Peyton 313 (27 page)

“You know how much I love Dr. Winters, but Dude—her relationship with Borg Man has me spooked. Why doesn’t she look for a real man? I’ve been right here—waiting for her to get a clue. I’d even give up Gloria for her.”

Nero shook his head as Brad laughed at his own joke. He let go of Brad and turned toward the door. Brad’s crush on Kyra had its usefulness, but it also creeped him out at times.

“Their relationship worries me some too, but nothing I say makes any difference to Kyra. She’s following her own instincts where Captain Elliott is concerned. Maybe it’s because he’s her first successful restoration.”

Brad shook his head. “I’m suddenly getting a bad feeling about this whole situation, but let’s get her the info she wants. It’s probably a good idea for us to know what we’re up against anyway.”

Nero nodded. “Their assimilations will be done tonight. But if they react anything like Peyton did when she brings them out of it, I’m going to be replacing all the furniture in the cages when they wake up.”

Brad frowned and nodded again as he followed Nero out the door.

***

Peyton set Eric down gently on the cot. His restoration has been the hardest. Eric had kept fighting his way out of the shut-down and Kyra hadn’t been able to stop him. Even with his cybernetic processor pulled, he kept waking up alarmed and in great pain. In the end, Kyra had given him anesthesia to put his human side under. Doing so had been worrisome to her, but it had allowed her to finish the restoration work on him.

Now all five were back in their respective cages outfitted with mobile restraints in anticipation of their release. Kyra cybernetically suspended those who were done while she fixed all the others. Each man would occasionally wake and use the restroom, but other than attending to basic body needs, each slept as she had ordered. It actually worried him that Kyra retained the ability to force even her restored cyborgs into such a controlled situation, but she assured him it was a necessary precaution. Doing a complete search of his memories and maintenance records, Peyton concluded Kyra hadn’t misused that power with him. But it was still a bit alarming when she had removed all other controls.

“Eric’s body is already recovering. I don’t know what is going on with his prosthetics, but he’s recovering approximately five times as fast as the others. I can’t wait to see his schematics. As much as my ex-husband was a dipshit, he was also a brilliant medical engineer. His college application was rejected by MIT. I never understood that. We met at Yale when we tied for a science award. His was for the first prosthetic that could be wirelessly connected to a person’s brain. Mine was for a code chip that corrected common mental illnesses, such as schizophrenia and bi-polar conditions. The programming on my chip could re-route failing synapses. It allowed a person to be functional in normal society without altering their brain chemistry with drugs.”

Peyton shook his head. It sounded to him like they had both been brilliant. He could imagine a youthful Kyra heading out to save the world with her codes and chips. He could also imagine she had chosen her ex-husband for having similar motivations.

“It sounds like you both were good guys back then. What happened to Dr. Channing? What changed him?”

Kyra looked around the room, silently observing the sleeping men. When she thought of the brilliant and idealistic scientist that she met and married, it shocked her soul to admit that Jackson was also the instigator of what the men in the cages had been subjected to.

“I don’t know what happened, but over the years I did ignore some problem indicators. For example, I bought those red shoes in my closet because Jackson liked me to dress in a way that made me look sexy and dumb. When we went out to dinner with people, including UCN chancellors and other global dignitaries, Jackson would never let me talk much. You see, when I talked, it didn’t take long for those we were with to realize I was just as smart as he was. Looking back on those events now, I find it amazing that I was able to play the quiet wife for fifteen years. I can only rationalize it by saying Jackson was a fun distraction for me initially—not outstanding, mind you—but fun. It was only during the last five years we were together that he became the man I grew to hate.”

“Any idea what prompted the personality switch?” Peyton asked.

Kyra thought of their last months together. Jackson had gotten depressed, then turned morose. Finally, he had asked for the sexual favor she’d reluctantly agreed to because he had sworn it would prompt a return to his old, more jovial self. Not only had that never happened, his sexual demands after the incident had gotten worse—much, much worse. Since she never emotionally recovered from the incident, their marital sex life afterward became non-existent. She had moved into the guest bedroom to give herself the space she needed to heal. Refusing everything else Jackson wanted became automatic for her. Eventually, he turned to other women and stopped asking.

