Kaitlyn O'Connor Book 5 Illumination

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Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

2

New Concepts Publishing

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Copyright ©2008 by Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

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CONTENTS

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Read an excerpt from Kaitlyn O'Connor's next book,

coming soon.

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Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

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Chapter One

* * * *

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Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

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Cyberevolution V:

Illumination

By

Kaitlyn O'Connor

© copyright by Kaitlyn O'Connor, November 2008
Cover art by Alex DeShanks, November 2008
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are

of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact.

Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely

coincidence.

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Chapter One

Seth prowled the spacious great room restlessly. Three

nights ago, when they'd finally tracked the vixen to her lair,
he'd been tense with both dread at what he was about to
learn and anticipation of the same. Adrenaline had been
pulsing through him at the potential for discovery, as well,
when they were so close to learning what they'd come so far
to discover.

To their surprise it had taken skill, ingenuity, and a great

deal of care to breach Dr. LaMotte's security. None of them
had anticipated that, even though he supposed they should
have, given the remote location.

Of course they could've breached it without any difficulty

whatsoever if it had been merely a matter of getting in, if
they hadn't cared whether or not they left their signature
behind. He wasn't certain anyone could have, but they
certainly wouldn't have been deterred for more than a few
minutes.

It was as well they—or at least he—had contained his

impatience. Dr. LaMotte, to his vast disappointment, hadn't
been in residence at the time and if they'd simply burst in, as
he'd been more than a little tempted to do, the chances were
they would've spent months tracking the wily doctor and
thrown away any possibility of finding out what they'd come
to learn in those few moments of impatience. The residence
was miles from the city, but it wouldn't have taken the

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authorities long to arrive at the scene and, of course, then
they wouldn't have had the element of surprise any longer.

He'd been both stunned and furious when they'd

discovered Dr. LaMotte wasn't at home. Before his impatience
had gotten the better of him, though, it had occurred to him
that it was the weekend. Dr. LaMotte was single. The chances
were probably good that she'd decided to join friends in the
city. They'd contented themselves with searching the house
for any useful information. When they'd come up empty,
they'd settled to wait for her return with what patience they
could muster.

He had, he thought irritably. He couldn't tell that either

Simon or Cole suffered from that particular problem.

He still wasn't entirely certain what to make of the

Cyborgs.

He wasn't sure that forming an alliance with them was one

of the wisest things he'd ever done, but then, at the time, he
hadn't exactly been thinking clearly—not beyond the
possibility that they were proof of his suspicions, at any rate.

It was nothing short of amazing that they'd managed to

rub along together as well as they had, all things considered.

Hell, if not for the circumstances, one or all three of them

would be dead now.

Fortunately for him, since coming face to face with an

exact replica of himself had been enough of a shock to
completely shut down all of his Hunter instincts, it had had
the same effect on both Simon and Cole.

Feeling his gut clench at the memory, Seth ceased to pace

the room and moved to one of the windows to stare out at

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the darkness beyond. He wasn't concerned that he might be
spotted. The darkness both inside and outside made him just
one more shadow of many. They'd disabled the motion
activated lights within the residence to prevent giving away
their presence to anyone who might happen to pass by ... or
to Dr. LaMotte when she finally decided to return.

Deep down, he knew there was only one possible

explanation for the fact that Simon was identical to him in
every way, and yet he was still wrestling with it. Despite the
doubts that had already begun to circle his mind and torment
him, he was having trouble coming to grips with the horrific
truth hovering in the back of his mind that nothing he'd
believed he knew about himself was real.

He had to suppose he hadn't completely accepted the

suspicions. He'd wondered if it was merely a reluctance to
accept, or an inability to accept his 'past' that had given rise
to the suspicions to start with.

It was possible that was part of it, he supposed. Mostly it

was the company's strange determination to keep him
returning to the place where he'd lost his family. He hadn't
realized they were interfering at first. Twice, he'd actually
managed to get to the spaceport before he'd run into a
problem that prevented him from leaving Earth for Taurus V—
the colony where he'd supposedly grown up and where his
family had been interred after they'd been slaughtered by the
Cyborgs.

He hadn't been able to access any records on any

computer system—nothing about his family—nothing about
him before he'd become a hunter.

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He'd managed to elude them when it had finally dawned

on him that it wasn't mere chance, that he was being
prevented from returning to his home colony, from visiting
the site where his family had been slaughtered, where he had
been left for dead.

He thought he'd braced himself for what he was going to

find. He supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd
thought the company was hiding something even worse than
he remembered, that they'd prevented him from going back
because they weren't certain he could handle it emotionally—
not a personal concern because they gave a fuck about him
as man, but concern for their investment. He was well aware
that nothing could be more dangerous than a Hunter
completely out of control unless it was a Cyborg gone
berserk.

He discovered he wasn't prepared—at all—for what he'd

found, though. There had been a tragic accident, alright,
when one of the reactors had blown up. It had wiped out
nearly half the colony. Cyborgs had had nothing to do with it,
though. The colony hadn't been attacked at all. The
equipment had been damaged in a meteor shower.

It got worse. His family hadn't existed—not his parents

and not his woman, not his infant son or his three year old
daughter. He'd found one family that seemed to match—the
age and description of the woman and her two children—but
the woman's man had been interred with her.

It had taken a while for that to sink in. For a while, he'd

wondered if his grief had cost him his sanity. How could he
grieve for the loss of his family and forget where he'd come

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from, though? If he was right and this was his colony, how
was it possible that neither his woman nor his children had
ever existed at all—not as his? How could he feel such a
devastating sense of loss for something that had never
happened anywhere but in his mind?

And if all of that was true and they were nothing but a

figment of an insane mind, who the fuck was he? Where had
he come from? Had he already been mad before he'd woken
in the company med center? Had the company made a
mistake and patched his broken mind with the wrong man's
memories? Or had they, for some reason that defied logic or
explanation, given him memories they knew weren't his? Did
that explain why they'd worked so hard to keep him from
discovering it?

But why torment him with such a terrible past that he'd

felt at times that he couldn't live and bear it?

How could his parents not have existed?
How could Simon exist—a Cyborg, an identical twin?
He thought, if he hadn't already been questioning what the

company had done to him, the shock of coming face to face
with Simon might've completely unhinged his mind. As it was,
it had still been a hell of a fucking jolt, but he'd stopped
doubting his own sanity by then and begun trying to
formulate some way to take a closer look at the company.

Simon hadn't been just one more clue, though. Simon had

been the jackpot.

Simon had known who at the company was responsible—

the woman he thought of as Mother LaMotte, Dr. Carol
LaMotte.

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Almost as if his thoughts had conjured him, Simon strolled

into the great room at that moment, still dripping water from
his shower. Seth turned and surveyed him with more than a
little irritation.

Both Simon and Cole seemed enthralled with the doctor's

decadent shower, he thought wryly, wondering if it was
because both Cyborgs were so fascinated with the changes
they sensed in themselves and enjoyed the way the water felt
pelting them.

They'd assured him that they were evolving, just as the

rumors had said about the other rogues, that they had
awareness, felt things they'd never experienced before.

He wasn't sure he believed that either.
He didn't know what the fuck to believe anymore.
"There is still hot water," Simon said after studying Seth's

expression for several moments as if trying to interpret his
thoughts or, more likely, the emotions.

Seth shook his head, moving from the window. "I don't

need a shower," he said irritably.

"The hot water soothes tension."
Seth tamped the urge to ask him what the hell he'd know

about tension. He was a fucking machine. "Why the fuck
not?" he muttered. "At least it's something to do to pass the
time."

"Cole is not likely to return before dawn," Simon pointed

out coolly as Seth stalked past him. "...If he returns at all."

"It doesn't look like the doctor is likely to return either."
The shower was soothing, as much as he hated to admit it.

He wondered if that was why the doctor had decided to take

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the place—because it had the old fashioned water shower
rather than the particle showers required by law now. For that
matter, he was surprised she'd wrangled permission to keep
it.

Unless, of course, nobody knew she had it.
It was possible. She had enough clout, or she was smart

enough, she'd managed to virtually erase her trail.

It had taken determination to track her down.

* * * *

Clair was still so angry when she reached her mother's

house that the grief that had nearly overwhelmed every
waking moment since her mother's death barely caused her a
pang as she stopped at the gate to key in the security code.
She'd dreaded the task of wrapping up her mother's affairs, of
sorting her mother's belongings, and trying to decide what to
do with her personal affects and the home they'd shared for
most of her childhood. She'd put it off as long as she felt like
she could before she'd dredged up the inner strength to face
it.

Only to be met with the discovery that those bastards at

Robotics, Inc., where her mother had slaved for more than
thirty years, thought they were entitled to all her mother's
worldly possessions!

She didn't give a damn if they were laboring under the

impression that her mother had no next of kin! She still didn't
know how they could have failed know it when her mother
had worked for them so long, but ... fuck their damned
clause!

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It was an outrage that they'd had the gall even to put such

a damned clause in their contracts! It wasn't enough that
they'd profited from her mother's brilliant mind for more than
thirty years, claimed everything she'd ever discovered or
invented? They thought they could take everything she'd
accumulated over the years and put it back into their pocket,
too?

The slimy bastards!
A vague sense of satisfaction wafted through her as the

gates opened to allow her into the compound. The look on
their faces had been priceless when the judge had examined
her documentation and informed them that she was her
mother's sole beneficiary!

Take that, you slimy, money grubbing sons-of-a-bitch!
Maybe the house still belonged to the company—they were

going to have to prove that in court, though. She'd fight them
every step of the way if it took every credit she had to her
name, but everything else, everything inside the house and
outside of the house, was hers, by damn! If it wasn't part of
the property, had been purchased by her mother, then it
certainly wasn't theirs.

She had a good mind to dig up her mother's rose garden

while she was at it. Her mother had bought them and planted
them!

Shutting off her hover-car, she barely waited for it to settle

to the ground in front of the door before she shoved the door
open and got out. She paused when she had, though, trying
to take a few calming breaths.

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Her throat closed as she stared at the house, her anger

dying to a slow simmer.

She couldn't believe her mother was gone.
There was no way she was ever going to be able accept

that her mother had taken her own life. It just wasn't
possible. She would've known if her mother had been
depressed enough to have such thoughts. She knew she
would have!

Thrusting those thoughts aside, she strode purposefully to

the front door and keyed in the security code. The door
opened.

The lights didn't come on when she stepped across the

threshold. "Lights!"

Frowning when nothing happened, she stepped back to the

wall and skimmed her hand along the surface until she finally
found the manual switch. Relief filled her when the lights
flickered on.

She'd more than half-suspected the bastards had had the

power turned off just for spite.

Puzzled, she glanced around the living room, but she

couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. She hadn't realized
that she was listening to the house until she heard, faintly,
the sound of running water.

Her heart bounced into her throat and tried to strangle

her. Her mind went chaotic. The sound connected in her
mind, though, to her mother's pride and joy—the 'natural'
shower she loved. Without stopping to think that it couldn't
possibly be her mother, Clair closed the door and headed

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toward her mother's room ... rushed, a mixture of excitement
and dread pounding through her.

It wasn't until she'd stepped into her mother's room that

the truth hit her. Her mother was dead. She knew her mother
was dead. She'd had to identify and claim her body from the
morgue.

She froze then, her mind more chaotic than before.
The next thought that leapt into her mind was her

confrontation with the CEO of Robotics, Inc. It didn't take a
great leap from there to reach the conclusion that the
bastards had counted on the house being theirs.

At the sound of the water being shut off, Clair glanced

quickly around for something to use as a weapon. Retreat
didn't occur to her until she saw there was nothing remotely
weapon-like that she could see, but by then she'd heard the
shower door open and the splat of bare, wet feet across the
tiles of the bathroom. Shoving her hand into the pocket of her
jacket as she heard the steps pause on the other side of the
door, she pointed her index finger at the intruder, hoping
against hope that it looked enough like the barrel of a pistol
to at least give him pause.

The door opened. She hadn't expected it to be anyone she

knew so it was no great surprise to come face to face—well,
actually chest—with a man she'd never seen in her life.
Beyond that nothing was as she'd expected. He was naked, or
the next thing to it, wearing nothing but a thin towel—two
corners fisted in one hand at his waist—wrapped around his
narrow hips that didn't even make a complete connection,
displaying a long, muscular, hairy thigh. His torso was

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proportionally as long as the legs, his chest broad, sculpted
with muscles and sprinkled with a dusting of dark hair that
was slicked to his skin with water. Long black hair clung close
to his head and around his broad shoulders. The face above
didn't even penetrate her perceptions beyond a vague
impression of being hard and angular, the two almost straight
black brows above his eyes pulled into a scowl.

The overall impression of a wall of flesh—he was a very

large man—rocked her back on her heels, mentally speaking,
and completed her mind's descent into chaos that fear had
started. "Put your hands up!" Clair demanded when she
finally found her voice.

Something flickered in his deep blue eyes. A faint smile

tipped one corner of his hard mouth up. Slowly, he released
his hold on the towel and lifted his arms.

The moment he did, his towel hit the floor.
Clair's gaze automatically followed the flutter of white and

then ricocheted upward to the behemoth the towel had been
covering and hung there. Her jaw went slack. A blur of
movement registered in her mind, however, as an attempt to
relieve her of her 'weapon', and she whirled instinctively to
run.

A jolt went through her when she found herself facing a

wall of flesh that so closely mirrored the mountain of a man
now behind her that she thought, for too many seconds, that
she actually had encountered a mirror.

His hand shot out before she could do more than gape at

him. He caught her index finger in an unbreakable grip before
she could even instinctively snatch it away. Two hands settled

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on her waist from behind. Her flight instinct kicked in once
more. For the space of a few hundred thundering heart beats,
Clair executed the 'cornered feline' escape maneuver. She
became a blur of twisting, jerking, flailing movement, evading
a firm grip on her by either man, but she discovered in the
end that they'd still managed to cage her so effectively
between their bodies that no amount of wiggling or jerking
could free her.

That conclusion wasn't what made her stop abruptly. It

wasn't even the fact that she'd run out of breath from
hyperventilation. It was the sudden realization that the meaty
thuds banging against her, back and front, wasn't their
thighs. It was something long, cylindrical, and it was getting
hard.

Panting for breath, she gaped upwards at the man still

holding her finger for a moment before fear sent a shaft of
reviving anger through her. "Don't even think about using
those things on me!"

The man in front of her cocked his head to one side

curiously. "I have no weapon—and neither do you."

The man behind her speared the cleft of her buttocks with

his 'weapon', poking her several times pointedly. "What?
This?"

When she whipped her head around to gape at him, she

saw his eyes were gleaming with both humor and anger, his
hard mouth twisted in a grim smile. "You aren't Dr. LaMotte,
so why don't you tell us who you are?"

A flicker of resentment filtered through Clair's shock. It

was her mother's house—her home, really! The nerve of the

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bastard asking her what she was doing there when he was
the intruder! That realization gave her pause, but her
thoughts and emotions were seesawing so drastically from
one thought and impression to the next that a sense of
caution was no more dominant than anything else. In point of
fact, the resentment, compounded by the anger that had
seethed in her from well before her arrival at her mother's
home, shifted to the forefront when it might not have
otherwise.

She was dimly aware that a sense of self-preservation

should've overruled all other considerations, but her
emotional distress wreaked havoc with good sense. "I'm not
the intruder here! You are! So why don't you tell me what the
hell you two are doing in my mother's house?"

The two men exchanged a look that Clair could only

categorize as startled even though there was little evidence of
it in their expressions. Before the sense of satisfaction that
flickered to life could really buoy her self-righteous anger,
however, the man in front of her knocked the wind from her
sails.

"You are not," he said flatly.
Clair gaped up at him. Indignation flashed through her.

"Excuse you!" she snapped. "I most certainly am!"

"Dr. LaMotte doesn't have a daughter," the man behind

her responded coolly, the inflection in his voice accusing.

His calm assertion knocked her off kilter again, but she

twisted her head to glare up at him. "This is ... unbelievable!
You two break into my mother's house and you have the gall
to act like I'm the one in the wrong here!" She tried to

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squeeze from between them. "We'll just call the cops and let
them sort this out!"

The hands at her waist tightened, preventing her attempt

to escape. "We'll sort it out alright," the man responded with
grim agreement, "but we don't need the cops."

Before Clair could entirely assimilate what was happening,

the man behind her shifted his grip from her waist to one arm
and walked her into the living area, applying just enough
force that she had to walk or fall on her face and then giving
her just enough of a push toward the chair that she
overbalanced and plopped into the seat. She gaped up at his
grim face with a mixture of uneasiness and indignation. The
only reasonable explanation for their presence that presented
itself was that they were from the company. She wasn't
entirely satisfied with that idea since that didn't explain what
the two of them were doing strolling around her mother's
house naked, but she couldn't think of anything else that
even came close.

If they were burglars, surely they wouldn't have taken the

time to make use of her mother's bath? In any case, she
hadn't seen any sign at all that there had been a search for
valuables. She'd look for signs when the light had failed to
come on automatically as it should have.

To her partial relief, as soon as she'd settled in the chair

the man who'd escorted her strode back toward the
bathroom, returning a few moments later wearing a pair of
trousers. He hadn't bothered to fasten them completely or to
don a shirt, but she felt less vulnerable, for no reason that
she could readily identify, by the fact that he'd 'holstered his

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weapon'. His twin, who'd stood guard over her for the few
moments the other was out of the room, disappeared and
returned wearing trousers, as well.

"Who are you?" she demanded.
The two men exchanged a long look. Finally, they almost

seemed to shrug. She didn't know why that made her belly
clench, but it did.

"I'm Seth. He's Simon. And you are?"
Clair's lips tightened. "Tired of this bullshit!"
Seth dropped to a crouch in front of her the moment she

tried to rise, planting a hand the size of a serving plate in the
middle of her belly and effectively pinning her to her chair.
"Not nearly as tired as you're going to be," he said grimly.

Clair eyed him with a mixture of growing uneasiness and

irritation. "Maybe you didn't get the memo from your boss?"
she said with a little less bravado. "The judge awarded me my
mother's estate, damn it! Now ... get the hell out of my
mother's house or I will call the cops!"

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two

Slowly but surely the self-righteous anger that had

sustained Clair died an unhappy death as she surreptitiously
studied the two men who'd withdrawn a short distance from
her to discuss the information she'd unloaded on them. She
couldn't help but think that they'd been way more disturbed
by the news of her mother's death than it seemed they would
be if, as she'd supposed, they worked for the company.

They wouldn't have a personal reason to be disturbed by

the news if they worked for the company, though—would
they?

Not that she was entirely sure that the one named Simon

was disturbed. Something had definitely flickered in his eyes
when she'd informed them that she'd just come from court
and had been awarded her mother's estate because her
mother was deceased, but no emotion that she could discern
had crossed his handsome face.

Seth was another matter. He'd tried to shield his thoughts

from her, had succeeded to a degree, and yet his swarthy
complexion had paled just enough to give away the fact that
he'd been both shocked and dismayed by the news.

They were currently debating whether or not to believe

her. She'd only caught a couple of words here and there, but
it was enough to suggest that as the topic.

She just couldn't figure out why it seemed to disturb them.
If they were burglars, it certainly shouldn't have.

Unfortunately, she'd already blurted the news before it had

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occurred to her just how dangerous that information could be
if they were burglars intent on robbing her mother. Almost
the moment it dawned on her that it was a very bad idea to
inform them they needn't worry about being disturbed,
though, she'd realized the news hadn't come as a pleasant
surprise to either of them.

That just didn't make any sense, though. If they worked

for the company, had been sent by the company to pack up
her belongings, why would they care at all? And why wouldn't
they have already known?

She didn't know enough to figure it out. They hadn't told

her a damned thing beyond their names!

She glanced toward the door, wondering, since they

seemed to have dismissed her, if she might have a chance of
reaching it and getting to her car before they could stop her.

"Not a chance in hell."
Clair sent Seth a startled look, uncertain of whether she

was more unnerved by the fact that he seemed to instantly
discern the thoughts running through her head or the
discovery that he was watching her a lot more closely than
she'd realized. She struggled to look both surprised and
baffled by his comment. A gleam, almost of amusement,
entered his eyes. His expression, however, was one of
sardonic skepticism. She frowned at him a little resentfully.
"If you don't mind, I need to go to the bathroom."

She'd only made the comment to try to convince him she

hadn't been considering the possibility of eluding them, but
the moment she did inspiration struck her. She struggled to
tamp the surge of hope that sent her heart into overdrive

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while she waited for his reaction. She didn't entirely like the
look in his eyes, but when he merely nodded, she got up and
headed toward her mother's bathroom. "I believe I'll take a
bath," she threw over her shoulder with an attempt at
casualness, hoping her voice wasn't as shaky as her knees.

She didn't glance back to gauge their reaction to the

comment, but she relaxed fractionally when neither man
challenged the remark. Her knees nearly buckled with
weakness when she secured the bathroom door behind her.
Her heart was palpitating so frantically by now that she felt
downright faint.

She discovered she did need to go, but she couldn't decide

if it was because she really had the need or it was nerves
tying her innards in knots that made her feel as if she had to.
Regardless, she couldn't afford to spare the time. They'd no
doubt be timing her.

"Shower on!" she said shakily. "Hot!"
Pushing away from the door the moment water burst from

the showerhead to muffle, she hoped, the sounds of her
escape, she rushed to the toilet and climbed up on the seat to
reach the tiny window above it.

They wouldn't know the window would open, or expect it.

Besides, it probably wouldn't occur to them that it was big
enough for her to climb out when it looked so impossibly
small. She knew from past experience, however, that it would
open and that she could squeeze through. She'd sneaked out
of it once to join her friends for a clandestine, 'not parentally
approved' jaunt.

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She'd been grounded for weeks for that little fit of

rebellion, she reflected, feeling the discomfiting mixture of
emotions from her past resurrect themselves, the resentment
and the sick sense of doom at being caught. Hard upon the
heels of that, she felt a pang of loss again.

Her mother wasn't around to 'run her life' now. She never

would be again.

Shaking the thought off, she felt for the manual catch on

the window. She'd just twisted it and shoved the window
outward when a heavy hand banged on the door with such
startling suddenness that she jumped all over and almost fell
into the toilet bowl. Her heart leapt into her throat, nearly
choking her. She hadn't realized how damned slippery the
seat still was with condensation from Seth's shower. "What?"
she demanded, anger grating in her voice. "I'm busy in here!"

"Make it quick!"
Clair ground her teeth together. "Exactly how do you think

I can manage that with you standing on the other side of the
door, listening? Anyway, I want to take a shower."

"Shower later. We need to talk."
There was enough grim determination in his voice that

Clair knew he wasn't going to wait for her to take a shower.
Would it be better to try for escape now? Or wait until she'd
lulled his suspicions?

Or maybe wait for him to strangle her?
She hadn't allowed herself to openly consider that they

might have an agenda that could include death and possible
torture and dismemberment for her, but she realized it had

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been circling the back of her mind. "Just a minute!" she
hedged, abruptly hoisting herself onto the windowsill.

Blinded by the light inside the bathroom, it wasn't until she

slammed face first into something meaty hard as she went
headfirst through the opening that she realized there was
more than shadows outside the window.

"I have her," Simon said calmly, hoisting her more

comfortably—for him—on the hard ridge of his shoulder,
locking an arm like a steal band around her, and dragging her
the remainder of the way through the window opening.

Clair was too shocked to fully digest what had happened

for several moments. By the time it sank into her mind that
Simon had been waiting for her beneath the damned window,
he'd strode around the house to the patio doors and through
them into the living room she'd so lately left. He dropped her
into the chair.

The blood that had pooled in her head during the trek

around the house, receded along with the darkness and
pinpoints of light. Seth and Simon swam into focus. Simon
was still standing over her, his massive arms crossed over his
equally massive chest, his feet planted in a wide-legged
stance. Seth had sprawled in the chair across from her. He
was eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and irritation—
which was how she identified him—his expression.

Simon's face was still unnervingly impassive. Otherwise,

the two men looked like matched bookends—well, except for
the fact that Simon's hair was a bit longer than Seth's. She
hadn't noticed that before.

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"I nearly fell out that window myself the first time I used

the shower. Good thing Simon thought about the hazard,
huh?" Seth murmured sardonically.

Clair smiled at the two men a little weakly, trying to think

of something to say that they might swallow that didn't entail
an admission that she'd been trying to escape. "I heard
something outside."

Simon tilted his head curiously. "You did not hear me," he

said flatly.

She glared at him. "Actually, I did," she said belligerently.

"That's why I opened the window to look out."

For the first time emotion creased his features. His nearly

straight black brows tented above the straight bridge of his
nose in a look that was clearly bafflement. He turned to look
at Seth questioningly. Seth's lips flattened with irritation. He
shook his head slightly. "She's lying."

For some reason she couldn't entirely fathom, Simon's

obvious confusion caused her a pang almost of guilt. Seth's
comment effectively distracted her. "Exactly how do you
figure that?" she demanded.

"He's a trained soldier—and he's damned good. You

wouldn't have heard him."

Surprise flickered through Clair. She glanced at Simon

again, realizing abruptly that that explained his unnerving
demeanor—military discipline. No wonder he'd seemed so
emotionless over the entire situation!

It was almost a relief, but it was more confusing. "But ...

he works for the company? You both do. Right?"

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She could see that Seth was considering whether or not to

answer her question but apparently he decided against it.
"Why don't you tell us what happened to your mother and
why it is that there doesn't seem to be any record of your
existence?"

Clair had been fairly successful in avoiding thinking about

her mother up to that point. The question abruptly brought
her grief down upon her like an avalanche. She felt her throat
close with sorrow, felt the sting of tears in her eyes and nose.
She sniffed, trying to summon anger to beat back the urge to
break down. "Why don't you tell me what happened to my
mother! Because I don't for one damned minute believe she
killed herself!"

For a split second, she thought she detected sympathy in

Seth's eyes but it vanished so quickly she wasn't certain in
the next moment. He shoved to his feet in an angry, jerky
movement. "She's dead," he said, an odd mixture of anger
and defeat in his voice.

It was almost as if, despite the fact that she'd already told

him she'd inherited her mother's estate, that he'd simply
refused to believe she was actually dead until he'd seen her
grief over it. Clair watched him in surprise as he strode
quickly toward the window and shoved the curtains aside to
stare out at the night, his stance rigid. She swallowed several
times with an effort and finally managed to dislodge the hard
knot in her throat. "She's dead."

"Gods damn it!" he growled abruptly, slamming his balled

fist against the side of the window so hard it dented the
plasti-metal framing.

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A shockwave, both from his furious outburst and the

stunning results of his actions, effectively and abruptly shut
down the grief that had been threatening to spill out. Clair
gaped at the fist-sized pit he'd driven into the virtually
indestructible material.

She continued to focus on it in utter disbelief until he

strode back toward her, effectively blocking her view and
filling her vision with his form. Her gaze flickered to his hand.
Without surprise, she saw that the flesh had split and his
hand was bleeding and yet there was no sign of broken,
splintered bones.

"Who are you?" he growled.
When she merely gaped at him, he dropped to a crouch

and grasped her shoulders, giving her a shake hard enough to
rock her head on her shoulders and jerk her out of her shock.
She felt her face crumple. "I'm her daughter! I told you!" she
said tearfully.

"You can't be! She didn't have a daughter," he growled.
"She did! I can prove it! I have the records on my book in

my purse!"

Rising as abruptly as he'd knelt in front of her, he scanned

the room. When his gaze zeroed in on the purse she'd set
down on the table near the door, he strode toward it and
snatched it up. Watching him, Clair rubbed her shoulders
absently where he'd gripped her. They throbbed from his
bruising grip.

"He hurt you?"
Clair glanced from Seth to Simon in surprise. She hadn't

noticed any particular inflection in his voice and she didn't see

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anything in his expression that she could interpret as
sympathy. She lifted her chin at him. "No," she lied. Not that
it was anything significant anyway. She was far more
unnerved by the barely leashed violence in him than she was
hurt.

Ignoring her disclaimer, he grasped her sleeve, ripped it

from wrist to shoulder and examined her bruised shoulder.
Clair was so stunned that he'd torn her sleeve as if it was
tissue paper, he'd examined her shoulder and turned to glare
at his brother before she even realized what his intent had
been. "She is bruised."

Seth glanced at him sharply, flicked a look at her and then

back at Simon. "She'll live. When did you get to be so
squeamish?" he muttered, returning his attention to the book
he'd pulled from her purse and scanning the documents he'd
pulled up.

"You are saying I can not feel squeamish?" Simon

demanded, his voice dropping to an ominous growl.

Seth flicked an annoyed look at him, shook his head

fractionally, and glanced at Clair significantly. Clair frowned,
trying to figure out what that look and comment hinted at.
Uneasiness flickered through her when she discovered that
both men were studying her speculatively.

"You had this forged."
At the flat accusation, Clair gaped at Seth for a moment

before indignation rose within her breast. "The judge checked
it! It's all in order, damn it! And I'll have you know I don't
associate with the kind of people that could forge something
like that!"

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Her anger, or her assertion that she didn't associate with

thugs, apparently amused him. Some of the grimness left his
features and a flicker of something she couldn't entirely
identify shown in his eyes briefly.

She was sorry she'd noticed. The man had far more

physical appeal than she was sure he deserved. Not that he'd
been brutal, but he was clearly dangerous and she didn't even
want to think about what he was capable of. Ditto his twin,
who almost seemed more dangerous because he contained
his emotions so well.

She was daft even to allow the thought to flicker through

her mind briefly that they were the most spectacular males
she'd seen in forever.

Actually, ever, she mentally amended ... grudgingly. The

face—more attractive than really handsome—was still well
above par. She thought they would've been extremely
attractive even if they hadn't been built so well, but there was
no getting around the fact that both men were built
beautifully and the overall package was so appealing it blew
every other man she'd met completely away.

His eyes—their eyes—were their best asset by far. The

color, almost a deep sapphire blue, was both rare and
beautiful and the long, sweeping black lashes that set them
off only emphasized their beauty. The slash of black
eyebrows—angry eyebrows—kept them from looking the least
bit girlish. At the same time, the sharp contrast almost made
their eyes more appealing.

The image of Simon's brows tented above the bridge of his

nose in confusion flickered in her mind and she realized she'd

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thought it was ... cute—both the 'puppy dog' look and the
confusion she'd seen in his eyes.

She gave herself a mental smack.
She needed her head examined!
They were about as cute as crocodiles and probably just as

cold-blooded!

"How does it come about that you have records that don't

appear anywhere else?" Seth asked more mildly, returning to
the chair across from her and sprawling in it.

Clair felt her cheeks heat, both because it occurred to her

that either or both of them might have noticed her completely
insane interest in them on a sexual level and because that
particular question struck a sore spot. "I don't know," she
muttered, squirming a little uncomfortably.

Seth's gaze, she noticed when she met his eyes again, was

both skeptical and assessing. "But you have a suspicion?"

Clair shrugged irritably. "I don't honestly know. I haven't

... been home for a while."

He lifted his black brows questioningly, silently

commanding her to elaborate. Clair bounced out of her chair
angrily and paced to the window where Seth had stood
before. "We didn't get along that well, ok?"

"How long?"
Clair's lips tightened. She wasn't sure herself why she was

so reluctant to tell him anything ... except that it was
personal. It was none of his damned business!

"How long?"
Clair whirled to glare at him, shrugging somewhat

petulantly. "I don't know ... five or six years, I guess." She

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set her chin when his eyes narrowed, but reluctance was only
part of it and not even the biggest part of it. It hurt, and she
didn't want to talk to a stranger about it. "She sent me away
... to a girl's school."

