Page 5 of The Lone Cyborg
“I have to leave again. To check on my… settlers.”
“Of course, but I heard another rumor that might interest you. Since you have mining claims in your territory, that is.” M-231 met his gaze innocently enough, but something in the other male’s voice made him wonder if his… interest in Mattie had not gone completely unnoticed. “I heard that GenCon has been poking around some of the settler’s mining claims. At least one rumor implied that they were offering to buy them out—and not taking no for an answer.”
He frowned, a flicker of unease running down his spine.
“GenCon? I thought Earth Gov had them on a tight leash these days. What are they after?”
M-231 shook his head.
“No one knows. Their attention doesn’t seem to be focused on any one particular type of claim, which makes it harder to pin down their motives, and it doesn’t seem to be coming out of themain office here in town. Could be nothing, could be something, but you know how GenCon is. They always have an agenda.”
“Agreed,” he said, his thoughts returning to Mattie. It seemed unlikely that GenCon would be interested in her small claim, but he still didn’t like the idea that she might attract their interest. “I’m going to ride out to the Carson claim, make sure everything’s all right.”
“You do that.” There was that too-innocent look again. “I’ll see if I can find out anything else.”
“Let Wyatt know as well.”
Wyatt served as the chief authority for both the town and the surrounding area. He was also a cyborg, but he’d resumed the use of his previous name after marrying one of the local women. J-418 had briefly considered doing the same thing, but he’d decided it was foolish to pretend he was anything other than what he was—a machine, not a man.
“You sure?” M-231 gave him a questioning look. “I didn’t want to bother him since it’s just a rumor.”
“Yes, he needs to know.” He swung up on Trojan’s back and grinned at the younger cyborg. “Don’t worry. He won’t bite.”
M-231 made a rude gesture before returning his smile.
“I hope your little settler doesn’t either.”
Thankful that his nanites concealed his embarrassment, he ignored the comment and simply sketched a salute before riding out of the stables with as much dignity as possible. He tried not to focus on the unsettling implication of M-231’s words—that his concern for Mattie was something more than his duty demanded.
Instead, he considered the implications of the rumor. Why would GenCon be trying to strong-arm some of the settlers out of their mining claims? Even if they weren’t operating through the main office, it was likely that someone in town knew what they were up to. No matter how much they tried to act in secret, humans could be careless, especially when they had been drinking, and everyone eventually visited the saloon.
Once again he urged Trojan into a rapid pace, moving swiftly across the plain toward Mattie’s claim. But this time, instead of trying to shake her from his thoughts, he focused on the threats against her. The GenCon rumor bothered him, but he was more concerned about the possibility of an outlaw attack. He had a sudden urge to hold her close, to protect her from whatever danger loomed. He swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
CHAPTER THREE
Mattie gritted her teeth as she pried open the vibro-drill’s metal casing, her fingers struggling to gain purchase. The pale Martian sunlight glinted off the exposed wires and gears tangled inside the machinery that refused to cooperate. She glared at the drill as she tried to diagnose the issue.
“Come on, you stubborn piece of junk,” she muttered, and Sylvester tweeted anxiously, echoing her frustration.
She tightened a loose connection, hoping it was the culprit behind the drill’s malfunction, but the machine remained stubbornly unresponsive. Frustration simmered in her veins. How many times had she repaired this drill before? How many hours had she spent coaxing life out of the worn-out equipment? The small inheritance she’d received from her former employer had been enough to get her to Mars and give her a start, but it hadn’t extended to more than the most basic used equipment.
As always the thought of Professor Harrington made her chest ache. He’d been a retired scholar and she’d gone to work for him simply as a housekeeper—something he’d desperately needed since even the simplest domestic tasks baffled him. When hefound her reading one of his books, she’d expected him to fire her, but instead he started asking her questions about the material.
Impressed both by her answers and her curiosity, he’d developed a program of studies for her. Naturally it had focused heavily on his own field of geology but she’d found it surprisingly fascinating. They’d spent a good deal of time talking about Mars and the possibilities for mining there. When he’d died unexpectedly, leaving her alone once more, it had seemed only fitting that she use the money he’d left her to make the journey to Mars and establish her own claim—a claim she was determined to make successful.
I can do this, she thought fiercely.I’ve come too far to let a broken drill stop me now.
She reached for a wrench, the weight of it comforting in her hand, and smacked the side of the drill as if she could beat it into submission.
“Work, damn it!”
Sylvester squawked and fluttered into the air as the loud clang of the blow echoed across the desert, but the drill remained silent, as lifeless as the barren landscape stretching out around her. Her shoulders sagged, the weight of her isolation suddenly pressing down on her. There was no one to turn to for help, no one to lend a hand or offer a word of encouragement.
Stop that, she ordered herself, shaking off the creeping tendrils of self-pity.I chose this life. I knew it wouldn’t be easy.
She thought back to the orphanage on Earth, to the cramped dormitories and the constant fight for resources. The professor’s tiny apartment had been paradise compared to that, but despiteits coziness, it had still been tight and confined. At least here on Mars, she had space to breathe. Freedom to carve out her own path, even if that path was littered with obstacles like a malfunctioning drill.
She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through the mask covering her nose. She had to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting for the life she wanted. She gave Sylvester an apologetic smile, then turned back to the drill, determined to find the source of the problem. She would fix this, just like she always did. And then she would keep drilling, keep searching for the resources that could secure her future on this unforgiving planet.
