Relic of Sorrows: Fallen Empire, Book 4 (27 page)

“No cyborg can, not the ones made for the military.”

Made. As if he were some machine, like one of those androids, and not a human being.

A human being who had agreed to a lot of unpleasant surgery for the empire. The first inkling that it had involved more than replacement bones and implants came to her.

He was watching her warily, and she realized that he, too, must be worried about rejection.

She rested a hand on his chest and scooted back on the bunk so she could lean against the wall. “Tell me.”

He hesitated, but then scooted back with her, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s part of the surgery. They tell you about it, and it’s a deal-breaker for a lot of the men. There’s a reason that enlistment bonus is so high. Others think that it won’t be real, that they’re virile enough to find a way around it.” He snorted. “Others are just… motivated to join the Cyborg Corps, no matter what the repercussions.”

Alisa remembered his story, how he’d needed the money to save his mother.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I mean, I get why the men would be forced into accepting the deal, but why did the military do it to start with? What could be gained?”

“Any number of things. When the Cyborg Corps program was first started, the fleet used a lot of convicts, offering them a life in the military as an alternative to life in prison. In the beginning, the military scientists were worried about giving a lot of power to people who might abuse it. They didn’t want their cyborgs raping women, enemies or otherwise. Later, I think they also realized it was useful not to have their super soldiers having divided loyalties between wives and lovers and the outfit, and it also meant they wouldn’t be susceptible to pretty spies or assassins seeking to seduce them. Either way, it continued to be a part of the program, even after the fleet started taking regular men with no criminal pasts. They made them—us—physically incapable of penetration by tying off something somewhere—” he waved vaguely toward his groin, “—but there’s a mental component, too, an adjustment to the brain chemistry, so you don’t even think of sex or arousal. I’m not sure what, exactly—I was unconscious for the surgery. It’s not hormonal—if anything, the increased production they give us in that department ought to make us
more
interested in sex, not less.”

Alisa rested a hand on his forearm, not surprised they had tinkered with his hormones. Every cyborg she’d seen had the proportions of a body builder. She wondered what the long-term side effects were and what the life expectancy was for them. For him. She blinked, finding tears in her eyes again as she looked at him.

“Everything is still
intact
,” Leonidas said, giving her a concerned look, probably misinterpreting her moist eyes. “And I have the hope that it may be reversible. Now that I’m not working for the empire anymore, at least not directly, I have the freedom to look for a solution.”

“
That’s
what you were looking for on that research laboratory? And that’s why you were interested in Admiral Tiang?”

“Yes. Dr. Bartosz performed my original surgery. I figured that if anyone knew how to undo what had been done, it would be him.”

“All that for—uhm.” She stopped herself, not wanting to make light of his problem, but she had expected that something more grandiose had been motivating him.

“I’d like to have a family,” Leonidas said. “Children.”

“But you could have children without having sex. There are any number of ways that could happen.”

“I’d like to have a wife and mother for my children too,” he said dryly. “I imagine she might be disappointed if the marital relationship didn’t go beyond hugs.”

“Depends on the woman,” Alisa said. She had known plenty of women who wouldn’t mind not having sex with their husbands of many years. Some had never been that interested in it to start with.

Leonidas looked frankly at her, his eyebrows raised. “
You
wouldn’t be disappointed?”

“Uhm.” She was tempted to say it wouldn’t matter, that she could see accepting him as he was, but was that the truth? It wasn’t as if he was unappealing in any way—quite the opposite, rather. And yes, she would be disappointed to sleep next to him every night and not sleep
with
him. Early on, she might have told herself that he wasn’t her type, and maybe she had believed that, but even before he had saved her life and stood up for her all those times, she had found herself thinking of him with his shirt off. And imagining other things coming off too. “Yes, I’d find that… frustrating.”

He nodded, as if he had expected nothing else. She wished it wasn’t the truth, and felt selfish for her greedy desires.

“Losing the orb is for the best, then,” Alisa said. “Now I can continue my mission and you can continue
your
mission.”

