Abiogenesis (6 page)

"We have a hunter among us. She is ... mine. I will expect you to remember that and act accordingly."

The cyborgs had stiffened at Reuel’s announcement, several of them half rising from their seats. They settled back, their expressions more guarded than before.

"You’re not taking her to the camp?"

"Why did you bring her?"

"Why didn’t you kill her?"

"For what purpose have you brought her among us?"

They spoke almost at once, each question spilling over the question of another, tangling so that it was hard to separate them.

"When I understand myself ... when, and if, I feel the urge to share, I will tell you," Reuel said coldly. "Until then, it is not your right ask."

"You endanger us all, risk the failure of our plans by bringing her among us. That should give us the right."

Reuel moved to a chair near the others and sat. Wrapping an arm around Dalia’s waist, he pulled her down onto his lap. She resisted, for all the good it did, sitting stiffly erect. He wouldn’t allow even that much rebellion, however. He pulled her against him and held her until she relaxed, dropping her head back against his shoulder. "You see this tiny morsel of mortal flesh as a threat?" he said, his voice deep, husky.

"That is the huntress, Dalia. She has killed almost as many as the other hunters together," one of the cyborgs growled.

Almost casually, Reuel slipped a hand through the arm opening of her tunic and began to pluck at her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Dalia stiffened, tried to jerk upright, but his grip tightened until she relaxed once more with the realization that she could not free herself, could not move until he allowed it. Swallowing with an effort, she fixed her gaze across the room, trying to ignore his touch, trying to ignore the fact that the other cyborgs had been instantly riveted by his actions. "This delicate little flower?" he insisted, rolling the distended nipple between his finger and thumb. "I’m afraid I find it difficult to perceive her as a threat--at least, not in the way that you mean."

Dalia was relieved when he finally released her nipple--until he slipped his hand down her belly and cupped her sex. She clamped her legs tightly. Abandoning that goal after only a moment, he slid his hand up her belly and caught her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, plucking at it until it stood erect and began to throb like an aching tooth.

"If we were men, now, that might be a different matter altogether," he murmured, his husky voice almost as mesmerizing as the teasing caress of his hand. "She is a wondrous marvel of nature, don’t you think? Even I can understand how a man, who is still slave to his hormonal urges, would find himself distracted and vulnerable because of it."

Almost casually, he lifted his legs, one at the time, and propped the heels of his boots on the table that separated the chairs. As he did so, her legs slid off on either side of his. She scarcely noticed. She was so enthralled by his touch, and trying desperately to ignore the sensations shimmying through her that she hardly noticed when he removed the arm that was around her waist and slipped his opposite hand through her tunic. He cupped her breast in his hand, massaging it even as he plucked gently, rhythmically at the nipple.

She’d lost track of the other hand, the one he’d been teasing her with before. When it skated over her belly, the muscles there jumped, clenched. This time when his hand settled between her legs, she discovered she could not clamp her legs together. She tried, reflexively.

Apparently completely unconcerned, possibly even unaware, of her attempts to prevent his incursion, he used his fingers to part the petals of flesh and slid one large finger along her cleft. Dalia thought for several moments that she would faint. She was struggling so hard to keep her breathing regular, to still the frantic drum of her heart, that she kept holding her breath.

"As a machine, naturally I’m incapable of feeling ... anything at all, but I do find this female interesting to study. This, for instance," he said, pushing her tunic aside and displaying the breast he held in his hand, "is interestingly symmetrical. The color and texture is also interesting in that the shading of the flesh contrasts so sharply from here," he massaged her breast, "to here," he plucked the distended nipple.

For the first time since he’d begun to toy with her, Dalia looked at the cyborgs across from them. Any doubt that she’d ever entertained that lust was a concept beyond their capability or understanding vanished. They were, quite obviously, as enthralled by what Reuel was doing to her as she was, and, strangely enough, she lost the vague sense of discomfort that had been nibbling at the back of her mind. As if something had broken inside of her--all urge to fight it--she released a shaky breath that was half gasp, half groan as she felt him push the finger he’d been exploring her sex with up inside of her.

