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The general caught the human before she hit the ground, though he wasn’t certain what protective instinct made him do so. Not only did he have no use for humans, he had a deep-seated hatred for them and their bigotry. Keeping one from harm should have been the last thing he wanted to do. As she nestled in his arms, pressed against his chest, a stab of desire pierced him in the groin, and he groaned at the unexpected reaction.
When that strange alien had appeared to him, indicating he must meet him here to receive the weapon that would end the war, he hadn’t indicated there would be a human involved. With a frown, DVS realized Freydon Rote hadn’t indicated much of anything beyond implying he would need what Freydon Rote brought him to end the conflict. Surely, the alien had meant a weapon of some sort, and not a fragile human female?
He looked down doubtfully at the dog, who was cowering before him. His databank identified the species, but he had never seen one. Dogs had been extinct on Earth for at least two hundred years. In nano-seconds, he knew everything about not just dogs, but this breed in particular. He didn’t know the name the human had given it, so he substituted what seemed to be the common phrase when they had been humans’ companions. “Good boy.”
The dog stop trembling, and when he repeated the words, he moved closer, wagging his tail. He repeated, “Good boy,” a third time, and the creature rolled over onto its back. He quickly realized he had chosen the wrong pronoun. “Good girl.”
“What should we do with them?” asked JSN42, his trusted second-in-command.
“We must bring them back to base. Freydon Rote assured me they were the key to ending the conflict.”
“I thought we were coming here for a weapon, not a useless human and its animal,” said MX409 in a voice filled with disdain.
“As did I, MX, but perhaps the human will tell us what the weapon is when she awakens. Grab her things, MX. JSN, take the dog’s leash.” The word came to him after only a brief hesitation, because his databanks could access all the collected knowledge of the history of the planet—that hadn’t been destroyed almost sixty years ago.
“I told you your mysterious alien benefactor couldn’t be trusted,” said MX.
DVS glowered at the younger cyborg under his command. “We can’t afford not to explore all options, MX. Keep further commentary to yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a hint of insolence.
DVS let it slide as he shifted his hold on the human, at first planning to sling her over his shoulder. At the last moment, she shifted slightly, curving against his chest and making a sound of contentment as she settled against him. She was still clearly unconscious, but it was obvious her body had chosen to trust him. For some reason, that made the dual pumps in his heart increase their cadence.
He was unaccustomed to such a reaction and couldn’t identify what might cause it, other than the human in his arms. He’d had his reservations about trusting Freydon Rote, and now he wondered if he was voluntarily taking a weapon back into their base, one that would end the war, but not in the way he wanted. Was he playing into the hands of the humans and their synth warriors by taking this female back to their stronghold?
He decided the sensible thing to do would be to drop her and leave her behind, to ignore the peach alien’s insistence that he was bringing him something of incomparable value. At the last moment, before he could release his hold on her, she snuggled closer and pressed her mouth to his neck. She was still unconscious, but the way her breath wafted over his skin made the area feel like he’d been touched with a live wire.
It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, and his arms tightened around her instead of releasing as he had planned. He wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of doing so, but he realized he was committed to taking her back to their base, at least to interrogate her to discover what she knew, and what value she might offer for defeating the humans.
***
SHE WOKE ON A HARD surface with a damp doggy nose in her face as Penny sniffed her before licking her cheek. For a brief, blissful moment, she allowed herself to believe she’d simply fallen asleep at the couch and had tumbled to the floor. It had all been a dream. When she reluctantly pried open her eyes, she was disappointed, but not surprised, to find it hadn’t been a dream. She was in a sparsely decorated room, lying on what resembled a low bunk, but without a mattress. She sat up, groaning as her back twinged, and looked around.
Immediately, her gaze collided with the largest of the blue aliens she had seen earlier. If they were aliens. “What are you?” Her voice was scratchy, and she wondered how long she had been out.
With a frown, he stepped closer, looming over her with his arms crossed over his substantial chest. “I am DVS84, General of the Cyborg Army, sworn enemy to humanity and their synthetic worriers. Who are you?”
“Uh...” She licked her dry lips, uncertain how to answer. “Carrie?” She offered it like a question instead of an established fact.
His scowl only deepened. “Where’s the weapon Freydon Rote promised me, Carrie?”
Her eyes widened, and she shrugged. “I have no idea about a weapon. I don’t even know why I’m here. That peach alien guy just appeared in my living room and brought me here in a flash of light. He kidnapped me and my dog.”
He frowned even more. “Withholding information would not be good for you.”
She trembled at the ominous words. “I’m telling you what I know. He appeared and identified himself as some kind of mating agent who exists outside of time and space. He told me I’d been matched with General DVS84 and suggested I call you Davis. Then he brought me here, and he just left.” She was starting to sound slightly hysterical, so she burrowed her fingers into Penny’s fur, drawing comfort and strength from her dog as she tried to fight off the urge to cry or break down.
“I’m General DVS84, but what is this match you speak of?”
She flushed under the weight of his stare, wondering how she could explain her understanding of the situation in a delicate fashion. “I think he meant we’re mates. He told me he brought together people across the galaxies who were meant to be together.”