He snorted, but a wistful expression entered his eyes. He might be loyal to the empire, and he might be willing to help Alejandro, but she’d never gotten the impression that he cared much about the orb—or this staff, now that he knew about it. Maybe he, like she, realized that giving a boy such a weapon—or giving it to
anyone
—would be asking for trouble.

She clasped his hand, threading her fingers through his, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Alisa, I hesitate to ask anything of you, or to say anything at all, because it’s not fair to you… but it makes me moderately crazy when you joke with other men, especially knowing that I can’t…” He sighed. “Apparently, cyborgs are perfectly capable of feeling possessive and jealous.”

She bit her lip, secretly pleased at the admission. “Then you probably need to show greater appreciation for my humor so I don’t feel the need to share it with others.”

He grunted. “I don’t think you would ever lose that need. You share it with everyone, even enemy commanders.”

“Hm, it does seem to be a compulsion. But I don’t want to share more than humor with them.” She met his gaze again. “I would like to share the rest of myself with you.”

His eyes continued to hold a touch of wariness, of concern. Did he worry that he would never find a solution? And that she would eventually seek someone else who could satisfy her? She didn’t know what promises she could or should make to alleviate his concerns.
Would
she wait indefinitely? She didn’t know.

Leonidas finally smiled and said, “Good. I’ll work on showing greater appreciation for your humor.”

“I look forward to it.” Pushing aside the worries for another time, Alisa grinned, grabbed his arm, and pulled him down onto the bed. “In the meantime, can I sleep here?”

She meant to point out that they could at least cuddle and spend time together, but the concerned look returned to his eyes, and she remembered his nightmares, the fact that he seemed to lash out in his sleep. Indeed, now that she looked, she could see dents in the bulkhead where objects—or maybe his elbows—had struck it.

“Or we could forego sleep,” she said. “The day cycle isn’t that far off. Perhaps we could share this chocolate and try out that massage I’ve been wanting to give you for some time now.” She slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder and wriggled her eyebrows.

“Or I could give
you
a massage,” he offered, almost shyly.

“Oh, that does sound appealing. We could take turns.”

“I would like that.”

Chapter 16

When Alisa opened the hatch and stepped out of Leonidas’s cabin a couple of hours later, she did not see anyone in the corridor, though she did hear someone talking in NavCom. The voice was muffled, the speaker having his back to the hatchway, and she was trying to decide if it was Abelardus when Leonidas came out behind her. He only listened for a couple of seconds before pursing his lips and shaking his head.

“The doctor is communicating with someone,” he said.

Alisa had been thinking of getting something to eat, but she veered toward NavCom instead, having no trouble imagining Alejandro making a deal with an android treasure hunter or someone else who might help him reacquire the orb. She would have preferred to enjoy a leisurely breakfast in the mess hall, a chance to sit in peace and appreciate her delightfully relaxed muscles as she sipped coffee with Leonidas. He could probably use some coffee too. He had been careful not to doze off during his massage. She did not know if that was because he also worried he might be dangerous to someone sharing a bunk with him or if he just didn’t want her to witness his nightmares, the way he tried to keep her from noticing when he was hurt and in pain. She hoped he had a plan of action for those nightmares, the way he did for his other problem. Maybe he would eventually grow comfortable enough with her to talk about them. Perhaps that would help.

“…don’t have everything you need, I assure you,” Alejandro was saying to someone over the comm. The forward camera was still displayed on the view screen, but only the Alliance ships were visible in it now. The space station had once again disappeared. It must have happened recently. Several shuttles were flying away from the area, en route to the larger ships. “I’ve consulted with our Starseer resource, and he’s positive you need him. I’m also well versed on the lore surrounding the station itself, and I believe you’ll also need me.” Alejandro sat alone in NavCom, his robed butt in
her
seat.

Alisa could have growled at him for that alone, but she restrained herself, stopping in the corridor to listen for the response.

“If that’s true, then we know where to find you,” came the reply, an older man’s voice.

Alisa did not think it was Tiang, and it definitely was not Tomich.