“There was a point where Jackson was trying to get funding for several ventures, one of them being the Cyber Wife program. It wasn’t happening fast enough and he became severely depressed. I remember him complaining that the dignitaries at the UCN lacked vision. When I asked about what—he would talk in terms of a higher definition of mankind than had ever been possible before,” Kyra said quietly. “Maybe he was going mad and I was in denial about it. I’ve asked myself many times if I should have made him get some therapy. He wouldn’t have done so voluntarily of course, but the UCN contract for our continued support of the Cyber Soldiers was contingent upon the two of us passing a mental health exam every year.”

“Did you always pass yours?” Peyton asked.

“Well—yes. You don’t have to sound so skeptical.”

Peyton smiled at her tone. “I’m not surprised you passed, Kyra. I’m just wondering now if Jackson always passed his.”

Kyra snorted. She had never thought to check. Maybe she would look into it. “I could probably find out. After his death, I gained the right to look at all Jackson’s medical and work records.”

“Knowing might answer some questions for you—maybe explain some things,” Peyton suggested. “Do you think I would pass the exam?”

“If you could keep your wiseass sense of humor under wraps long enough to answer the questions seriously,” Kyra said.

“Well don’t hold back, honey. Tell me what you really think,” Peyton declared, making her laugh.

“Sorry for the automatic sarcasm. Yes, Peyton. I think you could pass with flying colors, even the creative questions that require consulting your philosophy. I don’t know what you were like before you became a cyborg, but you’re just fine now from what I’ve seen.”

Peyton motioned with his head towards the cages. “What are their chances of passing a mental health exam, Doc?”

Kyra sighed as she looked around. “I wish I could tell from the work I did, but there are no factors indicating anything about their mental states once freed of the constant codes. Every one of them has prototype cybernetics that I never even knew existed until the last few days. Until they wake up and have their individual reactions, your guess is as good as mine.”

***

Brad connected the fifth storage disk to his portable. “Nero—Dude. This is the last one. I didn’t bother getting Borg Man’s. I’m assuming she already has his.”

“She does,” Nero said, not lifting his head from his task. “I retrieved Peyton’s myself.”

Brad tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “You did? When was that?”

Nero snorted as at Brad’s surprise. “Hey, I do research sometimes. I looked him up and downloaded the info after we discovered he was double-wired. We never found that device he used to open the cage. I wanted to see just how many hidden compartments he had in his body—outside the normal ones. The answer turned out to be two and both are in his head.”

“The bypass remote is probably still in the lab somewhere. Maybe he hid it in the cage. No one would look there.”

“No. I checked. Nothing was in the cage. He’d demolished the bed at some point and bent it back into shape. Kyra says Peyton has a pisser of a temper when he’s mad. I don’t doubt it after what I saw.”

Brad frowned. “That’s all the more reason to be concerned about him running around loose, isn’t it?”

Nero lifted his head, this time in concern. “That’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve said something to that effect. Are you having second doubts about what we’re doing here? Because if you are—it’s a bit late to voice them, Dr. Smith. We’ve got five more cyborgs waking up soon. It’s likely some of them are going to be angry about what’s happened to them. It would be unnatural for a rational, feeling human being to just say ‘no problem’ to learning the UCN has had them working as man-hos for a decade now. Don’t you think they have a right to be a bit pissed?”

“Yeah. Sure. I guess I would be too,” Brad agreed, nodding.

Nero nodded back. “Of course you would. Leave the disks when you’re done and get some rest. I’m sure the perfect
Gloria
is getting lonely without you.”

“Jealous much, Bro?” Brad asked, grinning as he pulled the fifth disk from his portable.

“Not of your luck with women,” Nero said, grinning back. “But I’d love for my brain to work like yours does. Next to Kyra, you’re the smartest human being I’ve ever met. Even Jackson Channing wasn’t as smart as you.”

