Tristin (Cyborg Warriors Book 7) Page 3

  She forced the thoughts away, picking up the scissors to continue. Where the Ardaks had been keeping him was a mystery, but when she cut off his shirt to take measurements, she realized the answer.

  His torso was covered with fresh burns from their electric devices and scars from their whips. She’d bet they also marred the skin of his back. Those kinds of marks always came from the interrogation level.

  She grabbed a burn cream, smoothing it over the burns, then added a disinfectant for the cuts. His body would be busy enough trying to integrate the new parts, and there was no point in turning him into a cyborg only to have him die fighting off an infection.

  As she spread the disinfectant over him, she noted the tattoos that covered his abdomen, spiraling up to his chest. They almost seemed to be a part of his skin, to turn warmer when she touched them. But that was impossible, right?

  She traced one and again felt it warm beneath her finger. What could they be? She resolved to search through the computer for information on the Tuorian race after she had finished with his transformation.

  When she had measured and calculated every part of him, she finally laid her eyes on his face once more. He was not clean-shaven, perhaps a week’s growth covered the lower half of his face. His skin was slightly tanned and smooth. His features had the aristocratic lines she remembered.

  Although she knew he was unconscious, she still hesitated in opening his eyes. But she needed to check his pupil dilation, and she had the urge to see them again. She gently opened his eyelid, but there was something strange about the iris. Upon closer examination, there appeared to be a cover over his iris, almost as if he needed it to see.

  She frowned. Eyes were easily fixable, so that was unlikely.

  Taking a tiny set of tweezers, she grasped the covering and removed it, realizing that it wasn’t clear. Then she gasped at what she had uncovered.

  His eyes glowed. They glowed like elven eyes; a beautiful, brilliant purple. But elven eyes didn’t glow purple, in fact she had never seen that color before. Now she was really curious about his race.

  She looked down and realized her fingers were still touching one of his tattoos, absently finding its warmth. A slight shiver went through her and she pulled her hand away, terrified. She couldn’t care for him. To care for him would be death—if not physical, then emotional.

  The surgeries were dangerous, less than one in four survived. Her palms began to sweat at just the idea of him being one of the three that died, and she cringed at the idea of removing the fire from his eyes. Most of the beings who landed on her table were thugs or criminals, but not this one.

  He exuded a fierce intelligence, a fire that she knew would be extinguished when she fitted him with the chip.

  Kirelle set the scissors down and put her head in her hands for a moment. If she didn’t do this, the Ardaks would kill her. But every time she was faced with a new, whole being to turn into a cyborg, she was reminded that it went against everything she knew, everything she had wanted to be.

  She’d wanted to heal.

  Another guard strode by so she swallowed and started the body scanner, a device she’d invented after her brother’s death. At eighty-seven years old, Kirelle didn’t remember the time before the portals had closed fifteen hundred years ago, before her outpost of elves had been stranded on Flym. The only thing she knew was that their shield had malfunctioned when she was twenty, leaving them exposed to the humans.

  It hadn’t taken long for the humans to befriend the elves, recruiting elven warriors for their battles. Her older brother had been recruited by the humans for the Alonik War against an invading force that wanted to take their continent. Her brother had fought valiantly, and their forces had won.

  But after the war was over, the losing army sent suicide bombers into their ranks and her brother had been hit, his legs blown off. He hadn’t died instantly, but slowly, bleeding out over long minutes because their magic wasn’t strong enough to heal the loss of two limbs at once, and they didn’t have the technology to save him.

  She had been determined to stop deaths like his, and when her grieving period was through, she’d gone against her father’s wishes and become a doctor. She had petitioned to study under the highest doctor in the land, becoming one of his prodigies for her work on artificial limbs. And so far, science had never failed her.

  The results of her scanner showed that the Tuorian warrior had greater bone density than most who landed on her table. His blood analysis was perfect, and his DNA was almost completely error-free. She frowned. That should be impossible. Even normal replication produced millions of small errors daily, which the body naturally corrected.

  His frontal cortex also larger than normal, and his brain had an unusual number of connections between synapses. A genius? Perhaps. Certainly one who had trained his mind in certain ways.

  She wished she had that training. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been captured by the Ardaks five years ago. The Ardaks had invaded their world, decimating the entire population, human and elf alike. One of them had come to the hospital, demanding doctors—killing her mentor and capturing her. She never found out what had happened to her parents because she’d been taken to the king’s ship, and they’d left her planet for good.

  She tugged at the collar around her neck bitterly. That Ardak had been X-Blade, and after he’d put the collar on her he’d made her work in their cyborg program. The Ardak tech was the most advanced she’d ever seen, and it should have been immensely exciting. Except that she was working on real beings just like her elder brother, and they had a tendency to die rather than live through the process. In addition, the Ardaks were completely dispassionate about the beings they used, even carving off useful limbs if it served their purposes.

