Captured by the Cyborg (2 page)

“So, what do you know of what we do here?” he asked.

“I understand you need a computer troubleshooter; I got that much from the ad. After arriving and seeing the vehicles, I surmise you need a programmer to work on spacecraft.”

“And are you that person?”

She didn’t blink. “I am. You could say I have a way with coding.”

“Why did you leave Infinity? They’re one of the top artificial intelligence companies.”

“They’re an excellent company, but I’ve always been interested in things that fly. To work on shuttles and other spacecraft would be a dream come true.” Luminescence flashed again.

Interesting. Dale steepled his fingers. “You didn’t know what the job involved until you got here.”

“There…were hints, bolstered by comments the recruiter made when he offered me the interview.” She lifted her chin. “What I’m not sure is why everything is so hush-hush.”

Fair enough. “Moonbeam Chop Shop disassembles and remanufactures spacecraft. We can transform a pleasure cruiser into a fighter. When vehicles leave here, they’re unregistered to any planetary agency, which is the way our clients like it. Further, we’ve developed cloaking technology that can render a spacecraft invisible to the eye and computer scans. We want to protect our proprietary information.” And since not everything Moonbeam did was technically on the up-and-up, it was best to run a clandestine operation. For that reason, the runway was cloaked, too.

“I understand,” she said.

“I’m looking for a programmer to troubleshoot anomalies. The vehicles we acquire often come installed with alien electronics. Our knowledge base increases the more ships we work on, but we continue to encounter challenges.” Like Baby. What the hell was causing the malfunction? She wasn’t even a remanufactured craft. They’d designed and built her from the ground up. “Often there are glitches in programming or code hidden within code that can be difficult to detect, override, or remove.”

“Troubleshooting is my specialty. If I can get my hands on a system, I can figure it out,” she boasted, but Dale sensed her self-confidence was genuine. Whether she could do what she claimed remained to be seen, but
she
believed it.

“Do you understand how isolated you’ll be if I hire you for this position? You won’t be able to leave the facility until your furlough. You’ll work here—and live in the employee barracks. For months at a time, you won’t see sunlight, hear a bird chirp or an insect sing, or feel the wind on your face. You’ll be stuck with the same people day in and day out—and, by the way, there will be no natural rotation to mark the time. Day and night are controlled by artificial lighting and work schedules. The only visitors to Deceptio are pre-approved buyers or sellers. For security reasons, you won’t be permitted contact with any outsiders, including your family.”

Her lips twitched with a slight smile. “You make it sound so appealing.”

“Many people can’t handle the isolation. We lose a lot of good employees to moon fever.” He opened up a hailing frequency in his cyberbrain and fired off a couple of messages.

“That won’t happen with me, Mr. Homme.”

“They all say that,” he said.

She leaned forward. “I mean it.”

Why would a young woman leave a prestigious, lucrative job to live in an artificial environment beneath the surface of a barren moon? Moonbeam paid as much if not more than Infinity, and offered generous leave, but that was the extent of the perks. For a programmer starting out in her career, Infinity was the better choice. Which led him to believe she was running
from
something, rather than
to
something. “Tell me about your educational background.”

She eased back, but her spine didn’t touch the frame of the chair. “I graduated with honors from TCI.”

“I got that from your CV. What was your favorite class?”

“I was on the computer security track, but I also mastered all the computer languages.” A response, but not the answer to his question.

Ping! Ping!
Both his messages came back with replies. He read them while continuing the interview. Multitasking was a cinch for a cyborg. “You must have taken Professor Annabel Harriot’s class. She’s a friend of mine.”

Illumina nodded, her face flashing that luminescence that caused her to glow like a pearl. “I learned so much from her. She’s….tough, but respected.”

“So you think you can handle this job?”

“I’m confident I can.”

“And the isolation?”

“Won’t be a problem.”

“If I were to offer you the position, when could you start?”

“Immediately. I, um, brought my suitcase. I don’t even need to return home.”