The groan that escaped her had the unexpected effect of making him cease abruptly, though he seemed to withdraw that probing finger almost reluctantly. Removing his hands from inside the tunic, he smoothed it over her. "If we were men, we would lust for this female, allow it to blind us to danger, and reason, and then ... only then, would this small mortal be a threat to us," he growled, dropping his feet to the deck and pushing her off his lap abruptly.

She stood shakily, staring down at him in confusion. He surged to his feet, grasped her arm as he had before and half pushed, half dragged her from the room and up the stairs. Reaching his cabin once more, Dalia turned on him as he closed the door behind them. "Why did you do that?"

His face hardened. "Did it bother you? Surely, it didn’t ...being fondled by a machine, in front of more machines. You should have thought no more of it than if I were some mechanical pleasure devise, and they were ... furniture."

Her lips tightened. "You’ve made your point, many times over. I still want to know why."

He moved toward her until he was looming over her. "Because it pleased me to do it. Because you are mine and I will do as I please with you at any time it pleases me to do it. So that you would know your danger. So that they would know that you are mine and I would kill them if they so much as looked at you." He stopped, dragged in a ragged breath. "And because I couldn’t stop myself once I’d started."

He gripped her arms, pulling her up against him until her breasts flattened against his chest, then slipped an arm behind her back and caught her face in his other hand. "Is this how you did it, my deadly little flower? Did you allow them to think that you looked upon them as men? Did you sigh and moan at their touch as if you enjoyed it, waiting until their minds were so heated with need that it was easy for you to slip a blade into their heart?"

Dalia swallowed with an effort. "No!" she said shakily. "It would never have occurred to me! I wasn’t trained to do such a thing and I would never have let them near enough to me to try it. I didn’t even know it was possible. I bested them."

He studied her face carefully. Finally, a dark eyebrow rose skeptically. "Toe to toe, in combat?"

She flushed. "I outwitted them, caught them by surprise. I’m skilled in the usage of all weapons and hand to hand combat. Yes, it was considered that I wouldn’t be perceived as a threat because I’m a female and not physically threatening in appearance, but no one considered, least of all me, that it was even possible to ... lure a cyborg to his death."

"Least of all you."

Dalia licked her lips nervously. "You’re not going to let me go, are you?"

The movement of her tongue seemed to distract him. After a moment, he lifted his gaze to hers. "Probably not."

"If you were going to kill me, you might as well have done it before we left."

"I’ve no taste for killing. I told you that."

"But you have killed, haven’t you?"

He didn’t even flinch. "I have."

Dalia frowned. "If you’re not going to kill me and you’re not taking me to the rebel camp, what do you plan to do with me?"

His grip on her relaxed, allowing her to slip down his chest until she was no longer standing on her toes. His lip quirked upward at one corner, but unlike before, the smile didn’t touch his eyes. "For the moment I’m merely trying to decide whether or not the risk is worth taking you up on your offer."

"Which offer?" she asked, feeling a sinking of dread.

"The use of your body in return for safe passage. Money is not something difficult to acquire. A willing female--human female--is a little more rare."

Chapter Six

"You hate me," Dalia said in sudden enlightenment.

He released her abruptly. "Droids are incapable...."

"But you aren’t a Droid. You hate me for being a good soldier."

"I don’t hate you for being good at what you were designed to do. If I did, I would have killed you and left your body for the company to find."

Dalia stared at him. "You hate them worse. You didn’t because you didn’t want to do them any favors."

Something flickered in his eyes then and she knew she had at least part of the answer. "True, but then I could have left you unidentifiable."

That seemed inarguable. She was no weakling. She was capable of doing things that no normal women, and even few men, were capable of because of her mechanical enhancements, and yet his strength was so superior to her own she was as helpless as if she’d had no enhancements at all. "You still could," she said, wondering why she felt the need or desire to test him, wondering if she was goading him.

