Page 2 of The Lone Cyborg
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “This is my territory, Miss Carson. Everything in it is my responsibility.”
“And everyone?”
His eyes flicked down over her, leaving a trail of warmth behind, and she had the foolish impulse to try and brush away some of the dust covering her.
“Yes.”
She looked away, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected warmth in his gaze.
“What do you want, J-418?”
The question came out more breathless than she intended and it hung between them until Sylvester interrupted their standoff, fluttering down to perch on her shoulder again. She reached up to stroke his head, finding comfort in the familiar gesture.
J-418 reached into the pocket of his shirt and retrieved a folded piece of paper. He offered it to her, waiting in silence, his features unreadable as he assumed his usual stoic mask.
She stared at it warily, recognizing the official paperwork but reluctant to accept whatever new rules the government was forcing upon her. Rules created by faceless bureaucrats who had never set foot on Mars, who had no idea what it meant to fight for every breath, to struggle to survive in a harsh, unforgiving environment. Rules made for a world she no longer belongedto, not since she’d left Earth for a mining claim in the Martian desert.
“What is it?”
“New mining regulations. They’re being updated in the database, but you need a copy to be in compliance.”
His voice was even, professional, as she gave him an exasperated look.
“More regulations?”
“The lithium production is becoming a concern,” he replied calmly, although she noted the hint of a challenge in his gaze. “With the terraforming efforts still underway, they don’t want to disrupt the planet’s ecosystem. Just be glad they aren’t raising the price of the mining permits again.”
“Small blessing,” she muttered, her frustration getting the best of her.
He gave her a sharp glance at that, but she ignored it, choosing instead to snatch the paper out of his hand. Unfolding it, she scanned the document quickly, her mouth thinning.
“What the hell is this?” she asked, holding up the offending sheet. “No blasting without a permit? A permit from whom?”
“From me,” he said, his gaze locked with hers. “It’s a safety measure, so we can monitor the use of explosives.”
“I’ve been on this claim for two years and I haven’t heard a word about this before now.” She could hear the irritation in her own voice. “Do you expect me to just fall in line and let you monitor my work?”
“Yes. This is for your protection.” There was no emotion in his response.
“Well, I don’t want to be protected, not like this,” she snapped.
“You don’t have a choice, Miss Carson,” he said, his voice still level. “The rules are in place to protect everyone, and they will be enforced.”
She glared at him, her temper rising at the ultimatum.
“Well, I still say it’s damned inconvenient. I won’t spend half my time filling out some useless form to get permission to do my job,” she said.
His mouth tightened.
“I’m sorry if it inconveniences you, but the regulations are there for a reason.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And you will follow them. This is not open to negotiation.”
She bit her lip, suddenly feeling like a small child being scolded for misbehavior. She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact.
“Fine,” she finally muttered, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll play by your stupid rules, but I reserve the right to complain about them every step of the way.”
A smile flickered across his face, a brief flash of humor.
“Of course, Miss Carson. That’s part of your charm.”