Brad sighed in happiness. “Thanks, Dude. Now if I could just find something to do for a living that wasn’t dog-ass boring, I’d be a happy, happy man.”

“Well you’d probably get more job opportunities if you sounded as smart as you actually are. Want some advice? Take some language lessons,” Nero chided.

Brad carried the five disks over and sprinkled them on Nero’s virtual console. He laughed when his friend scrambled to catch them so their shadows wouldn’t activate the keys.

Nero growled. “Brad, you sorry piece of shit. Those disks better not have broken or you’ll be repeating your boring-ass research again tomorrow.”

“Can’t hear you, Bro. Got to go see
Glor—Glor—Gloria
. She is
glor-glor-glorious
. And mine. All mine,” Brad sang.

Nero chuckled at his friend’s silliness and shook his head as Brad walked out.

***

Kyra protested being dragged down the hall, but it wasn’t doing her any good. “Peyton, stop. I don’t want to be away from the cage room. They’re all going to wake up soon. Nothing is stopping it from happening now. I don’t want them any more frightened than they’re already going to be once they start remembering the past.”

Peyton locked the door behind them after practically throwing Kyra inside. “At initial waking, each man remembered me and serving. They even remembered my name. That means they’re still soldiers. I left intel in the cage for each of them that will move them into acceptance. Let’s let that happen as organically as possible before you start apologizing for your part in their situation. They went to sleep fighting a war and are waking up in the middle of a prison camp. The sooner they understand the reality of their situation—the more cooperative they will become.”

“Intel? What intel?”

Peyton sighed. “Their Cyber Husband history. Their military records. A smattering of current events to convince them time had passed. . .and something else.”

“What something else?” Kyra demanded.

Peyton tilted his head until he met her gaze. “I also gave them the restoration folder Nero copied from your portable to his—including the holographic message you made. Nero found it when you were still unconscious. It didn’t take much to figure out I was the password.”

“I suppose it was logical for Nero to review everything on my portable. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to discuss it yet. I made that recording for personal reasons. . .wait.” Kyra stared at the bed, instincts sizzling. Something was wrong. “Peyton? Did you go through my briefcase looking for something?”

“No. Why would you ask that?” Peyton swung his head. His eyes scanned the room and his hand shot out to stop Kyra from walking forward to check her things. There was a lingering heat signature indicating the person hadn’t been gone long. Someone had come into their room shortly before they got there. “I brought the briefcase back when you were in the cage room because I thought it might contain personal items. What exactly was in it?”

“Just equipment. My portable was in it because I used it in the lab, but now it’s in the cage room. The handheld I modified myself should be in there too. You saw the porta-disks Nero brought. I also had the little sweeper Brad gave me. You might not have noticed it because it was the size of a marble.”

Convinced the reason for the search had to do with the contents of the bag, Peyton walked to the bed and dumped the remaining items out on the cover. Everything she had mentioned was there on the bed—except the small item she had called a sweeper.

“Sweepers weren’t around a decade ago. What are they?” Peyton demanded.

Kyra put a hand on her head to help her think. “Okay. Let’s see if I can explain. The sweeper creates a scrambled communications field about three feet wide in diameter that briefly allows one com channel to be used for a short, but truly private conversation that can’t be recorded. Sweepers are expensive to make and require a lot of stored power. They were ineffective as a commercial product, but do still serve a function for governmental use. Brad was one of the premier creators of them when he was in grad school. I think he may own a significant portion of the patent or something. His work on sweepers is why Norton hired him as a tech. He gave the little sweeper to me so I could call Nero if I got into trouble dealing with you. Brad has always had a little crush on me. The sweeper was his way of making sure I stayed safe.”

Peyton glared. “Well somebody is probably trying to use his little love gift to call out of here. Who knew about the sweeper other than you and Brad?”

“Nero was there when he gave it to me. But they’re common now in the sense that most people would recognize one if they saw it, even one as small as the one he gave me.”