  She sighed as she stared down at the male from another world. What was she thinking? Even with his huge brain and his incredible fighting skills, he was still unconscious on her table. And she was once again about to betray her brother’s memory by turning this warrior into a cyborg.

  Perhaps she should just let them kill her so she didn’t have to do this anymore.

  Since the Ardaks had come, everything had turned upside down. Only they could turn a love of healing into killing, and part of her didn’t want to live in this new universe.

  She took a deep breath. If she didn’t do it, and do it better than anyone else, they would kill her, too. She glanced down at her warrior’s sleeping form. Someone had to do it. And no one had a better track record than she did. He’d be safer in her hands than anyone else’s.

  She’d had some plans in mind for a newer cyborg, one with powers they’d never seen before. But it would be time-consuming to make him—at least a week for the first model. But his purple eyes deserved the best she had to offer. If nothing else, if he lived, he would be the best.

  The decision made, she went to find needles and anesthesia.

  Chapter Five

  Omega

  Omega opened his eyes, staring straight ahead as his programming told him to. He ignored the chill in the air, his nudity, and any other external sensations as he forced his muscles to relax.

  His peripheral vision automatically took in the environment, cataloging it, and checking for danger. Smooth metal walls, metal floor, one metal door to his left. Two long metal tables and several carts of metal instruments that would be lethal in a fight. Through a glass wall to his right with a sliding door he could see another laboratory. Five cyborgs stood along the far wall in smooth glass cylinders, their eyes closed.

  Once his environment was processed, he turned his attention to the female who stood in front of him. The creator.

  He wasn’t supposed to look at her. Wasn’t supposed to notice any of the scientists, unless they were giving orders. But there was something about her that drew his eye, and he analyzed this tendency as his gaze followed her across the room.

  It must be because there was something different about her. It wasn’t the fact that she was an elf. S
he was tiny, her movements lithe and graceful. Her hair hung down her back like spun silk, long and shiny, the tips of her ears peeking out through the golden strands.

  If he switched his vision to infrared, she almost glowed, especially when she looked at him. When she was alone, working, humming softly to herself, the infrared glow around her brightened.

  It made him want to be close to her.

  Distantly, he wondered how that was possible.

  And then he wondered at his wondering.

  He hadn’t wondered about anything in as long as he could remember.

  Hadn’t wanted anything.

  He didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to eat. Didn’t even want to fuck. Yet, his knowledge banks informed him that as an adult male in his prime, there was something wrong with that.

  The banks also told him he should have memories. But he didn’t.

  He was completely empty, his sole job to follow orders as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  The tiny elven female was approaching him. She stared up at him, and he let his eyes follow her.

  “Today is your official completion date,” she informed him, unsmiling. “We have a few final tests, but after that, I’m going to present you to the high king.”

  He simply stared down at her, taking in her face and form.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  He had never asked a question before. His chip searched for one. “What is your name?”

  She took a step back. “Kirelle. But you shouldn’t care. What made you ask that?”

  “I don’t know.” He blinked, and for a moment he got a flash of her stark white hair and ruby-red lips against a landscape of ice. He blinked again and the flash was gone, as if it had never been.

  “All right, well, let’s do these final tests. Follow me.” She led him through the sliding glass door into the other lab, past the other cyborgs. Opening a metal door, he saw a space that was completely empty, the walls stark white. She followed him inside, then closed the door behind them.

  A warrior appeared in front of him, knees slightly bent, obviously ready for battle.

  “Spar with the hologram, please,” she ordered.

  The warrior sprang at him and he countered the movements. After a few moves, he noticed his movements felt stiff, as if his body wasn’t his own. He focused on his limbs, forcing a fluidity into his movements, allowing his muscles to remember how to move.

  He knew the hologram wasn’t real, but he fought it as a real opponent anyway. After several minutes, he was panting, sweat breaking out over his form. The hologram gave him an opening, so he shoved his hand forward in a full-contact punch.

  There was a click, and the hologram disappeared. Then he remembered the small elf was still in the room.

  He turned to see her frowning. “No one else has fought like that. It’s a style I haven’t seen before. Why did you choose it?”

  His chip searched for an answer. “I don’t know.”

  She checked a monitor on the wall. “If he were a real being, that last hit would have stopped his heart.”

  He straightened, but said nothing.

  “You’re not even wearing the exoarmor,” she mused. “I can’t imagine how much power you’ll have when it’s on. All right, you’ve passed the fighting portion. Let me give you the logic and intellect tests so I can clear you for release.”

  He followed her from the sparring room, his olfactory enhancement filtering out the freshness of her scent. She crossed the lab to stand before a monitor, motioning for him to take a seat in the chair beside her. He sat, staring straight ahead as she stepped behind him.

  “This might feel strange for a moment—I’m connecting the computer to your chip.”

  Questions began to flash onto his visual cortex and he chose the appropriate responses, knowing as he did that they were correct. The computer kept a slow, steady rhythm, and he became impatient with its sluggishness. He sent a command to the computer to speed up the program, to send the questions at the rate he could answer, pushing himself to answer more quickly, racing the computer. Faster and faster the questions flew, until abruptly, they stopped.