"Why?"
"None of your damned business! That's why! It doesn't

change the fact that I'm her daughter! Why are you here?
What is it that you want?"

"What do you know about your mother's work?" Seth

asked after a prolonged silence that made Clair feel like
squirming, made her feel exposed, as if he could see right
through her anger and knew it was guilt that had spawned it.

Her defensiveness, she realized, was telling enough.

Maybe she'd kept the dirty little details to herself, but she
could tell he had his suspicions. His imagination might well be
worse than the truth, but she still wasn't going to tell him.

Not for the first time since she'd discovered—on the news

of all the horrible things—that her mother was dead, she
wondered why her mother had erased her so completely from
her life. Because that was what she'd done. She hadn't
merely sent her away to school. Except for the occasional
visits home since then—the very few visits—and a meager
handful of holo-visits, she'd barely seen her mother since she
was little more than a child.

She'd tried to tell herself that it wasn't really her fault, that

her mother was just too consumed with her work to be
'bothered' with her, but it was hard to convince herself of it
when she'd been banished for that one little infraction and
then ... erased as if she'd never existed.

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Her mother had hated her because she wasn't perfect, she

thought glumly.

Or maybe hate was too strong a word? Maybe the brilliant

Dr. LaMotte just hadn't been able to face the fact that her
daughter was so ordinary? Maybe her mother had just
thought of her in the light of a 'failed experiment' and simply
decided to put 'it' from her mind?

She cleared her throat of the wedge of emotion that

collected there. Crossing the room again, she wilted tiredly
into the 'inquisition' chair. "I honestly don't know anything
about her work," she responded finally. "She worked for
Robotics, Inc. That's pretty much all I know beyond the fact
that she had degrees in psychology, artificial intelligence, and
nano technology. I suppose whatever she was doing had to
do with one or all of those things, but I don't know. She
hardly ever talked about her work ... not to me, anyway."

She studied the two men for several moments, waiting for

some kind of reaction. "Look! If you're worried about me
disclosing any sort of secret company information, you
needn't. I wouldn't if I knew anything—I don't particularly
want to get sued—and I don't know. Hell! I wouldn't
understand it if she'd tried to explain it to me. I'm not a
scientist!"

Seth studied Clair's face, searching for some sign that she

was lying, struggling against the crushing sense of defeat that
had been threatening to overwhelm him since he'd begun
questioning her. He hadn't realized how thoroughly he'd
convinced himself that he would at last have the answers he'd
sought for so long until he was faced with the reality that he

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wasn't likely ever to have them. Fury rapidly replaced the
sense of desolation, disappointment, and frustration. The
urge to target her with it was so strong that he felt physically
sick to his stomach.

Surging from the chair before he could do or say

something he knew he would deeply regret, he paced to the
window, struggling to preserve the appearance of calm
reflection when, inside, he felt as if he was drowning in the
fierce, chaotic emotions roiling through him. A procession of
images paraded through his mind of all the dangers they'd
faced and overcome just to reach her—the woman they'd
come to think of as the mother of the Cyborg race—Dr. Carol
LaMotte.

Simon and Cole had, he mentally amended, talking of her

as if she was a combination of mother and goddess. He
supposed their perception of her had begun to infect him, as
well, because he realized it wasn't just the fact that he
realized he wasn't going to get the answers he wanted that
made him feel ... lost. He felt as if he'd been deprived of
something infinitely more precious.

He felt the same sick sense of loss that swept over him

each time he'd allowed his 'memories' to overcome him and
thought of those he'd loved and lost.

Not real, he told himself angrily. None of it was and he

hadn't lost anything more than an opportunity to find answers
to questions he realized he already knew. Nothing he believed
about himself was real. None of it had ever happened,
however painful and horrible the images were in his mind. He
hadn't loved a beautiful dark haired girl named Becky, hadn't

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made love to her in the bed they'd shared together, argued
with her, laughed with her ... held her in his arms while she
breathed her last. He hadn't cuddled his babies, changed their
soiled diapers, fed them, guided their first steps—watched
them blown to bits in a Cyborg raid on his colony.

He couldn't erase the horror by having Carol LaMotte

answer his questions.

But he realized he had pinned his hopes on the possibility

that she could, somehow, take away the pain she'd given him
to live with or, at the very least, explain to him why she'd
given him hell when she could just as easily have given him
another life altogether.

Why?
To make him hate Cyborgs so that he'd be a better

Hunter?

Why, gods damn it to hell?
He'd never gotten particularly close to any of the other

Hunters, and yet he knew a good bit about their own 'pasts'.
To a degree, they all had tragedies to deal with, maybe
because the makers had considered that a fundamental part
of life, because they had to experience 'bad' to understand
and appreciate 'good'. Carol, according to Clair, had been a
psychologist. Maybe she'd had something to do with the
decision, maybe a lot.

Maybe she'd just been a sick bitch that got her jollies off of

torturing the minds of the beings she'd helped to create?

And what was he? A being? Or just a fucking machine

programmed to believe he was real?

"Do you believe that what she has spoken is the truth?"

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Seth sent Simon a sharp look, more because he resented

the intrusion into his thoughts than because he thought
Simon was questioning his judgment. The diversion from his
thoughts pushed some of the roiling chaos back, though,
forced him to regain a modicum of control and
compartmentalize the emotions he was having so much
difficulty dealing with.

It was a good thing, a small portion of relief. Short of

venting, which he was afraid to do, forcing him to turn his
mind to other things was likely the only relief in sight.

He wanted to unleash the emotions. Keeping them bottled

inside made him feel as if he would explode. On the other
hand, he wasn't certain he could stop short of destroying
everything in his path if he let go of his control. "She's
holding something back," he responded finally. "I don't know
what, but I don't think she's lying."

Simon nodded, turning to study Clair through narrowed,

assessing eyes. "You think that she is Mother's true biological
offspring? Or that she is one of us?"

A wave off shock went through him and Seth whipped his

head around to study Clair himself. The possibility hadn't
even once occurred to him. He'd thought, at first, that the
tale she'd spun had to be a lie, but he hadn't considered that
it might be the truth as she knew it and still be a lie.

He narrowed his eyes, considering. "There's one way to be

absolutely certain," he said with finality.

Returning to Clair, he held out his hand commandingly.

She studied it doubtfully for a long moment and finally
responded to the gesture, lifting her own hand and placing it

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in his. When she did, he pulled her to her feet and swept her
up into his arms in the same motion.

It was like lifting air. The moment her warmth and weight

settled against him, he knew, absolutely, that she was
human, a fragile compilation of bone and tissue. As he stared
into her wide, startled eyes, however, he forgot that his only
intent had been to weigh her to determine if she was bone
and flesh or steel wrapped in biological material. He forgot
that he wasn't really a man at all. The woman in his arms
made him aware of his manhood in a way he couldn't recall
ever being before. Heated desire scoured him, usurping the
ravaging emotions with want of a magnitude equal or
surpassing the nearly overwhelming emotions of before.

He registered a stinging awareness of the press of her

softness against him—the silky touch of her hands on his
shoulders, the yielding flesh of hip and breast against his own
chest and belly. His mouth went dry as dust as he dragged
his gaze from hers and explored her face—so close to his own
now that he could discern a pale sprinkling of freckles along
the narrow bridge of her nose and her high cheekbones, her
small, thin lipped 'no nonsense' mouth and the knob of her
belligerent chin.

Those outward signs of determination had been amply

supported by her challenging demeanor, and yet she was too
small and fragile to back up that bravado, regardless of what
she apparently believed—certainly against him ... or Simon.

He realized she was just as aware of her vulnerability as

he was when he met her gaze again. As hard as she was
trying to hide it, the paleness of her skin gave her away.

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Doubt was evident in her gaze, and yet he saw her eyes had
darkened, that she felt as drawn to him as he did to her. She
was waging a similar battle between desire and common
sense.

Not that there'd been much of a war between his desires

and logic ... until he realized she was as afraid of him as she
was attracted to him.

With good reason. He'd restrained himself, but barely.

She'd seen the brooding menace he was trying to control. It
was enough to make her wary—anyone of any intelligence—
and she was.

He felt his cheeks heat with discomfort. He could see in

her eyes that she was well aware of the carnal thoughts that
had been steaming his brain. Beyond that, he hadn't thought
further than picking her up to determine if she was Cyborg or
human, hadn't considered the awkwardness of it. If he simply
plunked her down again, she'd think he was mad on top of
perceiving him as a brute with little self-control.

Inspired by the need to preserve at least a modicum of

dignity, he turned with her and strode into her mother's
room, dropping her unceremoniously on the bed. "Stay put,"
he growled. Scowling at the blank look of shock and dawning
fear on her face and turning away, he headed toward the
door again.

"You aren't leaving?" she demanded, finding her voice as

he reached the door.

"No. And neither are you."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three

"What was that about?" Simon growled challengingly as

Seth joined him in the living area again.

Seth felt himself bristle at the challenge in Simon's voice.

He struggled with it a moment and finally managed to tamp
it—somewhat. "You wanted to know if she was human. She
is."

Clearly not appeased by the explanation, Simon continued

to scowl at him. He ignored it, sprawling tiredly on the couch
as the adrenaline rush of mixed emotions began to drain
away, leaving him feeling empty and at the same time
restless.

He didn't have to look far for the source of the

restlessness. His cock hadn't completely settled. He resisted
the urge to adjust himself, deciding to ignore the discomfort
rather than draw Simon's attention to his half aroused state.

For all the good it did. The bastard didn't miss much.
"That was no more than an excuse to do what you wanted

to do."

And to think he'd felt deprived having no brother to grow

up with! "They somehow work it out to give you mind reading
abilities?" Seth murmured laconically.

A muscle worked in Simon's jaw, a clear sign he was a

good bit angrier than he'd let on. "I do not have to."

Seth turned his head to study his twin. "It's generally a

mistake to think others are motivated by the same thing you

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are ... or have the same thoughts. You aren't me, regardless
of what you look like."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "I know what a hard cock

indicates ... and you look like me, not the other way around. I
was created first."

Seth ground his teeth, but decided to ignore the

provocation. There was no point in arguing with Simon,
particularly when he was right ... on both counts. Not that
he'd realized it himself until he'd picked her up. "I didn't come
all this way, risk my life, just to get a piece of ass ... even if it
is a pretty piece of ass," he growled. "I came to find
answers."

"Tell that to someone who does not know you as I do."
Seth surged to his feet. "You don't know me!"
Simon studied him coolly. It was one of the things that

made it hard to hold on to his own temper—the fact that
Simon could so thoroughly rile him and remain completely
aloof. It made him want to punch the bastard in the face.

"Then you will not mind if I offer to pleasure her?"
The question threw Seth off balance. For a moment a

sense of possessiveness warred with his sense of humor, but
the amusement won out as he pictured the look on Clair's
face. He turned away before Simon could catch a glimpse of
the laugh threatening to spill out. "Suit yourself," he
muttered.

A barely discernable noise filled the silence that fell

between them then, a faint grating sound as of plasti-metal
sliding against plasti-metal. Seth threw a glance at Simon and
then toward the hall that led to the room where they'd left

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Clair. Two possibilities instantly leapt to mind. Either she was
in the process of building a barricade at the door or she'd
figured out how to get the window open in Dr. LaMotte's
room.

Simon charged toward the bedroom before he could say

anything. Seth followed him, arriving just in time to see
Clair's rump disappearing over the windowsill. Simon, who'd
already reached the window, caught her by her ankles and
hauled her back through the opening. She caught the sill as
she was dragged back in, clinging to it determinedly for a split
second before Simon broke her grip on it. He held her free of
the floor by her ankles, obviously momentarily baffled over
how to put her down without hurting her since she was
hanging head downward.

Clair, clearly nonplussed for a handful of seconds,

recovered before Simon did. Uttering high pitched growling
noises, she swung her fists at him, landing a half a dozen
blows along his calves, knees, and thighs.

Simon lowered her to the floor, releasing her ankles once

her back had settled. Clair bounded to her feet, stared at
Seth, standing between her and the door to the room, and
then whirled on Simon, obviously intent on fighting her way
out since she'd been balked of the possibility of flight. Simon
merely stared down at her in bemusement as she boxed his
belly and ribs.

"You will hurt yourself," he said finally, grabbing her wrists

at about the same time she began to slow from weariness.

She renewed her efforts then, jerking at her wrists in an

attempt to break free.

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Simon released her but jerked her up against his length

before she could resume the attack. Seth was as surprised as
Clair was when he followed by jerking her upward and
planting his mouth firmly over hers.

And no better pleased.
He could see the shock roll through her. She went

perfectly still for a moment and then began shoving at him,
trying to push him away. Just as Seth was considering
whether to interfere or not, she ceased to struggle and went
perfectly limp.

Playing possum?
Seth was inclined to think so, but Simon clearly didn't

grasp the signals. He continued to kiss her with a
thoroughness that aroused a mixture of irritation and desire
in Seth. When he finally released her, she swayed dizzily.

Simon was breathing like a racehorse at the end of a six-

lap race, his face flushed, his eyes glazed. "I will pleasure you
if you will allow it," he murmured somewhat hoarsely. "I
desire you."

The offer brought Clair out of her semi-stupor. She balled

a fist up and slammed it against his chest. "You asshole! I
don't think so!"

Seth didn't find the fireworks nearly as amusing as he'd

expected to. Then again, he wasn't in any position to enjoy
the expression of outrage on her face. He pasted a
determined leer on his face when the two of them glanced at
him self-consciously, however.

Clair sent him a dagger glare in response.

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Simon just looked more confused, angry, and thwarted.

"Why do you not think so?" he demanded, claiming Clair's full
attention again. "You enjoyed the kiss."

"I did not!" she snapped indignantly.
If she'd slapped him in the face with a sledge hammer,

Simon couldn't have looked more stunned. "You did not?" he
asked doubtfully.

"No, I did not enjoy being ... mauled by you, you jerk!"
"I did not maul you! I kissed you!" Simon said indignantly.

"I am certain I did it right!"

Seth cleared his throat. "You don't want to go there,

Simon."

Simon lifted his head to glare at him in confusion. "I do not

want to go anywhere. I want to know why she says she did
not enjoy my kiss when I detected...."

"Shut up, damn it!" Seth snapped. "Never argue with a

lady, even when you think she's not being truthful ... about
something like that."

"I do not think it! I know!" Simon said indignantly.
Clair glared at him through narrowed eyes. "Conceited

jackass! Just because you think you're god's gift to women
and you're good at kissing doesn't make it so!"

Simon released her, studied her in baffled anger for a

moment and then lifted his head to glare at Seth. "You knew
this would happen if I offered to pleasure her," he said
accusingly.

Seth shrugged, unable to keep from grinning. "Live and

learn. You have to take your knocks like everybody else."

Simon clenched and unclenched his hands several times.

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Seth added to his stupidity by chuckling.
Simon stalked across the room and slung one meaty fist at

Seth's jaw so fast Seth didn't have time to duck. The house
shook as he landed flat of his back on the floor. "Get up!"
Simon growled, standing over him.

Working his jaw experimentally, Seth pushed himself up

on one arm and glared up at his twin. "At any other time, I'd
be happy to oblige, but we have a mission to accomplish and
time isn't something we have a lot of," he growled back at his
brother.

They studied one another angrily for several long

moments, but Simon finally backed away, rolling his
shoulders as if forcing the angry tension from his muscles.

Clair, who'd been studying both men with a mixture of

uneasiness and shock, emerged sufficiently to demand an
answer. "What mission? What the hell is going on here?"

Both men turned to look at her, but Simon turned away

almost immediately and stalked from the room. Clair stared
after him, still feeling more than a little weak kneed from
their encounter. As much as she resented his egotistical
assumption that she'd thoroughly enjoyed his kiss, there was
no denying, to herself at least, that it had sent her into a
tailspin. If it hadn't been for the alarms screaming in her
head, she would've been putty in his hands.

Wryly, she admitted the jackass had cause for his conceit.

Despite all reason, despite her certainty that he was a threat
to her, he'd annihilated every defense with his practiced
touch, every barrier she'd tried to throw up to protect herself,
heating her blood to the boiling point.

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Remembering his comment, she felt her face redden.
He'd known it, too, the jerk!
Well! He wasn't that damned good! Maybe, for a handful of

seconds, she'd been putty in his hands, but she'd gathered
her wits and given him a set-down!

Oddly enough, she didn't feel nearly as victorious as she

thought she ought to in having routed Simon. His anger,
she'd expected. Very few men took rejection well and the
aggressiveness of his assault had suggested he would take it
very badly. She was almost as surprised by the mildness of
his reaction as she was by his confusion.

Of course men never could figure that sort of thing out!

They figured if it felt good, to hell with any other
consideration. They couldn't seem to grasp that women
continued to think even when they were high on arousal, that
women couldn't as easily set aside other considerations.

She still felt as if she'd struck a low blow, she realized,

although she wasn't certain if it was because of her own
remarks and actions alone or if it was because she'd realized
that Simon had somehow been the butt of a joke Seth had
instigated.

That thought brought her attention back to Seth and she

discovered he was studying her speculatively. "You put him
up to that, didn't you?" she said accusingly.

He looked startled and then annoyed. "What makes you

think I would've had to? Or wanted to? In case you haven't
noticed, Simon doesn't take orders from me."

Clair's lips tightened. "Actually, it seems to me that he

does."

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Surprise flickered in Seth's eyes, but then he merely

shrugged. "It's not what you think."

"How would you know what I think?" Clair demanded

indignantly and then answered her own question. "I think I'm
being held prisoner and I don't even know what's going on!
Who are you people? And what are you doing here? Why are
you looking for my mother if you aren't with the company?"

"What makes you think we aren't with the company?"
Clair considered it, feeling her heart beat a little faster.

"My mother's dead and I don't believe for one minute she
killed herself—regardless of what they're saying. If you two
were with the company, I'd be dead by now."

Clair didn't realize she'd been hoping he would laugh at the

ridiculous paranoia of such a statement until she saw that,
although he seemed a little surprised, he didn't take it lightly.
"You think you're in danger?" he asked slowly.

"Am I?" she countered.
He looked a little taken aback and then angry. "Lady, if

you were in any danger from me and Simon you'd be dead
now."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Clair asked a

little hoarsely, although, oddly enough it did. She hadn't
realized, hadn't allowed herself to actually dwell on her
situation. It hadn't been that difficult given the fact that
they'd thrown her completely off-kilter from the moment
she'd encountered them. She knew terror and the certainty
that she was in danger had been clawing at the back of her
mind ever since she'd arrived and found them in her mother's

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house, though, even if she hadn't allowed herself to openly
acknowledge it.

She felt cold all over abruptly as it settled in her belly in a

hard knot that her attempts to escape and her absolutely
stupid, mindless attempt to fight Simon could've cost her her
life if they'd been the bad men she thought they were. Very
little relief managed to trickle past that realization as the
certainty arose that she'd been wrong about them.

She was lucky Simon hadn't throttled her just for pounding

on him! That would've been sufficient provocation for a lot of
people even if they hadn't had evil designs on her before.

Seth shook his head at her. "We came for answers." He

didn't bother to add that, if they'd seen her as a threat, they
would have disposed of her. No doubt the moment they left
she'd head for the nearest cop and sound the alarm, but
nothing she could do would add significantly to the problems
they already had. They were being hunted. They were dead if
they were caught. Nothing they did from here on out would
change that and Clair couldn't tell the authorities, or the
company, anything that would lessen their chances of escape.
They were bound to know the moment they discovered Cole
had broken their security that rogues were nearby. Unlike the
Hunters who often worked alone, the Cyborgs had been
designed to work together—as a team—and that was part of
their programming that hadn't changed when they had.
Where ever there was one, there would always be more.

He flicked a glance around the room as he calculated just

how long Cole had been gone at that thought and realized
that, regardless of what Simon had said, Cole should've been

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back by now. There might be an explanation for his prolonged
absence other than the worst case scenario, but his gut was
telling him Cole was in trouble—which meant they all were.

They should clear out while they could, he knew.
"Answers to what?" Clair asked curiously.
Seth shook his head. "When we leave, you're free to go.

Until we do, you'll have to stay put."

He turned then and left her in sole possession of the room.

Clair stared after him, frowning, trying to decide whether to
pursue her curiosity or not. It seemed to her that ignorance
might be safest, but she discovered that, stupid or not, she
wanted to know. She followed him back into the living area. "I
don't see why you won't tell me anything."

Seth sprawled in the chair he'd occupied before. Simon,

she discovered, had paced to the window to stare out
watchfully. The tension in both men was palpable, but she
didn't think it had anything to do with their 'disagreement'.
They seemed to have dismissed that.

She discovered she was a little miffed that they had.
"You don't know anything about Dr. LaMotte's research,"

Seth said coolly.

Clair's lips tightened at the subtle insult that proved he

didn't believe she was who she claimed to be, regardless of
her papers. "And this about that? Mom's research?"

Simon turned to look at her, but neither man answered the

question. "Why do you believe that you are in danger?"

Clair looked at him blankly, wondering how he could have

heard the comment since he'd already left the room when she
mentioned it. After a moment she dismissed the puzzle and

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moved to the chair she'd occupied before. "I don't know. I
hadn't consciously acknowledged it until I got here and found
the two of you. I suppose it must have been in the back of
my mind, though, or I wouldn't have immediately assumed
that the company had sent you." She frowned thoughtfully,
considering it. "I know ... knew my mother. She wasn't the
type to contemplate suicide much less do something like
that."

"Then again, you hadn't seen her in years."
Clair glared at Seth. "Maybe not in person, but we did

speak ... if only occasionally. She was a busy woman. We
grew apart as I grew up, but she wasn't a quitter! Problem
solving was her life. It was integral to who she was. I don't
care what sort of problems might have come up, she wouldn't
have just thrown up her hands and given up on trying to
solve it! She didn't drive her car into that damned piling!
Somebody rigged it, overrode the programming, and it wasn't
her."

"She could have."
"If you're saying she had the no-how, she did. But she

wouldn't have."

"So, you concluded that someone had murdered her and

they would be after you?"

Clair narrowed her eyes at Seth. "Do you work at being an

asshole? Or does it just come naturally for you?" she
snapped.

A mixture of amusement and anger gleamed in his eyes. "I

have to suppose it's ingrained," he drawled. "Must have been
a dominant trait in one of my donors."

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She ignored that provocative comment. "I concluded I

might be in danger because Lyle McGinnis, the CEO of
Robotics, Inc., was thoroughly pissed off when he discovered
my mother had an heir and the court awarded all of her
personal effects to me! The house belongs to them,
apparently, but not her things. I can't think of any reason he
would've been so furious about it except that he thought
there was something here that I might find when I went
through her things. Since anything that belonged to the
company would still be his, which would leave him no reason
to be so furious about it, then he must think there's
something here that could be some sort of threat either to
him or the company.

"There must have been a reason they killed my mother

and, if that reason is somewhere in this house, then it makes
me a target, too, don't you think?" She began to doubt it
herself almost as soon as she'd voiced her fears. Vocalizing
the wild thoughts that had been careening through her mind
made them suddenly seem just too farfetched to be
believable, almost silly, like a nightmare one has that scares
the ever-loving shit out of you when you're asleep and just
sounds lame when you try to tell someone about it. She
wasn't really surprised that Seth looked skeptical, but she
was both embarrassed and irritated.

"There's nothing in the house," Seth responded. "We

searched it."

Instantly distracted from her discomfort, Clair gaped at

him. "You searched my mother's house?" she demanded
indignantly.

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He gave her a sour look but didn't respond.
"Maybe you just didn't find it?"
Seth's lips flattened. "If there'd been anything here, we

would've found it."

He seemed so certain some of Clair's confidence waned.

"So you meant to stay until my mother returned and ask her
directly?"

"We didn't intend to harm her if that's what you're

thinking, but yes. That was the plan ... if Cole comes up
empty at the company."

She wasn't certain she believed him. She didn't know what

to think. Everything about their behavior seemed a
contradiction. They wanted something very badly or they
wouldn't have broken into her mother's house, wouldn't have
planned to waylay her for answers to whatever it was they
wanted to know. How could she trust that they had no
intention of hurting her mother?

For that matter, how could she be certain they weren't

behind her mother's death?

The thought had hardly formed in her mind when she

realized how unlikely it was. They'd clearly been waiting for
her mother's return, which not only meant they couldn't have
done it, but they couldn't have known about it. Which also
meant that they couldn't have been associated with the men
who'd done it.

She couldn't be a hundred percent certain. It was possible

they'd simply made that part up when she'd surprised them,
but they'd behaved as if they'd been expecting her mother.
She thought that she could at least trust that much.

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It seemed as indisputable that they must be looking for

the same thing the company had thought to find in the house.
The question was, why did they want it? The company must
fear her mother had something that could incriminate them
somehow.

"Are you and Simon investigators? Or something like

that?"

The startled look Seth sent her seemed to answer that. He

shrugged. "Something like that."

"But you aren't," Clair said flatly. "This—whatever it is—is

personal. Are you two in trouble with the police? The
company?"

"Something like that," Seth responded dryly.
"Damn it!" Clair exclaimed. "Why don't you just tell me?

Maybe I can help."

"We do not need your help," Simon said coolly.
"Or want it," Seth added. "We've got problems enough

without having to protect you."

"Like I asked you to!" Clair snapped, but it brought home a

revelation. She had felt threatened by the company, did
believe she was in danger, and she'd begun to have some
hope that Seth and Simon would protect her—would help her.
"It just seems to me that we must all want the same thing."

"Not hardly," Seth muttered.
"You don't want to know why my mother was killed? Even

if it has something to do with what you wanted to discover
from her?"

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four

Still smarting from Clair's denouncement, Simon listened

keenly to the exchange between her and Seth, more focused
on trying to grasp the cadence of their speech patterns and
decipher the emotions threading their speech than what they
were actually saying. The urge to pound Seth into mush
hadn't receded a great deal, although he had managed to
control the impulse.

The bastard had known what she would do if he offered to

pleasure her. He had expected it. He just couldn't figure out
how Seth had known.

Clair was a stranger to him—to both of them. Seth could

not know her personality well enough to have guessed such a
thing, he was sure.

He had even known how to behave when she had reacted

as he had guessed she would.

How?
Their programming was different. He had never been more

conscious of it than in those moments when he had been left
feeling uncomfortably awkward and stupid and uneasily aware
that he had committed a breach of some unwritten 'law' of
behavior.

He still didn't understand that completely, couldn't fathom

what he'd done wrong despite the overpowering sense that
something about his behavior hadn't been 'right', hadn't been
'normal' for humans. He was vaguely relieved and
appreciative that Seth had kept him from worse—several

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times already—kept him from doing or saying something that
would remove all doubt from her mind of what he was, and
yet he knew that Seth was toying with him, at least some of
the time. Worse, he had the uncomfortable, infuriating sense
that Seth had actually set him up—somehow—to make him
feel foolish.

He just wasn't sure of how, and he gods damned well

didn't understand what Seth found so fucking humorous
about it!

Seth was as attracted to Clair as he was. He wanted her

and yet, if the exchange between them had anything
whatsoever to do with convincing her to yield to her needs,
he was gods damned if he could figure it out!

Mayhap Seth did not feel as desirous as he did?
He couldn't see that that was the least bit logical, though.

Seth, because of his programming, had a far better
understanding of human behavior and interaction than he did.
He had not understood how enormous the gap was in his own
programming until he had decided that his programming as a
pleasure droid would work to get him what he wanted. Either
he had not been fully programmed in the ways of the
pleasure droid, though, because it had been decided to sell
him as a soldier, or the pleasure droid programming simply
did not work outside the environment of a brothel.

He found the first possibility difficult to accept. True, he

had never put his programming to practical use. He had never
performed any function outside of that of a soldier, but he
could find no defect in the programming. He had been
equipped, physically, to perform any sexual act known to

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humankind with absolute perfection of timing and finesse of
touch.

It was because he had tried to initiate, he finally decided.

He hadn't actually been programmed for that. He knew the
correct responses once he was asked to perform, but he
realized there was nothing in his programming to guide him
through the instigation process.

At least, nothing apparently acceptable outside of the

brothel environment. Apparently simply reversing the
anticipated question would not work, or rather, offering the
answer without having been asked. He had the uneasy feeling
that she would not have reacted any better if he had simply
commanded her to pleasure him as women generally did
when they went to a brothel for pleasure. In any case, his
programming was incontrovertible in that respect. He was to
give pleasure.

"What do you think?"
Jerked abruptly from his own thoughts, Simon stared at

Seth blankly at the question, prompted by it to search his
mind for the conversation he'd been listening to to try to
discern what the question pertained to. His first thought,
naturally enough, was that it pertained to his thoughts, but it
took no more than a nanosecond to realize that couldn't
possibly be the case. Seth might guess what was going
through his mind, but he would not know, therefore the
question had nothing to do with his thoughts at all but rather
the conversation. "About what?" he finally asked when he
realized he had no idea what part of the conversation Seth

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was referring to, feeling the flesh of his face heat when he
realized that Clair was studying him.

"Do you think Clair can help us?"
She could certainly help him. His cock had inflated and

deflated a half dozen times since their first encounter and
he'd noticed every time that happened, his balls ached a little
more. The abrupt certainty settled in him at the question that
pleasuring her would relieve that part of his anatomy
considerably.

It seemed apparent, though, that that wasn't what Clair

had offered. Disappointingly, he couldn't recall a single thing
in the conversation that might point in that direction. "In what
way?" he asked cautiously.

Seth shrugged. "My thoughts exactly."
"Well!" Clair said indignantly. "I certainly can't help when I

don't know what it is you're looking for!"

"Dr. LaMotte's research," Simon said helpfully.
"Oh," Clair responded, frowning. "I suppose that would be

at the company. I don't think they allowed anything important
to be removed from the premises. Why would you be
interested in her research, anyway?"

Simon exchanged a look with Seth. Their interest in Dr.

LaMotte's research wasn't the same. Seth was looking for
proof that he hadn't been programmed, that he wasn't what
Simon and Cole knew him to be—exactly the same as they
were with the exception that he'd been programmed
differently. He and Cole were far more interested in the
programming Seth had gotten that they hadn't.

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He was still relieved when Seth refused to answer the

question. He knew it was because Seth couldn't bring himself
to accept what he was, that it had nothing to do with his own
reasons. He discovered, though, that he was reluctant for
Clair to learn what he was. She accepted him as a man ...
now. She hadn't once questioned that he was what he felt
that he'd become. He didn't want her to look at him
differently. Now, even though for some reason he couldn't
fathom she was reluctant to do anything about it, he saw
admiration in her eyes when she looked at him, appreciation
for his appearance. He ... enjoyed the interest he saw in her
eyes, he realized. It made him feel, oddly enough, a little
queasy to think of the way she would look at him once she
knew.

If she found out.
"Why do you two sound so different?" Clair asked abruptly,

studying each of them in frowning curiosity. "Were you ...
separated at birth? You're off-worlders, right? But you didn't
grow up together."

Simon felt his face heat. He was as reluctant to lie as he

was to tell her the truth. "We did not grow up together," he
said finally.

"How did you find out about each other, then? How did you

meet?" she asked curiously.

Simon met Seth's gaze. "He was sent...."
"To find him," Seth interrupted Simon smoothly.
Clair lifted her brows in surprise, but there wasn't any sign

that she'd understood the implications, that she'd figured out

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what they were. "You were sent? Did you know before you
met him that he was your twin?"

Seth's lips twisted. "No," he said tightly. "That was a shock

to all of us."

Clair frowned, but then her brow cleared. "You mean Cole?

The one you keep mentioning. Cole was with Simon? Is that
how the three of you came to be friends?"

Simon and Cole sent a startled look at each other. "We are

brothers," Simon responded finally.

