Page 5 of Her Cyborg Commander
Instead of a proper meal, she indulged herself with a double-thick chocolate milkshake. On a whim, she sent an image of the decadent beverage to Skye with the message,“Here’s proof that I’m taking care of myself.”
Skye replied,“Where’s the whipped cream?”
“Good question,” River said aloud as she returned to the food dispenser and requested the addition, with a dollop of chocolate sauce for good measure.
“Oversight corrected,”she sent back to Skye.
Drink in hand, she went upstairs to continue her night of indulgence with a hot bath. “Sissy, run the bathwater at my usual temperature and add some bubble bath. Raspberry this time.”
She’d named the household AI system Sissy. After all she and the others had been through, it didn’t feel right to treat anything with a voice like it was an unfeeling tool, even if that’s what it actuallywas.
The scent of raspberries reached her before she even made it to the top of the stairs. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Another breath, and the tension in her shoulders eased. This was her space, a place no one else had ever been, not even her friends. In the early months, it was the only place she felt truly safe. Later, it had become a sanctuary of a different kind, a private place where she could reflect and recover from the past.
Milkshake still in hand, she toed off her shoes and let her bare feet sink into the thick rugs that covered most of the floor. Brightly colored, the vivid patterns should have clashed with each other but somehow didn’t. The rugs had been one of the first things she’d bought for herself—a declaration of independence and a rebellion against the dreary backdrop of industrial gray and black she’d been surrounded by for most of her life.
This space was different. The walls were a buttery yellow, though that was hard to see through the collection of paintings and sketches that covered most of them. Some were little more than rough outlines, but others were complete works. More canvases sat on the floor or leaned against any available surface, and several of them had been torn or broken as if slashed or struck.
When one of her counselors had suggested art as a way to process her feelings, she was certain they hadn’t intended for her to destroy the works as part of her process. It worked for her, though.
River sipped at her milkshake as she moved to stand in front of her most recent work. After a moment, she reached out to brush her fingers over the faces captured on the canvas. One by one, she recited their names. Torrent. Pulse. Quake. Ebony. Slate. Her batch-siblings. They had all died in the Resource Wars, but she still missed them. Capturing their likeness helped her hold on to their memories in a way that revisiting her data files couldn’t.
This painting showed seven figures, but only those five had faces. The other two… She took a deep quaff of her drink, but the whipped cream and sugar couldn’t cover the bitter taste that filled her mouth. The other two figures were also her batch-siblings, but she’d never been able to complete a painting that captured all of them together on one canvas. Hunter and Chase had survived the wars, but they were as lost to her as the others. Every memory she had of them was tainted by the knowledge of what they’d done.
They’d been freed together and made plans to find a place they could live in peace. It was all they wanted, and despite her anger, she hoped they’d manage to find it for themselves. When the squad of masked and armored mercenaries had burst through the door of their room, she’d been the only one home.In the fight that ensued, she’d managed to send her brothers a message warning them not to come home.
They’d responded with promises that they’d find her and get her back. That they wouldn’t leave her alone… but they had. She’d never heard from them again. They hadn’t come for her. She would have known if they’d tried. She was sure of that. They’d given up on finding her and left her to suffer. She could never forgive them for that.
“No,” she said the word aloud. “Tonight isn’t about the past. It’s about the future. My future.”
She raised the drink in a toast to herself and took another sip. “Sissy, play some music, please. Something from my relaxation list.”
“Files acquired. Playing now.”
The opening notes of a Vardarian opera score filled the air. It was one of her favorite pieces and always put her in a good mood.
Then the music abruptly ended as a voice out of her nightmares spoke. “Hello, Petal.”
The milkshake she’d been enjoying fell from nerveless fingers, the chilled concoction splashing over her bare feet. It matched the sudden wash of icy black fear that crashed over her, leaving her screaming soundlessly in denial of what she heard.
The voice—hisvoice—continued speaking. “I’ve missed you so much. If I could have taken you with me, I would have. I never wanted to leave you alone. I tried… but you know that. You were there at the end. You know I didn’t want to go without you, but they wouldn’t allow it. You saw them force me away. It wasn’t my fault, Petal. I need you to understand that.Theydid this to us.”
She fought back the gut-tearing panic to reclaim some semblance of awareness. Reality returned to her in jagged flashes. She was alone. The bastard wasn’t here. But he knewwhere she was. Panic threatened to overwhelm her again at the thought. He’d found her.
No. No. No. How?
“I have good news, though, Petal. The ones that made me leave you aren’t in charge anymore. There’s a new order now, and they are very interested in my research. I’ve told them all about you. They want to meet you and see for themselves how wonderful you are. You and I will be together again. Soon, Petal. I promise.”
The music came back, but she didn’t hear it. All she heard were his last words repeating over and over inside her head. “Together again. Soon.”
She came back to herself with a throat-tearing scream, her fists beating against the sodden rug beneath her. She kneeled in the remains of her milkshake, her legs parted and head bowed in a posture of subservience that had once been part of her daily existence. She’d sworn she would never kneel like that again, but here she was. All it took was the sound of his voice to reactivate the programming she’d fought so hard to break free of.
Tears of anger poured down her cheeks as she stood, shaking with emotions she couldn’t name. The need to vomit was almost too strong to ignore. Memories of the last time she’d seen him flooded her mind, taking her back to Reamus Station. He’d ordered her to come with him, and she’d been too weak to fight the compulsion to obey.
The guards were there, stun batons out as they tried to force the other cyborgs into cryo-pods. Edge had been there, fighting with the others. They’d killed as many as they could, somehow sensing this was their chance. In her memory, the coppery tang of blood and screams of pain surrounded her, but she didn’t hesitate. She had to follow him. Her master. Doctor Troyan Jens.
Beyond the prison area was a different kind of chaos. Beings jostled each other through tightly packed corridors. She caughtfragments of conversations as Jens wove his way through the crowd.
The station was compromised.