"I still might."

She didn’t believe him and relief flooded through her. Whatever else his plans for her might be, she was as certain as she could be that he had no plans to kill her.

The other cyborgs were another matter, of course. She’d seen the look in their eyes and it went way past hostility. He might not hate her for who she was and what she was, but they almost certainly did ... and if he took her to the rebel camp, then there could be hundreds there who felt the same way as they did.

She moistened her lips. "But not before you find out why the company considers me a threat?"

"Not before that," he said coolly. He glanced around the cabin. "I would suggest you spend most of your time in the cabin. I don’t believe they will challenge me, but ... you will not wish to stake your life on it. We eat at O eight hundred, twelve hundred, and eighteen hundred, in the mess, no exceptions. Lights out at twenty three hundred. Otherwise, do as you please. So long as I don’t catch you near anything of significant military importance or attempting to sabotage the ship, you can move around the ship if you prefer it."

She was on the point of asking him where he intended to sleep, or if he even found it necessary, but she thought better of it. She, for one, was convinced, and she had no desire to endure any more lessons. Whatever the company thought, these cyborgs were not ‘mere’ machines with artificial intelligence. They were, in effect, a higher order of beings, superior to humans because mankind had been foolish enough to make them so.

When he’d left, her shoulders slumped and absolute weariness set in. She’d hardly slept since she’d escaped, knowing if she allowed herself to sleep deeply the chances were good that she wouldn’t get the chance to wake up. She was also hungry, but according to the clock set into the wall, it was twenty four hundred--there would be no chance for food before morning.

Dismissing it, she decided she was more tired anyway and climbed onto the bed. She’d barely settled in a comfortable position when she dropped from consciousness as suddenly as if a switch had been turned off. Despite that, she didn’t rest a lot easier than she had in the rubble of the buildings, expecting any moment to be discovered. Strange, heated dreams kept her moving restlessly throughout the night. Again and again, she relived those moments when Reuel’s hands had slipped over her body. Sometimes it differed. Sometimes they were in the shower and he was lathering her with soap. Sometimes they lay entwined in the bed.

When she woke, she discovered that he was lying beside her on his back, staring up at the bulkhead. She had the uneasy feeling that he had not ‘rested’, but had no idea of how long he’d lain beside her. Uncomfortable with the dreams that had plagued her most of the night, she rose without a word and went into the head. Discarding the tunic she’d slept in, she removed the clothing she’d taken from the clinic from the cleaning unit and dressed. When she left the head, Reuel was gone.

Hunger drove her from the cabin. She found the mess by following the smell of food. The cyborgs, she discovered were more punctual than she. When she arrived, all of them, including, she saw with relief, Reuel, were seated at the long table in the middle of the room. All of them except Reuel were wearing their weapons, but they seemed far too interested in consuming their food for her to consider that circumstance as representing a threat ... for the moment at least.

Mentally, she shrugged. At rest, they were basically like their human counterparts. They used very little energy. However, physically, they were at least three quarters pure biological material, most of it muscle, and moving all of that around required a great deal of energy. Even if they didn’t have the human tendency to eat purely for entertainment and pleasure, consuming what they needed would require a great deal of food.

Selecting her own food from the server, she moved down the table and sat next to Reuel. Even without the ‘lesson’ or ‘experiment’--whatever name Reuel cared to put to the display the day before--she would’ve been uneasy about being in a room full of cyborgs. The surreptitious, speculative glances she’d noticed as she moved around the mess hall had only increased that natural tendency.

All things considered, it occurred to her to wonder if the shortage of females would prove to be a problem for the cyborg community--she assumed it was a community. To her knowledge, not even a third of the rogue cyborgs were female and since they weren’t as strong as their male counterparts, the hunters had decreased that by a goodly number since they’d gone rogue. A fraction of this generation, mostly female, had been reprogrammed as soon as the first ones had gone rogue. As far as she could see that left anywhere from three to five males to every female--assuming they’d managed to gather the remainder together.