The main cabin was silent, not even the soft banter she’d heard between Cael and Archon filling the air. Perhaps they were communicating through other means? She knew they could talk to each other without speaking. She wasn’t stupid, she’d caught the looks between them and the way Lyon’s expression focused inward, as though he was concentrating on something she couldn’t see or hear.
“Hello?”
She pushed the door open farther and stepped through it. Her gaze swept the cabin. It was empty… She paused, catching sight of a pair of legs sprawled between the two rows of seats at the front of the cockpit. Male, no leg brace and not as big as Lyon.
“Archon?”
She took a couple of steps forward. What was he doing lying on the floor? There were at least two other cabins at the back if he needed to take a nap, or the bench seats lining the rear section of the cabin. He didn’t need to lie in the way. He couldn’t be comfortable like that.
She padded forward until she could see down between the seats, the sense that something was wrong increasing. A feeling confirmed when she saw Lyon’s arm motionless on the arm of the chair, and beyond him, Cael sitting in the copilot’s seat, also as still as a statue.
“What the hell?”
She darted forward and dropped to her knees next to the fallen man. Her medical training rushed to the fore. Looking for signs of breathing, she pressed two fingers into his throat to locate a pulse. Relief flooded her at the strong beat under her fingers. Not thready or weak, just normal.
She flicked a glance over him. No unnatural pose or set to any of his limbs, no signs of bleeding and his skin was a normal hue. Apart from the fact he was sprawled out over the floor, he seemed in perfect health.
“What the hell is going on?”
She turned her attention to Lyon sitting next to them. If she hadn’t seen him walking and talking less than an hour ago, she would have sworn he was a living, breathing statue. His chest rose and fell mechanically, the breaths perfectly regulated.
Humans didn’t breathe like that, their respiration was more erratic. A cough here or other contraction of the diaphragm, even thinking about breathing, was enough to alter each breath enough from its predecessor that perfect rhythm was never attained.
His eyes were closed, no flicker of movement behind the lids. Were they all asleep?
How did cyborgs sleep anyway? She couldn’t believe that they just shut down like little automatons, motionless when the power was cut. No, they were all too human for that.
She dredged up everything buried in her brain about cyborgs. If they weren’t asleep…
“Crap, crap, crap. Electromagnetic pulse.”
Adrenaline surged through her veins as she turned. If they’d been hit with an EMP,
then that meant the Valkyrie or another Fleet ship wasn’t far away. She cast a nervous look at the ceiling above her. Perhaps they were already here, ready to cut through the hull. Then there would be marines piling in here…and with Lyon and the others out of it. She paled, heart lurching.
They were defenseless.
Clambering over Archon, she slid into the pilot’s seat and looked at the console spread out in front of her. Half the symbols and squiggles didn’t make sense, but the fact they were there told her one thing. The EMP had been targeted at the crew rather than the ship. Fleet wanted them alive.
Which meant one thing—Lyon’s team was destined for research and development. To be dissected and prodded over until their bodies yielded exactly how the cyborgs had escaped the hold their human masters had over them.
She gritted her teeth at the anger which surged through her. “Over my dead body. Computer, enable audio.”
“Audio control activated.”
She was twisting out of the seat as the computer replied. Somehow she had to fly the shuttle and get them out of there before the Fleet arrived. She didn’t dare think about what she was doing. If she did, she’d panic and freeze.
“Status report.”
She stopped next to Cael and checked her harness. The shoulder loops were already on. Good. Reaching forward, she pulled the straps to make sure they were tight. She wasn’t a pilot, so she was going to have to rely on the shuttle’s flight computer. Even so, this was likely to get hairy and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to get hurt while they were helpless.
“All systems online and functioning within normal parameters.”
A sigh of relief escaped her lungs. They had a chance. She clambered back over Archon to get Lyon strapped in. She hissed in frustration as she tried to struggle him into a harness.
“Isn’t that just like a man, eh?” she griped as she lifted arms the weight of small elephants to loop straps over them. “Just lie there and expect a woman to do all the work.”
She managed it and pulled the webbing tight with a hard tug, then addressed the computer again. “Maintain heading, bring secondary shields online and give me a sensor sweep of the local area.”
The computer cheeped at her as it ran the sweep. Checking Lyon’s harness one last time, she broke away and looked down at Archon.
“Come on, big boy; let’s get you in a seat.”
She stepped over him again and crouched to slide her hands under his arms. She’d been a nurse for years, both civilian and in the Fleet, so she was trained in the best techniques for lifting the human body, arguably the most difficult thing to pick up in the known universe after an annoyed feline. So she did everything by the book; back straight, legs bent to provide power and…
“Gnnnnnhhh!”
She pulled until her muscles felt like they were going to pop from their moorings, and her vision started to gray. Archon stayed right where he was, sprawled out on the deck plate. “Hell’s teeth, what did they put in you? Structural steel?”