Interplanetary hiring laws dictated what an employer could or couldn’t ask a prospective job seeker. Dale knew the rules, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by following them. Cyberoperatives worked outside the law, as did spacecraft chop shop owners, so he had no qualms about asking whatever he needed to gather the necessary info to facilitate his decision. “What species are you exactly?”

“Ter—” She dropped her gaze to her lap, where her hands locked together. She raised her eyes and bit her lip. “
Faria
,” she admitted in a low voice.

It was one of the few truths she’d uttered during the entire interview.

Annabel Harriot did not exist; he had made her up. The professor was as fictitious as the qualifications on Illumina’s CV. His contacts at TCI and Infinity had reported they’d never heard of Illumina Smith. To their recollection, she’d never attended the institute or been employed by the AI corporation.

“What happened to your wings?”

She swallowed. “I was…injured, and they were amputated.”

That explained her jerky, painful-looking movements, why she’d didn’t sit back against the chair. The surgery was probably recent.

“I’m fully recovered. It won’t affect my ability to do my job.”

“Do you still feel your wings?” he asked, remembering his acute relief upon waking in the hospital to sense his arms and legs, only to discover nothing but air under the bedcovers.

“Yes.” A sad smile twisted her mouth. “It only becomes a problem if I try to fly.”

He glanced out the window. The five remaining candidates had strong,
authentic
credentials. Common sense and the security of his installation were in complete agreement: send the wingless, little Faria with the bogus resume packing. Why had she applied for a job for which she was so unqualified?

“Get your stuff. I’ll have Charlie, my assistant, show you to the barracks.” Instinct overruled logic. “You can start tomorrow.”

They’d find something for her to do.

I’m such a sucker.

“And that’s the grand tour.” Charlie, Dale Homme’s assistant, led the way into a dorm with two beds. “This is your room. You’re the only one here now, but when the next female comes on board, you’ll have a roomie.” He looked at her. “If you’d prefer to have company, I can ask if any of the other women will trade, but being alone will be temporary anyway.”

“I don’t want to put anyone out. This will be fine.” Illumina deposited her bag next to the closest bunk. With any luck, no one would join her anytime soon.

“Well, the women’s ChemShower is down the corridor. Breakfast is at 06:00. Orientation starts at seven.”

“How long is orientation?”

“There’s no set period. It depends on you, what your skills are, how long it takes for you to learn the ropes,” Charlie said. Meaning they wouldn’t turn her loose until they were confident of her abilities. “Orientation and on-the-job training could take three to four weeks.”

People needed a month to get up to speed? She jotted a mental note to dumb down her abilities to avoid arousing suspicion.

“Dinner is served at 19:00 in the mess hall. Do you have any other questions?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” She smiled, at ease with his open, friendly, unthreatening face and manner. So different from Homme, whose shorn hair, fighter body, and hard expression wreaked havoc with her certainty. Ex-military, she’d bet. A rough and tough man’s man. Not refined and debonair like Alonio.

Homme had worn his skepticism like a birthday suit. Naked and bold. Laugh lines spraying out from his eyes indicated he wasn’t always so serious, but he’d squinted with suspicion throughout the interview.

“If you need anything, you can reach me through any comm module.” Charlie pointed to a screen on the wall. “I’d better return to my desk. Welcome to Moonbeam, and congratulations. You must have impressed the hell out of Dale for him to hire you before he’d interviewed anyone else.”

He left, and Illumina locked the door behind him with a palm swipe across the screen.
I did it! I got the job!

Dizzy, almost buoyant, she could float away. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air untainted by fear.

Alonio can’t reach me
.

The prospect of working and living underground on an out-of-the-way barren lunar satellite might deter some, but the secrecy and isolation sounded like a lifesaver to her.

She shuffled to her bunk and sank onto it. Not as soft as she preferred, but she didn’t rest well anyway. Sleeping on her stomach felt odd; lying on her back hurt too much. And then she popped up in a panic at every creak, every structural groan in the middle of the night. Maybe she wouldn’t do that here.