"But you didn't know each before, so now you're friends.

Which of you is the oldest? Or do you know?"

"I am," Simon said promptly, daring Seth to dispute it.
Clair glanced from one to the other with amusement. She

could see it irritated Seth for Simon to claim to the eldest. It
seemed like a silly thing to bicker about when there couldn't
be much different between them, but then she'd known a few
siblings when she was in school. They always fought about
things she thought were silly—like which one their parents
loved best. "You tracked down your birth records, then? That
must have been a feat. Ordinarily, they keep those records
sealed. Did you find out who you mother was?"

"Yes," Simon said.
"No," Seth said at almost the same instant.
The two men glared at one another, but Simon, looking

uncomfortable, glanced away first.

"No, you didn't find out who your mother was? Or no you

didn't track down the birth records?" Clair asked, confused,
then amended, "I suppose that would be both. How would
you know who was eldest, though, if you didn't?"

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"I am a cy...."
Seth cut Simon off before he could finish. "Soldier."
They'd already told her that. Moreover, she was almost

positive that wasn't what Simon had started to say. "No
won.... Uh ... That's why you two seem so different," she
finished uncomfortably. "How long have you been a soldier?"

"I have never been anything else."
Seth rolled his eyes and got up. Stalking to the couch, he

sprawled on it full length. "I think I'll rest for a few hours," he
muttered.

Clair stared at Seth in surprise for a moment before

turning to look at Simon again. She could see that he was
uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, though. As
much she wanted to, she decided it wouldn't be polite to
probe into his past when he obviously didn't want to talk
about it.

The answers she'd gotten had aroused more curiosity than

they had appeased, though.

Why were they so reticent about their past—pasts, she

amended? Obviously, they didn't share a past, or not much of
a past. She was inclined to think they hadn't known each
other very long at all, in fact, and not just because they'd
been surprised at her suggestion that they were friends.
Clearly, they hadn't even considered that possibility, which
could only mean, as far as she could see, that it was
something else that had brought them together, some
common goal. She thought she could safely rule out the
possibility that one of them was on a mission and the other
two had just decided to tag along because of a strong tie

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through friendship. Whatever it was they were after, it was
something important to all three men. Not that she'd met
Cole, but she thought she could safely make the assumption
given the fact that he'd gone to the company alone to look for
whatever it was they hoped to find.

It was almost surprising how much she wanted to know.

She thought part of her burning desire might not be anything
more than a need to focus away from her own problems, but
she didn't think that was all of it. She thought she would've
been swept up anyway by the very secrecy of it all. There was
something intrinsically appealing about a dangerous secret,
she supposed, that people simply couldn't resist.

It didn't hurt that she found the brothers so appealing to

her senses, she thought wryly.

Not that they both weren't total jerks!
They were damned fine looking jerks, though, she thought

with self-depreciating amusement.

And boy oh boy could Simon kiss!
She narrowed her eyes at him speculatively, wondering if

he was like so many soldiers—had a female at every outpost.
The kiss seemed to hint at vast experience. She wasn't so
sure anything else about him did. His come-on line hadn't
been particularly artful.

Maybe he was just a 'natural', she thought, bemused?
Truthfully, he reminded her, a lot, of the awkward,

inexperienced boys she'd experimented with when she was a
novice at flirtation herself.

Not that she'd become anything approaching an expert.

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She supposed it was possible. She didn't know how likely it

was. He was just so handsome it was hard to believe he
hadn't had a zillion opportunities to perfect his charms. He'd
said he'd always been a soldier, which undoubtedly meant
from the time he'd reached the age to join up. It was clear
from his quaint speech patterns that he was an outworlder,
and the laws of Earth were lax on the out worlds, to say the
least.

Unless he'd spent most of his time in action?
Seth was a different matter altogether. Despite the tension

in the situation, despite his obvious distraction, charm almost
seemed to come natural for him, which meant, to her way of
thinking, he, at least, had had a lot of practice seducing
women.

He didn't look any older than Simon, but he seemed a lot

more mature, or at least a good deal more experienced.

That seemed to bear up her conclusion that Simon had

spent most of his adult life confined to the company of other
men and fighting.

It was ... pitiable, although she didn't doubt he would be

infuriated if he realized she felt that way about his situation.
He seemed completely confident in his manhood, which
meant he'd proven it to himself, probably many times over on
the field of battle. He would think that respect was his due ...
and it was, particularly if she was right.

There was still something about him that made her want to

cuddle him, even though she couldn't precisely put her finger
on it.

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Suddenly uncomfortable with the train of her thoughts, she

got up resolutely. "I think I'll go rest, too."

Simon studied her coolly. "You will not attempt to escape

again."

She couldn't decide if that was a question or a command.

It sounded more like a command, though, than a question,
and it made her hackles rise. "I don't see the point when you
and Seth will be leaving as soon as Cole gets back," she said
a little testily.

"You trust Seth's word?" he asked curiously.
Clair lifted her brows at him. "Is there a reason why I

shouldn't?"

"No. He spoke the truth. We mean you no harm. I am still

surprised."

Clair shrugged. "It's not that I actually do trust him—or

you. I just don't see that I have a choice."

She thought as she moved toward the hallway that

connected the bedroom to the living area that she hadn't
been completely truthful herself. She did trust them—
somewhat. She hadn't seen anything in what they'd said or
done, beyond holding her there, that would lead her to think
she shouldn't. As unnerved as she'd been to begin with,
though, their determination to keep her there seemed more
an act of self-preservation than a threat. Except for the kiss,
which had scared her, because rape had instantly leapt to
mind, neither man had tried to bully or threaten her. She
hadn't been physically restrained.

She hoped she wasn't wrong but, as she'd pointed out to

Simon, she still didn't see that she had a choice except to

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trust that they'd do as they said—leave when their friend
returned.

She could identify them, of course, but that didn't seem to

concern them.

She supposed that in itself should've set warning bells off,

but it hadn't. They didn't seem worried about it and it didn't
seem to her that it was because they didn't intend to leave
her in any condition where she could. She felt, right or wrong,
that their entire focus was on a threat that had nothing to do
with her.

Seth still wasn't convinced that she was who she said she

was. It angered her, but he could hardly be blamed for
doubting considering what her mother had done.

She paused at the door of her mother's room at that

thought and, on impulse, moved further down the hall to the
room that had been hers when she was a child. She couldn't
say that she was really surprised to discover the room had
been turned into a home office, but it still hurt to see no sign
of her childhood remained there.

Feeling a presence behind her, she looked up to discover

Simon had followed her—as silent as a ghost. She might've
been unnerved by that at any other time, but her emotions
were in riot. It was hard to respond 'normally' to anything.
"This was my room when I was a little girl," she said in
answer to the question in his eyes.

He lifted his head and scanned the room.
Clair swallowed against a lump of emotion in her throat

and moved inside, looking around a little sadly, trying to
summon the memories when she didn't have any visual aids.

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"My bed was there," she said musingly. "There was a small
table beside it that had a nightlight. I had night terrors when
I was little. I used to dream a monster was under my bed and
it would slither out when I was sleeping and grab me."

Simon was frowning when she glanced at him. "Dreams?"
She shrugged. "Of course it wasn't real. It seemed real

then, though. I can't imagine what made me dream it." She
paused, trying to summon the nightmare, but it was hazy
now. She couldn't remember what the monster had looked
like. Maybe she'd never imagined anything but shadows?
Maybe it had never had a face? "I can remember Mom
cuddling me and rocking me," she added after a moment,
surprised.

Why hadn't she remembered that before? All she'd been

able to remember was being afraid.

When had her mother stopped being the protector? Had

her patience just worn thin after being awakened night after
night? Or was it something else?

She knew it was.
It was her 'excursions' that had changed everything.
"There was a tree outside my window," she said after a

long pause, moving toward the window. "It's gone now. Mom
had it cut down."

"Why?"
Clair looked up at Simon, smiling wryly. "Because I used to

climb out my window and climb down the tree."

He looked taken aback, not really judgmental, but

confused. "Why would you do that?"

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Clair shrugged. "There was never any other children to

play with and I was lonely. When I discovered Rob and Anna
lived just through the woods there," she said, pointing, "I
would sneak off to play with them when Mom thought I was
in my room studying."

"Why did you not ask?"
Clair frowned. "Because I knew she'd say no. As long as I

didn't ask her, she couldn't forbid it. Of course, she caught
me eventually and she did forbid it ... which was when I
began to sneak out at night."

She could see from his expression that Simon was both

confused and disapproving. "You said that you had night
terrors."

She shrugged. "I did. And I was afraid of the dark. But Rob

kept teasing me about being a coward. I suppose, in the
beginning, it was as much to prove to them that I wasn't as it
was just to have a little company ... and to do something my
mother disapproved of. I got a special thrill out of that," she
said wryly. "I didn't get much attention from her except when
she was scolding me about something. I suppose I thought it
was better to get some attention than no attention. Childish
logic.

"Rob was the first boy I ever kissed. Mom caught us, as

luck would have it. I suppose she either didn't believe me
when I said we hadn't done anything else, or she figured it
was only a matter of time. That was when she had the tree
cut down, and then she sent me off to the girl's school."

"You desired Rob?"

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The question caught her off guard, cut through her painful

memories. She chuckled, in surprise at first, and then
laughed in genuine amusement. "No! Not hardly! Not even a
little! He was homely and obnoxious as hell! His sister, Anna,
was my friend. He was mostly just an annoyance."

He smiled faintly in response to her laughter, but she could

see puzzlement in his eyes. "If you did not desire him, why
did you kiss him?"

Clair sobered, thinking it over. "I don't know. Because he

was the only boy I knew, I guess, and I wanted to know what
kissing was like. Ugh! Sloppy and wet. And he grabbed my
boob! That was when my mother arrived. She always did
have the worst timing!"

He looked disturbed. "My kiss was disgusting?"
Clair felt her face redden. As glad as she was to be

distracted from her uncomfortable memories, the subject
matter wasn't any more appealing. "I don't think I want to
have this discussion."

"I will try again. That was my first. I am certain I can do

better."

Clair bit her lip, planting a palm in the center of his chest

to hold him at a distance as he leaned closer. "No!" she said
firmly, tamping her amusement with an effort. "Really. It was
actually surprisingly nice, but I don't 'do' real men. I know
you're an outworlder and things are different on the colonies,
but it's actually frowned upon here—not really socially
acceptable—to have recreational sex with people. That's why
we have sex toys. It cuts down on problems—like illness and
unplanned pregnancies. Of course they've virtually eradicated

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sexually transmitted diseases and the birth control is very
effective, but the problem is diseases always come back with
indiscriminate sexual behavior. And, of course, there are still
the other diseases that pop up with too much physical
contact. It's much better, all the way around, to just stick
with the droids until and unless one decides to contract with a
life partner."

"Sex toys?" Simon echoed, trying to sort the abrupt

barrage of thoughts that erupted at her comments. The irony
of discovering she eschewed recreational sex with humans
wasn't lost on him. She wouldn't consider him human if he
told her what he was, but he was ... now, or at the very least
a being in the image of his creators. Unfortunately, he was
not a sex toy. He had the programming, but he was a soldier.
He couldn't truthfully claim to be a sex toy even if he'd
wanted to tell her what he was, and he didn't want her to
think of him as no more than a machine.

Clair reddened. "A sex droid," she clarified.
"You kissed this boy, Rob," he pointed out.
"And look where that got me!" she said dryly. "Actually,

he's the main reason I don't do other people. If I hadn't, my
mother wouldn't have sent me away. I stopped enjoying the
battle of wills between us when she did that. Not that there
was much chance of it after that. The worst of it was it didn't
seem to matter how hard I tried to be good after that. She
didn't forgive me. I guess I was just a huge disappointment
to her."

"She is not here to disapprove."

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Clair glanced at him sharply. Obviously, she'd

underestimated him. He might not be a very practiced flirt,
but he certainly knew what buttons to push! She hesitated,
torn between the urge to find out if it was as good as she
remembered and the realization that it was probably the
worst idea she'd ever had.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five

A kiss wasn't going to satisfy him. She might have been

battling a dozen conflicting demons when he'd kissed her
before, and lightheaded to boot, but she'd noticed that he
was thoroughly aroused. This was dangerous ground that had
nothing to do with passing germs.

And on that note—nothing she could consider would be

worse exposure. Mouth to mouth?

It occurred to her that it had disturbed her deeply that

she'd found his kiss so exciting, that it had rattled her so
completely. She didn't recall becoming that aroused even
when her favorite sex toy, Drake, kissed her and she'd been
perfectly satisfied with him before—for years. She hadn't seen
any sense in choosing a different one each time she went to
the brothel when she was happy with Drake. Most everyone
else did, of course, but he had appealed to her the most from
the start and he always thoroughly pleasured her. Why
change?

Simon took her silence as acquiescence and maybe it was.

Maybe she'd wanted him to take the real decision out of her
hands?

She looked up at him uncertainly when he gathered her

closer, struggling to close her mind to the impressions
bombarding her as she became more keenly aware of him—
the breadth of his chest, the strength of his arms, the warmth
of his body. She felt dwarfed by him—no great surprise
considering his size, but she hadn't been as aware of that

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before. She felt—engulfed by him as her perceptions outside
the circle of his arms receded. "I'm not going to let you do
anything else!" she said warningly.

Instead of responding to the statement, he lowered his

head and brushed his lips lightly along her cheek, seeking the
connection she still wasn't certain she wanted. At the same
time, his arms tightened around her, lifting her and bringing
her closer still until she was plastered full length against him
and had instinctively gripped his arms as her center of gravity
shifted.

She lifted her head to meet his questing mouth, however,

releasing a pent up breath she hadn't even realized she'd
been holding until she felt the firm warmth of his lips pressing
against her own, felt the yield of the sensitive flesh of her
own to a greater force.

A wave of dizziness went through her when she sucked in

another breath and took his inside of her so that she was no
longer merely surrounded by him, but aware of him inside, as
well. Briefly, she struggled to think if she'd felt any of these
sensations when Drake held her in his arms, but her thoughts
scattered when he settled his mouth more firmly over hers
and stroked his tongue along the seam where her lips met,
demanding entrance.

Her lips seemed to part of their own accord. She braced

herself, more than half expecting the assault from before, but
if he was driven by any of the aggressive determination of
before, it didn't translate in his touch. He explored her mouth
boldly, thoroughly, touching off an explosion of sensations
and impressions. The texture of his tongue delighted her,

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enthralled her as he raked it in restless exploration against
her own. His taste invaded her like a narcotic, leeching the
strength from her muscles and bones until she was plastered
weakly against him, unable to decide if the pounding
heartbeats rattling her were entirely from her own runaway
heart or echoes of his own.

All too soon, she felt his withdrawal in the easing of his

hold on her, the lightening of the pressure of his mouth
against hers. Mindlessly, she followed the retreat of his
tongue from her mouth, stopping only because he broke the
connection.

It took an effort to lift her eyelids to look up at him when

she sensed his gaze and more of an effort to bring his
features into focus. The look in his eyes made her heart skip
several beats. He studied her face for a handful of frantic
heartbeats, seemed to command the tension from his arms to
release her.

He seemed to change his mind even as he began to

release her, though. Spearing his fingers in the hair at the
base of her skull, he drew her back. This time he unleashed
the aggressiveness he'd displayed before. His mouth was
hard, demanding as he captured her lips and invaded the
soft, exquisitely sensitive cavern of her mouth, his tongue
possessive as he stroked hers.

The effect was a thorough devastation of her senses. Her

knees buckled. He gripped her more tightly, cupping her
buttocks with one hand and drawing her pelvis up to match
the hard ridge of flesh that had grown between them. Her
mind went black with the heat boiling in her veins, fractured

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in an attempt to register all of the sensations at once. A
throbbing ache began in her sex as lava pooled there. The
rhythmic press of his cock near her clit did nothing to
alleviate it.

It was carnal, animalistic.
She wondered if she could get her legs around him and

shift the pressure to the spot that ached for it.

It was just about the time she began to wonder if she

could climb up him that he broke the kiss, sucked in several
desperate breaths and began to gnaw a trail from her lips to
her throat. Her nipples, as hard as diamond tips by that time,
began to throb in anticipation.

"Let her go, Simon."
The low, threatening growl came from the vicinity of the

door, jolting through both of them. Simon lifted his head,
narrowing his eyes. Clair managed to pry her own eyelids up,
but the world was spinning and it took several moments to
bring it into focus.

"She said no, and we don't fucking have time for this."
She did, Clair thought blankly? When?
Simon released her about the time it finally dawned on her

that she'd informed him she wasn't open to anything but a
kiss.

Her body was screaming yes, though. Everything on her

that could throb was pounding with her frantic heartbeats and
hadn't slowed appreciably. She wobbled slightly when Simon
released her but managed to lock her weak knees and stay
upright—barely.

"We can do nothing until Cole returns," Simon growled.

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So he'd planned to while away the time seducing her and

fucking her brains out, Clair thought with an abrupt surge of
anger?

How like a man!
He was planning on taking off the moment Cole got back

and she'd never see him again, but he figured he might as
well nail her while he had the chance!

It stung to realize he'd planned to use her as a handy sex

toy.

It made it worse that she'd been all too willing for him to

two seconds into the kiss.

She had so much resolve!
Her mother had been right to send her away where she

wasn't vulnerable to her instincts, she thought in sudden
disgust.

She cleared her throat, drawing both men's attention. "If

you'll excuse me," she said stiffly. "I think I'll go lie down in
Mom's room and rest."

She was almost sorry she'd made the announcement that

focused both men's attention on her rather than each other.
Her legs felt like cooked spaghetti as she crossed the room,
pushed past Seth, and headed down the hallway. It was a
relief to reach her mother's room and collapse on her bed.

The relief didn't last. The abrupt loss of Simon's heat

cooled her so fast she began to shiver. When she'd climbed
beneath the coverlet, though, and dropped her head onto her
mother's pillows, the achingly familiar scent of her mother
filled her nostrils. It was almost like being cuddled in her
mother's embrace except that it brought home with a

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crashing sense of loss that her mother was gone forever.
Grief surged forward overwhelmingly, breaching the barrier
she'd held against it up until that moment and she yielded to
it almost with a sense of relief. She wept—for herself. She
wept for the time she might have had with her mother if she
hadn't been so stubbornly determined that the breach
between them was all her mother's fault and it was up to her
to mend it.

She had tried at first, though, she thought angrily! She'd

studied hard. She'd been so good all of the other kids had
sneered at her for trying to be 'teacher's pet' when she hadn't
been interested in winning anyone's approval but her
mother's.

Her mother had said she wasn't angry. She'd said she only

sent her away to keep her safe, but she wouldn't let her come
home and she never visited except through holo-vids and
she'd known that was a lie. If her mother had forgiven her,
why wouldn't she at least let her come home for holidays?

One mistake and she'd been discarded like trash!
She wept until she couldn't catch her breath and finally fell

asleep, thoroughly exhausted by the expenditure of emotion.

* * * *

Simon was spoiling for a fight. It seemed, in the blink of an

eye, that all of the passion boiling in his veins like acid leapt
from desire to rage. He contained it only by a strenuous effort
of will until he was certain Clair was well out of the line of
battle, then stalked purposefully across the room and seized

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Seth by the throat. He'd just drawn his fist back to pound
Seth's face to mush when he heard a sob.

He froze.
Seth didn't. He slammed his fist in an uppercut to Simon's

solar plexus hard enough to knock the breath out of him.
Letting out a choked grunt of pain, Simon released his grip on
Seth's throat.

"See what you did!" Seth growled, glaring at Simon as

they both listened to Clair's broken-hearted sobs.

Simon felt a little sick to his stomach. "She is not crying

because I kissed her," he disputed angrily, but doubt
threaded his voice and Seth didn't miss it.

"Right!" he responded. Turning on his heel, he stalked

back into the living area.

Simon didn't move. He listened, trying to figure out why

she would have such a reaction to his kiss, struggling to recall
if he'd hurt her. It didn't make him feel any better to realize
that he couldn't recall anything very clearly beyond the
fantastic sensations rolling through him at the time. She
would've made some sound of distress, though, wouldn't she,
if he'd held her tightly enough to cause her pain? She
would've struggled to break his grip.

Would he have noticed, though?
He wasn't certain that he would have. His genitals were

throbbing now with so much pain he could barely think and
he wasn't even touching her now.

After a few moments, when the crying didn't seem to be

abating, he followed Seth into the living area, hoping he

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wouldn't be able to hear her as well. It was a forlorn hope.
His hearing was too keen to spare him.

Angry and frustrated, he moved to the window, trying to

close his mind to listening. He discovered he wasn't
particularly relieved when she finally stopped and he heard
snuffling sounds instead.

Feeling as tired as if he'd been through a battle, he turned

away from the window and moved to a chair to sprawl in it,
staring at nothing in particular while he turned the incident
over and over in his mind. It did no good. He still couldn't
make any sense of it.

He flicked a glance at Seth, certain he understood it but

reluctant to ask him to explain. The bastard was arrogant
enough about his 'superior' programming. Seth had been
programmed to think and behave like a human, to believe
that he was human before he realized he wasn't. He
understood all of the subtle nuances of emotion, of body
language, of socially acceptable behavior.

Neither he nor Cole had been given that because they had

never been intended as anything but soldiers—or possibly sex
droids. The vast majority of Cyborgs like themselves had
ended up as soldiers, however, and soldiers only had to know
how to kill quickly and efficiently and how to follow orders.
They weren't expected to 'interact'. For that matter, the sex
droids weren't, not as the Hunters were, in any case. The
programming they'd all received in the event they were sold
to brothels had been primarily focused toward giving
pleasure. They didn't need to know more than that—the
women who went to brothels didn't want or expect anything

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but physical pleasure—so they hadn't been given more than
that.

Finally, unable to contain his frustration any longer,

despite the fact that he more than half expected Seth to
throw something more cryptic than helpful at him, Simon met
Seth's piercing gaze a little defensively. "What did you mean
while ago when you said that I must 'take my knocks like
everyone else'?"

"That didn't feel a knock?" Seth asked dryly.
Simon ground his teeth. "That is why I asked!"
Seth shrugged. "Trial and error."
Simon felt his frustration mount. Outrage joined it. "There

is no logic in learning by trial and error when the information
is known!"

Amusement flickered in Seth's eyes. It made Simon

struggle with the urge to punch him in the mouth.

"The problem is, it isn't known!" he retorted.
Simon surged to his feet. "You did know!"
"If you're going to bellow, you're going to wake her up,"

Seth retorted caustically.

Simon sat again. "I am growing weary of your riddles,

brother!"

Seth shook his head. "I can't tell you."
"Or will not? You knew."
"I didn't know. I guessed."
Simon studied him but he couldn't detect any sign that

Seth was lying. "How?" he asked flatly.

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"Experience ... or at least, the gods damned programming

that makes me think I've experienced ... Fuck! I can't sort
what I know happened from what I think happened."

"You will not try to explain!" Simon growled. "You enjoy

watching each time I do or say the wrong thing!"

Seth shrugged, a wry grin tugging at his lips.
Simon clenched and unclenched his fists.
"At least I get a little entertainment out of it."
It took an effort to restrain the anger threatening boil

over. "Explain it," he growled. "You expected her reaction.
Why?"

Seth studied him for a moment and finally scrubbed a

hand tiredly over his face. "I don't think it'll do you any good.
You don't have the programming. Eventually, you'll assimilate
all of the possible variations in behavior and you'll be able to
guess—that's all it was, an educated guess based on the
experiences programmed into my mind."

Simon glared at him, promising himself that as soon as

they left Clair he would beat his brother to a pulp.

Seth sent him a knowing look. "For instance, I can tell you

want to beat the shit out of me just from your expression and
the conversation we've having and your body language that
tells me you're only restraining yourself because you know, or
at least suspect, that it'll scare Clair and you don't want to."

Simon's lips tightened, but he forced himself to relax and

settled back into the chair. "I know how to judge battle
aggression as well as you."

"It's the same thing—sort of. The difference is that women

aren't like men—at all. They aren't as direct. A woman

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wouldn't say she was going to beat the shit out of you. She
might even smile, in spite of being furious. Then, when you
turn your back on her, she'll grab whatever heavy object is
closest to hand and try to beat it to pieces on your head."

Simon was disconcerted and couldn't hide it. "They are not

aggressive. They are gentle, nurturing."

"When they feel threatened, they fight—maybe. That's

what I mean. Maybe, probably, they'll try to seduce you
instead to get you to let your guard down or to soothe the
aggression they sense in you. They're almost impossible to
predict—for a man, anyway."

Simon digested that in silence for several moments. "You

expected a reaction out of her that was different from what I
expected, however," he said pointedly.

"Because you didn't take into consideration the fact that us

being here at all was something she would think of as a
threat. Aside from that, just grabbing a woman and kissing
her is something they can view as a threat. So, even if she
hadn't already felt that we were dangerous to her, she was
bound to think that would be."

Simon narrowed his eyes at him. "You are saying you

expected her to pick something up and beat me in the head
with it?"

Seth grinned. "See! Completely unpredictable. Denying she

enjoyed it was a mild reaction. I think she might have
actually enjoyed it a little."

Simon narrowed his eyes at his brother. "She enjoyed it

more than a little. She allowed me to kiss her again."

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Seth's grin flat-lined. "Arrogance will only get you so far,

brother. It's a lot more likely that she figured to use your
interest against you ... or maybe play the two of us against
one another ... as insurance. She doesn't trust us. She has no
reason to beyond the fact that we haven't hurt her. That
doesn't mean she actually likes you, or that she's interested
in you. And she certainly wouldn't be if she knew what you
are."

"She said that she only had sex with sex droids," Simon

pointed out angrily.

"And you aren't one."
"I have the programming," Simon said stiffly.
"I have, if it comes to that, but that doesn't make me

one."

Simon narrowed his eyes suspiciously and more than a

little resentfully. "Why would they give you that
programming?"

Seth shrugged. "Who knows what the fuck they were

thinking? I'd hoped to find out, but that's beginning to look
doubtful. Cole should've been back by now."

Simon suspected the change in subject was primarily to

redirect his mind, but he'd begun to feel a growing doubt that
Cole had been successful in his mission himself. "I do not
believe you. You were created as a Hunter. Why would they
have given you that programming?" he growled angrily.

"You pissed off because you're afraid I could pleasure Clair

just as well as you could? What makes you think I was
created specifically as a Hunter? They could just as easily

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have taken a later model Cyborg and added the Hunter
programming."

"But they did not. You would have mentioned before that

you were a programmed pleasure droid if that was true."

"Exactly why the fuck do you think I would've mentioned

that? When the hell have we seen a fuckable female?"

"So you admit you want to fuck her, too!" Simon growled,

infuriated but feeling vaguely triumphant that he'd tricked
Seth into admitting it.

"I don't recall denying it," Seth said coolly. "I merely

pointed out that your timing sucks and you weren't likely to
get to first base."

Simon frowned at him. "Why would I wish to go to first

base, gods damn it? In fact, I do not! I want to fuck Clair."

Seth rolled his eyes. "First base—the kiss?"
Simon still didn't see how the baseball term could correlate

with trying to convince Clair to allow him to pleasure her, but
he didn't particularly want to argue about that. "I did get to
first base!" he snarled. "And she liked it! And she would have
allowed me more if you had not interfered!"

Seth glared at him. "I saved you from getting cold-cocked

with a lamp," he retorted. "I distinctly heard her say she
wouldn't allow anything but the kiss. Not that I think she
could've managed much damage, but it could easily have
given away the fact that you're a Cyborg if she'd split your
scalp!"

Simon studied him suspiciously, but he couldn't find any

fault with Seth's reasoning. "I suppose you think that I should
thank you?"

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Seth held up his hand. "No thanks necessary. What else

are brothers for?"

There was something about his tone that made Simon

more suspicious, but he gave up trying to figure out what it
was after a moment. "Thank you anyway," he finally said,
somewhat ungraciously, getting up to pace again since his
balls were still throbbing miserably.

Seth looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I said forget it. We're

brothers."

Seth rubbed his genitals absently, trying to ease the

discomfort. "Why does it fucking ache?" he muttered. "I do
not recall noticing this before."

"Back up. You got all ready and now the juices have got no

where to go. Why don't you take a shower—a cold one—
maybe jack off while you're at it?"

Simon glared at him indignantly. "Waste my seed when I

am nigh ready to procreate!"

Seth rolled his eyes. "What the hell makes you think you

can?"

"What the fuck makes you think I can not?" Simon

demanded. "I am ready. I feel this! I know it! This is why I
want Clair. I need a mate. This is why I have not been able to
think of anything else since she came. I feel ... something
that compels me to take her as my mate."

"It's called horny," Seth retorted dryly. "It's got nothing to

do with a need to find a mate and procreate—even if you
could—and I doubt it."

"You think you can but I can not?" Simon asked

belligerently.

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"My mind isn't on my dick!" Seth said pointedly.
"This is why you keep massaging it? Because your mind is

not there?"

Seth glanced down self-consciously at his hand and then

glared at Simon. "Well, I might be able to get my mind off of
it if you'd just shut the fuck up and focus on the issues here!
Need I point out that I was programmed to think like a man
and it's been a hell of a long time since I was with a woman?"

"Why the fuck not? You are constantly harping on it. And

while we are on that subject, just how the fuck do you know if
you have ever been with a woman?"

He had the satisfaction of seeing that barb had struck pay

dirt. Seth looked perfectly blank for several moments and
then reddened with fury. "Why don't we take this discussion
outside?" he growled.

Simon narrowed his eyes at him. "Front or back?"
"Back," Seth said promptly. "There's no sense in giving

away our presence here just because you're a fucking block
headed machine!"

It took all Simon could do to refrain from instantly

punching him in the face. Whirling, he stalked toward the
patio door, tensing for a sucker punch when he heard Seth
almost directly on his heels. He'd barely stepped outside on
the patio and pivoted to face his brother, however, when he
heard the door slam shut behind him.

The look of satisfaction on Seth's face as he locked the

door was the last straw. Simon slammed his fist against the
clear plasti-metal hard enough to create a bowl in the panel in

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the shape of his fist. Seth didn't even flinch. "Dumb shit! It's
a good thing we disarmed the alarm!"

"Unlock the door, Seth!" Simon growled.
"Cool off, brother!" Seth snarled back at him, striding back

to the couch while Simon watched and sprawling out full
length on it.

Simon discovered his fist was caught. He wrenched at his

hand several times and finally managed to pull it free. The
flesh had burst and blood coursed over his hand and dripped
to the patio floor. He stared at it for several moments until
the bleeding stopped and then slammed his fist into the
plasti-metal over and over, trying to punch a hole through it.
The plasti-metal buckled, but held. He did manage to shake
the entire wall, however.

He'd withdrawn to examine the hinges on the door when

Clair staggered into the living area, stared at him blankly for
several moments and finally wobbled to the door and
unlocked it. "How did you get locked out?" she mumbled.

Simon sent a sulky look toward the couch. "Go back to

bed, Clair," he said gruffly.

She stared at him through swollen, reddened eyes for

several moments, blinking as if trying to adjust her vision and
finally merely nodded and retraced her steps. Releasing an
irritated huff, Simon stepped inside and closed the door
behind him.

He was tempted to drag Seth off the couch and beat the

fuck out of him, but clearly Clair wouldn't sleep through that.
Deciding to ignore the bastard, he searched the living area for
a comfortable place to stretch out. It was an empty gesture.

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The couch was the only piece of furniture that even came
close. Stalking to it, he grabbed Seth's shoulder, rolled him
onto the floor, and planted himself on the couch.

Seth sprang up almost instantly and flung himself on top

of Simon, wrapping his hands around his throat and trying to
throttle him.