  A sound drew him and he rose, disconnecting the computer from the back of his neck, crossing the room in less than a breath to pin the Ardak to the wall, holding the Ardak’s own knife to his throat.

  The Ardak bared his fangs and struggled to free his paws. “Let me go.”

  “What the hell?”

  A glance over his shoulder revealed the tiny elven scientist’s shocked expression. “Who told you to attack him? Let him go.”

  His hands released the Ardak almost before his chip processed the order.

  The Ardak grabbed his knife, growling. “I came to inform you that the king wants to see the Omega cyborg. I suggest you get him under control before you enter the throne room if you want to keep the head between those pointy ears attached to the rest of your body.”

  He stalked out the door, leaving him with the elf, whose expression had turned frightened. “Why did you do that?”

  “He was an intruder.”

  “He wasn’t an intruder, he’s security. He works here.” She brushed a wisp of white hair back from her face. “There must be something wrong with your programming. And I wasn’t expecting the king to want you this soon. There’s not even enough time to finish the tests.”

  “They are finished.”

  “What?” She crossed the floor to the monitor, surveying the results. “But that’s impossible. They should take thirty standard minutes to complete.”

  “The test was inefficient. I asked the computer to increase the speed.”

  “You asked the computer to increase the speed?” Her voice was faint. Her head shook slowly from side to side. “And the score was perfect.”

  He failed to see the problem.

  She looked at him with wonder. “I don’t know how this is possible, and I don’t have time to fix it now.” She paused, her liquid eyes looking up at him. “We’re going to put on the exoarmor for the demonstration, but don’t spar with anyone until we practice more and I can be sure you don’t kill them unless you mean to. And for both our sakes, don’t attack anyone in the throne room. They’re all supposed to be there.”

  She led him to the far wall and opened a cabinet, handing him some underclothing. “The king will probably want to see you naked, but that’s too bad. You’ll need your exoarmor for the demonstration, so he can see your form later.”

  He took each piece of the exoarmor as she handed it out to him, donning it over his naked form. It was sturdy, well made, the metal lighter than it had appeared.

  Then she led him through to the first lab and donned a white coat. Before she opened the metal door to the external space outside the lab, she paused again. “Please don’t do anything that would make me look bad. I spent far too long on you and used all of my newest ideas in your design. I have a feeling that if this fails, the king will simply kill me. Hell, he could kill me even if it succeeds. All my notes on your creation are in their system, and I’m more easily replaceable now that you’re complete.”

  “I will do only as you command,” he promised, meeting her gaze.

  Her blue eyes were large, haunted, but at his reassurance she relaxed slightly.

  Beautiful. The word went through his processor, although he didn’t quite know what that word meant. And he didn’t believe it was her beauty that drew his eye.

  He had sensed a deep fear within her, and her jerky movements when the larger feline beings—Ardaks—were around told him that they might be the cause of that fear. He had attacked the Ardak without thought, but now realized he’d been testing the feline’s strength.

  It was strong, but not a match for him.

  He took in the swaying hips of the scientist as she led the way toward the throne room. He didn’t know who this Ardak king was, and he didn’t care.

  All he knew was that she was afraid they might kill her.

  And he w
asn’t going to let that happen.

  Chapter Six

  Kirelle

  Kirelle took a deep breath and stepped forward, falling into a bow before the enormous white feline with black stripes. “Great Royal Majesty, I present to you the most advanced cyborg ever created—Omega.”

  She tried to control her trembling, remaining in a bow until a flick of his claw told her to rise. On her homeworld, she’d never been afraid. But on the king’s ship, there was never a moment without fear. The stress of the job was getting to her, and her episodes of panic after times like these were worsening. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the pace of creating the cyborgs or meet the expectations that they be perfect.

  “Omega?” StingKnife grumbled from beside her, loud enough for the king to hear. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  She stepped back to include him in the conversation, inclining her head to him. “It means the last—the greatest. And that is what he is.”

  No one smiled, and an awkward silence filled the room. Even the twenty Ardaks who were part of the high king’s audience was still.

  “Omega is as good a name as any,” X-Blade, the head scientist, growled. “Show us what he can do.”

  “Yes. Since we’re stuck with Omega, let’s see how he performs.” The king frowned, gripping the armrest of the throne with his claws. “I hope your ability to create cyborgs is better than your ability to name them.”

  “Yes, sir. It is, sir,” she stuttered, quickly beckoning the cyborg forward. This reveal was not going as she’d planned. Her life depended on how pleased the high king was with his new line of cyborgs. Literally.

  The cyborg stepped into the light, looking every bit as imposing as she’d imagined. “Omega is the finest, most advanced cyborg ever created in any of our labs. Six foot six inches of solid muscle, with all the latest upgrades. He can integrate with even the newest ships to be their solo pilot, download and integrate new skills in the blink of an eye, and use the most advanced exoarmor suit we have.”