“Together for what?”
Her eyes widened. “For mating.” She meant it in a relationship context, but the words immediately called to mind the image of a far more visceral joining with the cyborg general. The reminder that he was a cyborg should have been enough to quell any desire, but the steamy images flashing through her mind refused to take into consideration exactly what he was. It also made her relieved that he didn’t appear to be able to read her thoughts as Rote had, or she would probably die from embarrassment right then.
He was confused and seemed mildly disgusted. “You refer to breeding.” For a moment, his eyes flicked rapidly, and then he spoke again. “Sex. How humans reproduce.”
“I think there’s more to being mates than that,” she said tentatively. “Do Cyborgs have sex?”
“Yes, we do.” He sneered at her. “And this is why you came here, human? For sex with a cyborg?”
Carrie glared at him. “Don’t flatter yourself. You make it sound like I had a choice in the matter. Remember that Rote guy just showed up in my living room and kidnapped me and my dog? I don’t know why I’m here, but it isn’t by choice, and it certainly isn’t to have sex with you.”
Though she delivered the words in a scathingly blistering tone, and they were technically true, she couldn’t help admiring the physique revealed by the tight black pants and vest he wore. It left part of his torso and arms completely bare, and she wasn’t strong enough not to appreciate the view. After all, she still had a pulse. That didn’t mean he needed to know that, so she quickly returned her gaze to his face as she attempted to keep an expression of disdain to match his own.
“Why did Rote bring you here?” He shook his head, and the short black hair on top of it didn’t move at all, since it was so closely cropped to his skull. “How can you be the key to winning the war?”
“What war?”
The general arched a brow, sounding skeptical when he asked, “What do you mean, what war? The same war that’s raged between cyborgs and you humans for the last seven decades.”
She inhaled sharply. “You’re at war with humans? Why would Freydon Rote bring me here?” Panic was spreading through her again, and she almost wished the little peach alien was there to do that trilling sound that calmed her down—and take her back to her living room.
“Of course. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
She shook her head. “There’s not been some war going on for the last seventy years, at least not in my world. What planet are we on?”
“Earth. Are you claiming you come from a different planet?”
Carrie shook her head. “No, I’m from Earth too, but not this Earth. The only war I know that’s currently going on is human versus human, and it’s over religion and oil. There aren’t even cyborgs on my earth.”
“Why would you fight over oil?”
“To power our vehicles and economic reasons... It’s stupid, really.”
“Vehicles powered by fossil fuels have been obsolete since twenty fifty-seven. It makes no sense to fight a conflict over something no one uses.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Twenty fifty-seven? What year is it here?” Her stomach clenched as she braced herself for his answer.
“It’s twenty-four forty-eight. Are you claiming to be from a different time?”
Feeling nauseated, Carrie reached out for Penny, who came over and put her head on her lap. She started stroking the dog and found a small measure of comfort. “I’m from the beginning of the twenty-first century.”
He took a step back, clearly startled by her words. There was still skepticism in his expression, but at least he didn’t accuse her of lying. “What possible value would a woman from your time period be for ending the war between humans and cyborgs?”
She shrugged, trying not to take offense at the way he classified her as a commodity that could be valuable or not. “What war?” she asked again.
He started pacing. “In twenty-two ninety-six, Maurice Frankel made a breakthrough in cybernetics. People had been using robotic prosthetics for at least a hundred years, but he found a way to bond human and machine on the cellular level. He started creating cyborgs to serve humanity, recruiting many with the lure of money. The planet was vastly overpopulated, and millions suffered without jobs, adequate food supply, or enough clean water. He found a plethora of volunteers.
“Initially, governments of Earth were somewhat resistant to the idea, until they discovered how useful cyborgs could be. We existed in a gray area that didn’t clearly define us as autonomous beings. We were at their mercy and forced to do their bidding. As word spread about the conditions cyborgs lived in, Frankel found it difficult to find volunteers.”
“Did he start stealing people or something?” She hung on his words, wishing he was simply weaving a science fiction story for her rather than Earth’s history—or her future, from her perspective.
He shook his head. “No, that was unnecessary. The Allied government simply issued a new guideline. Any soldier who died during active duty could be reanimated as a cyborg using Frankel’s techniques. When that wasn’t providing enough numbers for him, they modified it further, allowing soldiers to be drafted from the military to undergo conversion to a cyborg.”
Carrie’s mouth gaped open. “They couldn’t do that. It had to have been illegal.”
“They were the government. They could do what they wanted, though the human soldiers did resist. They staged an uprising, but the cyborgs quelled it.”
“And that’s how the war with cyborgs and humans began? You were sent in to stop people from resisting becoming like you?” Her nausea further increased. How could the alien matchmaker expect her to be mates with someone like that?
“No, that’s not what happened. They ended the rebellion, but Frankel’s measures to suppress their consciousness and own awareness were failing. The cyborgs saw the injustices committed, that had also been inflicted upon them, and the rebellion stirred anew, though it was cyborgs fighting that time. Some humans fought alongside us, and cyborgs quickly fell out of favor for obvious reasons. Being a resourceful egomaniac, Frankel switched direction with his research. Within three years, he’d created the first synth warrior prototype.”