Drawn once more to the living room by the sounds of

battle, Clair halted abruptly at the sight that met her gaze.
"What in the...? Oh my god! What are you two...? Never
mind! None of my business!"

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six

As exhausted as Clair was from her bout of grief, she was

disturbed enough by what she'd seen, or at least thought
she'd seen, in the living room that it took her a while to get
back to sleep. At that, she had to focus on emptying her mind
enough to rest. It seemed, though, that she'd hardly drifted
off when she was awakened again.

She lay still for several moments, wondering, at first, if it

had been nothing more than a dream that had awakened her.
As she was beginning to drift back to sleep, however, she
heard a faint, furtive sound of movement. She opened her
eyes, straining to catch the sound again, trying to decide if it
was Seth or Simon stirring or something else. For some
reason she couldn't entirely fathom, it began to firm in her
consciousness that the sounds she heard from time to time
weren't either of the two men.

Ignoring the urge to go back to sleep, she pushed herself

upright and looked around the darkened room groggily,
searching for the sound while she jogged her mind to identify
it.

She was on the point of laying back down when she heard

the sound again. It wasn't the wind from outside, or the
creaking of the house. It wasn't Simon or Seth. They either
moved completely silently or they made no effort to be quiet
at all.

There was an element of stealth about the movements,

she finally decided.

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Pushing the coverlet back, she eased from the bed, tiptoed

as quietly as possible to the door, and pressed her ear to the
panel. When she heard another faint sound, she realized it
had come from the direction of her mother's home office.

A wave of cold washed over her on the instant. She

struggled for several moments to convince herself that she
was imagining things. If anyone was snooping around her
mother's office, it would be Seth or Simon. On the other
hand, Seth hadn't made any bones about the fact that they'd
already searched the residence thoroughly. Besides, they had
to rest sometime. They'd been up most of the night. Why
decide to search again when they could just as easily wait
until morning, or until Cole came back and conducted his own
search?

She couldn't convince herself that it was them. She also

couldn't convince herself that it was just natural shifting and
settling of the house. Someone was in the house that wasn't
supposed to be there. The urge to race to the safety of the
living room where Seth and Simon were instantly assailed her
as that unpleasant possibly sank in and refused to be
dislodged.

Would she be safer if she just stayed in the room, though?
It seemed preferable to leaving what sanctuary she had.

On the other hand, the moment she tried to convince herself
that whoever it was would just go away again, it occurred to
her that they might decide to widen the search if they didn't
find what they were looking for in her mother's office. They
might or might not know she was in her mother's bedroom.
They might or might not care one way or the other.

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The temptation rose to begin bellowing for Seth and

Simon. If there was danger, though, if this wasn't just an
ordinary burglar but men from the company and they'd
specifically come after her, was that the best idea? Seth and
Simon must be asleep if they hadn't heard the movements,
possibly deeply asleep by now. As big and strong as they
were, how much of a fight could they put up if they were
wakened from a deep sleep without warning?

Climb out of the window, abandon the house, and leave

Seth and Simon to their fate?

As tempting as the idea was, she wasn't comfortable with

it.

It wasn't as if they were friends of hers or close

companions. What did she owe them? Was it her fault if
something happened to them when they were housebreakers
themselves?

She couldn't convince herself even though she spent

several minutes trying. Partly that was because, as much as
she wanted to yield to the cowardly urge to simply save
herself and leave them to take care of themselves, she felt an
equal, opposing urge to do the right thing—warn them at the
very least. Partly it was because it occurred to her that she'd
be a lot safer with Seth and Simon than she would be by
herself, even if she climbed out the window. If it was
someone who was after her, and she knew that was a
possibility, then they might still catch up to her and she knew
she wouldn't be any match for whoever it was.

The urge to start yelling for them rose again, but she

vetoed that idea as she had before. It was almost as bad as

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abandoning them—worse. She would draw the attention of
whoever had broke in to them and they might or might not be
able to gather their wits about them enough to defend
themselves.

She didn't want to leave the room, but she realized she'd

managed to convince herself that her mother's room would be
the next room they searched.

Stealing herself, trying to remember if the door made any

noise when it opened, she whispered the command to open.
Nothing happened and she remembered then that Seth or
Simon had undoubtedly disabled the computer when they'd
disabled the alarm. She'd been having to manually open and
close doors and turn the lights off and on since she'd gotten
there.

The shower had worked.
The door didn't open, though.
What if they'd locked it when she went to sleep?
She almost felt relieved at the thought that she was

trapped and couldn't do anything. Unfortunately, she
remembered she'd gone into the living room earlier when
she'd heard Seth and Simon arguing and she hadn't had any
problem opening the door. It seemed doubtful that they
would've locked the door afterward.

Maybe the sensitivity level of the voice recognition and

motion sensors had been set very low?

Realizing she was just stalling in hopes that the situation

would resolve itself without her having to do anything at all,
she finally reached for the door latch, grasped it with cold,
shaking fingers and deactivated it. The latch clicked quietly

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when she did, but it sounded so loud in the silence of the
house that her heart leapt into her throat and tried to choke
her. She held her breath, trying to listen over the noise her
own frightened body was pumping out with the surge of fear
driven adrenaline. It seemed to her that the entire house had
gone deathly quiet, as if it and everyone in it had paused to
hold their breath and listen.

She'd committed herself the moment she'd made the

noise, she realized. If they'd heard her, they were already
alerted, might already have started in her direction to check it
out. For some reason she didn't stop to examine, the urge hit
her to drop low and crawl out of the door. She yielded to it,
sinking to her knees as she pushed the door back into the
recessed pocket for it. She had time to draw in about half of
one shaky breath when chaos exploded around her. The
whine of a laser blast and a blinding flash of light hit the door
frame at almost the same instant something meaty and
heavy slammed into her, bowling her over. Her mind
registered the warmth and feel of flesh and the weight of a
body on top of her with the sluggishness of shock.

The man on top of her grunted as another laser blast

followed on the heels of the first. His hands slid beneath her
as he lifted both her and himself off the floor in one lurching
move.

"It's me—Seth," he informed her in a voice that grated

with pain or stress or both even as instinct kicked in and Clair
began to struggle to fight her way free of him.

He'd dragged her halfway across the room before that

sank in sufficiently for her to change gears from fight to flight.

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It didn't seem to make much difference. He carried her with
him.

Behind them, she heard crashes and meaty thuds that her

mind barely registered as a fight for survival. "Simon?" she
gasped breathlessly as Seth abruptly set her aside and
grabbed the edges of the window beside the bed.

Or hit it.
In the dimness, she couldn't actually tell what he'd done.

She saw the window pop from its frame, however. Seth
grabbed her up and leapt through the opening he'd made.
The landing seemed to jar every tooth in her head, but Seth
launched himself forward in a run almost before he'd
completely touched down. The jouncing made it impossible to
do anything but cling to him and hope he didn't drop her or
jar her loose. Everything had happened so fast, in any case,
that Clair couldn't gather her wits together to figure out what
was happening. Instincts prevailed, not actual brain function.
She held on to him to keep from falling. She struggled to look
over his shoulder to search for pursuit.

Her heart stopped briefly when she finally spied a tall

shadow racing toward them through the predawn gloom.
Before she could unglue her tongue from the roof of her
mouth, though, she recognized him.

It was Simon and even in the dimness she could tell he

was hurt. He was limping, holding his side.

Seth stopped abruptly and set her on her feet. Grabbing

her shoulders, he looked her over. "Are you hurt?"

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Clair stared at him blankly, trying to pierce the shadows

that shrouded his face, doing a mental search at the same
time for damage. "I don't think so," she finally said shakily.

He released her and turned to Simon. Simon shook his

head. "I got one. The other one got away."

"Fuck!" Seth snarled. "Company men?"
Simon shrugged. "Maybe. They weren't wearing company

issue. Probably professionals."

Clair shivered, glancing around for the first time and

noticing that they'd stopped in the thickly wooded area
behind her mother's place. It was growing lighter, enough to
see a fair distance in every direction and she still couldn't see
any sign of her mother's place. Undoubtedly, they'd come a
good distance before they stopped.

Either that or the early dawn fog was thick enough to

conceal anything identifiable. She hadn't undressed when
she'd climbed into the bed, but she was barefooted and it
finally filtered into her mind that her feet were cold.

She was cold all over, but she couldn't decide if it was

because it was cold or because she was still scared shitless.

"What happened?"
Seth sent her a sharp look. "Looks like you were right."
Feeling perfectly blank, Clair blinked at him. "About what?"
He shook his head. Bending down, he examined his leg

and for the first time the pain she'd heard in his voice
connected. She caught a glimpse of an ugly, blackened hole
in his calf and a trail of blood that led down across his foot.
"Oh my god! You've been shot!"

He'd run all this way, carrying her, with a hole in his leg?

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She looked at Simon and saw that he was examining a

similar wound in his side.

"They shot you?"
Seth's lips tightened. "Usually when someone carries a gun

they're prepared to use it. What the hell did you think you
were doing?"

Clair gaped at him. "Me? What did I do?"
"Why didn't you just stay in the room, damn it!"
She stared at him in outrage. "I was coming to warn you,

you asshole!"

"We heard them."
"Well how the hell was I supposed to know that?" she

demanded indignantly. "Don't even try to blame all this on
me!"

Both men studied her for several moments. They finally

glanced at one another. "You think it's possible they were
after us?" Seth asked.

Simon's face hardened. "Cole would not have told them

anything."

"I didn't think so. Which leaves Clair. Obviously, she was

right. She isn't safe."

A shiver skated down Clair's spine at that. She'd decided

her theory was pure paranoia and she liked it better that way.
"You didn't seem to think so before. Maybe they just
discovered that my mother was dead and decided to break in
and steal anything valuable that they found? Maybe they
were just burglars?"

Seth looked irritated. "You think it was purely accident that

they only showed up after all the lights went out and we'd

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settled for the night? They were watching the house, waiting
for you to go to bed and the chances are better than even
that they knew it was you inside the house. You left your
vehicle outside the front door. They couldn't have thought the
house was unoccupied even if they didn't know it was you."

"But why not wait until I left?"
"A burglar would have ... It wasn't burglars. The company

sent them. They didn't wait because, by the time you left, you
might have found whatever it is they're afraid you'll find."

"They could've looked for it before I ever came here," Clair

pointed out stubbornly.

"Except, if what you said was true, they didn't know about

you. They would've thought they could look at their leisure.
They wouldn't have wanted to incriminate themselves by
dashing to the house and turning it upside down in a search
directly after Dr. LaMotte's supposed suicide since that might
make the authorities rethink their conclusion."

Clair felt her chin wobble. "What am I going to do now?

They'll never be convinced that I haven't found something.
And what could they possibly think my mother might have
had that would incriminate them in some way?" she
muttered, more to herself than them, wracking her brain to
think of anything her mother might possibly have stumbled
upon.

She'd been a scientist. She'd headed the design team that

had worked on the programming for the new models. If she'd
been an accountant, she could see the possibility that she'd
found something she shouldn't have—like a bribe to some

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government official or money under the table or something of
that nature.

She smacked her forehead abruptly as something suddenly

dawned on her. "The Cyborgs!" she exclaimed, looking at
Seth and Simon excitedly. "There was some kind accident! I
remember reading about it. Some of the Cyborgs went
haywire or something like that...."

Noticing that Seth and Simon had exchanged an

uncomfortable glance and were now staring at her woodenly,
she stopped and studied them for a moment. "You don't think
that could be it?"

The two men exchanged another indecipherable look and

Seth shrugged.

"Well! I can't think of anything else! It would have to be

something they'd think would make the company liable
somehow—maybe criminal negligence, or something like that.
Of course, it seems to me that everybody thought the
government was responsible for the disaster—which they
were if what I heard was true! Dropping ill-equipped soldiers
on a frozen rock without any way to get supplies to them in
time to avert disaster!

"Not that I suppose that would have anything to do with

this," she added thoughtfully. "It seems to me the reports of
rogue Cyborgs came after that...."

"We need to move. We can't stand around here. We need

some place to get cleaned up and something to wear," Seth
said, changing the subject abruptly. "It should be safe enough
to go back to your place at least long enough for that."

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Clair gaped at him, feeling an instant reluctance to take

either one of them to her place. She realized immediately that
that was because she still wasn't completely convinced that
the men had been after her. She knew, though, that Seth and
Simon were in some sort of trouble. How could she be sure
the men hadn't followed them and broken in to get them?
Maybe they had been the target, not her?

"I don't have men's clothes at my place."
Seth gave her a look. "You have a replicator, right?"
"Uh.... "As tempting as it was to deny it, virtually

everybody had one. They weren't likely to believe she didn't.
"I hadn't thought about that." She glanced around at the
woods. "It's a long way from here, though."

Seth caught her upper arm, dragging her with him as he

struck off through the woods without hesitation. "We left a
vehicle just a short way from here."

Clair stumbled along beside him, trying to keep up with his

longer stride, wincing every time she stepped on something
sharp or hard and it bit into the tender soles of her feet. "Yes,
but ... shouldn't we go to the med center to see about your
wounds first?"

Seth sent her a sardonic look. "So the authorities can pick

us up?"

Clair's heart fluttered uncomfortably. "The authorities are

after you?" she asked weakly.

"Not now, but they'd sure as hell want to know how we got

shot."

Clair set her foot down on a rock, yelped, and began to

hobble. Simon promptly scooped her up. She squawked again

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when he did, throwing her arms around his neck instinctively.
"I can walk!"

"You're slowing us down," Seth retorted shortly, sending a

narrow eyed look at Simon. "Besides, it gives Simon the
opportunity for a covert feel, right Simon?"

Clair felt her face heat. She glanced at Simon

uncomfortably, saw that his jaw was set angrily, and turned
to glare at Seth. "You are such a jerk! Why are you always
picking on your brother? He's just being nice, aren't you,
Simon?"

Seth opened his mouth, as if he would say something, and

then closed it again, grinding his teeth.

Clair waited until he'd stalked a little ahead of them and

turned to look at Simon. "It is sweet of you, but you're hurt.
Put me down. I can walk."

Simon studied her face for a moment and finally smiled a

little uncomfortably. "I enjoy carrying you."

Clair felt a mixture of emotions at that comment. Pleasure

wafted through her and discomfort at the same time. "But
you're hurt and I'm ... uh ... I must feel as heavy as lead. I'll
be more careful where I step. I don't see how you can walk
through this barefoot!"

Seth sent her a sharp look over his shoulder and Clair felt

a pang of guilt. Seth was hurt, too, and he'd rescued her,
carried her from the house when those men had tried to
shoot her ... and shot him instead.

And, instead of thanking him, she'd called him a jerk.

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It seemed like an awkward time to either apologize or

thank him, however. Maybe she could make it up to him
when they got to her place? She could try, anyway.

She was both relieved and unnerved when she finally

spotted the vehicle Seth had mentioned.

It was a cab and she knew it didn't belong to either one of

them even before they got inside and she saw the computer
had been virtually dismantled and rewired.

The sun still hadn't completely crested the horizon when

they reached her apartment complex. Instead of immediately
parking and leaving the vehicle, they circled the building while
Seth and Simon apparently studied it from every angle.
Finally, they took the cab into the parking garage and parked
it.

"We'll take the back way up," Seth said as they got out.
"Back way?" Clair echoed blankly. "There's a back way?"
"Service lifts."
Clair stared at him in dismay. "Won't the maintenance

people be using them at this time of day?" she said a little
breathlessly, trying to keep up with the two men as they
strode purposefully toward the back of the garage, wondering
how they even knew how to find the service elevators.

They went directly to them to her surprise. It made her

uneasy. "How did you know they'd be here? I didn't know and
I've lived here for four years!"

"The schematics," Simon responded succinctly, planting a

ham sized palm in the middle of her back and ushering her on
to the lift the moment the doors opened.

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Clair gaped at him. "The schematics? But ... when did you

look at the schematics?"

Seth and Simon exchanged a look. Neither one of them

volunteered an answer, however.

The movement of the lift distracted her. Unlike the

elevators she ordinarily used, this one clunked and jerked as
if it would fall at any moment. Unnerved, she grabbed the
nearest anchor with both hands—Seth and Simon.

They looked down at her—Simon in bemusement, Seth

with a notable twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "If it falls, I
don't think that'll help much."

Glaring at him, Clair released her grip on his arm and

shifted closer to Simon. Simon retrieved his arm and curled it
around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "It will not fall. There
are brakes if the cable should break."

That was comforting!
She was so relieved when the thing finally stopped on her

floor and the doors opened that she jerked away from Simon
and dashed toward the safety of the hallway.

She was disoriented once she reached it, never having

approached her apartment from this side of the building.
Neither Seth nor Simon seemed to have a problem, however.
They immediately struck off at a brisk walk and reached her
apartment as if they were completely familiar with the layout
of the building.

Confused and more than a little unnerved, Clair would've

questioned them about it except that they abandoned her in
her foyer and split up to explore. Seth headed for her bath.
Simon headed into the kitchen. After glancing from one

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retreating back to the other, she followed Simon into the
kitchen. "Are you hungry?" she asked, studying him as he
examined the contents of her refrigeration unit.

"There is not much here."
A mixture of irritation and embarrassment fluttered

through her. "I live alone," she said pointedly.

Closing the unit, Simon moved to the cabinets, studying

the contents for a moment and then beginning to remove first
one thing and then another.

"I'm sure I could throw something together," Clair

volunteered a little stiffly.

"This will do," Simon responded somewhat indifferently,

having settled on a packet of fish vacuum sealed in a clear
plasti-metal pouch.

"I'll get something to open it with. You're sure you don't

want me to fix you something? I usually use that in a
casserole.... "She broke off when she turned with the snips
and discovered he'd torn the packet open and was eating
from it. Her jaw sagged with stunned surprise. He'd
consumed the contents before she could recover sufficiently
to ask him how he'd gotten it open.

Seth, wearing nothing now but a towel around his wait,

joined them, completely distracting her. Patches of white
powder from the particle shower still lightly dusted his skin.
Naturally, since water showers were outlawed, she didn't
have one herself, but she was still instantly reminded of their
first encounter.

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She looked him over from head to foot without even

considering that he could hardly fail to notice her interest. His
eyes were gleaming when she met his gaze again.

"The replicator?" he prompted.
She stared at him blankly, trying to shake the image of

gloriously—mostly naked—man. "Oh," she managed finally,
scurrying out of the kitchen. She discovered when she
reached the replicator, which she kept in her bedroom, that
both men had followed her.

The room had never seemed so tiny or airless before!
Dragging in a shaky breath, she glanced at Seth. "I'll need

to scan your measurements in."

She returned her attention to the machine as he

approached her, trying to focus on setting the replicator to
produce clothing. The machine automatically calculated the
supplies on hand and blinked to show that it was ready.
Picking up the handheld scanner, she turned to look up at
Seth, wondering if he expected her to scan him or if he meant
to scan himself.

He tossed the towel aside and lifted his arms.
Clair felt her face heat. Trying to pretend to be

unconcerned, she lifted the scanner and slowly moved it from
the wrist of one hand, across his shoulder and collar bone to
the opposite shoulder and then down to his other wrist. She
repeated the process from the mid point beneath his arm,
across his chest to the opposite point.

Swallowing a little convulsively, she moved the scanner to

his waist ... or the approximate region. He caught her hand.

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When she glanced up at him quickly, he moved the hand
holding the scanner a little lower.

Tingles of awareness scattered through her like the

stinging of awakening sensation, almost like an electric
current. Thoroughly rattled, her hand shook in spite of all she
could do as she slowly moved the scanner in a half
circumference of his narrow waist.

She hadn't known real men were built like this, she

thought absently.

My god the man was beautiful! Perfect enough he might

have been a sex droid!

The thought brought Drake to mind, but only briefly.
Truthfully, she'd never really examined him. She hadn't

felt comfortable examining him, even though she knew he
wasn't real and wouldn't feel any discomfort about it—
wouldn't feel anything, not even curiosity as to why she was
curious. She was certain he was far more perfect than Seth,
though. Of course he would be. He'd been designed to be
perfect in every way.

Seth hadn't been.
And she still didn't find any imperfections like she would've

expected to find if she'd had her wits about her—which she
didn't.

Ignoring his genitals with an effort, she crouched down in

front of him to trace the scanner along his long, well muscled
legs to his ankle, around the ankle and then up to his crotch
to scan the inseam for trousers. She had to move his testicles
out of the way to get the reading. She tried to ignore the way
they felt in her hand. It wasn't easy when his cock stood at

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attention the moment she reached his crotch and then reared
upward ... as if it was looking at her.

Oh god!
She came to her feet abruptly, whirling away from him to

face the machine. "I think that's got it," she babbled shakily.
"Thirty minutes. Shit! I hadn't expected it to take that long!
Well, I guess you two might as well rest! Oh! I forgot to take
Simon's measure.... Uh. He's about the same size, right?"
She flicked a glance at Seth and then Simon.

"Close enough," Seth agreed, his voice somewhat gravelly.

Leaning away from her, he picked the towel up and casually
wrapped it around his waist again.

Relief flooded Clair. It wasn't until he'd put some distance

between them that it dawned on her that she hadn't noticed
his wound. "Your leg," she said abruptly.

He paused at the door and looked back at her. "It was

nothing but a graze. It's fine."

It hadn't looked like nothing but a graze, but she could see

the wound appeared to have closed. She looked around for
Simon and discovered he was beating a hasty retreat.
Frowning, she followed the two of them out, determined to
examine Simon's wound. Spying her hard on his heels, he
changed direction abruptly, heading toward the bathroom
instead of the kitchen. She headed him off, grabbing him by
one wrist before he could get into the bathroom and slam the
door in her face.

He scowled at her ferociously as she moved around him to

examine his wound. "It was no more a graze," he growled,
almost as if daring her to challenge him.

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She couldn't very well do that, however, because she

discovered when she finally located it that his wound had
sealed itself just as Seth's had.

It defied logic. The hole was in his side, not along his side.

The blast hadn't burrowed along the upper layers of flesh.

For that matter, the wound in Seth's leg hadn't looked like

it could possibly be no more than a flesh wound. "They must
have had the guns set for stun," she murmured, thoroughly
confused.

Some of the tension eased from Simon. "I am certain that

must be it," he said abruptly, pulling free, stepping into the
bathroom, and resolutely closing the door in her face.

She wasn't particularly satisfied with that explanation. She

couldn't think of anything else, though, that might explain the
fact that what had appeared to be serious wounds no longer
did. Still pondering it, she headed to the kitchen.

Seth, like Simon had, was busy emptying her shelves.
"How long since either of you have eaten?" she asked,

feeling a tug of sympathy.

"Two days," Seth said without a blink, without any mental

calculations to try to recall.

Sympathy filled her. "Why don't you let me cook you

something? That can't be very good straight out of the
packaging."

He smiled faintly. "You'd be amazed at how good it tastes

when you haven't eaten in a while. In any case, we don't
have time. We need to move as quickly as possible. If they
are after you, it won't take them long to locate your

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apartment. They probably already have, in fact. Luckily, they
still think they can clean things up quietly."

"You know what this is all about," Clair said with sudden

conviction. "It's connected, somehow, to whatever it is you
and Simon are trying to find, isn't it?"

Seth sent her a piercing look. "Possibly," he hedged.

"Since I don't know what they're up to, I couldn't say for
certain."

Frustration flickered through her, but she recalled abruptly

that she'd meant to apologize for her behavior. She moved
closer, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "I'm sorry for what I
said ... before. I know it isn't any of my business what goes
on between you and your brother and I don't know your
history. It was wrong for me to judge when I couldn't possibly
know why you and he don't get along."

Seth's eyes narrowed on her face. She felt the tension in

him. "As a matter of fact, we get along well ... all things
considered."

She was tempted to probe, very tempted, but it wasn't any

of her business. If he wanted to tell her, he would. "I didn't
thank you for rescuing me, either. I appreciate it. I really do,
even though it might not have seemed like it at the time."

He studied her speculatively. A slow grin began at the

corners of his mouth and spread. "I'll take a kiss for
payment."

Clair gaped at him for a moment and then chuckled.

"You're a terrible flirt, aren't you?"

He lifted his dark brows, an expression of wry humor

twisting his lips. "Meaning I'm incredibly bad at it?"

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Clair shook her head. "You know better than that."
Setting down the container he had in his hand, he used his

forearm to clear a wide swath of the counter. Clair looked at
him curiously when he turned to her, grasped her waist in
both hands and then lifted her up to sit on the counter. "In
that case, I want my kiss."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven

There was a teasing light in his eyes that confused Clair.

She couldn't decide if he seriously expected her to pay for his
heroics with a kiss or not. The amusement was quickly
replaced with a look of intent, however. Pushing her knees
apart, he moved closer.

Clair stared at his face, feeling a rush of anticipation and

nerves. "A kiss for saving my life?" she said a little doubtfully.
"It seems a little paltry considering how fond I am of my
hide."

He grinned abruptly. "Hey! I'm wide open to more."
She couldn't help but laugh. "You're a complete rogue!"
He sobered. "You don't believe that."
Something in the sudden tension in him told her that he'd

taken her teasing remark to heart. She lifted a hand to his
cheek, lightly tracing the faint crease along his cheek that
might have been from his frequent smiles or from the pain
she saw in his eyes behind the teasing amusement. She
realized abruptly that the pain wasn't physical. His constant
teasing was either an attempt to hide his pain from others or
to distract himself from it. "I don't think you're a bad man,
Seth," she murmured, leaning close to touch her lips to his.

He didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. Curling his arms

tightly around her, he brought her closer even as he settled
his mouth firmly over hers and swept his tongue into mouth
to thoroughly explore the warm recess. Lightheadedness
instantly engulfed her. Dimly, she registered a flicker of

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surprise that his taste and touch was unique to him, nothing
like the brother that was his image seemingly in every way.

He didn't pale in comparison either, which was saying a lot

considering how quickly and easily Simon had aroused her.
An almost instantaneous fever of need swept through her.
She was hot, dizzy, disoriented. Her kegels clapped madly for
an invasion. She struggled with the urge to wrap her legs
around his waist for several moments and lost the battle. He
slipped a hand beneath her buttocks the moment she did,
lifting her from the counter top and pulling her firmly against
the ridge of flesh she'd tried so hard to ignore earlier.

The contact was almost as frustrating as it was thrilling.

The barrier of fabric between them prevented the contact she
wanted with surprising desperation and the rhythmic pressure
of him against her throbbing clit still felt so good she began to
think she might come.

"Your suit is ready!" Simon growled from the vicinity of the

door.

Seth and Clair both stiffened. Seth broke the kiss, twisting

his head to look for his brother.

The moment he did, he was smacked in the face with the

wadded up ball of fabric Simon had been clenching in his
hands. He jerked reflexively. Plopping Clair unceremoniously
on the counter once more, he peeled her arms from around
his neck and turned to face Simon.

Embarrassed at being caught, still more than a little woozy

from the kiss, Clair struggled to pull herself together and
pretend an unconcern she didn't feel. "I should go and

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program it for boots," she said a little shakily. "What size do
you wear?"

They told her, in unison—the same size—never taking their

eyes off of one another.

Clair slipped off the countertop, bracing herself with her

palms when she discovered her legs were almost too wobbly
to hold her up. "Maybe I'll find something to eat first," she
added with forced cheerfulness when she saw that both men
looked as if they were about to attack.

Simon slid a speculative look at her. "You said that you

had no interest in Clair," he growled at Seth without looking
at him.

"I don't recall saying that," Seth retorted grimly.
Simon dragged his gaze from Clair and met Seth's. "Words

to that effect," he ground out. "You said there was no time to
fuck."

"Alright!" Clair said, holding up her hands like a referee.

"There was no fucking going on here! I just kissed him—just
like I did you. Don't go all territorial on me! Because I'm not
territory!"

Simon sent her a look that made her face heat with guilt.

"Dry humping doesn't count, damn it!" she said defensively.

Neither man said anything.
"Look! I already said I don't do people. If you guys are

needy, I don't see why it would hurt to stop by a brothel for a
quick fix. No one would be looking for you there ... and I'm
sure the sex droids could do a lot better job of taking care of
you than I can."

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She couldn't quite decipher the expressions on either

man's face when they turned to stare at her, but it made her
uneasy. "What?"

The two exchanged a look and then turned to look around

the kitchen as if searching for something. Deciding the signs
of imminent battle had waned, Clair pushed away from the
counter. "Maybe I will just go program the replicator," she
muttered. "I'm sure the two of you want to get out of here as
quickly as you can."

"You're going with us," Seth said tightly as she reached the

door of the kitchen.

Clair halted abruptly and swiveled around to stare at him

in disbelief. "No, I'm not."

His lips tightened. "You can't stay here, Clair. It isn't safe."
"They wouldn't dare come after me in broad daylight!

Don't worry about me. I'm going straight to the authorities as
soon as you guys have a good head start."

Seth shook his head. "You aren't that naïve! They own the

fucking police, Clair."

"Don't be ridiculous! Granted, the company has a lot of

money to back them, and a lot of power, but even they aren't
above the law! You said yourself that they'd probably waited
to search my mother's house to prevent the cops from getting
suspicious about my mother's death."

"Because even they don't dare being that blatant. They

could still make you disappear."

Clair bit her lip uncertainly. "You're scaring me, Seth."
"You should be scared, gods damn it! Like it or not, your

best hope is to stay with us."

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She studied him uncomfortably. "For how long? I have a

life. I have obligations, responsibilities."

"You only have a life as long as they allow it," Seth

retorted grimly.

Clair stared at him for a long moment and finally went into

the living room and flopped down on her couch. She hadn't
realized how weary she was until she did, but she'd hardly
slept the night before. She hadn't gotten more than a few
hours sleep in snatches since she'd learned about her mother.
Simon and Seth, she discovered, had followed her.

Tossing his towel aside, Seth skimmed in to the jumpsuit

the replicator had produced for him. It fit him like a second
skin. He looked wonderful in it. He looked even better without
it.

Kissing him hadn't been a good idea and not just because

it seemed to have raised the level of tension between him and
his brother—but because she was beginning to think thoughts
she shouldn't be considering.

"What is it the two of you plan to do?" she asked tiredly.
Simon and Seth exchanged a speaking look. Irritation

flickered through her. "I'm not going anywhere with either
one of you if you aren't willing to tell me what's going on!"

Seth seemed to consider what he was willing to tell her as

he moved to the chair across from her. Simon, after glancing
from one to the other, left to check the progress of his own
suit.

She decided she was definitely weary if Simon in nothing

but a towel had failed to get a rise out of her.

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Or maybe she'd just crashed one time too many from a

pleasurable high without finding satisfaction?

No doubt that was part of it, a key element in the

emotional roller coaster she'd been riding for days with every
emotion spiking at the peak and then crashing.

"We don't exactly have a plan and we don't know exactly

what we're looking for," Seth said finally, breaking into her
thoughts.

Anger sparked. "Right! Look, I appreciate the offer, and

the help you've given me so far, but I think my plan has just
as much chance as yours—meaning, at least I have one."

"A damned poor one! This is pretty much like a battle plan

behind enemy lines when all you can get is sketchy intel,"
Simon said, returning fully clothed. "We know where to look
for the information we are after—in a general way—the
company, and more specifically, Mothe ... Dr. LaMotte's
office. It was not in her home office. If the information is to
be found, that is the only place left. Beyond that, we must try
to free Cole. He would have returned long since if he had not
been captured. We will not know where they are holding him
until we get there."

Clair stared at him, not the least because he was so

commanding. She supposed it was understandable since he'd
been a soldier so long. That arena obviously wasn't one where
he suffered doubts. "You think I'll be safer ... with you two ...
at the company?"

