpler the robot, the less likely it will malfunction.”

  Of course the K9-500’s programming differed from a haz mat bot’s, but she took exception to the description of simple. However, Dante hadn’t meant to insult Sparky, and he was trying to help, so she tamped down the flash of irritation.

  “Here, let me have him.” He took him from her arms. “His fur is quite soft. Very realistic.” He petted him as he carried him to a work table. “His bark sounded lifelike, too.” Dante switched on an overhead screen, wheeled over a cart of equipment, and withdrew a cord from a drawer. “First, I’ll run a scan while
he’s inactive.”

  “The access panel is on his left side.” She felt around his fur for the release button and depressed it. A panel popped open to reveal his computer innards.

  After powering up the scanner, Dante connected Sparky to the machine via his port, and then keyed in a command. “Let’s see what we have.”

  Numbers and symbols streamed across the screen. Dante folded his arms and squinted at the readout. “Hmm…”

  Was that a good hmm or a bad hmm? “What do you see?” The coding meant nothing to her.

  “Nothing.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Thus far, everything looks operational. No broken code. No malware. His coding is more complex than I thought, though.”

  She could have told him that without a scan.

  He punched a button on the machine, and the scrolling numbers froze. He reversed it, then halted the stream. “See this coding here—” he pointed to a line of characters. “That’s his voice recognition app. He’s programmed to respond to your vocal frequency and obey your commands.” He fast forwarded and stopped it at another group of numbers. “This is the protection application. Rather sophisticated. If something triggers it, and if his microprocessor analyzes the incoming data—visuals, sounds, words—as a danger to you, he’s programmed to override your voice commands.” He glanced at her. “Basically, he can’t be ordered to not protect you.”

  “That’s why he bit you. His programming deemed you as a threat when you grabbed me to keep me from falling. But, Althea didn’t do anything. They’d always gotten along fine. Can you alter his coding so that if he perceives someone as threatening and I order him to stop, he’ll stop?”

  “Yes, but I’ll need to find an expanded keyboard. I don’t see one on the cart. There should be one in the lockers, though. Before I do that, let’s power him up and see how he reacts to me now. I’d like to see what programming gets executed. Hang onto his leash, okay? If he tries to bite, switch him off.”

  “Okay.” Amanda wrapped the lead around her hand.

  “Boot him up.”

  She pressed the activation button. His snarl disappeared from the dog’s face.