Page 8 of Raven Blackwood
“Gestation from embryo to adulthood for a cyborg is five years. We remain in stasis until we are needed to defend the federation. We are educated and trained in virtual reality through our onboard computers.”
“What is virtual reality?”
“It is a digital construct that feeds directly into ourminds in a way that we can interact with it mentally while our bodies are in a state of suspended animation. For all practical purposes, we are in an unconscious state not unlike sleep.”
“So, it’s like dreaming?”
“That’s one explanation, but it seemed very real at the time.”
She gave me a speculative look and glanced at the fence we had just repaired. “We’ve done a lot in just a few hours. I’m glad you came.”
I found myself smiling at her—the attraction between us almost emitted sparks. I couldn’t resist taking her into my arms and kissing her thoroughly. That was a mistake because one thing led to another, and I ended up taking her behind a tree before we returned to the barnyard.
I loved the way she responded with joy and enthusiasm. We were both smiling as we strolled back to the barn hand in hand. I carried the tool bag slung over one shoulder.
By midday, Grace joined us in the garden, her rounded belly making her progress slow but steady. She supervised as Hannah and I reinforced the chicken coop and repaired the barn door. While we worked, Grace shared stories about Zach and their lives before Jenkins tightened his grip on the town.
“Zach always had a way of speaking his mind,” Grace said, her voice tinged with sadness. “It’s why Jenkins took him. Anyone who stands up to him ends up disappearing.”
I paused, hammer in hand. “We’re going to find him,” I said firmly. “And we’re going to make sure Jenkins doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
Grace nodded, though her expression remained guarded. “I hope you’re right. But you’ll need more than hope to take on Jenkins.”
“I’ve got weapons, and I have skills. They don’t want to mess with me because I can have a dozen cyborgs here by tomorrow if need be. If I can’t take them head-on, I will take them by stealth; I’ll take them one by one.
As the sun dipped low on the horizon, Hannah and I sat on the porch, the fields bathed in the golden glow of evening. We had just shared a simple meal of stew and freshly baked bread with Grace. She handed me a mug of cool herbal tea.
“Thank you for helping today,” she said quietly. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you came here.”
“I came here to help and protect you,” I replied, meeting her gaze. “That means helping in whatever way I can.”
For a moment, we sat in silence. The weight of the day settled over us. Then she spoke again, her voice softer this time. “I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid I would never get to meet you when the cow broke my comm tablet.”
I savored her words, pleased. “Finding you makes everything I’ve been through worth it.”
Hannah nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Last night,” she paused shyly. “I never knew it could be like that.”
“I hope you felt the same joy as I did when we joined.”
She smiled, and her cheeks colored a delightful shade of pink. “Oh, I think I did.”
“Good, because I would like to do it again.”
Later that evening, one of the alarms I had set up earlier triggered a faint chime echoing in my neural interface. I rose to my feet, scanning the perimeter with my enhanced vision. Movement in the distance caught my attention—someone was snooping around the property.
I grabbed my rifle and slipped into the shadows, moving silently through the trees. When I reached the edge of the field, I found fresh tracks in the dirt leading back toward the town. A piece of fabric, torn and snagged onthe fence, confirmed my suspicions: we were being watched.
Returning to the porch, I found Hannah waiting for me. Concern etched into her features. “What is it?” she asked.
“Jenkins’s people,” I replied. “They’re watching us. We don’t have much time before they make their next move.”
Her jaw tightened. “Then we’ll be ready.”
“We will,” I agreed. “But first, I need to know what exactly we’re up against.”
That night, I engaged my nanite armor and slipped into town under the cover of darkness. The streets were quiet, but the tension in the air was palpable. Moving with practiced stealth, I navigated the narrow alleys, listening to the hushed conversations of Jenkins’s enforcers as they gathered around dimly lit fires.
“He’s here, all right,” one of them said. “The cyborg. Jenkins ain’t happy about it.”