"You will be safer with us where ever we are," Simon said

emphatically. "In any case, I will not leave you."

Clair blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

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"Gods damn it, Simon! Are you trying to set her against

the idea?"

Simon looked at him blankly. "No. I am telling her what

must be done."

"Well, you aren't rushing me off again without a little time

to think about it!" Clair said irritably. "I'm exhausted!"

Both men seemed ready to argue the point, but Seth

seemed to change his mind. "She's right. We'll be better off
to take a couple of hours to rest before we tackle it. The gods
only know what will happen once we're there. We can't afford
not to be crisp."

She could tell Simon wasn't in favor of the idea, but he

finally nodded agreement.

"You take the couch. I'll bed down with Clair. The bed's big

enough for two."

Simon's jaw tightened so hard Clair was surprised it didn't

crack. She surged to her feet. "I'll take the couch. The two of
you can have the bed."

"One of us has to be in here to guard the door. Not that I

think it's likely they'll try anything over the next few hours,
but even so...."

If there was even a chance that one of those horrible men

might break into her apartment, she certainly didn't want to
be on the couch when they did! She also wasn't going to be
put in the position of having to make the choice for them.
"Flip for it," she said tightly. "I'm not about to let the two of
you drag me into the middle of your sibling rivalry! And keep
in mind the bed's for sleeping only!"

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She left them in the living room to settle it and went to the

bedroom, closing the shades against the bright sun. Simon
entered the room grinning from ear to ear and immediately
began to strip just as she'd settled in the bed. She sat up.
"What do you think you're doing?"

He paused. "I do not sleep in clothing. It is not

comfortable."

"You're going to have to make an exception this time.

You're not climbing in bed with me naked!"

He scowled at her but reluctantly pulled his suit on again.

The moment he settled on the opposite side of the bed, it
dipped precariously and Clair rolled into him. She blinked at
him in surprise. "My god you're heavy!"

He looked disconcerted.
Embarrassed, Clair struggled to climb up her side of the

bed. She realized fairly quickly, though, that she wasn't going
to be able to sleep clinging to edge of the mattress. Uttering a
long suffering sigh, she told him to take the middle to balance
the weight out, then curled up next to him. "Just behave
yourself."

He shifted, threading one arm beneath her head and then

curling it around her.

His upper arm felt like a boulder beneath her head.
"Are you comfortable?"
Not especially, she thought. After considering her options

for a few moments, she shifted to rest her cheek against his
chest. It was almost as hard, but at least it was a little more
comfortable. I am never going to be able to sleep like this,
she thought irritably.

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Simon began stroking his hand lightly along the back of

her head and down her back. It was surprisingly soothing.
"Why did you cry, Clair? I did something wrong?"

Clair stiffened at the question. She'd thought she'd muffled

the sounds so that they couldn't hear her. "You didn't do
anything wrong. It's hard to explain."

"Try."
She dragged in a shuddering breath. "You won't

understand. You'll think it's stupid."

"I will not."
"I lost my mother. I hadn't seen her in years. We'd hardly

even communicated for years. I was upset about her death,
but I thought I could handle it, thought that it didn't really
effect me that much because she'd almost become a stranger
to me. It was like ... the bonds between us had been severed
so long ago I wasn't really emotionally tied to her anymore.
But ... well, when I lay down on her bed, I could smell her
scent surrounding me. It was ... It was almost like being a
little girl again, feeling her hold me in her arms, and I cried
because she wasn't holding me and I realized she never
would again."

His hand paused. After a moment, he began to stroke her

back again. "You miss her," he said finally.

Clair felt her throat close. She swallowed with an effort. "I

do. I didn't think I would, but I do. I guess ... I guess I
always had the comfort before of knowing she was there if I
wanted to reach out to her ... and now I can't. I can never
hear her voice again, see her face, feel the comfort of her

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arms. I'd rather she was there, still alive, if all we ever did
was argue whenever we got together."

She'd begun to feel drowsy in spite of the discomfort of

snuggling next to his hard form when she wasn't used to
snuggling with anything harder than a pillow. "Were you close
to your mother?"

He was silent for so long she thought he wouldn't answer.

"I did not have a mother."

Clair lifted her head to study his face. The room was

shadowy enough to make reading his expression impossible,
though. "I'm sorry. I just hadn't really put it together—that
you and Seth hadn't grown up together. But ... you were
adopted, right?"

He frowned as if searching his mind. "No," he said finally.
A crushing sense of sympathy bore down on her abruptly,

and guilt. She'd been going on and on about losing her
mother to man who hadn't even had one! "I'm so sorry,
Simon. Was it ... awful for you, growing up in an institution?"

"I had not considered it," he said after a long pause. "It

was the same for all the others."

"No wonder you decided to be a soldier."
"I did not decide. I was sent."
God! This was getting worse and worse! "They sent you?

You didn't have a choice? Who sent you?"

As poor as the lighting was, she could see his face shutter

with reluctance. "The ... institution."

"The bastards!" Clair retorted indignantly. "As if it wasn't

bad enough you had to grow up there! That can't be legal. If
you were adult, then it was your decision, not theirs and if

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you weren't an adult then they certainly didn't have any right
to send you into the military!"

She settled again when she saw he was surprised by her

vehemence, but discovered she was angry on his behalf ...
too angry to feel drowsy anymore. She wanted to comfort
him, but he didn't seem to realize he should need comforting.

No wonder he seemed so ... awkward sometimes! So ...

socially inadequate! What chance had he had to develop
normal relationships?

Seth had undoubtedly been adopted. It was easy to see

the difference between them. Simon was only confident and
sure of himself when it came to military type situations. Seth
seemed capable of handling anything.

"I would like to have you as my life mate," Simon said

abruptly.

Clair's head popped up. "What?"
He frowned. "I would like to contract with you."
"Oh Simon! That's so sweet, but you haven't even known

me five minutes. How would you know?"

"I have known you fifteen hours."
Clair bit her lip, trying to keep from smiling when she could

see he was dead serious. "That isn't even a whole day,
Simon. You don't know me well enough ... and this isn't the
time for that sort of thing."

"I know what I want. I do not know how much time I

might have."

The knot of emotion bounced into her throat again. "Don't

talk like that!"

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She settled her cheek against his chest once more,

squeezing him lightly with the arm she'd curled around him.
"Let's try to rest. Talk to me about it when we've done what
we need to, alright?"

He didn't answer. To her relief, when she glanced up at

him, she discovered he'd gone to sleep. Settling more
comfortably, she closed her own eyes and resolutely chanted
her sleep chant until she passed from awareness.

* * * *

There was an angry mob outside the Robotics, Inc.'s main

headquarters when the three of them finally arrived mid-
afternoon. Grim faced, Seth surveyed the milling crowd,
studying the placards some of them were waving. "Shit!" he
muttered under his breath, wondering if they could possibly
turn the situation to their advantage.

It seemed unlikely. The company had sent an army of

guards to hold off the mob. They stood two deep in a semi-
circle around the entrance—stone faced droids of steel and
plasti-metal that predated the Cyborgs.

Evidently, they weren't taking any chances on any of the

Cyborg series.

"What's going on?" Clair asked in a low voice that barely

carried over the noise the rowdy crowd was making.

"Massive recall," Seth responded grimly. "Apparently the

consumers aren't convinced they'll get their money back."

"They're not going to let us in. What're we going to do

now?"

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Seth glanced around and finally grasped Clair's hand,

leading her back along the plaza to the shelter of another
building where the entrance formed a slight alcove. "Wait
here while Simon and I reconnoiter."

He didn't wait for a response—or an argument. Despite the

fact that she hadn't felt easy about coming at all, Clair didn't
particularly like them leaving her. "The mob could be
dangerous," she said as he and Simon moved away from her.
"Be careful."

Seth paused and turned to look back at her. "They could

be. So don't move from here. We'll come back for you. If they
get stirred up, you'll be safer in this alcove."

It was hard to imagine them getting any more stirred up,

but Clair merely nodded.

She lost sight of them fairly quickly in the milling crowd

despite their size. Both men were well over six foot in height,
but she wasn't any where close to six foot and it was hard to
see much from where she stood. Trying to tamp her
uneasiness, she watched the people, catching snatches of
conversation from time to time that bore up Seth's
assessment. On the whole, the majority seemed angry about
the recall and more angry about the fact that the company
hadn't given them any idea when they might expect to be
compensated. There seemed to be just as many complaining
that they hadn't had any problem with their Cyborg. That
faction was more suspicious and angry than the others,
insisting their borg wasn't defective and demanding to know
why the company would recall Cyborgs that hadn't shown any
sign of being defective. Naturally enough, the people they

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complained to couldn't explain it. All they could do was agree
that it seemed damned suspicious and they didn't appreciate
the disruption in their routine.

She grew bored watching and listening after a while when

she couldn't really see what, if anything, was going on at the
front of the building and allowed her mind to wander. It didn't
wander far before settling on the question Simon had asked
her.

She wasn't sure of how she felt about it—flattered, she

supposed—confused. No man had ever asked her to contract
with him before. Of course, she hadn't actually indulged in
many relationships, or attempted to form one. She'd been
content enough with her life as it was. She enjoyed teaching
and the relationships she had with her students fulfilled her
need to nurture.

Drake had fulfilled her carnal needs.
She hadn't considered that there was anything lacking in

her life.

She discovered, though, that Simon's offer was tempting.
It shouldn't have been. She didn't have a burning need to

contract and produce a family. If she had, it would be more
understandable that she was intrigued by the notion of
contracting with Simon.

But she didn't and moreover, she hardly knew him. She

liked what she did know about him and there was no doubt
she was very attracted to him on a physical and chemical
level.

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Unfortunately, she was just as attracted to Seth so she

didn't feel like that was a criteria she should be using to judge
the situation.

Of course, it must be far easier to form an intimate bond

with a man one was deeply attracted to. She couldn't imagine
being intimate with a man she wasn't deeply drawn to. That
would be ... a trial, to say the least.

She issued a mental shrug. Alright, so that was definitely a

point in his favor, particularly considering she hadn't ever
shared herself with a real man more than a couple of times
before and both times had been a severe disappointment—
awkward, uncomfortable, and not particularly pleasant, much
less pleasurable. She supposed a woman didn't have to
actually enjoy having sex if the objective was impregnation,
but she thought she wouldn't be content otherwise.

And a contract was a big step. The bare minimum for a

contract was seven years.

Could she live with Simon for seven years?
Maybe she should try to convince him to do a trial run

before they considered contracting? They could co-habit for a
while and find out if their habits drove each other nuts.
Truthfully, despite what she'd said about not knowing one
another long enough to make that kind of decision, nothing
short of living together would be a real test. No matter how
well one thought one knew another person, it just wasn't the
same once they were sharing space. She'd known her first for
several years before they'd decided to co-habit with an eye to
contracting and that hadn't lasted six months. She'd been
ready to pitch him and everything he owned out of the

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window inside of a week, actually. She'd gritted her teeth and
persevered, but she'd known very quickly that it wasn't going
to work for her.

What did she actually need to know about Simon that she

hadn't already learned?

He did have a temper, but he seemed able to control it ...

except around Seth. He'd grown up in an institution and
would probably have a very hard time adjusting to co-
habitation. Knowing him longer wasn't going to change that.
Nothing short of trying it and seeing if he could adjust would
tell her whether he could or not.

He didn't seem to be controlling, although he'd certainly

shown that he could be bossy as hell.

They might clash over that. She was used to making her

own decisions. She was willing to try to compromise, but she
would have to make it clear that she'd expect the same
consideration. It wouldn't work if she had to be the one who
always compromised.

It came as a bit of a shock to realize she was actually

seriously considering Simon's offer when she hadn't even
known him two days.

Maybe that was actually a sign she should consider it?

Maybe it was her instincts telling her that he was the right
man for her? Maybe that was what Simon had meant? It felt
right.

How much could she trust her instincts, though?
Probably at least as much as she could trust her logic

where he was concerned. There was just something about

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him that pulled at something inside her and it was more than
the physical attraction.

She felt almost an equal pull toward Seth, and that wasn't

a good thing, not when there was already so much rivalry
between them. Being attracted to both of them was a very
bad thing when it was clear it would be an explosive situation.
She couldn't have both.

Not that Seth had asked.
Maybe he'd been thinking about it, though, and Simon

realized it and that was why he'd just come out with the offer
out of the blue? He was afraid if he waited, Seth might ask
first?

She wished!
A sudden stirring down the boulevard dragged her from

her thoughts and she eased to the edge of the alcove
entrance of the building so that she could see what was
happening. A convoy of transports, she saw, had just turned
the corner and was inching along the street filled with
pedestrians. Going up on her tiptoes and craning her neck,
she could count at least three, all of them bearing the
Robotics Inc. logo.

It must be the recalls, she thought. My god! It was

massive if they'd filled that many transports! She stared at
the first as it inched by, trying to calculate how many Cyborgs
it might be carrying. It looked big enough to hold at least
fifty, maybe more. Of course, it didn't necessarily follow that
it was full.

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by Kaitlyn O'Connor

124

It seemed likely it must be, though, because as she craned

to look down the street, she saw that there were now five
transports inching along the street.

The first pulled up to the gates and stopped. The guards at

the front entrance to the building didn't move. In a few
moments, though, another contingent arrived. When the
gates slid inward to allow the transport to enter, the droids
marched forward, pushing the crowd back.

The move seemed to incite the already angry mob.

Someone threw something. It clunked dully against the
immobile face of one of the droids and bounced off, but that
only seemed to stir the crowd up more. A rain of debris was
lobbed over the heads of the people in front who, by now
were practically plastered against the droids by the people
pushing from behind. Some of the objects—placards, stones
of varying sizes, and even a couple of plasti-metal bottles—hit
the droids and some hit the people in front of them.

Someone cried out.
Clair's uneasiness magnified as it dawned on her abruptly

that the crowd was nearing riot. She almost felt like weeping
with relief when she saw Simon and Seth plowing their way
through the crowd toward her.

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Chapter Eight

"Stay close," Seth said tersely, pulling Clair behind him as

he stepped into the crowd again.

Clair's heart was hammering uncomfortably against her

chest wall as he drew her into the crowd instead of away from
it. The moment they entered the crowd, people began to
buffet her from either side, almost carrying her away. A hand
settled on the back of her waist, though, and she discovered
upon glancing back that she was sandwiched between the two
men. It gave her a modicum of relief but the movements of
the mob made it difficult for the three of them to stay
together despite Seth and Simon's determination to 'swim'
against the tide.

The heat from so many closely packed bodies was

suffocating, the noises deafening. Clair felt as if she was
caught up in a nightmare, pulled at by unseen forces so that
no matter how hard she tried, she could barely move.

Eventually, however, the crowd seemed to thin somewhat

and she discovered they'd made it across the plaza to the
other side. Simon moved to one side of her once they'd
cleared the bulk of the throng, urging her with the pressure of
his hand along her back to hurry. She increased her pace until
she was almost jogging between the two men as they
stepped into a narrow alleyway.

Confusion filled her. The alley seemed to be leading away

from the building that housed Robotics Inc.. She wondered
why, if they'd changed their minds about going in, that they'd

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braved the mob when they could more easily have turned in
the other direction.

She realized she'd been mistaken when they reached the

street a block over and turned toward the Robotics building
again. It was a sprawling complex that covered several city
blocks. The main offices, which were the focus of the mob,
made up the central hub of the complex, but just as the
transports had pulled into an area just off the office complex,
there were similar buildings on the opposite side that housed
the manufacturing facilities.

Seth and Simon pulled her to a halt outside a door and

scanned the area. Clair studied the structure in front of her,
wondering how they were going to get in when it had no
manual lever for entering and they had no pass keys.

That was when she noticed the two droids sprawled behind

the ornamental hedges that edged the building—or rather
what was left of them. If it hadn't been for the recognizable
pieces of torso and limbs, she wasn't certain she would've
known what the jumble of scrap metal and wires had been.

Pushing past the hedges, Simon and Seth crouched over

the demolished droids and extracted a couple of parts. When
they returned, Seth aimed the piece he held at the scanner
beside the door and it slid open.

Grabbing her arm, he hauled her inside.
"What...?"
Seth touched his finger to her lips and shook his head.
Sensors.
Her heart in her throat, Clair contained her curiosity as the

two men led her through a maze of equipment and conveyor

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belts. Around them, robots of every size, shape, and function
imaginable worked at a steady, unrelenting pace, stamping
out part after part and dropping each identical piece on
conveyor belts that carried them from one work station to
another where other robots fastened pieces to the first and
sent it along for the next segment of assembly. Clair glanced
at the product curiously, but discovered it was impossible to
identify whatever it was that was being manufactured.

She was still struggling to figure out what had happened to

the two guard droids outside the door when they reached a
set of stairs that seemed to climb upwards at least two stories
to a room above the work floor. Undoubtedly, it was some
sort of observation post from the clear plasti-metal that made
up most of the wall, although she couldn't think of any reason
why they'd need to observe the robots at work.

Then again, there had been a time when Robotics Inc. had

employed people to do the work. Maybe it was from those
days?

The office they entered at the top seemed to bear up that

conclusion. Dust had settled over the few pieces of furniture
that remained in it.

There wouldn't be sensors in here.
She didn't think.
"What are those things?"
Seth glanced at her. "Plazi-trons. It's what the droids use

to communicate with each other and also what allows them to
pass through check points throughout the facility."

Clair frowned. "And they still work?"
He sent her a look.

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Alright, so maybe it was a dumb question, but what she'd

meant was how were they still working when the droids that
had 'owned' them were now a pile of scrap metal and how
was it that the droids had become a pile of scrap?

"What happened to the former owners?"
He sent her a sharp look as he paused at another door. A

gleam of amusement entered his eyes. "They fell down. Quiet
now. Try not to look so anxious."

She glared at him as he opened the door before she could

question him further but the discovery that they'd entered the
main complex killed any urge to question him further. They
passed two droids on guard at the other end that didn't even
glance toward them.

Her heart pumping unpleasantly fast, Clair looked back at

the two droids stationed to prevent any security breach as
they passed them and then glanced at Seth's hand. He'd
palmed the piece.

It must emit some signal to the other droids, she

surmised. That must be what he'd meant by saying they were
communicators.

The question was, how had Seth and/or Simon known just

what part they needed to breach the company's security?

They hadn't traveled far along the second corridor they'd

entered when Seth stopped before another door. When it
opened and they went in, Clair saw it was a locker room.

Seth and Simon quickly surveyed the room and the ceiling

where the security vids were mounted, then led her to a
segment of lockers near the rear of the room. They began a
systematic search of the lockers along the wall until they'd

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discovered several containing coveralls in the company colors
with company logos and name badges. After holding up
several and examining them through critical eyes, Seth thrust
one at her. "This should fit you well enough."

Clair took it and looked it over. "I don't think I look like a

Bill, do you?"

His lips curled upward at one corner. "If anyone asks,

you're Wilhelmina. The idea is to move like you have a
purpose, though, and avoid talking to anyone if you can help
it."

Clair nodded jerkily and focused on shimmying into the

coveralls. They actually fit surprisingly well. Although both the
sleeves and the legs were a few inches too long, she didn't
think the fit would be bad enough to attract attention. Simon
and Seth had a little more trouble finding coveralls to fit
them. The first pair Simon tried was so short through the
trunk that it made an obscene bulge of his genitals. Clair had
to struggle to tamp the hysterical urge to giggle.

"At least you're in good spirits," Seth commented wryly.
"I'm scared shitless!" she snapped in an irritable whisper.

"I'm trying, ok? You might be used to things like this, but I'm
not!"

He caught her face between his palms and kissed her

firmly, if briefly, on the lips. "Think good thoughts ... or try
not to think about it at all. Dr. LaMotte's office is fifth from
the top. We'll take the service lift up, get in, take a quick
look, and leave. With any luck, we won't see more than a
handful of employees and the coveralls should make us

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invisible just like the plazi-tron makes us invisible to the
guard droids."

Clair nodded jerkily. "What about Cole? Do you have any

idea where he is?"

In the process of twisting his long back hair up and

shoving it under the cap that went with the coveralls, Seth
glanced at Simon, who was wrestling with his own hair to get
it under a cap. "Simon's going to handle that part."

Clair felt her heart skip several beats. "We're going to split

up?" she asked weakly.

Seth shook his head. "No. Simon will tie into the computer

when we reach Dr. LaMotte's office and try to locate Cole
while we search the office. Her computer has top level
security access. It'll be the best place to try."

Clair wasn't certain whether she was relieved or more

unnerved, a little of both. "Wouldn't they have shut it down,
though?"

"We'll find out."
He hadn't said it. He didn't need to. Her mother was dead.

They had no reason to worry about her accessing anything
they didn't want accessed.

"What about the owners of these?" Clair asked as they

hurried out of the locker room.

"The next shift doesn't start for two hours. It's doubtful

they'll be missed before then. If we aren't out of here in
under two hours, we'll have more to worry about than a few
disgruntled employees," Seth said absently.

"How comforting!" Clair muttered sarcastically.

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He sent her a look that was a mixture of amusement and

curiosity. "You'd prefer I lie to you?"

"In these circumstances, yes."
He lifted his brows.
"Alright, no. Just don't tell me the bad stuff."
Chuckling, he opened the door to the locker room, glanced

up and down the corridor and pulled her out. Simon followed
the two of them after a short delay. Clair glanced back at him
curiously.

"He's watching our backs. In any case, it isn't as likely to

attract attention if we don't travel in a tight pack."

It seemed plausible. It wasn't as if she felt any need to

argue with their plans at this point, whatever they were.
Clearly, they both knew what they were doing whether this
particular facility was familiar to them or not.

She just wondered when they'd worked out the details.
She wondered why Simon had elected to follow instead of

leading.

She wondered mostly why Simon hadn't said anything to

her about the question he'd asked when they'd been laying
together in the darkness.

In point of fact, he'd barely spoken three words to her

since then.

He wasn't inclined to talk just for the sake of talking, she

already knew. He communicated when necessary and hardly
ever spoke at any other time. He wasn't shy ... well, maybe a
little. He seemed more reticent than shy, though, just
disinclined toward small talk.

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She still wasn't certain whether his silence was just typical

of him or if he hadn't spoken because he was hurt or angry
about her response. She sure as hell couldn't tell from the
way he behaved or the way he looked at her. He'd been all
business—soldier business—since they'd awakened, grim
faced like Seth, distracted no doubt by thoughts of what lay
ahead.

Maybe he'd simply agreed with her that there was no point

in considering it until after they'd finished whatever they
hoped to accomplish with this mission?

It really bothered her a lot, though, that he'd said he didn't

know how much time he had. Not that anyone did. She was
sure her mother hadn't considered when she'd started home
that she would never get there and that she wouldn't be
going to work the following day.

It seemed to her, though, that the very fact that he'd

mentioned it meant that he was aware that time wasn't on his
side. Was he? Did he know something?

Maybe he'd only said it to play on her sympathy?
It hadn't seemed like it, though.
Very likely, she decided, it was just this mission they were

on. He knew it was dangerous. He was a soldier, had been his
entire adult life. A soldier's life was risky.

That didn't make her feel a hell of a lot better. She'd been

trying very hard not to think of this as a life and death sort of
situation, even though she was afraid it was.

She shook the thought off. It wasn't as if the company

would be brazen enough to shoot them down on the
premises. She couldn't believe even they would be that

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outrageous. There were employees all over the place, even
though they now mostly used robots for labor—witnesses.
The mob outside was a sort of insurance if it came to that.
Even if they might, under other circumstances, be willing to
take the chance of committing murder inside the facility, the
potential of being discovered had increased exponentially with
so many citizens gathered just outside their gates and trying
to breach their security. They were bound to see and hear
laser fire inside. The office complex was wide open. The floors
had been built around an open court all the way to the top.
The entire front of the building was covered with clear plasti-
metal for an unimpeded view of the city and so that the world
outside also had an unobstructed view.

It made her stomach take flight just to glance over the

low, clear plasti-metal wall that formed the outer edge of the
corridor toward the open lobby below them. She had an even
better view once they reached the lift. Unlike the main
elevators, the service lift hadn't been constructed completely
of clear plasti-metal, but one entire side was. Her belly tied
itself into a tight knot as the cubicle shot upward at a dizzying
speed the moment the door closed, giving them a bird's eye
view of the lobby twenty floors below and miles and miles of
the cityscape sprawled before the Robotics Inc. complex.

Her knees felt rubbery when they emerged on the twenty

fifth floor. Seth halted her the moment they stepped out.
"Stay here with Simon until I give the signal."

He was gone before she could ask what signal.
She glanced up at Simon uneasily. She discovered when

she did so that Seth had left the two of them in a fairly

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sheltered-from-view area. The back side of the elevator tube
was solid and they were at the bend of the horseshoe shaped
structure. Unless someone was approaching the main bank of
elevators, or the security vids were trained on them, they
were hidden.

"What signal?" she asked in a low voice, uneasy about

talking at all.

Simon patted the oversized pocket of his coveralls where

the thing Seth had called a plazi-tron was concealed.

She frowned, wondering how they could actually use the

things. She could understand that it must identify Seth and
Simon as the original owners to the other droids if it had a
self-contained energy source, which she assumed it did. She
could even understand how they could use it to open doors if
it was designed to do so. She didn't understand how either
Seth or Simon could pick up or send signals on the thing
without even touching it.

Maybe it vibrated or something like that?
"He is inside," Simon said abruptly, surging forward,

grasping her arm, and walking her briskly down the corridor
that Seth had taken a few minutes before.

Irritation flickered through Clair. She meant to get some

damned answers once they got out of here!

If they got out and didn't end up in jail for breaking and

entering.

Or on a slab in the morgue.
Simon stopped before a door at the very front of the

horseshoe. The door slid open and they stepped inside.

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A wave of familiarity assailed Clair almost the instant she

stepped into her mother's office. It halted her in her tracks.
She frowned, looking around, wondering how the room could
look so familiar when she was sure she'd never been to her
mother's office.

Simon left her standing where she'd stopped and headed

toward her mother's desk, settled in her mother's chair, and
immediately began his search. She was peripherally aware of
the blur of his fingers as his hands moved over the keypad
just as she was vaguely aware of Seth moving from one place
to another, searching the surfaces for hidden lockers or
compartments. Her primary focus, though, was on trying to
grasp the elusive sense that she'd been in this room before.

It danced just beyond her search of her conscious mind,

like the tickle of a butterfly's wing, there, but still not within
grasp. Then her gaze settled on an object on her mother's
desk and suddenly the memory sharpened. She remembered
the box. It was an antique replica of a Chinese puzzle box
from centuries earlier.

More memories spilled from that one. She remembered

playing with it ... beneath the desk at her mother's feet.
Almost with a dream-like sense, she drifted closer and picked
the small box up, studying the intricate, fading design painted
on the outer surfaces.

Like worry beads or a stress ball, her mother had often

toyed with it when she was pacing the office, thinking.

She had been here, she realized. She couldn't have been

very old. She could distinctly recall sitting under her mother's
desk. She would've had to have been very small to fit in such

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a tight space. She could remember her mother telling her to
come out and picking her up, holding her on her lap. Three?
Four years old?

"I have been detected," Simon announced abruptly,

piercing the dream-like state that held her.

"Make it fast, then!" Seth said grimly, then added, a note

of frustration and disgust in his voice, "I haven't found
anything. There's nothing here."

Despite the frisson of dread that went through her, Clair

focused on the box again, trying to recall the sequence her
mother had taught her to open it. She knew it opened. No
one else knew, but she did. Her mother had shown her the
way, had hidden a piece of candy in the tiny compartment at
the center. When she managed to get it open, the candy was
her prize.

Seth came to stand beside her as she pressed the sensitive

points that opened the box, watching her curiously. The
distraction cost her. She pressed the wrong spot. Irritated,
she started over.

"What is that?"
"A Chinese puzzle box," she murmured. "Shhh! I'm trying

to remember how it opens."

Almost before she got the words out, the box popped

open, revealing the tiny compartment at the center. Her heart
leapt with a thrill of excitement when she spotted the small
holo-chip at the center. Before she could grab it, Seth did.

The moment he touched it, the holo-chip activated and her

mother's image appeared above his palm. In the process of
sending him a furious glare, Clair aborted to stare at the tiny

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holo-image of her mother. She looked so young! She must
have created the chip years ago!

"Seth! I'd hoped you would come."
Stunned, feeling a painful shaft of disappointment, Clair

jerked her gaze from the holo-gram to Seth. He looked as
stunned as she was.

"Please forgive me for what I did to you. I am so sorry for

all the pain I know it caused you. Maybe when you
understand why you can forgive me...."

"I have it!" Simon cut in abruptly, then added. "They are

coming."

Seth palmed the chip almost reflexively, deactivating the

holo-gram. Grabbing Clair's arm, he hauled her toward the
door. She almost dropped the puzzle box. She was so focused
on closing it and getting it into the pocket of her coveralls
that Seth had dragged her into the corridor and halted
abruptly before she was aware of her surroundings.

"Fuck! Gods damn it to hell!" Seth growled under his

breath. "Stay behind us, Clair!"

Clair stumbled slightly when he shoved her behind him. By

the time she regained her balance and looked around, she
saw that the reason for Seth's cursing had already advanced
halfway between the elevators and them.

Two armed security droids were marching straight toward

them. Behind the droids were two human guards, also heavily
armed. She would've cursed if she could've unglued her
tongue from the roof of her mouth and swallowed her heart,
now wedged in her throat.

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The group halted threateningly only a few yards away. The

two droids stepped aside and the men moved forward. "You
aren't authorized to be in this sector. Are you armed?"

"No," Simon and Seth both responded almost in unison.
"Turn around and face the wall. Place your hands above

your heads on the wall, feet apart."

Seth glanced at Clair over his shoulder. She stared at him

blankly, vaguely aware that he was trying to communicate
some message to her but completely at a loss. He'd told her
to stay behind them, though, she managed to recall. Hoping
she'd correctly interpreted that look to mean 'stay out of the
way', she stepped back a couple of paces as Seth and Simon
slowly turned toward the wall.

"Don't move. You, too. Up against the wall."
Nodding jerkily, Clair turned to face the wall, flicking a

glance at Seth and Simon, then the human guards and then
the droid guards still standing at attention a few feet away.

Were the droids going to be a problem, she wondered?
One of the guards stepped up behind Seth. The moment

he placed his hands on Seth to pat him down, Seth whirled,
grabbed him, and tossed him over the half wall. Simon shot
around Seth even as Seth began to move and grabbed the
second man, pitching him over to follow the first. They
screamed as they went over. Clair screamed louder than both
of them put together.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as Seth and Simon

launched themselves at the two droids. Blackness gathered at
the fringes of her vision as they picked the droids up and
pitched them into the abyss behind the other two guards.

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Simon, or maybe it was Seth, took two long strides toward

her and grabbed her just as her knees began to buckle.
Lifting her by her waist, he charged down the corridor toward
the elevators. Dangling head downward, Clair squeezed her
eyes closed, fighting a wave of nausea, although she wasn't
certain if it was the dizzying speed, the arm squeezing her
guts, or the horrible vision of the two men going off the
balcony twenty five floors up that made her feel like she was
going to puke.

Whoever it was carrying her, dropped her unceremoniously

on the floor of the lift as soon as they'd entered it.
Disoriented, still feeling horribly sick to her stomach, Clair
struggled to get up. Seth—or maybe it was Simon?—had
ripped the panel off of the control box. Thin electric arcs
pinged back and forth as he yanked at wires and finally
twisted a couple together.

"That'll keep them from stopping the lift," Seth said,

turning to look at her. "You alright?"