Gritting her teeth and readjusting her grip, she tried again. This time her hands slipped and she ended up on her ass between the seats next to Cael. Wincing, she got to her feet. She couldn’t move him, but she couldn’t leave him on the floor like that. One barrel roll and he’d be like a pea in a shaker.
“Sorry, handsome, we’re going to have to do a little bondage,” she muttered as she started to rifle through the overhead compartments. Born on a backwater planet that relied on shuttles for transportation, she knew there had to be some strapping in here someplace. Shuttles like this did dual duty shifting personnel and cargo, which was why the seats at the back lined the walls and there were fixed loops embedded in the floor.
“Bingo.”
She pulled three lengths of heavy-duty webbing straps from the last compartment and knelt down next to the unresponsive man. Within a minute she had him trussed up like an Altarian boar ready for transport. She sat back on her haunches and checked over her handiwork with a sense of satisfaction. Even if the Fleet threw Armageddon itself at them, Archon wasn’t going anywhere.
“Scan complete. Confirm three vessels on an intercept course, bearing three seven seven four mark five eight nine,” the computer informed her in a dull monotone.
Shit. They were being followed. Samara’s ass hit the pilot’s seat at light speed as she tried to recall the flight lessons her father had given her years ago. The crap was about to hit the fan, but at least she had the three guys in here secure. A pang of worry hit her about Eoin. She didn’t know where he was, though, and she’d run out of time to play
“hunt the cyborg”.
“Display intercept courses on console. What ID codes are they broadcasting?”
She studied the panel in front of her as she waited for the computer’s reply. They were in trouble. Big trouble. The screen in front of her was lit up with red lines from the Fleet vessels, creating a cage she couldn’t see a way out of.
“Vessels are confirmed as CFS Valkyrie, CFS Vengeance and CFS Jenias.”
Her heart plummeted.
“We are so screwed.”
Chapter Eight
“Computer, bring us about and head for this sector here.” The sound of a nail tapping against console glass filled the cabin. “Full speed.”
Lyon could tell from the small catch in Samara’s voice as she gave the computer orders that she was scared. He didn’t blame her. In her shoes, he would be too. What was she doing? The EMP had done its job and they were all safely contained. All she had to do was sit pretty and wait for her people to pick her up… Why was she setting a new course at full speed? That sounded very much like an escape attempt. She tied me to the f**king floor!
The sound of Archon’s furious voice in his head announced the fact his internal communications relay had rebooted.
That’s because she couldn’t move your fat ass, airhead.
Cael’s feminine tones joined Archon’s griping and eased some of Lyon’s worry. At least those two were okay, even if he was going to have to lock them in a confined space together for a couple of days sometime soon. They’d either kill each other or screw each other’s brains out. Either way, he’d get some peace. Eoin? How you doin’, bud?
Frozen stiff as a freaking Popsicle. What’d they hit us with? the other Gemini grumbled. I got eyes on company headed our way and they’re packing serious hardware.
Great. Just what they needed. When the computer had listed the vessels on an intercept course, Lyon had hoped it was coincidence and they just happened to be in the area. Eoin’s words shattered that illusion. Hell was coming for them.
We changed course. Who’d the EMP skip? Eoin asked suddenly, breaking into his train of thought. There was eagerness in the question, which was understandable. Eoin was one of the team of engineers working on the EMP shielding. The four of them had slightly different shield configurations, so they all had different reactions to the EMP.
At least Eoin’s config allowed him to actually see.
No one, Lyon replied. Samara’s piloting.
Silence met his announcement.
The same human you accused of betraying us less than an hour ago?
He winced at Eoin’s quiet comment. Despite his…physical issues, Eoin was still his second-in-command and as sharp as a boarding laser. Where his twin joked around and laughed, Eoin was serious and got right to the point. And he was the only person Lyon would allow to speak to him that way.
Aye, that’s the one.
He was going to be eating humble pie. If they got out of this alive. Even with the best will in the universe, Samara was a nurse, not a pilot.
Crap, they’re right on our tails, Cael announced, which meant her uplinks to the shuttle were coming back online. He checked his internal clock, trying to estimate the time he had left until full reboot. Cael was a Cancer class, so her onboard was more complex and sensitive. In the event of something like this, Cancers always came back online first.
All conversation ceased as the alarm klaxon filled the small cockpit. “Collision warning, impact imminent. Please change course to avoid collision,” the computer advised.
“What the f**k do you think I’m trying to do? Give me manual control,” Samara snarled, which elicited a snort of amusement from Cael.
She’s got guts.
He had to agree as the shuttle lurched a fraction. It was almost imperceptible, but to a cyborg it was like dropping off a cliff. Immediately the shuttle rolled to the side and a heavy thud reverberated through the space frame.