Captured by the Cyborg (14 page)

Pillow talk for later. First, she would hustle him to his quarters, strip off his flight uniform, and show him how much she missed him.

She picked up the pace and skirted around a hulking, menacing-looking Lamis-Odg military craft.

And ran into Carter.

“It’s late,” he said. “Why are you in the high bay? Where’s Sonny? Did you notify him you’d left your quarters?”

She stifled a curse. “No, I didn’t see the need—”

He shook his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Because Dale is back.”

“He’s on site?” Carter frowned. “I wasn’t notified.”

“I was. His shuttle has arrived.”

Carter’s hand went to his PerComm.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Notifying March and Sonny.”

Great. One interloper wasn’t enough. Now she had a welcoming
committee
.

“Who called you?” Carter looked up.

“Charlie.” She sighed. As her head had cleared of sleep, she’d been able to place the caller.

Carter relaxed, tension easing from his body, and he reclipped the PerComm to his belt. “Don’t suppose there’s a need to wake them now. Morning will be soon enough.”

“I would think so,” she said, relieved.

“Come on. Let’s go meet the craft.”

Not as bad as an entire party, but not optimal. “All right.” She tried to pass off a grimace as a smile.

“I won’t keep him long.”

She smiled for real this time. “Thank you.”

They strolled among the spacecraft, heading for the docks.

“I continue to be impressed by the factory,” Carter said.

“Haven’t you purchased ships from him?”

“A few.” He nodded. “I hadn’t visited the plant before. He had the ships delivered.”

He’d never been to the factory. Hmm. Nobody had explained Carter and Dale’s relationship sufficiently. Dale had called him a “buddy,” but, while they were cordial, they hadn’t acted like friends. Did he know him from the military? Carter looked more like an administrator than a soldier. Yet, he’d shown up when Dale had hired an extra bodyguard for her. She took a stab at the truth: “How long did Dale work for you in your secret cyborg organization?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied without missing a beat.

She wasn’t deterred. “I didn’t fall off a supply ship yesterday,” she scoffed. “I see the similarities between Dale, March, and Sonny. They’re built like soldiers or warriors. They share a connection. And then there’s you. When Dale needed assistance, you came, too. But you’re not a cyborg.” She eyed him. “My guess? You lead the organization they all belong to.”

“I can see where you might draw that conclusion, but you’re wrong.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. It had been worth a shot. She’d work on Dale.
After I work on Dale.

They arrived as the docking bridge rolled toward a gunmetal-gray power craft. Overheads spotlighted the operation.

Excitement fluttered in her stomach, and Illumina fidgeted. She wanted to race up the steps and fling open the spacecraft hatch herself but had to wait until the disembarkation apparatus had been attached. Damn, it was slow. Hair endings tingled. Soon, very soon. They just had to get rid of Carter. She glanced at him.

He furrowed his forehead. “Didn’t another pilot go with him to fly him back?”

“That’s the standard procedure with deliveries.”

“Is that the shuttle the pilot took?”

She’d walked Dale to the landing area. Watched as he boarded Baby and then disappeared in the vertical transport. She hadn’t stuck around to see what pilot boarded what craft to follow him. “I guess so.”

The dock tool attached to the ship.

“I watched both of them leave. This doesn’t look like the same shuttle.”

“Maybe he traded with the Xenians. He exchanges spacecraft all the time,” she said, only half listening. Dale was back!

Docking complete, the hatch rose with a hiss. She darted for the stairs.

“Illumina, wait a second,” Carter called.

She ignored him and sprinted up the steps. The hatch folded against the hull. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she cried. “I missed you!”

Clad in white, Alonio stepped onto the dock. He stretched his silver wings. “I’ve missed you, too, wife.”

Illumina screamed. She vaulted down the stairs, leaping two at a time, tripping over the last three. She hit the ground face down and skidded across the polished floor.

“Motherfucker!” Carter lunged forward and yanked her to her feet. “Go! Get Sonny!” He shoved her and ripped off his PerComm.

She ran. The bay darkened under a shadow. Alonio landed in front of her and folded his wings to his back. His hands hung relaxed. “It’s time for you to come home.”