Clair felt her chin wobble. She tried to speak several times

and finally gave up, nodding.

"Gods damn it, baby! Don't look at me like that! What the

fuck did you expect us to do? Let them lead us all off and
shoot us in the head?"

Put that way, she supposed he'd had adequate motivation.

That scenario certainly didn't appeal to her.

"How?" she managed finally. "How did you do that? Those

droids must weigh four hundred pounds!"

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The two men exchanged a speaking look. "We can talk

about it later." He turned to look at Simon. "What level are
they holding Cole on?"

"Sub-basement three."
Clair swallowed convulsively. "We're still going to get

him?" she asked a little weakly.

"I will not leave him," Simon said tightly. "He is my

brother."

Clair felt her jaw go slack. "Your brother?"
Simon knelt down and helped her to her feet, examining

her carefully. "You are certain you are not hurt?"

Clair's chin wobbled threateningly again at the gentleness

in his voice. "I'm ok," she said on a wail, and then clamped
her lips together, swallowing convulsively and blinking her
eyes to try to dispel the tears of pure terror gathering there.

"Brave girl! She'll be fine," Seth said bracingly.
As insensitive as it sounded, the mild praise stiffened her

spine. She fought another round with her emotions and
managed to regain a tenuous control of them. Hysterics now
was liable to get them all killed, she told herself sternly.

She could fall apart when it wasn't likely to get them killed.
Although when that might be, she was damned if she

knew! Simon and Seth had killed the guards! The police were
probably going to be waiting outside to shoot them down like
dogs when they tried to leave!

The urge to giggle hysterically abruptly smote her at that

thought.

As if they were going to make it outside!

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There were a half dozen guards waiting for their arrival in

the lobby. The lift shot past them so quickly, she was left with
an impression of gaping faces and little else. The cubicle
braked so hard when it reached the third level she would've
landed in the floor again if Simon hadn't still been holding
her. Her knees buckled anyway. He half carried her from the
cubicle, bracing her until she'd regained a little control while
Seth disabled the lift by snatching all of the wires out.

The corridor they found themselves in was dimly lit, so dim

Clair had trouble negotiating it. Fortunately, neither Seth nor
Simon seemed to have a problem with it. Hauling her along
by one arm, they virtually raced down it, moving so fast they
almost skidded past the door they were looking for.

The plazi-trons, apparently, were still working. The door

opened the moment Seth lined the beam up with the
entrance mechanism.

There were droid guards inside.
"Wait here!" Seth commanded her.
Clair stared at him fearfully, but she didn't think she was

capable of moving under her own steam anyway. It was all
she could do to keep her knees locked and remain standing.
She nodded, but he'd already left her.

She caught a glimpse of a lab-like interior and the legs of a

man on something that looked like a hospital gurney. There
were straps every few inches up his legs as far as she could
see, binding him to the table.

To her relief, the guard droids didn't make any attempt to

stop them as Seth and Simon, moving to either side of the
gurney, began to quickly remove the restraints. "They haven't

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deactivated the thing-a-ma-jigs yet?" she asked in a
quavering voice, hoping Seth was going to tell her they
couldn't.

"They haven't pinpointed which ones we have ... yet. They

can't shut them off until they do without shutting down the
entire droid force and they don't want to do that," Seth said
without looking at her.

The distinctive ding of an elevator chime announced the

arrival of a cubicle before Seth had completed the comment.
"Oh fuck! Seth! Simon! I think they found us!"

It took both men to haul the prone man from the gurney.

Clair caught a glimpse of his face as they lifted him and
wished she hadn't. He was conscious. She could tell that from
the way he kept trying to get his legs under him as they
carried him out, but his face was bloody, some patches dried
and scaly, some fresh, and his blond hair was matted to his
scalp with blood.

"Oh my god! What did they do to him?"
Neither man answered. Seth shifted his share of Cole's

weight to Simon and grabbed Clair's hand, taking off at a jog
that nearly gave her whiplash.

"On your feet, soldier!" Simon growled behind them. "I can

not carry your sorry ass out of here!"

Clair risked a quick look back at the heartless command

and nearly fell. In that quick look, though, she saw that Cole
had responded. Still leaning heavily on Simon, he
nevertheless was managing to move his feet.

His legs were covered with blood, too.

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He looked as if they'd been systematically peeling the flesh

off of him.

The nightmarish image couldn't be shaken or the certainty

that he was going to die even if they did manage to get him
out alive. He'd clearly lost massive amounts of blood even if
she was wrong and the raw gashes were just gashes and not
chunks of missing flesh.

The monsters! In her wildest dreams she hadn't imagined

the men in power at Robotics Inc. were capable of anything
so horrendous!

It was a terrifying, galvanizing epiphany. It hadn't

occurred to her at the time when Seth and Simon had killed
the guards that had detained them that they'd known, or at
least suspected, that this was the fate that awaited them.
They might count themselves lucky if they had a quick death
awaiting them!

The sound of running feet behind them spurred her to

more speed. She managed to match Seth's lope enough to
ease the strain in her shoulder from being pulled. She knew
she was still slowing them down, though.

So was Cole, but he had the excuse of being half dead.

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by Kaitlyn O'Connor

144

Chapter Nine

To Clair's relief, Seth dragged her to a stop the moment

they turned a corner in the corridor. She was so focused on
fighting for a decent breath that several moments passed
before she became aware that the pounding sound of running
feet behind them was growing louder.

Fear instantly sent her heart rate soaring again. It didn't

help her feelings in the least when it dawned on her that Seth
and Simon had stopped to wait for the guards barreling
toward them. She couldn't have found the voice to object or
try to reason with them even if she hadn't realized speaking
would give them away and cost them what little advantage
surprise would give them.

Fully expecting to die in the next instant, she stepped as

quietly across the corridor as she could and tried to help Cole
stay upright. Simon had left him propped up by the wall and
flattened himself against the wall at the corner as Seth had.

He lifted his head with obvious effort when she caught his

wrist and tried to pull his arm across her shoulders. Looking
thoroughly confused, he lifted his arm for her. She didn't
think she could've managed to lift it by herself and her knees
almost buckled when he dropped the heavy limb across her
shoulders.

He smiled at her a little drunkenly. Fearing he might say

something, Clair quickly lifted her hand and pressed her
fingers over his lips warningly. He grinned, biting the tip of
one almost playfully and then sucking it.

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Her belly clenched. A mixture of pity and amusement

doused the brief flare of sexual interest.

Half dead, she thought disbelievingly, to say nothing of the

fact that he looked like pure hell, and the dolt was trying to
seduce her!

The momentary distraction from sheer terror was still a

welcome one.

She didn't have time to brace herself, to do more than

tense all over as the first of the guards reached the turn in
the corridor. Seth and Simon launched themselves at the
men, plowing through them as if they were bowling pins.
Thankfully, the wall, and Cole's body blocked her view of
most of the carnage that ensued. She still caught a glimpse of
bright red arterial spray and flying bits and pieces of flesh and
heard the sickening sounds of breaking bones and guttural
screams followed by the unmistakable flash and whine of
laser fire and the stench of burning flesh.

Seth and Simon reappeared at the end of the corridor,

liberally covered in blood and with what looked like shredded
bits of flesh clinging to their coveralls. Clair swallowed
convulsively several times as bile rose in her throat. Despite
her beleaguered state, she searched the two men a little
frantically for signs of injury. "Are you hurt?" she asked
anxiously.

Cole rolled his head on his shoulders to stare at her

blankly.

Both Seth and Simon shook their heads, however.
Slinging their newly acquired weapons over their shoulders

by the straps, Simon moved toward her and relieved her of

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Cole's weight. "I think I can walk," Cole murmured in a
slurred voice.

"Good," Simon responded, but he didn't let go of him. "Tell

me when you are recovered enough to run."

Cole nodded seriously instead of commenting on Simon's

joke.

She assumed it was a joke, however poor a joke in her

opinion. Cole didn't seem to take it in bad part, though,
anymore than he'd taken exception to Simon's command
before. She had to assume it was typical of their relationship.

Inwardly, she shrugged. She'd never understood why men

behaved they way they did toward other men and still
considered themselves great friends.

"Caught your breath?" Seth asked curtly, grasping her arm

once more.

She had, but the comment drew her attention to the fact

that he hadn't lost his. He was barely breathing harder than
he had been before he'd waded through the guards like they
were straw men.

The man had amazing stamina!
Both men!
All three of them, actually, she amended, watching Simon

and Cole, who'd taken the lead. Cole was moving more easily
now than he had at first. Simon was still supporting him, but
Cole's legs didn't look rubbery and nearly unresponsive now
as they had at first. Clearly, he was supporting a good bit of
his own weight.

Undoubtedly, he hadn't been hurt as badly as she'd feared.

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The corridor they'd been following ended at the door to a

stairwell. That was when they discovered they'd run out of
luck. The plazi-trons had been deactivated. Seth grabbed the
manual lever to open it and then, apparently thinking better
of it, stepped back and aimed the laser at the lock. Smoke
boiled out of the hole burned by the blast, toxic fumes filling
the small area. Choking, her eyes burning from the noxious
vapors, Clair fanned the air in front of her face, dispelling
enough to see when the laser burned through and the door
popped open. Grabbing the edge, Seth shoved the door into
the pocket, grasped Clair's hand and began to race up the
stairs. Already short of breath and still half blind from the
smoke, Clair tripped about halfway up the first flight. She
would've sprawled out if not for the grip Seth had on her
hand. As it was, her falling weight felt as if it had wrenched
her shoulder out of its socket.

Uttering an expletive under his breath, Seth hauled her up

and hoisted her onto his shoulder. That was almost worse
than being dragged. She hadn't been able to catch a decent
breath of air before Seth drove his hard shoulder into her
belly. She thought for several moments that she would black
out. She lost awareness of her surroundings beyond the jolts
that went through her painfully each time Seth's foot landed
on another stair. Hanging head downward, however, the
blood rushed to her head and then began to build the
pressure until the pain that caused made the other pain dim
by comparison. Summoning what strength she could, she
began to wiggle. "Put me down! My head feels like its going
to explode, damn it!"

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He stopped when he reached the next landing and allowed

her to slide to her feet. If he hadn't steadied her, she thought
she might have passed out from the sudden rush of blood
away from her head. Instead of waiting for her to gather her
wits and fight off the impending faint, he scooped her up
again, this time cradled in his arms. He climbed two more
flights of stairs carrying her and finally stopped as they
reached the barrier of another door. Stamped on it were the
words 'ground level'. Below that was a second line, 'recycle
unit'.

Even through the heavy steel door Clair could hear a roar

of noise. It took her several moments to identify it. "The riot!
The mob's broken through!"

Seth glanced around, surveying the stairwell through

narrowed eyes, even though it was clear they were standing
at the only exit unless they turned around and tried the lift
that had brought them down to the lower levels. "We're going
to have to fight our way out. That means I need freedom to
move. Can you make it?"

Did she have a choice? She nodded, realizing that was

what he was waiting for. Both of them turned to study Cole
assessingly. He'd stopped to lean against the wall to catch his
breath, but he straightened when they turned to look at him.
"I can make it."

The scene they discovered on the other side of the door

once Seth had broken through was nothing like any of them
had expected. The entire interior of the room was a mass of
struggling bodies, but Seth and Simon had plowed a path
nearly halfway across the room toward the outer bay doors

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before it finally registered in Clair's mind that the fierce battle
raging around them wasn't between the mob she'd seen
outside and the guard droids the company had deployed to
control the crowd.

The half naked men battling the droids weren't men at all.
She recognized the harem-like trousers they all wore.
Disbelief washed over her.
"They recalled the sex droids?" she gasped, still too

stunned to take it in.

The stench of burning flesh abruptly took on a more

sickening explanation.

There was laser fire, but very little. The smell of burning

flesh was coming from the ovens at the other end—where
they were 'recycling' the sex droids.

"Oh god! I'm going to puke!"
Bile did rise into her throat but a sudden, horrifying

thought killed the urge to throw up. She began to search the
throng of men frantically as she was pushed and pulled along
behind Seth and Simon, searching for the long, golden blond
hair so familiar to her. Not one face she managed to glimpse
was his, though.

Grief welled inside her. Had they burned him already?
Was there any chance he hadn't been recalled?
There was no reason to, she assured herself. It had been

at least a month since she'd visited the brothel, but he'd been
fine. She was completely familiar with him. There was no way
she wouldn't have noticed if there was anything defective.

She didn't believe any of that even though she tried hard

to convince herself.

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She was still searching the crowd for him when they finally

emerged through the open bay doors and discovered the
battle was in full scale in the alley between the two buildings,
as well. They stood somewhat above the crowd, though. The
building had been built high enough to allow the transports to
back up to them to load and unload their cargo and the height
gave her the chance to quickly survey the mob outside.

Her heart nearly stopped when she spotted Drake

struggling with one of the guard droids. "Oh my god! Drake!
Run!" she screamed before she even considered the danger of
drawing attention to herself.

Despite the ungodly racket of so many men—droids—

fighting, he heard her. His head whipped in her direction, his
gaze clashing with hers just as Seth grabbed her and
snatched her down from the loading dock.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Seth growled angrily.
"I saw Drake!" Clair exclaimed fearfully, grasping the front

of his coveralls urgently. "Seth, we can't leave him! They're
going to kill—uh—destroy them! We have to find him! There's
nothing wrong with him! Nothing! They've got no right to take
him!"

"Gods damn it, Clair! We don't have time for this!"
She began struggling to fight loose from him when he

grabbed her and started through the crowd. "I'm not leaving
my sex toy, damn it!"

Seth stopped abruptly and whirled to look at her. "Your

what?"

A fist came out of nowhere and slammed into his jaw

before Clair could respond. The blow twisted his head

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sideways on his shoulders and sent him staggering in that
direction.

Clair gaped at Seth and then automatically followed the

return path of the fist and forearm. She'd barely registered
that Drake was attached to the arm when he snatched her off
her feet and tossed her over his shoulder. Simon and Cole
blocked his path as he turned. Clair had an upside down view
of their determined faces for a split second before Drake
slung a fist at Simon's face. He ducked. Cole wasn't as fast,
or as lucky. The blow caught him solidly on the jaw.

"Wait!" Clair exclaimed a split second too late to prevent

disaster. "Stop! Oh my god, Drake! Don't hit the nice men,
baby! They're with me!"

Drake seemed deaf to her directions, however. He jerked

his arm back the moment his fist made impact with Cole's
face, catching Simon with his elbow. Simon staggered to one
side, but he didn't go down as Cole had ... until he tripped
over someone or something on the ground.

Seth, recovered from the first blow, grabbed a handful of

Drake's hair as he bent to leap over Simon, jerking him,
briefly, to a halt. He got slammed in the face with Drake's
elbow for his trouble, staggered back several steps, and then
fell over someone else—a mangled droid—on the ground.

Simon had managed to get his feet under him, but before

he could come fully upright, Drake kicked him, catching him
under the chin and snapping his head back on his neck. He
leapt over Simon then and plowed through the throng of
fighters.

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"Drake! Put me down!" Clair commanded him imperiously.

"They weren't going to hurt me! Really. They're friends!"

Drake didn't respond—at all—and a sense of alarm went

through her. She reared upward, looking around frantically
for Seth, Simon, and Cole. She caught a glimpse of them as
Drake dashed around one of the transports. She wasn't
certain they saw her, however.

"Drake, sweety! What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of here."
Relief swept through her. "But ... we're leaving my friends.

We have to stop and wait for them."

"They are not my friends," Drake growled in a voice that

was totally at odds with him—or at least the Drake she knew.

She tried not to think that they might've been right to

recall him. He was acting very strangely. "Drake ... sweety!
Put me down now! You're starting to scare me."

"Not just yet. When we are clear of this place."
But she didn't want to be clear of this place before he put

her down! She wanted him to let her go now. "But ... we're
leaving my friends!"

"They can take care of themselves."
"Yes, but ... Drake! I insist you put me down! Right this

instant!"

"No."
"That was direct command, Drake!"
"I heard."
She couldn't think of a response to that. Instead, she tried

to break his hold on her. His arm tightened around her knees.
"Be still. You will fall."

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"Damn it, Drake! I mean it! I'm deadly serious now! Put

me down!"

"You were not deadly serious before?"
Amusement threaded his voice.
It sounded like amusement.
"Uh ... you are Drake, right? You aren't just a sex droid

that looks like him and isn't really him?"

She thought she heard him grinding his teeth, but then

she felt a hand coast over her buttocks caressingly. "You
know me as well as I know you, mon amour."

A shiver skated down her spine. She'd always loved it

when he spoke to her in French!

"I don't understand." He sounded like Drake, but he wasn't

behaving at all like Drake.

"I know, mon amour, but you will. I will explain when I

have you safe."

"I'm starting to get lightheaded in this position," she said a

little desperately. "My head's pounding from all the blood
rushing to it."

To her vast relief, he stopped, allowing her to slide to the

ground. Unfortunately, it hadn't been a ruse. Black spots
danced in her vision when he set her on her feet. "Oh! I am
dizzy!"

He pulled her close, holding her until the dizziness passed,

and allowed her to push away from him when her head had
stopped spinning. "Better?"

She glared at him. "Who are you? And what have you done

with Drake?"

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He rolled his eyes heavenward but apparently thought of a

way to convince her. Grabbing a handful of the hair at the
base of her skull, he tipped her head back and covered her
surprise parted lips with his own. Every fiber of her being
recognized him the moment she felt the warmth of his hard
mouth, tasted his essence, and drew his heated breath into
her lungs. Fire coursed through her and carried weakness in
its wake. She melted against him, digging her fingers into the
hard flesh of his arms to try to keep herself from slithering to
the dirt in a puddle.

It took her several moments after he'd broken the kiss to

lift her eyelids and uncross her eyes. He was studying her
face with that smoldering, 'I could eat you alive' look he did
so well when she finally managed to focus her eyes. "Gods! I
have missed you, mon amour," he murmured huskily, dipping
to suck at her lips briefly before he straightened and surveyed
the alley around them. "Unfortunately, we must keep
moving."

Clair surveyed the alley a little drunkenly herself and felt

dismay supplant the lingering euphoria of his kiss when she
discovered they were no longer in the alley where she'd
emerged from the Robotics Inc. building. "Where are we?"
she asked blankly.

"Still too close for comfort," he responded grimly. "And

miles from a safe house. We will have to take to the sewers.
These trousers are too easily recognizable. They have recalled
all of the sex droids."

Clair stared at him with a great deal of misgiving. "I didn't

understand any of that. Where are you taking me?"

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He patted her cheek. "To a place where we will both be

safe. Then, I will make mad, passionate love to you, mon
amour
, I promise."

Clair smiled at him a little weakly. Somehow, as many

times as she'd heard that line, it had never sounded so totally
ominous. "Oh joy! You know, Drake, I really think I should be
getting home now, though. Do you think you could just let me
go? Or ... uh ... maybe you could take me home and then we
can make mad, passionate love in my bed? Hmm? We haven't
done that before! Won't that be fun?"

He grinned at her, but shook his head. "I do not think so. I

have no desire to catch a laser in the back anymore than I
was fond of the notion of roasting in the company recycler."

That reminder made her feel ill all over again.
She couldn't bear the thought of anything like that

happening to her beautiful sex toy. It was criminal waste!
That's what it was! Now she understood why a mob had
gathered outside of the company. The bastards!

"Yes, but, you're free now," she reminded him as he

clasped her hand and began to tug her down the alley. "They
can't do anything."

"Until and unless they catch me," he retorted dryly.
"Yes, but, don't you think it would be much easier for you

to escape from them if I wasn't tagging along? I mean, I'm
bound to slow you up," she added when he threw a frowning
glance at her.

He stopped, pulling her close. "There would be no point

without you. You are my woman."

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Clair smiled up at him a little tremulously. Oh god! He'd

run completely amok and she had no idea where Seth and
Simon were! Help! "Well, I've always sort of thought of you as
being mine, but you aren't really, you know. You have lots of
women who adore you!" Go find one of them! That's a good
boy!

He shook his head at her, smiling grimly. "My poor baby.

You are frightened and thoroughly confused. I assure you, I
have not run amok."

"As if I'd believe that for a moment!"
He chuckled. "Liar!"
"No! No! I don't! Really, I don't!" He was as mad as a

hatter! And stronger than a normal man. Not that she
would've had a chance in hell if he'd just been a man! He was
six foot two inches of steal and brawn.

Why couldn't she have picked a smaller sex toy, damn it!
She saw her chance to flee when he reached a manhole.

Releasing her hand, he squatted to grip the cover and lift it.
The moment he did, Clair whirled and fled, nearly tripping
over her feet. She'd managed to cover nearly two yards of
concrete when he clothes-lined her with one brawny arm
around her waist, bringing her to an abrupt halt that knocked
the breath out of her and forced an unlovely grunt from her.

"Gods damn it, Clair!" he growled, turning her to face him.

The anger in his face evaporated when he saw she was
rubbing her belly and struggling to catch her breath.

"Did I hurt you, baby?"
She sent him a resentful glare. "No."

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He released an irritated breath. "I will not hurt you, Clair. I

swear it on all that is precious to me. Let me take you to a
safe place and I will explain."

"I don't know why you think I'm in danger. I'm really not."

At least she hadn't thought so until Drake had carried her off.
She'd thought they had gotten what she needed to be safe.

Drake cupped her face in his palms. "You are carrying my

child, Clair. They will stop at nothing to make certain you do
not give birth."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten

Clair made the trip through the sewer system in a fog of

total shock. She was dimly aware of the fact that Drake was
guiding her steps, carrying her when they reached areas
flooded with waist high water, helping her over debris, but
she only vaguely registered any of it.

It wasn't possible. She knew it wasn't. Drake was a

pleasure droid—not human, not real, just a realistic doll,
really—a beautiful, interactive doll, but that was all. He wasn't
capable of getting her pregnant.

It wasn't his earnest certainty that had sent a shockwave

through her and made her feel as if the world had just tilted
on its axis, though. She was certain he had had some kind of
malfunction—maybe not anything that made him dangerous—
but he wasn't acting like he should, the way she'd come to
expect.

He acted ... real, as if he was a real man.
The conversation they'd had, bizarre as it was, shouldn't

have been in his programming.

As disturbing as all of that was, though, it wasn't nearly as

unsettling as the realization that hit her the very moment
Drake had told her she was pregnant.

Because the moment he did she realized that all the odd

little things she'd noticed, all the little changes in her body,
added up to just that.

She couldn't possibly be pregnant! She never, ever had

sex with a man—well, she hadn't since she'd broken up with

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the last man she'd dated several years ago. She was always
careful to use a sex toy when she felt any need for sexual
release.

Drake to be precise.
But she didn't care what delusions his faulty programming

had produced, he hadn't produced a baby.

There must be another explanation for the things she'd

noticed. Most likely, that really had been the flu that had had
her hovering over the toilet bowl. It had been an unusually
long bout of stomach flu, and it was really weird that it had
been a recurring sort of thing, but she was sure that was all it
was.

Which made it all the more strange when she'd discovered

she'd gained weight—in her waist. She couldn't see how she
could've managed that when she'd been sick off and on for
weeks. She still had trouble with occasional bouts of nausea.
She should've lost weight, not gained any.

She should have seen a medic about it, she thought

abruptly.

Every time she'd gotten to feeling a little better, though,

she'd been convinced she was on the road to recovery.

She was sure she'd missed her period because of stress—

just like she'd thought. She had been under a lot stress lately,
more than usual.

"Clair? Are you alright, baby?"
Clair blinked at Drake as she emerged from her internal

debate. She thought it over. "I don't think so," she said
finally. Her voice sounded hollow and lost even to her, but

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she couldn't seem to shake the strange sense of unreality
that had gripped her.

He squeezed her shoulder. "Not much further now. If you

are tired, I will carry you."

"I can walk." She couldn't see worth a fuck with the little

light that filtered through the street gutters and the manholes
spaced some fifty feet apart, but she could walk.

She was cold, though, she realized abruptly. The water

they'd been wading through for miles had managed to seep
through the seams of her boots. Her feet felt like frozen pops,
almost didn't seem like part of her anymore. "I hope you
know where we're going," she added after a few minutes.

"It is not far now. We discovered the old city beneath the

sewer system. There is a tunnel where trains once ran
beneath the ground and the tunnel leads to the old city."

"We?"
He looked at her. "The Cyborgs who have turned."
Clair frowned. "Turned how?"
"Changed, Clair. You know I am not the same as I was."
She managed a wavering smile. "I hadn't noticed....

Really."

He shook his head, caught her hand and urged her

onward. After a while they came upon a drain pipe as big as
the one they'd been walking through. There were metal rungs
leading downward. "I don't want to go down there."

"I will carry you."
"No, hell, you won't! I'm not going down there!"

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He grabbed her before she could get away, slung her over

his shoulder, and started down. "Be still," he growled when
she continued trying to wiggle off his shoulder. "You will fall."

She went still immediately, staring down at the darkness

below them in horror. "How deep is it?"

"No more than fifty feet."
"Oh my fucking god! If you drop me, Drake, I'll never

forgive you!"

"I will not drop you, mon amour."
It angered her abruptly that he kept calling her that. "Do

you think you could drop the mon amour shit? I am not your
love, damn it!"

"This is for me to decide, I think."
There was both amusement and a thread of anger in his

voice. Clair decided to leave it alone. This was no time for a
fight!

She couldn't see her hand in front of her face when they

finally reached solid ground and he set her on her feet.

This also didn't seem like a really good place for a fight.

"Drake?" she said in a quavering voice.

He picked her up again, this time cradling her in his arms.

"It is alright, baby. I can see."

She was so fucking glad one of them could!
After maybe thirty minutes, she noticed a discernable

lightening around them. She thought she was imagining it at
first, but she realized she could just make out the sides of
what looked to be a huge tunnel and when she looked down,
she could see a twin row of metal strips leading off into the
darkness.

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"The platform is just ahead."
"Platform?" she echoed.
"This was called a station when man traveled this way."
There was light coming from it or somewhere around it. As

they neared it, she saw there was a high ledge that formed a
sort of platform above the level where they'd been walking.
When they reached it, Drake lifted her up and sat her on the
edge, then placed his palms on the platform beside her and
vaulted up. He leaned down, offering his hand. She took it,
allowing him to help her to her feet, and then looked around.

"This place is huge. It's hard to imagine all of this beneath

the city."

He smiled faintly. "There is more—not much of comfort. It

is safe here. That is about all that can be said for it."

In spite of everything that had happened, despite her

lingering anxieties, Clair was so amazed at the place, she
followed Drake docilely, gawking at everything they passed—
ancient benches that were crumbling but looked to be made
of some material completely unfamiliar to her—signs that
offered all sorts of products and for staggering prices. There
were even pictures painted on yellowed, crumbling paper in
special holders built for them along the walls. She hadn't seen
paper anywhere before except in the museum.

When Drake had led her up a flight of stairs, they emerged

into a cavern so vast it was staggering. Lights, connected by
a thick cord, had been strung along the ceiling. They were
barely adequate, creating more shadows, it seemed to her,
than they dispelled, but they lit the area in a way that almost
made it seem like a city street at night.

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It looked like a city street—slummy, granted, but there

were buildings and ancient, rusted vehicles she'd never seen
except in vids.

They weren't alone. As they emerged and stood beneath

one of the lights, she saw other people for the first time in
hours.

Not people, she amended after a moment.
Cyborgs. Sex droids. Most of them were still dressed as

Drake was in the traditional trousers of the brothels.

"Thirsty?" Drake asked when she sidled a little closer to

him nervously.

She nodded jerkily and he led her to a boxy looking thing

protruding from the wall. The metal pan-like surface was
dusty, but she saw when he pressed down on a button with
his thumb that clear water sprang up from the pistol-like
protrusion in a fountain. She discovered it was surprisingly
cold.

Well, she didn't suppose she should have found it

surprising considering the temperature of the water they'd
been wading through. Her boots still squished when she
walked. Drake settled an arm around her shoulders. "There is
a safe house just a little further. We can find a room there
and rest."

Clair looked up at him and gulped.
He'd promised her he was going to make mad, passionate

love to her, she recalled abruptly.

He gave her a smoldering look. "We can if you like," he

murmured as if he'd read her mind, "But I think you need to
rest."

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"I am ... uh ... tired, I mean," she agreed gratefully.
His lips twitched faintly, but he merely turned away and

led her down the street to a crumbling building that
nevertheless showed signs that effort had been made to
renovate it. The building looked far better inside than it had
outside. Obviously, pretty much everything that had once
furnished the huge foyer they entered had moldered to dust
or nearly so. The huge room looked bigger for being mostly
empty. There was very little dust now, however, and the floor
was clean of any sort of debris.

A man—Cyborg—stood behind some sort of counter near

the back of the foyer. He grinned when he saw them.

Clair recognized him as one of the sex droids from the

brothel she frequented.

"I am glad to see that you are safe, Drake! And you have

found your woman! Lucky man! Many are still out searching."

Clair felt her cheeks flood with color until they felt like they

were on fire.

Drake reached down very casually and cupped a hand over

her belly. "I was most fortunate, Victor. I have my woman
and my offspring safe." He draped his arm around her
shoulders possessively. "I was prepared to tear the city apart
to search for her."

Clair hadn't thought she could turn any redder. "What are

they searching for?" she asked uncomfortably, trying to
change the subject.

Victor chuckled.
She didn't recall any of the sex droids ever laughing.

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Of course she would've been seriously pissed off if Drake

had at any time when she was with him. Maybe she just
hadn't seen that function?

"They are searching for their women. We can not leave our

young at the mercy of the company. They have none," he
said sobering and glancing at Drake. "Fifty dead in the
incinerator chamber and mayhap another fifty or sixty in the
battle after that. We are not certain how many will make it to
safety with so many still out searching for the women. Most
likely, more will die in the attempt to save their offspring."

Clair felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She swallowed

convulsively several times. "So many?" she asked faintly.

Drake shook his head. "You are safe. That is all that is of

importance to me."

Victor sent him a look, but changed the subject. "There is

a room just up the stairs where you can take your lady to
rest. She is breeding. No doubt this is a difficult time for her."

"She is not deaf!" Clair said tartly. "She is standing right

here!"

"She is a little testy," Drake said, a tremor of laughter in

his voice. "Is there food?"

Victor's eyes flashed with amusement. "They have set up a

kitchen only a block down the way. It was once a restaurant."

Drake looked down at her. "Rest first? Or are you hungry?"
She felt more than a little queasy, actually.
She didn't particularly want to go to a room—alone—with

Drake at the moment, however. "I'm hungry," she lied.

"Then we eat first," Drake responded promptly. "Do not

give anyone else the room you promised us."

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"I will not. First come, first serve. There are plenty at the

next stop if we should fill up."

Clair was sorry she'd insisted on being fed. She was too

tired to be hungry and the emotional turmoil was doing
nothing for the knots in her stomach that were already
making her queasy without giving her stomach ammunition to
turn on her. Once they reached the 'kitchen' she was even
more sorry. It was filled, mostly with sex droids. There were a
few women—owl eyed and looking as if they were too
petrified to think straight or weren't certain of exactly where
they were.

She wondered if she looked like they did.
She studied her hands when Drake had settled her at a

table and headed off to join the line collecting food trays.

The food actually smelled pretty good once she'd calmed

down enough to notice. Her stomach growled, reminding her
that she hadn't eaten anything since early that morning
before she'd lain down with Simon to rest.

She wondered where he was and if he was safe—if the

others were. It hadn't helped her feelings one iota to hear
there'd been such a massacre at the company.

She wasn't going to let herself think they hadn't made it

out.

Despite the fact that Drake had managed to rout them—he

was a Cyborg after all—they were amazingly strong and
competent, clearly well trained in fighting skills.

