Cyborg Nation (26 page)

They might be flawed in a lot of ways, but she could not have been in better hands in the situation they were in.

It was almost with surprise that she realized that she had absolute faith, not only in their abilities but in their dedication to taking care of her.

The thing that worried her was that she was the one element in the equation that could bring about disaster. If they’d been acting strictly on logic, they would’ve realized that. Her injuries and her human weaknesses were a threat to their survival. True, they’d been badly injured, too, but they were not only many times stronger than even the strongest humans, they had nanos to help them recover many times faster from the severest injuries.

She hadn’t needed Gideon to tell her how hard it was to kill one of them. They were virtually indestructible. As long as they could prevent themselves from getting so much damage so fast that their nanos couldn’t repair them quickly enough, and their speed, strength, and agility insured that, they couldn’t under most circumstances. The crash might be the closest they’d ever come to reaching critical threat—certainly would have been if the trogs had been close enough to attack before they’d had a little time to recover.

Without her to worry about, they could’ve been far away by now.

Instead, knowing there was a threat out there, they were forced to wait until they thought it safe to move her.

Or they had chosen to wait.

She wondered if that was because of their orders to protect her or if personal choice had figured in to it at all, but she didn’t want to examine that too closely. She wanted to think at least a part of it had been because it mattered to them, that
she
mattered to them.

The threat could only be indigenous life, probably primitive, which also probably translated to dangerous savages. Gideon had been in touch with the command center before they’d lost communications. This had to be their destination world, and yet they’d gone down beyond the civilization the Cyborgs had created, a very long way, otherwise they would have seen some sign of a rescue party by now and Gideon and the others wouldn’t be worried about being attacked.

They weren’t worried for their own sake, she realized. They were concerned about protecting her if there was an attack.

If they were concerned for themselves, Gideon wouldn’t have gone off alone, virtually unarmed, and Gabriel and Jerico wouldn’t have been standing guard over her completely unarmed except for whatever makeshift weapons they could grab up.

Which meant she was even more of a threat to their safety. They were not only going to be slowed by her, they were very likely going to be forced into a confrontation because of her, possibly by overwhelming numbers and very likely by savages better armed than they were. Weakened and injured as she was, she knew it could take her weeks or months to recover, even with the help of their nanos—if she ever completely recovered from it.

And she couldn’t dismiss the fact that the nanos hadn’t been designed for human physiology and might not be up to the task of fixing her even if there were enough to repair the damage.

She didn’t want to think about the possibilities of permanent, irreversible damage at the moment, though. She had enough to worry about.

Like whether or not the nanos would be able to prevent infection from killing her or if the rod had so severely damaged her intestines she would die slowly of the poisons seeping into her body, or if there’d been any other vital organ so damaged it couldn’t be repaired. And saying she actually survived, her reproductive organs were still in tact enough to have children.

They hadn’t said anything to her about that, not directly, but she’d overheard enough to know that that was their single most powerful motivation for wanting a mate—her—the hope that they might be able to have off-spring.

If it came to that,
she
had wanted a child, or perhaps two or three. She’d even obtained a license to reproduce, which had granted her permission to have her birth control surgery reversed. The fact that she hadn’t managed to find anyone she’d wanted to father a child hadn’t changed that. She’d expected to find a man, eventually, that met her standards—or came close.

Unwilling to dwell on those depressing thoughts, she struggled to shift enough to watch Gabriel and Jerico work, chafing at not being able to do anything at all to help. She realized after a little while that their main focus was on recovering as much of the things from her office as they could find. Noticing she was watching, they began to bring the things closer and form a growing pile.

It occurred to her after a while that they were prioritizing what needed to be taken.

“How are we going to get all of this back to civilization?” she finally asked Gabriel.

He paused. “We can not leave anything of importance here. The trogs will take what they want and destroy the rest.”

Dismay filled her. They were going to be bogged down not only with her but all this, too? “I can manage without most of this,” she said decisively. “Focus on the instruments and medicines. Forget the books—I know what’s in most of them anyway. Forget the files and the larger pieces of equipment. Chances are they’re too badly damaged to be of any use anyway. Most of it was fairly delicate electronics. Even if it
looks
like it might not have too much damage, it probably has.”

Nodding, looking vastly relieved, Gabriel returned, discussed it briefly with Jerico and they began sorting the pile they’d already collected.

Gideon returned late in the afternoon. Bronte was so glad to see him she had to fight the urge to weep with relief. Seeing she was awake and watching him, he tossed two long, gleaming blades to Jerico and Gabriel and strode toward her purposefully, crouching beside her and examining her carefully with his gaze. Bronte took her own inventory. If he’d been wearing bandages at all, he’d already discarded most of them. Dozens of dark pink patches on his chest and arms, legs, face and neck told of newly closed wounds. One on his thigh and the place where he’d cut himself to help her were still bandaged. There was a cut extending across his forehead from his hairline, as well.

He was wearing something she’d never seen him wear before. Something like a belt crossed his chest from shoulder to waist and seemed to extend to his back. Above his left shoulder, she saw a metallic handle of some kind.

He had tossed two long blades to Gabriel and Jerico. Undoubtedly, that was what this was, a sheathe to carry his own blade.

Abruptly self-conscious about her own appearance, she averted her gaze, wishing she could just pull the cover over her head. “I must look terrible,” she said uncomfortably.

His gaze flickered over her face. “Far better than yesterday,” he said. “It is good that I did not yield to the impulse to secure you in Jerico’s seat. That side took the brunt of the impact and I do not believe you would have survived it.”