Icy terror seized her throat. He wouldn’t bring her “home.” He would kill her. She could read his intention in his sociopathic gaze.

“You’re under arrest!” Carter pushed in front of her.

Alonio’s perfect lips twitched. “You have a protector. How…charming.” A blinding flash of light exploded.

When her vision returned, Carter’s severed left arm lay on the shop floor. With his right hand, he clutched at his ragged shoulder, blood spurting like a geyser, his expression dazed, disbelieving. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

A saber glinted from Alonio’s right forearm.

“No! Stop it! No!” she cried.

With a lightning-fast strike, Alonio opened up Carter’s right leg near the groin.

Carter screamed.

“Stop!” She charged, striking with her fists. He grabbed her hair and wrenched her to her knees. Carter’s blood soaked through her clothing.

Another swipe took off Carter’s leg at the hip. He collapsed, unconscious.

The saber shifted into a dagger. Pain stabbed into her head in a starburst of agony as Alonio sawed through her hair and tossed the skein of silver onto the floor.

He yanked her to her feet and pressed the knife to her throat.

Footsteps thudded across the high bay. March appeared. He leveled a blaster. “Release her.”

“I don’t think so. Drop your weapon, or she dies now.”

Alonio would kill her and them. He wouldn’t hesitate.
Do as he says, please do it,
she tried to communicate with her eyes. March shimmered in and out, vision clouded by pain and tears. She didn’t dare speak, afraid any movement would give cause to slit her throat.

“Then I’ll kill you,” March said.

“Perhaps,” Alonio conceded. “But she’ll still be dead. Is this what you want?” He jerked his head at the body on the floor and then drew the tip of the blade across her neck. Pain lanced her throat. Warmth trickled down her chest. Blood.

March bent at the knees and set the blaster carefully on the floor.

“Over here,” Alonio motioned.

His expression grim, March gave the weapon a shove. It slid across the floor.

Alonio whipped around. Dagger transformed into a saber that he drove into Sonny’s abdomen as the cyborg lunged from the shadows.

“No!” Everything she had feared would occur had come to pass.

Sonny grabbed for the saber, but Alonio retracted it with a twist, spinning around to swipe at March who’d charged. The cyborg leaped back in time to avoid being gutted. Sonny, his face contorted, sank to his knees. Blood darkened his uniform, spilled through his fingers pressed to his abdomen. Blood, blood, everywhere. On Carter’s body, on Sonny, on her, splattered on Alonio, spreading across the floor.

Saber became a knife that pressed against her throat again. Alonio gripped her waist and held her tight. He lifted off, his wings slicing through the air. He landed on the dock, and hauled her toward the waiting spacecraft.

She gaped at the carnage. Sonny critically, possibly fatally injured. Carter dead. March, in vain, trying to resuscitate him.

“You! What are you doing there?” Alonio rounded on an Arcanian crouched at the hatch. Knife became saber again.

The tech scrambled to his feet. “Excuse. Excuse. Flight Control instruct. Say ensure dock release from craft,” he mumbled in broken Terran.

“Get out of here!”

Four of the Arcanian’s six eyes focused on Alonio’s face; the other two stared at the saber.

“Go! What are you waiting for?”

The worker darted forward, but stumbled as he drew abreast. “Excuse. Excuse.” He found his footing and fled in fear.

Alonio dragged her into the craft. After closing the hatch, he dragged her onto the bridge, and sealed the cockpit.

Tears streaked her face. “You didn’t need to kill them.” Carter and Sonny had become casualties because of her. She never should have stopped running. Dale had believed he could protect her, but he couldn’t. His team of cyborgs couldn’t. No one could.

“I told you I would kill anyone who helped you.” He assumed the pilot’s seat and grimaced as he noticed the bloody splatters staining his sleeve and trouser legs.

“Why? Why can’t you let me go?” She eyed the cockpit scanner. She could integrate into the computer system and unlock the seal—but not fast enough to evade the light saber.

“Because I love you.”

She choked. The madness that consumed him wasn’t love.

He tapped into a screen. “Flight Control, diplomatic charter 179 is ready to depart.”

“Roger that. Prepare for disengagement.” Charlie’s voice!