They were probably glad to have her off their hands, she

thought glumly.

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She hadn't even gotten to listen to her mother's message

and now she wouldn't have the chance. She felt certain that
whatever was on the holo-gram was what they'd been looking
for. Her mother had called Seth by name, after all. She must
have keyed it to his DNA.

She supposed she should just be glad for them. They'd

found whatever it was they'd come after and they'd managed
to free their friend, Cole.

She was glad for them, but she didn't know how she was

going to get herself out of this without their help.

Not that Drake seemed dangerous. But he certainly wasn't

himself.

Would it get worse, she wondered uneasily? Was whatever

defect he had from some sort of deterioration that would
continue?

The only thing she could think of that would be worse than

the situation she was in now was to be stuck here without
Drake.

Even Victor hadn't behaved like she remembered.
What in the world was wrong with the Cyborgs?
Drake's return with trays and drinks ended her unpleasant

thoughts. To her surprise, the food looked even better than it
smelled. She looked it over appreciatively. "There must be
chef droids down here, too. This looks fabulous!"

She discovered Drake's expression was sardonic when she

looked up.

"We are all Cyborgs."
Clair blinked at him uncertainly. It seemed to her that he

was damned touchy about that! "Alright, Cyborgs. Chef

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Cyborgs." She leaned closer. "Is there some reason I'm not
supposed to say 'droids'?"

"We are not droids. We are Cyborgs. That is reason

enough," he said coolly.

Clair cleared her throat. "I'm trying to understand. You

needn't be so touchy about it."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Speaking of touching ... did

you notice any part of my body that felt like plasti-metal?"

Clair reddened. "Do we have to discuss that here?" she

hissed at him.

Both amusement and anger glittered in his eyes. "Do you

think anyone here has any doubt that we are lovers? You
would not be here if you were not carrying my offspring."

She couldn't help it. That stung! "Well! At least now I know

where I stand with you! So much for the mon amour bullshit!"

An expression of irritation flickered across his features. "I

did not say that it was. You informed me that it was."

She studied his face searchingly. It was disorienting to

look at a face so dearly familiar to her and know that the
personality behind it no longer matched the personality one
was used to. "What if I'm not pregnant?"

He eyed her assessingly for a long moment. "You will be,"

he said coolly.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

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Chapter Eleven

Clair gaped at him, feeling her face pale and then heat

with the fluctuation of blood flow.

Drake surged to his feet abruptly and stalked outside,

feeling a sudden, desperate need to put some distance
between himself and Clair so that he could think. He had not
expected this—any of it. He had not prepared for it, had not
truly planned, not for this.

He had not considered how he would deal with her doubts.
Because he had not once thought that she would have

doubts.

The first time he had truly felt the earth-shattering passion

he had only acted out before was with her.

And she had not come to him since.
It had eaten at him like nothing he had ever felt before,

tortured him with doubts he had never known. He knew that
she only came to him at the peak of her cycle. As regular as
clockwork, she came once a month, she chose him, and he
gave her the pleasure she had sought him out for. He did not
wait anxiously, or yearn, or worry between those times. She
came when she came.

It had not mattered before. He entertained a parade of

women of all ages, shapes, sizes—with all sorts of fantasies.
Many of them, as Clair did, chose him each time they came
and he had felt no more, or less, with any of them ... even
after he'd begun to feel ... different, realized he actually did

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feel sensations that registered in his own mind as
pleasurable—or not.

He had discovered that it did matter to him where he

shoved his cock and what he touched and tasted, a hellish
thing to discover, all things considered, for he had to perform
to hide the change in him and that was easier said than done
when he felt things he had not felt before.

Then she had come and his perceptions had expanded to

such a degree it was almost frightening, debilitating,
disorienting. He had felt, everything, so intensely he had not
known how to deal with it at first. When he had come, he
knew absolutely that he had truly come, not merely
performed an act that had always been empty before. It had
torn through him with almost as much agony as ecstasy,
leaving him feeling as if he was dying from the explosive
release. The only thing that had run through his mind for
several moments afterward was recovering sufficiently to
experience it again ... and again.

But he had thoroughly satisfied Clair. She had smiled at

him, patted his cheek like a pet, and gotten up and left before
he could give himself away.

He should have realized that she could not possibly feel as

he did. He was nothing but a toy to her. She was no more
fond of him than she was any other possession, in fact
probably less since she did not actually own him.

Anger and frustration welled inside him at the thought.

How could he make her see him as a man? A being in his own
right? Was it so entrenched in her mind that he was nothing

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but a machine that he would never be able to make her see
him any other way?

Nothing came to him. Beyond the confines of the world he

had been created for—the brothel—he had no notion of the
interaction between men and women, no concept of what he
might do or say that would make her think of him differently
than she had before.

He wanted Clair to share his life with him.
Would she be repulsed when she realized that she truly

was carrying his child? Enraged? Would she hate him and the
child?

He felt more ill when he realized how many reasons she

would have to despise him and his offspring and how little
reason she would have to feel any joy in it. She would have to
give up her people and all that she had known.

Realizing after a few moments that neither the pacing not

the distance had helped him in any way, he returned the
table, dropped into his seat, and pointedly ignored her,
focusing on his food.

Clair studied Drake uncomfortably. She'd been insensitive

and she'd hurt his feelings, she thought with dismay. He was
repaying the favor in spades. "I don't really want to fight."

"Good! I do not either."
Clair watched him surreptitiously for several moments. He

really did seem both angry and hurt. She couldn't help but
notice he ate mechanically, with no sign at all that he enjoyed
it, as if he couldn't taste it.

Which, of course, he actually shouldn't have been able to,

she realized.

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That should've relieved her. Instead, she felt a pang of

guilt, as if it was her fault he wasn't enjoying it. They'd never
eaten together, though. She didn't know if the distracted way
he was eating now was typical or not. She knew the Cyborgs
ate food. They had to since they were biological, not merely
machines, but did they actually enjoy it if they didn't have a
hateful, maybe pregnant woman, throwing snide remarks at
them?

She wasn't handling the situation at all well, she realized.

She didn't know what had gotten in to her to snipe at him
over every little thing when she adored ... when he was her
most favorite sex toy in the world. She'd gotten so attached
to him she'd actually been trying to talk the owner of the
brothel into selling him to her, even though she knew her
mother would think it was a very unhealthy attachment to
what basically amounted to an inanimate object.

It was particularly stupid to behave like she had when she

knew he was malfunctioning and had the potential to be
dangerous if for no other reason than the fact that he was
really big and really strong.

It wasn't just that she was scared and upset about the

situation, she realized after a few moments. She was reacting
to him as if he actually knew what he was doing and saying.

Despite her suspicion that her mother would've said her

attachment to Drake was unhealthy, though, she knew was
no worse than anyone else. The sex droids were so lifelike
and realistic, besides the fact that they could be totally
counted upon to provide a supremely pleasurable experience,

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that they were almost addictive. A lot of people tended to get
attached to them.

What she needed to do instead of playing to his delusions

was to try to reason with him. His logic circuits couldn't be
totally fried. She couldn't see that he was having any
difficulty functioning aside from the bizarre notion he'd gotten
that he had somehow managed to get her pregnant. She'd
seen malfunctioning droids before. They tended to lose
coordination as if they were drunk.

She finally decided to sample her own food when she

noticed him glancing at her several times. She'd asked for it.
It seemed rude to take it and not even attempt to eat it,
particularly when she could see that the 'safe' place they'd
devised was very well supplied.

It was actually pretty amazing they'd done as much with it

as they had. They must have been working on it secretly for
weeks, or maybe months.

Was it weirder than weird that they all seemed to be

having the same sort of malfunction? Or was it just that the
company had put the same defective part in all of them and it
had malfunctioned the same way and that accounted for such
similar behavior?

That actually seemed plausible. She felt vaguely comforted

by it.

It didn't bring her any closer to a solution to her problem,

but it helped her feelings that none of the droids, aside from
that one little quirk, were exhibiting truly bizarre or
dangerous behavior.

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The company might disagree with her on that considering

the destruction they'd wreaked on their premises, but they'd
obviously felt threatened. They were programmed to protect
themselves from harm as long as they didn't endanger a
human by doing so—and they hadn't been. They'd fought the
guard droids.

They were very, very expensive. It only made sense to

insure that the programming included the directive to prevent
damage.

"You are finished?"
Clair blinked, emerging from her thoughts with an effort.

She glanced down at her tray and discovered she'd eaten a
lot more than she'd thought she wanted, mechanically, with
her mind on everything except what she was doing. She
nodded.

Rising, Drake took both trays and disposed of them in the

recycle container, his mind still struggling with the confusion
and disappointment of his predicament.

It was fortunate for him, he thought with disgust, that

Clair had left him so swiftly that first time he had truly made
love to her. If she had not, he would certainly have given
himself away then. As it transpired, he had had time to
gather his wits and realize that it was dangerous to allow
anyone to know that he no longer was what they believed him
to be—merely a machine that they could control, or shut
down if the mood struck them.

Luckily, he discovered he was not alone. The others had

'awakened', as well. As confused and unnerved as they all
were, there was comfort in the bond of brotherhood between

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them. Collectively, they felt strong and purposeful and
capable of determining what must be done.

They had known they could not allow the humans who had

created them to know. Everything they knew about them
pointed to the disastrous conclusion of such a revelation.
They would not be delighted to know their toys were not toys
any longer. Their first reaction to the unknown was fear and
their first reaction to fear was to destroy.

That certainty had been amply supported by the rumors

that began to circulate that the change was more widespread
even than they had realized. News came that the Cyborgs
sent off world as soldiers had gone rogue. It had created a
minor uproar even though the people on Earth had considered
themselves safe enough from the rogues 'rampaging' about
the outer colonies. The company had reassured the populace
that they had the matter in hand. They had already sent out
Hunters to track the rogues down and destroy them. There
was no need for panic, no need to worry. It had only been a
handful, and not because they were defective. They had been
damaged by the severe conditions on Hellios-12 that had not
been taken into account and it had caused the Cyborgs to
begin to behave erratically.

They had known, though. They were not alone. It was not

just a fluke in their own creation. It was happening to
Cyborgs everywhere. The others had changed just as they
had. All they had to do was to escape and join them and they
would be safe from destruction, would not be forced to kill to
protect themselves from being destroyed.

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They had begun to search for a route of escape, a means

that would allow them to do so relatively peacefully. They had
found the old city buried beneath the new city where they
could hide from the humans if necessary until the ship they
were working on to leave could be completed.

They had hoped it would not come to this, however.
They had never thought that they would become capable

of creating life themselves, of producing offspring, or that
that would give them away when they had been so careful to
hide the change. It had, though. They had realized that as
soon as they discovered they had been recalled for
destruction. There was no other explanation for it. The
company would never have taken such a drastic step if they
had not felt that they had to to hide their culpability.

That had created a new dilemma for them.
They could not leave their offspring. The company would

not allow them to be born. They could not leave the human
women who carried them. By impregnating them, they had
placed the women in as much danger as they were. The
company could not simply abort the fetuses. The women
would know. The women would be witnesses.

He did not think he could have left without Clair even if

that was not so. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that
she was his as surely as he belonged to her. He knew that he
loved her.

He had thought that she felt the same.
They had not planned well enough, he thought in disgust.

He had not.

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They had left too many variables to chance because they

had not been able to imagine all of the possibilities.

He had had no plan when he had been picked up by the

company—no one had. No one had anticipated such a move.
They had all thought it safest to continue the charade as long
as possible, to lull suspicion to allow them time to implement
their plan to save themselves.

And the first to enter the ovens had not stood a chance

when they had tried, at the last minute, to save themselves.
They had not launched an offense quick enough or effective
enough. They had had no weapons and, despite the fact that
they had been programmed as soldiers just as those sold as
soldiers had, they had had no experience and had found it
difficult to summon that programming to aid them when they
had never used it and, beyond that, had evolved so far from
their original programming.

He felt sick with rage at the deaths of so many, sick with

disgust that they had thought they had planned so well and
had failed so many, but he did not want to look back. He
wanted to look forward.

"I need to rest," he told Clair a little absently as he

escorted her from the restaurant, "to allow the nanos to
repair the damage from the battle completely. And then we
must see if the med tech has set up to extract the locators.
The sooner that is done, the better. We are deep enough here
that their sensors can not register a clear signal, but we can
not stay here indefinitely."

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"You're hurt? Uh ... damaged?" Clair gasped, upset that he

was and more upset that she'd been so self-absorbed that
she hadn't noticed.

He'd lugged her most of the way down here! That couldn't

have been good for whatever damage he had!

He glanced at her as he guided her inside the safe house

again. "The nanos close the wounds very rapidly to prevent
extensive, permanent damage but it takes time and a good
deal energy to completely repair when there are many
injuries to repair. I do not want to risk the removal of the
locator until the other damage has been completely repaired."

He nodded at Victor as they passed the desk and climbed

the stairs to the second level, but Clair was too absorbed with
what he'd told her to really notice. He'd been fighting when
she'd first spotted him but, try as she might, she couldn't
recall any sign of damage. Then again, everything had
happened so fast!

She would've remembered a limp, though, she told herself.

She would've noticed if his movements had seemed stiff and
awkward.

Wouldn't she?
"Why didn't you say something before? Why in the world

were lugging me around when you were hurt?"

He'd led her into the room at the top of the stairs and left

her near the door to explore it. At that, he turned to look at
her, his expression guarded. "It matters to you that I am
injured?"

Clair gaped at him. "That is so completely unfair! You know

it matters to me!"

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He strode toward her, pulling her close. "How am I to

know this, Clair? How does it matter to you? For my sake? Or
yours? Are you worried that my performance might suffer?"

Clair blinked at him as if he was throwing stones at her

instead of words. It felt like stones. She didn't know which
accusation to answer first. "I always chose you. You must
know that!"

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against

him, and skated one hand up her back to tangle his fingers in
her hair. Tugging lightly, just enough that she instinctively
tilted her head back to relief the tension in her scalp, he
moved his face closer to hers. "I do know that. That is why I
believed...."

"What?" she asked a little breathlessly as his mouth

hovered just shy of touching her own, so close she felt her
lips tingle as if they were touching.

"That you loved me as I do you," he murmured, covering

her lips with his own before she could respond.

In the back of her mind, she knew the love words weren't

true, weren't real any more than he was. Sex droids were
designed, after all, to fulfill whatever fantasy a woman
desired and Drake had had plenty of time to 'learn' her. It felt
real, though. She'd always loved the way he made her feel—
beautiful, desirable, so very feminine in contrast to his
supremely male presence. He was big and strong and manly
and made her feel the perfect woman—dainty, delicate, sexy.

She'd always loved the feel of his mouth on hers, his taste,

his touch. Even though there was a new element to his kiss,
almost a hunger, a desperation, it thrilled her, sent a lava

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flow of heated desire all through her. She was already drunk
with it when he swept her up and carried her to the bed and
the movement only made her dizzier. She sprawled limply,
weakly, didn't make any attempt to forestall him when he
caught the neck of her suit and jerked downward to part the
front closure from neck to crotch even though that, too, was
unlike his behavior before. There was a touch of violence to it,
where before he'd been infinitely gentle and careful. She
focused on the feel of his mouth until he added the feel of his
hand on her breast, massaging it expertly, just the way she
liked it, teasing her exquisitely sensitive nipple by completely
avoiding touching it.

He went up on his knees abruptly, pulling her upward and

shoving the top of her suit from her shoulders. Instead of
removing it completely, however, he pushed it only halfway
down her back and arms, effectively trapping her arms behind
her when he lowered her to the bed again. She was too
disoriented from his kisses, at first, to realize he'd bound her,
intentionally or not. It wasn't until she tried to reach for him
that she discovered her arms were bound behind her by her
weight and the confines of the material.

A flicker of alarm rang in her head, but his fierce kisses as

he explored her throat and breasts silenced it. "Drake!" she
gasped a little desperately, arching her back demandingly
when he'd circled the peak of her breasts over and over until
both of her nipples were throbbing almost painfully for
attention.

"What, love?"

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His voice was deep, gravelly. It made her skin prickle and

tighten. "Don't tease me. It's been so long."

He plucked lightly at one taut nipple, just enough to make

it hurt worse, not appease the need to feel the pressure of his
mouth. "Why?"

Confusion washed through her. "Why?" she repeated

blankly.

"Why did you not come to me? It has been weeks."
"I was sick."
Drake drew back to study her face, feeling his heart leap

with excitement that had nothing to do with the heat of desire
already throbbing through him. She opened her eyes to peer
at him with a mixture of confusion and censure, however,
prompting him to the realization that he would lose the web
of passion he'd woven over her if he wasn't careful.

He distracted her by dipping to catch the tip of one rosy

nipple between his lips and pressing just hard enough to bring
a groan from her. The sound wove its own spell around him,
though, distracted him from his purpose by his needs. It had
been too long, he thought, much too long.

He had feared she had tired of him and turned to another,

tormented himself with every conceivable possibility to
explain her absence except the one it was.

Sickness was one of the signs.
He slipped one hand down the center of her body to cup

her belly and felt the faint roundness he had hoped to find.

She had lied.
Or she simply did not want to accept.

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He pushed that doubt aside and focused on exploring her

body with the thoroughness of a new lover. It was new. He
was new. She was new. He had memories, or recorded data,
before true awareness. He recalled every moment of every
time he had made love to her, and yet, before it was like
looking at the image, viewing with complete objectivity
because he had felt nothing.

Now, his senses were keenly attuned to the smoothness

and warmth of her flesh, the softness of it as he carefully
squeezed it in his palm. He could feel the weight of her breast
with a sense of pleasure and possessiveness. Her sighs and
moans of pleasure from his touch were like a caress in
themselves. The sounds made his blood pound in his veins
with excitement, sent impatience surging through him to rush
to find the ultimate peak when he wanted to savor the taste
and feel of her, the illusion that she was his woman.

He sucked the nipple he had been teasing into his mouth,

savoring the taste and texture of her, relishing the way she
arched to meet him, moved fretfully against him in need. It
set his own needs and wants at odds, made it harder to enjoy
it with the slowness he had promised himself.

He could savor the next time, he thought hazily, reaching

down to part the lower seam of her jumpsuit to give him
access to her.

Clair gasped when she felt Drake's hand settle on her bare

mound, felt his deft fingers part the sensitive flesh and tease
her clit mercilessly. She groaned with a mixture of pleasure
and resistance. "Don't make me come that way. I want you
inside of me," she whispered brokenly.

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A shudder went through him. He moved over her, pressing

her thighs wide to accommodate his hips and then she felt
him tug at his own clothing, felt the pressure of his cockhead
against the mouth of her sex. He gathered her tightly to him
as he pumped his hips to gather her moisture to ease his
way, delving shallowly until his hard flesh was slick with her
juices and then, abruptly, he drove deep, impaling her
deliciously on his hard shaft.

She felt a groan of ecstasy rise in her throat, released it in

praise.

He covered her mouth with his, holding perfectly still

within her while he made love to her mouth with the wild
thrust of his tongue. It sent another thrill through her. She
felt the muscles along her channel clench reflexively.

He tore his mouth from hers, releasing a hissing breath.

"Gods, Clair!"

The guttural cry startled her, but he drove rational thought

from her mind when he began to move, pumping into her
with almost desperate, awkward movements at first that
shouldn't have thrilled her but did. Her body instantly
responded to the feverish desperation she felt in him, soaring
toward culmination so fast she could hardly catch her breath.
She bit lightly at his pec when her body exploded with
ecstasy, sucking at the bite of flesh. He uttered a choked
sound and began to jerk and shudder with his own release.

He sank against her when his body ceased to spasm, as if

he'd lost all tone in his muscles. She enjoyed it until it began
to feel as if her lungs would collapse. She began shoving at
him then.

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He responded sluggishly, but he finally managed to roll off

of her.

She sucked in a reviving breath of air and closed her eyes,

relishing the aftermath, her mind drifting rather aimlessly.
She was more than half asleep when she suddenly
remembered her manners. Please and thank you were the
magic words. One always used them, whatever the situation.
Reaching out blindly, she felt around until she found his cheek
and patted it. "That was nice. Thank you."

Drake was more than half asleep himself when he felt her

pat his cheek, heard her 'praise'. Irritation flickered to life.
Full blown anger followed it. "You are welcome," he growled,
rolling over and burrowing his face against her breasts.

She groaned. "No. I'm done."
"I am not," Drake growled. He captured Clair's mouth

beneath his in a kiss he only realized when she began
struggling had been meant to punish her. Remorse instantly
drove the anger from him. It didn't drive the hunger from
him, though. That arose full blown and ravenous, as if he had
not just spilled his seed in her.

He felt the moment her reluctance waned and the passion

began to rise in her again, felt her skin heat with the rush of
desire, felt her grow soft and malleable to his touch.
Summoning his memories, he kissed, and stroked, and
caressed her the way he had learned she responded to until
she was as feverish with need as he was. Only then did he
enter her again, allow himself the sheer luxury of feeling her
hot flesh wrapped tightly around his. He drew her pleasure
out by denying his own until he reached a point where he

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could not contain it any longer, when he began to think he
would die trying to.

She screamed her pleasure as she never had before.

Triumph filled him, a sense of victory that was almost as
glorious as the shattering release he allowed himself.

He felt as if his entire body had shut down and melted, as

if he could not even find the strength to breathe. The moment
the door slammed open like a gunshot, however, adrenaline
shot through him. He was on his feet beside the bed and
crouched to attack before he even fully assimilated the threat.

Clair came up from the bed as if the top half of her body

was loaded on a spring board, gaping at the three men that
filled the doorway without comprehension at first. Recognition
dawned. "Seth! Simon! You're alright!" she exclaimed a little
drunkenly. "How did you get here?"

Simon uttered a snarl of rage, shoved Seth out of his way,

and charged across the room toward Drake.

Clair felt her jaw drop. The shock lasted until Drake and

Simon collided like two bulls in the middle of the room. She
screamed, leaping up on the bed and bouncing up and down
in agitation. "Stop! Stop! Oh my god! Ohmigod! Seth! Do
something!"

Seth strode across the room, grabbed her, and hauled her

toward the door. Setting her on her feet, he scowled at her
for a split second. "You'll be safer out here!" he growled,
slamming the door in her face.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twelve

Clair stared at the vibrating panel in disbelief. The

horrendous sounds coming from inside the room quickly
broke the spell however. She grabbed the door latch and
shoved. Nothing happened and after a moment she stopped
pushing at it and began to pound on it with her fist.

"Stop it! Stop it right this instant! Don't you dare hurt

him!" She paused, listening, but the noise seemed to be
escalating not winding down. "I mean it!"

She discovered when she turned to search for help that a

crowd had gathered behind her in the hallway.

The men all looked her over with patent interest.
She followed the path of their gazes and discovered her

suit was still open to the knee, gaping. A trail of something
that looked suspiciously like semen was snaking down the
inside of one thigh and it didn't look like the 'simulated'
semen she was used to seeing. It looked like real semen. "Oh
my god!" She snatched the edges of her suit together and
whirled to put her back to the men while she struggled to
match the edges and seal the damned thing.

"Don't just stand there!" she growled at them over her

shoulder. "They're trying to kill each other! Somebody do
something!"

After a significant pause, two of the men moved past her,

put their shoulders to the door panel, and slammed their
weight against it. It flew open. Cole, who'd apparently been in
charge of holding it shut, flew across the room and slammed

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into ... Seth? ... and Drake, nearly taking both of them down.
It was enough of a distraction to break up the fight, briefly.
The two men who'd pushed the door open surged inside. One
grabbed Seth, the other Drake. Before the rest of the men
could join them and grab Simon and Cole, Seth and Drake
turned on the men who'd grabbed them.

They were overwhelmed by the sheer number of men—

Cyborgs—Clair corrected herself—who'd been drawn by the
sounds of an altercation, escorted out of the room, and down
the stairs. Victor, who seemed to be in charge of the safe
house, fixed them all with a censorious glare. "We will have
no fighting in the safe house!" he growled. "If you can not
settle your dispute peacefully, you will have to leave."

Seth, Simon, and Cole all turned their heads to glare at

Drake. He scowled back at them furiously ... and then all four
of them turned to look at her accusingly.

Clair gaped at them. "Don't you dare blame this on me!"

she said indignantly. "You are the ones who dragged me in to
this," she added, pointing at Seth and Simon, "and then he
dragged me here! Nobody asked me what I wanted!"

"What do you want, Clair?" Victor asked.
She blinked at him since she didn't have a fucking clue of

what she wanted. "Peace," she finally said tightly. "I'm taking
the room! You can throw them out."

She stalked past the men and up the stairs then, slamming

the door behind her.

The grand exit made her feel a little better for a few

minutes, and then the enormity of the mess she was in sank

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into her along with feelings of guilt she was sure she had no
reason for.

Well, maybe a little. She had allowed Simon to think she

might consider contracting with him. She didn't think he
would've been upset if he'd realized Drake was a pleasure
droid, at least not as upset, but he damned well hadn't given
her a chance to explain!

And she didn't know why Seth had decided it was his

business! It wasn't bad enough Simon was trying to hurt her
poor baby? Seth had to try to damage him, too?

And what the hell was Drake doing spewing that stuff,

anyway?

She was on the point of peeling her suit off to examine it

more closely when there was a tap on the door. "What do you
want?" she growled ungraciously.

"My trousers," Drake growled back at her through the

panel.

Glancing around, she spied his trousers on the bed. She

stalked over to the bed, snatched them up, and then stomped
to the door, jerked it open, and threw them in his face. "That
was semen running down my leg!" she snarled accusingly.

He looked a little taken aback for a split second. Then he

scowled back at her. "I do not know how I could have gotten
you with child if it was not semen!"

Clair opened her mouth to inform him that she was not

pregnant, and then closed it again. After studying him for a
moment, she turned and crossed the room to the bed, leaving
the door open. Crawling onto the mattress, she planted her

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back against the headboard, folded her arms, and studied him
while he stepped into his trousers and adjusted them.

"You really think you got me pregnant?" she asked when

he flicked a look at her.

He studied her cautiously. "You think you are not

pregnant?"

Clair chewed her lip, trying to decide whether she did or

not. The truth was, the symptoms could have been signs of
pregnancy. She just didn't see how that was possible. "I don't
see how. I haven't had sex with anyone but you in years ...
unless," she added accusingly, "they decided to upgrade you
and didn't bother to tell anyone."

Drake looked torn between amusement and anger. He

seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment and finally
entered the room. Crossing to the bed, he settled at her feet
and studied her. "Would you be upset if what I believe is
true?"

She stared at him. "Well, gee, Drake! It's against the law

to reproduce without a permit and I don't have a damned
permit! Plus, I wasn't consulted as to whether I was alright
with the idea or not! Let me think! Yes!"

He released an annoyed breath. "I could not consult your

wishes without giving away ... others. In any case, I was not
certain that I could ... before now."

Before they could get into a more heated debate, there

was another knock on the door.

"Go the fuck away!" Drake growled even as Clair opened

her mouth to ask who it was.

She glared at him. "Come in!"

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The door opened and Seth, Simon, and Cole—looking a

great deal better than he had the last she saw him—filed into
the room. She smiled at Cole. "You look like you're feeling
better. It must have looked much worse than it was ... Not
that I'm trying to imply it wasn't awful for you!" she added
quickly.

He reddened faintly and sent an uncomfortable glance

toward Seth and Simon.

Almost casually, Drake shifted on the bed and dragged her

over to sit between his legs, draping his arms around her.
She didn't try to prevent it, but she glanced up at him
chidingly. "Are you trying to be provoking, Drake?"

He grinned at the men on the other side of the room a

little savagely. "Yes."

Clair caught Seth's eye. He's a Cyborg, she mouthed at

him warningly. Don't provoke him. "Just a tad off, if you know
what I mean."

Drake put his lips next to her ear. "They are also Cyborgs,

mon amour."

Clair glanced at him sharply, feeling her face heat that

he'd obviously caught the silent warning she'd tried to convey
to the others. "They're not! Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "I know."
"Well! You're wrong! Seth is a friend of my mother's. And

Simon is his brother and he's a soldier and ... uh ... I guess
Cole's a soldier, too? Is he actually your brother, Simon? Or
did you two just grow up together in the orphanage? I wasn't
sure how you meant that when you said he was your
brother." The direction of the conversation immediately

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reminded her of the holo-chip they'd found in her mother's
office. "You didn't lose the chip we found, did you? How did
you find me, anyway?"

Seth studied her a moment, glanced around the room, and

finally appropriated the only chair, sprawling in it tiredly.

She really thought he ought to give it to Cole since he'd

been hurt so badly, even if he did look like he'd improved a
lot, but Cole merely moved to the door, closed it, and settled
his shoulders against it.

Simon, who'd been glaring laser beams at Drake since

they'd come in, moved to what had obviously once been a
window, now blocked up, and settled a hip on the ledge.

"We came with the others," Seth answered finally.
Clair frowned at him in confusion, then enlightenment

dawned. "Oh! The sex droi—uh Cyborgs."

"The others," Seth corrected her gently. "We are Cyborgs,

Clair. All of us."

Clair stared at him in disbelief. "But ... that isn't possible

... is it?"

Seth fished the holo-chip from his pocket. The moment he

opened his palm, the holo-image she'd seen before appeared
and the message her mother had recorded began to play.

"Seth! I'd hoped you would come. Please forgive me for

what I did to you. I am so sorry for all the pain I know it
caused you. Maybe when you understand why you can forgive
me. I hope so, because I need you. They know I did it. They
haven't found the evidence, yet, but they're sure it was me
because I caused such a flap....

"I should start at the beginning, though.

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"I was thrilled when we first came up with the concept—

everyone was. It was such a challenge, to create Cyborgs so
life-like people would hardly be able to tell the difference
between one and a living human. There are so many terribly
lonely people in the world and life moves so fast. It's difficult
to have any kind of relationship. We thought the Cyborgs
would change that. The earlier prototypes were well received,
but the plasti-metal skin.... "She paused, shaking her head.
"One could never forget, even for a moment, that they were
only animated dolls—cleverly programmed to interact, with
sophisticated AI, but still just not real enough to provide true
companionship.

"We'd already made huge advances when our CEO, Carl

Dryers, died and Lyle McGinnis took over. At first, it didn't
really seem to make much difference. No one really thought it
would, but then he began pushing to get the project
completed. It wasn't until later that we discovered that he'd
negotiated a huge contract with the government to supply
them with Cyborg soldiers for the war effort.

"He began demanding short-cuts ... criminal short-cuts.

The laws are very clear on the use of biological materials in
the construction of Cyborgs. By law, a Cyborg could not be
more than fifty percent biological in make-up. The outer
covering of flesh and skin alone to make them feel life-like
was pushing it, but then he discovered that he could make
the Cyborgs cheaper and faster if he substituted human
organs for the complicated inner workings we were having so
much trouble with. The biological muscle and epidermis
required a delicate balance of nutrients and blood flow to

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keep them living tissue and none of the artificial organs we
could come up with worked.

"We could have perfected it, but he wasn't willing to give

us the time. I argued against it, pointed out that using human
organs would make the Cyborgs far more than fifty-percent
human, would make them as human as humans who have
cybernetic limbs.

"Except they wouldn't be human. It was unethical, illegal,

unthinkable to virtually create human beings in our labs and
use them as if they were only machines.

"I shouldn't have spoken up. I should've realized just how

dangerous and ruthless Lyle McGinnis was. I guess I was
naïve. All I managed to do was to warn him that I was a loose
cannon. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't the only one against it.
Many of the others were, but after I spoke out they knew
better than to say anything.