Considering the battering she’d taken, she thought he was most likely right. It occurred to her even as she realized that that it was not mere chance that her side of the craft had been spared the brunt of the impact. “It took the brunt because you made sure it did,” she said.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his features. “It was a logical decision. Given that I had little time to assess the situation, I feel that I made the only decision I could have. Jerico and I were more likely to survive than you, and I knew that if we did not you would have Gabriel to take care of you.”

A knot of emotion hardened in her throat. “It didn’t occur to you, I suppose, that I might not want to survive if you didn’t?”

He frowned, giving her a strange look.

“I would have grieved if anything had happened to either you or Jerico, whether you believe it or not. I’m very glad that you’re alright.”

Confusion, doubt, and pleasure flickered across his features in rapid succession, and then more doubt. “Why?” he asked curiously.

Dismay filled her. She didn’t know why she’d interpreted everything he’d done as signs he cared about her when she knew better, knew he was still far more a creature of pure logic than emotion. Not only did he not feel any of the things that had begun to grow inside of her, he didn’t understand why she would feel them. Instead of trying to answer his question and possibly embarrassing herself more, she changed the subject. “Is that a … knife you have strapped to your back?”

He frowned, obviously not happy that she’d ignored the question, but he allowed the subject to drop. “Of a sort. It is called a sword.”

“You had those on the ship?”

“We always have them with us, though they are only used, or mostly, in confrontations with the natives of this world.”

Bronte eyed the thing doubtfully. “I think I’d rather have a laser pistol.”

A faint smile curled his lips. “You could not wield a sword. They are far heavier than the pistols—and nigh as long as you are.”

She gave him a look. “I’m not
that
short!”

His smile broadened. “Not quite. But I am
that
tall, and this blade was designed for one such as I am.”

“I still think the pistols would be more effective,” she said, mostly because she didn’t like the idea of anyone getting close enough to any of ‘her’ men for them to use the lethal looking blades.

“That is because you know nothing about what we must deal with. The trogs swarm when they attack and, most often, they are upon you before you know that they are there. The pistols are of no use, or very little, in such an attack, and I would far prefer to meet blade with blade—for that is what they use—than to find myself with nothing but my bare hands to fend off their blades.”

She stared at him unhappily at that, almost sorry she’d gotten that much information out of him. It couldn’t be worse knowing the danger of the situation, though, than not having a clue until she found herself in the middle of such a battle. Not that she thought
anything
could prepare her for such a thing, but the information was certainly inspiration to do all she could to help avoid the possibility.

When she said nothing else, he took the edge of the blanket covering her and flipped it back. She was horrified when she saw herself. Her body looked like one massive bruise. Dried blood was smeared over most of her body that wasn’t covered with bandaging and clotted in the fabric that had been used to bandage her, as well. She was going to be a walking horror even if she recovered she thought dismally as she took in the dozens of small cuts they hadn’t dressed.

She bit her lip as he pulled up the bandage around her middle and studied the wound. When he was satisfied, he shifted downward and studied her leg and then covered her again. Without a word, he rose and crossed to Gabriel and Jerico. “We will give her the remainder of daylight to rest and mend. I do not like that we must move her so soon as even that,” he added, lifting his head to scan the area, “but this is a poor defensive position at best. The only advantage at all is that it is clear enough they can not come too close without our knowledge. But we have no coverage for her at all.

“I have found a small cavern in the cliffs a half day’s walk down the coast. It is a much better defensive position and will be more secure for her, also. I believe we can defend it long enough to allow her time to mend beyond danger and then, if we are not picked up in the meantime, we will make our way to the city by way of the coast as long as we can follow it. The trogs are not fond of water and will stay as far from it as possible, I think.”

“You do not think they will come for us?” Gabriel asked.

Gideon shrugged. “It is possible, but I will not wait upon it. They will almost certainly be convinced that there is nothing to find. If we had not had communications open at the time we were hit they might have been more inclined to think we had survived. In any case, you are aware the ship had no locator to prevent our enemies from tracking us. They will not be able to locate us without a great deal of searching and we are many clicks from the point where we would have disappeared from their screens. They will be searching the sea.”

He turned away from them after that to study the things they’d recovered from the wreckage.

“Bronte said those things were not of great importance. We have gathered those she said were important here,” Jerico said.

Gideon lifted his head to look at her for a long moment and finally returned his attention to Jerico and nodded. “She will know. Make a pile of next in importance, as well. If we get the chance and it seems feasible, we will return for it and carry it to the cavern to be retrieved later. I found a few useful items as I was looking for the swords. I left them in the cavern. There is no fresh water nearby, though. We will need to carry as much of that as we can and also food. I want to limit the number of times we have to leave the cavern to get either. The more times we risk it, obviously the more chance the trogs will see and will follow. I do not want to have to defend the place if we can avoid it. There is too much chance that Bronte could be hurt if we have to fight.”

Make me feel worse, why don’t you?
Bronte thought. Not that she thought he’d intended for her to overhear the conversation. In fact, she knew he hadn’t realized the low voiced conversation would carry so well or he wouldn’t have gone to the effort of lowering his voice. She’d heard enough, though, to get the general idea that things weren’t looking up for them right now and she was the biggest cog in the wheel.

She chafed over it, but she was fairly certain she couldn’t get up without help, and even if she managed it she was liable to tear something fragile loose that had only begun to mend and make things even worse. She worried over it until she fell asleep again. When next she woke, she saw that the sun had shifted a good distance in the sky.

She also discovered she had a problem.

She ignored it as long as she could, but it seemed acknowledging it to begin with had only focused her mind on her discomfort until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.

This was where the patient was presented with a bedpan and expected to forget they’d ever had anything like privacy … or dignity.