Dale’s assistant had let Alonio in. He’d had been on leave when the employees had been debriefed. In his haste to get to Xenia and back, Dale must not have thought to alert him, and who would think an AOP ambassador, a diplomat with perfect credentials would be a threat?

But, why would
Charlie
be in Flight Control at all?

The truth sank in. “What did you threaten Charlie with to get him to help you?”

“You know I never threaten, my dear. Have I not made good on everything I told you I would do?” The craft rocked as the dock maneuvered out of the way. “The young man offered to assist after I helped him out of a jam.”

She could only imagine what that might have been. Charlie must have been desperate, or Alonio had made him so. She eyed her ex with loathing. He’d fooled so many people.

Once again, it was just her and him. Where would he take her? Not to Faria or anyplace civilized. Maybe he had a personal torture chamber on some off-the-grid planet. That would bring his sadistic heart the most pleasure.

Bile rose in her throat, and she forced it back. She had to concentrate, but spikes of pain hammered into her scalp with the slightest movement. The ends of her hair throbbed like raw, exposed nerves.

Her wings.

Her hair.

He intended to destroy her piece by piece. The best she could hope for was a quick death. “Why don’t you kill me now?” she said. “You know you’re going to.”

“Because that would be too easy.”

She lunged for the scanner. Her palm slid across the screen. Codes to open the door skidded through her mind, but before she could grasp the final number, Alonio spun her away. He wasn’t a big man, but he was wiry, lithe, and in perfect form. He struck her across the face, snapping her head, wrenching her neck. The returning backhand sent her careening across the bridge to smash into the piloting console. She lay gasping, blood streaming from her split lip.

Dale, help me.
In her mind, she cried out. She would never see her big cyborg again. Her chance of happiness, gone, stolen along with her life. Hatred simmered.

“Sit down,” he ordered, as if she was acting like a lazy, disobedient child for slumping atop on the console. Her head wobbled, too heavy for her neck. Gray dots danced in front of her eyes.

The ship rotated as the spinner underneath turned toward the descender. The slight rocking sent hair endings into agony. Her entire body spasmed with pain.

She dragged a hand across the console smearing blood on dials and gauges.

“I won’t tell you again. Sit down.”

Illumina planted her palm against the screen and pushed herself up. On her feet, she swayed, still clearing her head of everything extraneous. Time flowed in slow motion. One…two…threeee…

He moved toward her, and she dropped into the copilot’s chair.

A tow dolly guided the craft into the transporter, which lifted them to the moon’s surface.

* * * *

Dale’s microprocessor ordered a regiment of nanocytes to lower his heart rate and pulse. He schooled his features into a blank expression. “Forty-five billion IP credits for forty ships, delivered at a rate of eight per annum,” he deadpanned, his voice absent of the urgency zipping along neural pathways. He wanted this contract, but he needed to wrap up negotiations so he could get back to Illumina.

The Xenian emperor showed no inclination to hurry.

“Forty ships, thirty-five-billion interplanetary credits,” he drawled, tucking his hands into the wide sleeves of his plum robe. The emperor’s unblinking gaze was almost android like, his eyes lash-less, the irises golden without a dark pupil.

He was quite personable in other ways, having greeted Dale with a wide, welcoming smile upon his arrival two days ago, inviting him to partake of palace hospitality. Xenia was uniquely beautiful, and he had been treated like an honored guest. Any other time, he would have enjoyed himself, but not when so much remained uncertain.

The hunt for Alonio.

The next step of his relationship with Illumina. Would she consider remaining on Deceptio indefinitely?

After two days, Dale began to suspect the emperor’s hospitality was a delaying strategy. He’d about lost patience when he’d been summoned to the negotiating table. For a man who ruled a nation of pacifists, the emperor drove a take-no-prisoners bargain.

In truth, Dale could accept the counter of thirty-five-billion credits, but he could drive a hard bargain, too. No sense leaving money on the table. However, negotiations had dragged on long enough. The time had come to move it along and get back to Illumina. “Forty billion,” he said, his tone clipped.

The emperor paused for so long, Dale wondered if he’d fallen into a trance. Then the Xenian ruler shook his head. “Thirty-eight—
if
you deliver all forty craft within four years.”

With what they were already building, to produce ten ZX7M a year would necessitate a considerable staff increase.