“I offer my services with no strings attached,” Alejandro said, “my services and those of the Starseer.”

Alisa stared, surprised he was speaking on Abelardus’s behalf, and even more surprised that those two would be planning something together. Had they decided to join forces to keep the Alliance from getting the staff? And would they later play a game of Asteroid Bang to decide which one of them got to walk away with it? Maybe they each had plans to deceive the other.

“I shall discuss your offer with my science people, but as I told you, I doubt we have any need for your services. We’ll be in contact if I’m proven incorrect.”

“This offer isn’t on the table indefinitely,” Alejandro said.

Leonidas touched Alisa’s shoulder and passed her, heading for the co-pilot’s seat. Alejandro flinched, looking guiltily at Leonidas and then noticing Alisa in the corridor. His lips flattened together. Alisa almost sighed at Leonidas. She wouldn’t have minded listening in for a while longer before announcing their presence. Apparently, cyborgs were above eavesdropping.

“I trust we can find you whenever we wish if we need you,” the man on the other end of the channel said.

Alisa leaned through the hatchway so she could see which ship Alejandro was communicating with. It wasn’t Tomich’s warship, but it was an Alliance vessel, the research ship.

Abelardus walked up the corridor from the mess hall, some of Beck’s leftover cornbread in his hand. Alisa clenched her jaw, fresh irritation flooding her and threatening to undo the relaxation from her massage. Her only modicum of satisfaction came from seeing the black mark around his eye. She hoped he realized he deserved it and was not planning any retaliation.

Abelardus bobbed his head at her, murmuring a subdued, “Alisa,” to her.

“Captain,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“I never invited you to use my name, and I’d prefer it if we kept our relationship professional.”

Abelardus lifted a finger, a protest on his lips, but then he noticed who sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Leonidas came to his feet, turning to face him, his jaw clenched and his eyes like ice chips. He looked to be undoing the effects of his massage too.

Alisa grew aware that she stood between the two men, two large and muscular men. If they started throwing punches—or mental attacks—she might end up smashed into a bulkhead.

But Abelardus did not puff up and glare back at Leonidas. He nodded toward Alejandro.

“Did they say anything, Doctor?”

“Just that they don’t think they need us.”

“They’ll regret that.”

“I hope so.” Alejandro seemed oblivious to Leonidas towering inches away from him, still glaring fiercely at Abelardus. He dropped his chin onto his fist and stared at the armada. “To have come this far only to watch the Alliance walk away with the prize.” He made a choking sound. “It would be intolerable. That staff could turn the tides. It could—” He glanced back at them and fell silent.

“I don’t care how clever they think they are,” Abelardus said. “I can almost guarantee it’ll take a Starseer to get into anywhere important, and the staff will be somewhere important. A vault, perhaps. Or even a tomb.”

“The Tomb of Alcyone?” Alejandro said, reverence in his tone.

“Her final resting place was never revealed in our histories, but she was known to carry her staff with her late in life.”

Abelardus turned his attention to the view screen, eyes closing to slits as he watched one of the shuttles flying toward the research ship. Alisa did not find it that fascinating and was wondering if she could entice Leonidas to the mess hall for shared cups of coffee when a white flash lit up the screen.

“What was that?” she asked, pulling down the sensor-station seat and sitting.

“One of the shuttles,” Alejandro said. “It just…”

The light faded, leaving nothing but black space behind it.

Alisa focused the sensors on the area. “All I’m reading is wreckage.”

“That’s all that’s left.” Abelardus had that abstracted, distant look that came over him when he was using his mental powers.

“What happened?” Leonidas asked Alejandro. “You’ve been up here, watching. Weren’t the shuttles just flying back to their mother ships?”

“That’s what it looked like,” Alejandro said, then turned back to look at Abelardus.

“I can’t look back in time. I have no way to know what was going on before that explosion occurred.”

Alisa squeezed between Alejandro and Leonidas and opened the
Nomad
to all of the common comm channels. Maybe she could catch some unsecured chatter.