I got the job!

Her qualifications read well, but she didn’t doubt that others probably had more practical experience than she. How could they not? The only factual data on her CV was her first name and her age. She looked younger than twenty-four, so she hadn’t dared to fake more than four years work experience and a degree in computer science she’d never earned.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t qualified. The fact that she had hacked into the computer systems of TCI and Infinity and planted her name in their databanks proved she was up to the task of programming a few little spaceships. Her qualification for the position was that she didn’t need qualifications.

She was one of the few gifted Faria who were computer sensates. Through touch and telepathy, she could become one with cybersystems and integrate herself into the code. And then slip away without a trace.

Alonio was a sensate, too.

“No matter where you go, I’ll find you.”

He had. At the medical facility on Faria, she’d barely escaped with her life. The guard outside her room hadn’t been so lucky. Alonio had found her again on Harkleon, ThetaTor, and all the other planets, moons, and space stations where she attempted to hide. Two months on the run seemed like years. And, one day, he would catch her.

She’d resigned herself to her doom when she happened upon the help wanted announcement on Cy-Net.
Computer troubleshooter
.
Secret
.
Confidential
.
Nondisclosure agreement required
. The keywords had leaped out like a lifeline. The opportunity had sounded too good to be true, but she would have applied if the job had been cleaning waste recycling tanks.

Communications to and from Moonbeam were encrypted, but that wasn’t the reassuring part. Alonio’s sensate ability wasn’t as developed as hers, but he was still quite clever, and tracking her posed little difficulty. The security of the installation itself gave her hope.
Nothing
had been disclosed about its location.
She
was here and didn’t know where here was!

Her ex might figure out who had hired her, but he wouldn’t know where to begin to look. If she stayed,
eventually
he would find her—he always did—but by then she would be long gone. When he did manage to root out the general location, he wouldn’t be able to get on-site.

“Anyone who assists you will suffer.”

Her ex-lifemate would do everything in his considerable power to fulfill his promise. He’d proven it by killing the guard at the infirmity. But if he couldn’t get into Deceptio, its employees would be safe.

Not exactly sure what the specific job entailed, she’d hacked into TCI and Infinity and forged a new identity for herself. Illumina Smith.
Terran
. She’d taken a crash course on human culture and language. Her wings were gone, so she only had to hide her natural luminosity and the faint glitter to her skin. Luminosity suppressants helped to conceal the glow she exuded when she lied or got emotional.

She’d affected a tough bravado and adopted military dress to distract attention from her disability: difficulty moving caused by back pain and weak legs. Faria could walk, of course, but they were meant to fly, so their lower limbs were frail. The more she used her legs, the stronger they got, but she tired if she stood or walked for long periods.

She thought she’d pulled off the Terran disguise pretty well, until Homme had pegged her as nonhuman.

What had given her away? If she knew, she’d fix it so she could become one of those employees no one could place. The ones who escaped notice by fading into the background. The less attention she drew, the better. Workers might be bound by confidentiality not to reveal the location or function of Moonbeam, but that didn’t mean people didn’t gossip. They were prohibited from talking about business, not their co-workers.
Remember that wingless Faria we worked with…

She was the only wingless Faria in existence.

Was Homme’s question about her race legal? Employers weren’t supposed to ask about species or origin—not that one couldn’t tell from looking. Malodonians had blue skin, Arcanians had webbed fingers and six eyes, Lamis-Odg had ridged foreheads and vestigial horns. Slime crawlers…well, their species name said it all. Faria had wings. Without those specialized appendages, only the tendency to glow would betray her origins. With that under control, there wasn’t much to distinguish her from a Terran, hence, her choice of disguise.

When Homme had asked, it had been on the tip of her tongue to lie, but he was already suspicious. To fabricate a falsehood when you would be believed was one thing; to attempt to deceive someone who knew the truth begged for trouble.

If she’d been bolder, she would have thrown the question back at him. “What are
you
?”