“What’s a synth warrior?”
“A synthetic human, created from a mixture of materials. They don’t have emotions, so they aren’t driven by fear or empathy or compassion. They follow orders, no matter how atrocious. There have been conflicts for decades, and the humans who controlled the synthetic armies gave them a simple directive—destroy all the cyborgs and our human allies. Cyborgs are far more difficult to destroy than humans, as you can imagine. It didn’t take long before it was almost completely cyborgs fighting the synth warriors.”
“Is that why the planet looks so awful? Or at least the part of it that I’ve seen?”
He shrugged. “Partly, but that’s mainly due to a weapon the humans deployed sixty years ago. It was meant to kill cyborgs in a single swoop. From what we pieced together, it was designed to dissolve the ionic bond between human and synthetic parts, but it must’ve malfunctioned. Instead of destroying just cyborgs, it started to disjoin the bonds between purely organic matter.
“Some cyborgs were affected, but none of us died. Our healing mechanisms were able to counter the damage, no matter how extensive. We watched the few remaining humans fighting at our side simply dissolve away. The humans who wanted our destruction had already withdrawn into their safe havens. We haven’t seen a human in sixty years, but the fighting has grown even more brutal. The synthetics don’t stop, and we can’t afford to, or we’ll be annihilated.”
“And Freydon Rote told you I would end the war?” At his nod, she couldn’t help a scathing laugh. “How am I supposed to do that? Maybe I should crochet them all gun cozies?” That was if she still had her crochet bag. She didn’t remember if she’d held onto it during the transition from her living room to this new nightmare, or if she had dropped it along the way.
“I’m not... I can’t...?” She trailed off and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. It felt like she had inhaled a lungful of dust that raged outside in the whipping wind. She coughed, but it did nothing to improve her ability to breathe. Carrie slumped forward, head between her knees, in an attempt to conquer her panic and breathe.
A moment later, he crossed the room and stood beside her. His large hand fell solidly on her back, and it was unclear if he was trying to give her a comforting pat or clear her blocked respiratory tract. His awkward pat was too hard to be one of pure comfort, but not hard enough to be effective for helping her breathe. Each time his palm connected with her back, it jarred through her.
Finally, she was able to draw in a deep breath, and she endured a couple more of his awkward attempts to help before she was able to sit up, gently disengaging. Despite the slightly rough way he’d slapped her on the back, she found herself missing his touch as he moved away, putting distance between them.
Carrie rubbed her eyes, blinking back tears that tried to fall. “I just don’t understand any of this. Why I’m here, or why he told you I could help end the war. It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know anything about strategy or fighting. I have no knowledge of robotics. I can’t even set up my own modem. I had to have the cable company come out to do that. Why would he say we’re supposed to be mates? If I had him here right now...”
The general surprised her with a small chuckle. “I have a feeling he’s too wise to show his face here again, at least if he has any inkling of self-preservation. He must realize he’s not popular with either one of us.”
A spark of hope shot through her, and she lifted her head. “Do you have time travel abilities? I mean, it’s four hundred-plus years in the future. You must have something like that.”
He looked regretful as he shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. I’m certain if the humans had it on their side, they would have used it by now in some way to complete the destruction of the cyborgs. I’m afraid you’re stuck here, Carrie.”
The tears threatened to fall again, and she blinked several times, refusing to yield to them, at least for now. “What do I do then? I have no friends or family here, and it’s obvious cyborgs hate humans, so how do I stay here?”
She broke off abruptly when she realized she was presuming a lot. He might not even allow her to stay despite Rote’s words that they were meant to be mates. She wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work either. Her cheeks felt hot as she had the thought.
Of course she understood the physical mechanics of such a joining, assuming he still had all of his functioning parts, but she didn’t understand the purpose behind their union, or how the matchmaker could be certain they were supposed to be together. “Do you know where the other humans are? Maybe I could go there.”
His mouth tightened. “No.”
“You don’t know where they are?”
He shook his head. “I don’t, but you aren’t going there. You’re staying here.” He spoke firmly, as though the matter was already decided.
“I can’t stay here. You hate me. It isn’t safe for me here, and I don’t want to be surrounded by people who hate me. It’s no way to live.”
“You’re staying, and that’s final.” Without another word, the general stormed from the room, the door closing behind him with a hydraulic hiss.
She got up from the hard surface on which she had been seated and moved across the room. She stood in front of the door and tried to figure out how to open it, but it refused to yield. For the time being, she was stuck there until or unless he came back to her. “Overbearing jerk,” she muttered before moving away from the door.
Once more, she sat down on the hard, flat surface, hoping this wasn’t meant to be a bed, though she feared it might be. Judging from the dimensions of the room, and the complete lack of creature comforts, it seemed pretty obvious she was in the equivalent of a holding cell.
That was a strange experience, considering she’d never even been sent to the principal’s office in school, or had as much as a speeding ticket as an adult. Things had certainly changed, and definitely not for the better—no matter how attractive her so-called mate was. That alien who had gotten her into this mess had a lot to answer for if he ever bothered to show his face again.