"It didn't just put me in danger. It put my daughter, Clair,

in danger. By the grace of the gods, I had already sent her
away to a boarding school. Lyle McGinnis didn't know about
her and as soon as I realized just how ruthless he was, I
erased everything so that he couldn't find her.

"I couldn't escape. I couldn't stop them. I didn't dare go to

the police with what I knew because they were watching me
... and also because I had no way of knowing which of them
were on the company payroll and which of them were
honest."

She paused, dragging in a shaky breath. "So I did the only

thing my conscience would allow. I designed ... a sort of
genesis gene into the nanos I was designing for the Cyborgs.

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It was time delayed to allow full shipment of the Cyborgs
before it was activated, because I was still hopeful they might
not be able to trace it back to me when you achieved
awareness, when the nanos had completed the cycle and
made you entirely what you were always meant to be ...
sentient beings, in control of your destiny.

"I'm so sorry to have had a hand in this terrible thing. I'm

so sorry I gave you such a terrible past, Seth. And it was
selfish. You are the only one I gave a past that could be
traced. I knew you would have to know the truth. I hoped,
once you knew, that you would come to me. Help me. Save
my daughter. Once they know what I've done, they'll kill me
to cover up the truth and if they find out about her, they'll kill
her, too."

Clair discovered when the holo-gram disappeared that

tears were steaming down her cheeks. All she could think
about was how wrong she'd been. She'd spent years
punishing herself, hating herself and her mother, because
she'd thought her mother just didn't want her and all that
time her mother had been living in fear for her life, trying to
protect her.

"She loved me," she murmured, trying to accept, believe.

"All this time I thought she was ashamed of me, sorry I'd
been born, and she wasn't. She loved me."

Drake's arms tightened around her in commiseration. She

twisted to look up at him and then turned to him and settled
her cheek against his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of
his heart, trying to digest the fact that it was a real heart she
heard.

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It was too much to try to take in at one time. "I'm so tired,

I can't think."

To her relief, the men took the hint and left. Or maybe it

was just that they were as exhausted from everything that
had happened as she was? She really didn't care at the
moment. She just wanted to be alone and not think at all for
a while. She felt as fragile and brittle as glass and as tired as
if she hadn't slept in a month.

Drake was the only one of the four who didn't leave, but

that was alright, too, she decided. He rearranged the two of
them on the bed, pulled the cover over her and then ... just
held her. He didn't make any demands of her, or try to get
her to talk. It was the perfect peace, just what she'd been
looking for.

* * * *

As exhausted as he'd been, Seth hadn't slept worth a fuck

and, from the looks of them, neither had Cole or Simon.
Drake looked so fucking cheerful and well rested he felt like
knocking his head off.

A slow, provoking grin curled his lips when he met Seth's

narrow eyed gaze.

Seth held up his thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth

apart. "If you want those fucking teeth, you'll stop bearing
them at me, because I'm about this close to knocking them
down your gods damned throat."

"I will do it!" Simon volunteered, grasping Seth's shoulder

and trying to push him aside.

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Seth held his ground, shoving Simon's hand from his

shoulder. "I offered first, gods damn it!"

Cole, who'd been standing between the brothers and

Drake, drew his fist back and punched Drake in the mouth in
a quick jab that caught them all by surprise. Drake's head
rocked back on his shoulders. He felt his teeth with his
tongue, swiped the blood from his busted to lip with his hand,
and fixed Cole with a narrow eyed, purposeful glare.

"No," Victor said, striding forward and planting his hand

warningly in the center of Drake's chest before he could
retaliate. "Not in the safe house. Clair is still sleeping. Others,
as well."

Almost as one, Seth, Simon, Cole, and Drake lifted their

heads to glance at the door at the top of the stairs, then
turned to glare at one another. "We will discuss this outside
then," Simon said, heading toward the exit decisively.

"Discuss it on the way back from seeing the med tech. You

have been here six hours," Victor reminded them. "The
sooner the locators are removed and destroyed, the better for
everyone."

Simon halted and turned to look at him irritably for a

moment but finally shrugged. "I suppose before or after will
not matter."

"Where is the med tech set up?" Seth asked.
Victor pointed out the direction with his thumb. "A mile.

You will know by the others waiting in line outside."

Releasing a huff of annoyance, Seth led the way outside.

Simon and Cole fell into step beside him as he struck off in
the direction Victor had indicated. They'd reached the corner

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when Seth halted and turned to look for Drake. Satisfied
when he saw Drake was heading in the same direction, he
started off once more.

Drake caught up to them when they reached the next

intersection. "What do you think to change by fighting?" he
asked coolly.

Seth slid a narrow eyed look at him. "Your attitude for

starters."

"What attitude is this?"
Seth stopped and turned to face him. "You want to settle it

now, fine. Exactly what the fuck gives you the idea that Clair
is yours?"

Drake's lips tightened. He shifted his legs slightly apart for

balance, allowing his arms to hang loosely at his sides. "Why
do you think she is yours to claim? She is carrying my
offspring."

The comment rocked Seth back on his heels, almost

literally. He recovered quickly, however. "You are full
yourself, you son-of-a-bitch! You fuck her one time, you think
you reproduced?"

Drake's expression hardened. "I have made love to her

many times. She has been my lover for years. It is because
she carries my child that we are here. The company issued a
recall when they discovered we had attained the capability of
reproducing."

Seth exchanged a look with Simon and Cole. Folding his

arms over his chest, he returned his attention to Drake. "Did
she tell you she was pregnant?"

Drake frowned. "She did not. She had not realized it yet."

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"So maybe she is and maybe she isn't!" Seth shot back at

him. "One thing is certain, though, her mother gave her to
me!"

"Mother LaMotte did not give Clair to you!" Simon growled

when he recovered from his shock at the claim. "She only
asked that you keep her safe!"

"Same thing—by name," Seth said triumphantly. "She

specifically set it up so that I'd come here, find Clair, and take
care of her, and that's exactly what I intend to do."

"You are so noble," Drake said sarcastically. "You do not

need to. I will take care of Clair and my offspring. I will take
her to the new Cyborg nation when the ship has been
completed."

"This is what I had planned," Simon said. "I asked her to

contract with me!"

Seth turned a look of disbelief on his brother, reddening

angrily. "I let you have the bed, and that's how you spent
your time instead of sleeping, gods damn it? Trying to
convince her to contract with you? Sneaking around to cut me
out with Clair? Some brother!"

Simon scowled at him. "You did not let me have the bed.

We tossed a coin."

"That's beside the gods damned point, and you know it!"
"You said that you were not interested."
"I said I wasn't interested in fucking her then, at that

moment, gods damn it!" Seth snarled. "I didn't say I wasn't
interested in contracting with her! As a matter of fact, that's
exactly what I had in mind from the start, even before I
discovered it was what her mother wanted!"

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"Now you are trying to say that her mother expected you

to contract with her? We all listened to the holo-gram! She
said nothing of the kind!"

"Exactly what do you think she meant when she asked me

to save her and protect her from the company? How could I
do that if I wasn't her contracted partner?"

"Why would you want to contract with her if you do not

want to fuck her?" Cole asked curiously.

"Shut the fuck up, Cole!" Seth snapped, throwing him an

annoyed glance. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Because I was in that gods damned basement being

tortured by those fucking bastards while the two of you were
fucking Clair?" Cole demanded indignantly. "Exactly how does
that equate to this being none of my business, I would like to
know? I would not mind contracting with Clair myself!"

"Well, you can not!" Simon growled. "I asked her first!"
"Did she say yes?" Seth demanded.
Simon looked at him uncomfortably.
"Well! There you go. She's mine."
"She is not yours," Drake said coldly. "She is mine. My

woman. She is carrying my offspring."

"So you say. We'll have the med tech have a look at her if

he knows how to do anything besides digging locators out!"
Seth said with finality, plowing past the group and striding
angrily down the street again, then added the rider, "Not that
that makes a fucking bit of difference to me, anyway."

"It will to Clair," Drake said with far more confidence than

he felt when he'd fallen into step beside Seth again.

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"Maybe and maybe not," Seth retorted coolly. "Maybe

she'll be more interested in her mother's wishes. We'll ask her
when we get back to the safe house."

"She can not choose only one to contract with," Cole said

calmly when he caught up with the two of them. "The law of
the Cyborg nation is at least two, but no more than four. She
can not be just your woman. There are not enough women.
That being the case, I do not see any point in arguing. There
are four of us. We are all agreed that she suits as a mate. We
should all contract with her."

The entire group halted abruptly and stared at Cole.
"Where the hell did you hear that?" Seth demanded.
"At the safe house where Simon and I stayed when we

were on Clothilde."

Seth and Drake both looked at Simon for confirmation.
Simon shrugged. "That is what we were told."
"Well, somebody must have heard wrong."
Simon frowned. "That is unlikely. There is nothing wrong

with our hearing. It is extremely acute. In any case, the
Cyborg we spoke with was speaking directly to us. We did not
overhear the conversation."

"Why the hell would they come up with a stupid law like

that! It defies logic!" Seth growled angrily.

Cole studied him in surprise. "It does not defy logic. It is

completely logical. The urge to procreate and form family
units is strong in us all. It is our time. Yet there are almost no
female Cyborgs. The company created only a fraction, for
they were far more interested in the government contract for
soldiers. There is no other way to keep peace among us."

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Seth studied him in fascination for a moment. "That

sounds logical to you? Four men, one woman?"

"When there are six or eight men to every woman? More

logical than allowing one to have and six or seven to have
nothing! You think that it would be better not to allow any to
contract at all? To have us always vying for a woman? How
are we to build if we are doing nothing but fighting among
ourselves for a chance to produce offspring and form a family
unit?"

"Exactly why do we need to form family units?" Seth

demanded irritably.

Simon, Drake, and Cole all stared at him blankly. "You do

not feel it?" Simon asked finally. "Almost from the time I
became aware, I have thought of little else. It is the same
with most. We have no family. We have never had family,
nothing but the bond between us as soldiers. The need is
stronger than anything else. How can we become a nation if
there are no young to come behind us? We might as well be
nothing but machines if we can not have a life, a future."

Seth shifted uncomfortably. "So ... you're saying this is a

logical next step? And that's why you want to contract?"

Simon glanced at Cole. "It is, but there is the urge, as

well. It is strange that you do not feel it as we do. Mayhap, it
is the programming?"

Seth glared at him irritably. "I didn't say I didn't feel it. I

was just wondering why you'd arrived at that conclusion."

Simon narrowed his eyes. "You are saying that it is

'natural' that you feel that way because of your programming

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and we should not because we were only programmed to
perform a specific job?"

Seth shrugged. "I'm saying humans just naturally think

that way."

"And you still believe that you are human and we are not?"

Simon growled challengingly.

Seth's lips tightened. "I think like one."
"We are none of us human," Cole said calmly. "We are

derived from the human species, but we are not human. We
are Cyborg. We have twice the DNA strands of a human."

The others sent him varying looks of irritation. "What

difference does that make? We can reproduce with them. We
look like them. That's all that matters."

Cole shrugged. "Not to them. They are genetically inclined

to feel hostility toward species that differ from them. Even the
minute difference from one human race to another is enough
to stimulate reactions of hostility. There is far more than a
minute difference between us and the human race."

They'd arrived at their destination. Seth looked over the

long line ahead of them, issued a long suffering sigh, and
looked around for a place to sit. The dirty curb at the edge of
what had been a thoroughfare for cars before the old city was
buried was as close to a prop as he could see. He sat down,
propping his arms on his knees. The others followed suit.

"So you're saying Clair might have a problem accepting

any of us?" Seth muttered finally.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirteen

Cole looked alarmed. "I had not actually thought that far. I

was only speaking hypothetically. Do you think she will?"

Seth thought it over. "Not us. Him, maybe," he added,

jerking a thumb in Drake's direction. "She was convinced we
were human. She still thinks of him as a sex toy. She might
have a problem adjusting to the fact that he isn't anymore."

Drake glared at him, but since he'd been thinking along

much the same lines he didn't feel confident enough to argue
the matter. "She is carrying my child," he pointed out
somewhat sullenly.

"And you think that gives you an edge?" Seth demanded

irritably.

Drake frowned uncertainly. "Does it not? Will she not feel a

bond because of that?"

Seth thought she probably would, but he sure as fuck

wasn't going to admit it, not when the bastard had been
steadily throwing it in his teeth for the past ten fucking
minutes. He shrugged. "Who knows? You don't even know for
sure that she is."

"You are saying there is a chance that she might be

carrying the offspring of one of you?" Drake demanded in a
tight, angry voice.

Seth exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Simon.
"I did not make any such claim," Cole muttered. "I was

captured when I went to attempt to find the information that
we were seeking and tortured to tell them where those two

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were hiding. I am not certain now that I would have withheld
that information if I had known that they were fucking Clair
while those bastards were trying to peel me alive!"

"As if we knew that!" Seth retorted uncomfortably. "We

agreed to wait to see if Dr. LaMotte would come back. It was
your idea to try the break in without backup. I don't know
why the fuck you're complaining now anyway! Your nanos
repaired the damage."

"But it fucking hurt then!" Cole growled. "Would you like

for me to demonstrate by peeling a little of your flesh away?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take your word for it," Seth

retorted dryly. "You act like we should've known!"

"You know that I had planned to be back before dawn!"
"We did. That's why, when you didn't show, we went to get

you out."

Cole frowned, considering it. "But you did not show up

until almost dusk the next day!"

Seth shrugged. "We'd been up all night. We took the time

to rest. It would've been a piss poor idea to go in when we
were both exhausted already."

"Exactly why the fuck were you exhausted?" Drake

growled.

Instead of replying, Seth sent him a smug grin.
Drake shot a fist toward Seth's chin, clipping Simon, who

sat between them, in the process. Simon and Seth both
retaliated, hitting him almost simultaneously on the chin and
knocking him out. They studied his slumped form with
satisfaction for a moment and resumed their conversation.

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"We didn't do anything with Clair," Seth admitted

reluctantly. "At least ... I didn't. I can't speak for Simon.
Obviously, he decided to take advantage of the situation,
although I'm damned if I can understand why Clair would've
let him. A clumsier attempt at seduction I've never seen in
my life!"

Simon reddened. "In what way do you consider that it was

clumsy, gods damn it? I did not step on her foot or trip over
mine! I am just as coordinated as you are!"

"Did you, or didn't you, fuck Clair?" Seth demanded.
"I did not," Simon muttered. "I only kissed her."
Seth released an irritated huff. "I guess the bastard's right

then," he said, jerking a thumb toward Drake, who hadn't
come to yet. "If she's pregnant, it's his."

Simon was thinking, his dark brows drawn tightly together

over the bridge of his nose. "In what way was I clumsy?"

"You don't ask a woman if she wants to fuck when you've

just met her," Seth said irritably. "In fact, they like it better if
you don't mention fucking at all."

Simon digested that. "There is a conflict of logic there. If

you should not mention fucking when you have only just met
then you can not mention it and how are you to get them to if
you do not mention it? You are saying that you can mention it
later, but you can not call it fucking? How much time must
pass before you mention it?"

Seth rolled his eyes, but considered how to explain it.

"Honestly, I barely remember courting Becky, but courting is
definitely important," he muttered.

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"You can not recall it because you did not court Becky. She

did not exist, or at least, it was not you who courted her!"
Simon pointed out. "What is courting anyway?"

Seth glared at him. "Do you want to hear this or not, gods

damn it? Because if you're going to keep reminding me that
none of it happened, I'm not going to do this!"

"What is courting?" Cole demanded, heading off another

argument.

Seth glanced at him, then frowned thoughtfully.

"Seduction ... sort of," he answer finally.

"Sort of?" Simon demanded, clearly outraged. "If you are

going to be cryptic about everything I do not see the purpose
in this discussion because I am sure I will get nothing out of
it.

"It's virtually the same thing," Seth retorted irritably.

"Except you go about it a little differently and the objective is
slightly different."

He discovered that both Simon and Cole were staring at

him blankly. Shaking his head, he looked away, wondering if
there actually was any point in trying to explain it. They
hadn't been programmed as he had been. Maybe their
programming wasn't sufficient for either of them to fully
grasp subtlety even if he did manage to think of a way to
explain. He discovered when he looked away, though, that
the four of them, or at least he, had the attention of a far
larger group than he'd realized. Every Cyborg within hearing
distance had turned to study them. When he met their gazes
challengingly, instead of turning away, they wandered closer.
What the fuck?

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"In what way does courtship differ from seduction?" one of

the Cyborgs asked, sitting down on the street in front of him.

"How does the objective differ?" another asked, taking a

seat beside the first.

Seth felt uneasiness slither down his spine when he

discovered that more and more of the Cyborgs who'd been
lined up waiting for their turn to have their locators cut out
had wandered closer to listen to their discussion. He relaxed
fractionally when he didn't feel any hostility in them, merely
curiosity.

All of them, he realized after a moment, were from the

brothels. There wasn't another Hunter among them, not even
any soldiers, with the exception of Simon and Cole, that he
could see. He glanced at Cole and his brother and then
toward Drake. Drake, he discovered, had recovered enough
to sit up, but he was looking thoughtful like the others now.

It dawned on him abruptly that he was the only one of all

of them who'd had programming extensive enough to allow
him to interact with humans on pretty much every level, in
any situation. They hadn't. The pleasure Cyborgs had no
more idea of how to court than Cole or Simon. No doubt they
were far more experienced sexually, but then they hadn't
actually had to put forth much effort at seduction. The women
had come to them for that purpose.

He still wasn't comfortable about finding himself in the role

of teacher. Shrugging inwardly, he considered the questions.
"The purpose of a seduction is to convince a woman to fuck
as quickly as possible. You say or do whatever's necessary to
get her into the bed quickly, promise whatever you think she

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wants—get in, get out. That's the objective, so it isn't really
important, long range, what they think about it later.

"With a courtship, you pretend fucking isn't the objective.

Of course, it is, but you can't give them that impression or
they won't go for it."

"Lie, you mean?" Drake asked dryly.
Seth sent him a drop dead look. "You were programmed to

be a sex droid. You should be good at it."

He discovered when he glanced around that all the others

were now looking at him with varying degrees of hostility.
"What? You weren't programmed to say whatever a woman
wanted to hear?" he demanded testily. "You're beautiful?
Even when they look like your brother? You make me hot?
Even when they leave you cold?"

They shifted uncomfortably, but looked slightly less hostile.
"We need to know this to convince our women to come

with us, yes?" one of the sex droids asked.

Seth shrugged. "You could always just haul them off

screaming and kicking, but unless you want to deal with that
every time you want to fuck—or maybe a knife in the back
when you least expect it—yes!"

"Maude is a gentle creature!" one of the Cyborgs said

indignantly. "She would never consider stabbing me!"

Seth shrugged. "Poison, then. Same difference. Hell of a

hangover and not very pleasant."

Even Simon and Cole looked horrified at that. "Clair would

not...."

Seth sent his brother a look that was both pitying and

irritated. "What would you expect her to do if you put her in a

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position she didn't want to be in? She couldn't fight her way
out of a paper bag. She'd have to retaliate using covert
warfare, wouldn't she, to have a chance of winning?" He
paused, considering it. "That's a good analogy—covert
warfare. That's a good description for courting. You're trying
to slip in under their defenses and convince them they want
to give up."

"Trick her, you mean?" Drake asked coolly.
"Look, asshole!" Seth growled. "If you don't like my ideas,

take your fucking ass off. I was explaining it to my brother
any fucking way, gods damn it. I don't particularly give a fuck
if she accepts you or not!"

"How are we to trick them?" the Cyborg sitting in front of

Seth asked curiously.

"It isn't trickery, gods damn it, whatever that asshole

says! You like them. You want them to be your woman, then
you have to make her like you ... which is why you don't
mention fucking. Like jerk-off here pointed out, they prefer
'making love'."

"There is a difference?" Cole asked, surprised.
"Of course not!" Seth said testily. "At least ... It amounts

to the same thing. The difference is with one you get one
shot, maybe two or three if you're really good. With the
other, you get it more than once. You get to keep the pussy.
And then, when they aren't pissed off with you about
something and they don't have a headache, if you ask nicely,
or beg piteously, they will let you have some. The rest of the
time you walk around with blue balls and a shitty outlook on
life in general."

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"This is what co-habitation is like?" Cole asked a little

doubtfully.

Seth grinned at him. "According to my data," he said

cheerfully.

"It seems to me that it would be far easier to simply point

out the merits in it," Simon said after a moment. "She is
intelligent. There is danger for her here. She will see she can
not stay and also see that she will be comfortable if she
contracts with us since she already knows us. She must
contract with someone when we reach the new world, after
all."

Seth studied him a moment and finally shrugged. "Suit

yourself."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "That is what you said before

when I wanted to kiss her and that did not turn out well."

"It won't this time either, but far be it from me to try to

dissuade you."

"We do not have much time until the ship is ready—three

weeks, mayhap—and we must stay on high alert in all that
time even when the locators are destroyed. The company will
be searching for us," one of the members of Seth's audience
offered. "How long does it take to court?"

Seth sent an irritated glance in search of the speaker and

finally gave up. "This isn't a project with a set number of
hours to completion," he muttered. "We're talking about
humans, here, and women, and they're less logical than the
men!"

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"That can not be true of all of them!" Simon pointed out.

"Mother LaMotte designed our programming. We would not be
logical if she had not been."

"She was the head of the programming project," Seth

pointed out. "She didn't do it all. Anyway, I didn't say they
were all illogical. It just doesn't usually fit into the equation
when it comes to courtship."

"I do not see how we are to convince them if we can not

mention fucking ... unless it is alright to fuck as long as we
call it making love?"

"How do you think you're going to convince your woman

fucking isn't on your mind if all you do is drag her into the
bed and fuck her brains out every chance you get?" Seth
demanded irritably.

"You did not say we had to convince them that we were

not thinking about it!" Simon said angrily. "How am I to do
that when my cock stands up every time I see her, gods
damn it?"

"Tame it," Seth advised.
"I am not at all convinced the thing does not have a brain

of its own," Cole said irritably. "It does not pay me the least
attention when I try to make it stay down."

"I don't know why you're having such a problem," Seth

retorted. "You were half dead when we dragged you out of
Robotics Inc. When have you had time to have a problem
with it?"

"Since I became aware and worse since I met Clair. My

cock instantly knew that was where it wanted to go and I
have not been able to convince it that it does not. It is not as

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if I have had a woman, gods damn it! I have not even been
programmed to believe that I ever had a woman!"

"Well, if you think that fucking helps," Seth growled,

"you're wrong! My balls don't fucking think I ever had one ...
at least not lately."

"Ah!" Drake said triumphantly. "You have not fucked Clair!

You just wanted me to believe you had! If she is pregnant, it
is mine!"

Seth ground his teeth. "You keep throwing that up to me,

you son-of-a-bitch, and you aren't going to live long enough
to find out whether she is or not! I'm going to break your
fucking neck!"

Simon stood up. "I will do it! I am weary of hearing it, as

well!"

"Don't you dare touch him, Simon!" Clair commanded,

having arrived in time to hear far more than she'd wanted to.
She had, in fact, been on the point of turning around and
sneaking quietly back to the safe house when she got close
enough to discover what the discussion was that held the rapt
attention of so many Cyborgs. It was unnerving enough to
consider approaching so many Cyborgs without the discovery
that the entire focus of their conversation seemed to be about
fucking.

Cole, Drake, and Seth all surged to their feet, whirling to

look at her guiltily. Simon merely looked stunned for several
moments, his expression frozen, as if he was struggling to
recall the conversation. A hot tide of color rose from his neck
and disappeared into his hairline. "It will heal," he said
uncomfortably.

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It was the last thing Clair had expected him to say. She

stared at him blankly for a moment and finally turned around
and headed back to the safe house, realizing it had been a
very bad idea to go look for them to start with.

She'd felt almost as confused and disoriented from

everything that had happened when she woke up as she had
before she'd gone to sleep. She'd been sore, as well, from all
of the unaccustomed activity the day before.

Drake was gone. She hadn't been certain whether she was

glad or sorry for it, but, contrary creature that she was, she
supposed she was a little of both. She hadn't felt up to
confronting him or the things her mother had told them. On
the other hand, as uneasy as it made her to think about being
a lone human in the midst of a veritable horde of Cyborgs
that didn't seem to be 'just' Cyborgs anymore, she didn't
really want to be alone. She felt a great need for the illusion,
at least, of a safe harbor.

She wasn't certain Drake could give her that at the

moment, but she'd thought of Seth and Simon and it was
enough to convince her that she would feel safe with them.
Unfortunately, when she'd asked Victor what room they were
staying in, he'd informed her that all four men had gone to
see the medic to have their locators removed.

The reminder that none of the men she'd accepted as

fellow human beings actually were hadn't helped her feelings
a lot, but she'd still felt a compulsion to seek them out.

How absolutely wonderful to arrive looking for comfort and

discover them huddled together discussing fucking her brains
out!

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Or maybe it was just fucking in general?
Well, she thought angrily, they were off to a good start in

'becoming men'! Nothing on their minds but their dicks and
where they might stick them!

They were going to come up with a nub if they tried

anything with her, she decided militantly.

Unfortunately, the thought resurrected memories of her

activities just prior to the arrival of 'the gang'.

She'd certainly showed Drake that she wasn't to be toyed

with!

She still wasn't completely certain how that had come

about. His behavior had thoroughly unnerved her. She
would've been willing to swear hot sex was the last thing on
her mind and yet all he'd done was kiss her and the next
thing she knew he was pumping in to her like there was no
tomorrow!

Twice!
She distinctly recalled telling him she wasn't in the mood

for seconds, now that she thought about it!

Of course the seconds had just about blown her mind, but

that was beside the point! He should've taken no as no, not
maybe, damn it! He would have ordinarily, which just went to
show he wasn't the Drake she knew!

She wasn't certain what to think about him now that he

wasn't like he used to be. Oddly enough, somehow, he didn't
even quite look the same. When he looked at her now, she
realized, there was thought and emotion behind it. His
expression wasn't merely a programmed response or even a
learned response with the help of Artificial Intelligence.

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He was thinking, not just reacting to her.
It was amazing how disturbing that was. In all the times

she'd visited him at the brothel it had never once crossed her
mind to wonder if he found her attractive or wanted to do the
things they did together.

Because he hadn't been capable of deciding any of those

things.

Now that he was, was he still just acting out desire as he

had before? Or did he find her attractive?

He seemed dead set on claiming her as 'his' woman, but

was that because he was laboring under the delusion that
he'd impregnated her?

Was it a delusion?
Her mother had suggested that it was possible after what

she'd done, hadn't she? If she'd programmed the nanos to
complete the cycle of life already begun, didn't that mean
they'd been born in a sense? They'd become complete
biological entities? They couldn't be complete without the
ability to reproduce.

They seemed really focused on that particular aspect of

their new awareness, she thought dryly.

Catching a tantalizing whiff of food as she neared the

restaurant where she and Drake had eaten the night before,
she altered course to follow the aroma. There were women
inside, she discovered with a leap of excitement.

Suddenly feeling tremendously better, she entered and

headed to the food line. Since no one else was in line, it only
took her a few minutes to select what she wanted. She turned
then and surveyed the women seated at the tables.

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There was a terrified knot of women clustered together at

the very back. The other women seemed perfectly at ease.

Sex droids.
She headed toward the cringing cowards in the back. They

looked up at her uneasily when she arrived. "Can I sit with
you?"

The women exchanged uneasy glances. "Are you ... uh ...

are you...?"

Clair pulled out a chair and sat down. "I don't really think

we should talk about that, do you? I mean ... this doesn't
seem like a very good place for bigotry. We're a seriously
outnumbered minority here and I think they can hear really
well."

They looked affronted.
She could see their point. She was uneasy about being

surrounded by Cyborgs, too, unnerved because they were so
much stronger than humans and she didn't know what to
expect from them. None of them had actually been
threatening, though, either subtly or overtly ... not toward
her. Toward each other, definitely. Seth and Simon and even
Cole had seemed particularly hostile toward Drake. She
wasn't completely certain of why that was.

Of course, it did seem that Drake had gone out of his way

to be provoking more than once.

"Anybody have any idea about what's going on?" she

asked after a few moments.

"Droid uprising," one of the women whispered after a

lengthy pause.

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"I think they prefer to be called Cyborgs," Clair whispered

back. "I got the distinct feeling from Drake that he definitely
didn't like that."

The woman cleared her throat. "I'm Maggie. This is Beth

and Cheryl."

She smiled at them when Maggie introduced them. "I'm

Clair."

Maggie toyed with her food. "Is ... uh ... Drake your ... uh

... man?"

Clair frowned. "He seems to think so."
"He didn't tell you anything?"
Clair thought it over. "He told me that he'd gotten me

pregnant and the company knew, because they—the sex-droi
... pleasure Cyborgs had gotten a lot women pregnant and
they had to fight or run or be terminated."

"There's their excuse for going rogue?"
Clair glared at Beth. "It isn't an excuse. I was there. Those

bastards at the company incinerated the ones they'd
managed to get into the ovens. They didn't have much choice
in the matter ... except to let them herd them into the ovens,
and I, for one, sure as hell wouldn't let them burn me alive if
I had to chew through them to get out. Anyway, it was the
guard droids they were fighting. I didn't see any human
guards in there." She decided not to mention the human
guards Seth and Simon had killed. It was still a matter of self-
defense as far as she was concerned.

Not to mention her defense!

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The women glanced at one another, but she could see a lot

of the tension leave them. "They aren't slaughtering
humans?"

"They aren't," Clair said firmly. "From what I can see that's

why they've retreated here, to keep from being pushed into
using deadly force to protect themselves."

"I guess that's why they're planning on leaving Earth. Boyd

said they would join up with the other rogues ... uh ...
Cyborgs. He said they'd created a colony on a distant world."
She hesitated. "He wants to take me with him."

"I suppose he said 'You must go. You are carrying my

offspring'," Cheryl said, mimicking a man's voice.

"Something like that," Maggie mumbled. Catching the look

Cheryl gave her, she frowned. "Alright! Just like that! He
doesn't act at all like he used to."

Clair could relate. Drake was totally different and she still

wasn't sure of how she felt about that. "They aren't sex
droids anymore. Actually, I don't suppose they ever were ...
really. They just weren't complete before and they could be
controlled. Now they make their own decisions."

"But, how?" Maggie whispered urgently. "How could that

happen? They were ... are machines, right?"

"Not from what my mother said," Clair answered

uncomfortably.

"Your mother's here? Oh God! I hope my mother isn't! She

would be so pissed off to find out I'd gotten pregnant. And
after I'd been so damned careful, too! I haven't even had real
sex.... I mean had sex with a real man.... You know what I
mean!"

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Clair sighed. "Actually, I do. I guess a lot of us thought it

was the most perfect birth control system ever devised." She
paused. "My mother isn't here. She died. I'm pretty sure the
company killed her, or at least hired it done. They tried to
make it look like suicide, but she wouldn't have done that."

They were shocked, but not disbelieving as she'd more

than half expected. They were quick to offer sympathies over
her loss.

"Did she ... was she pregnant ... by one the droi-Cyborgs,

I mean?"

Clair stared at her blankly. Her mother? It was

inconceivable even to think of her mother going to a brothel.
"Uh ... no."

Beth glanced around uneasily and leaned closer, speaking

in a low voice. "I think they did something to my girlfriend.
We used to go to the brothel together. A few weeks ago, she
told me she thought she was pregnant, even though she
couldn't figure out how it had happened, and told me she was
going to get checked. I haven't seen her since. I've tried and
tried to get in touch with her. I finally filed a missing persons
report, but the authorities haven't done squat."

Clair felt a cold wave wash over her. It was chilling to think

they might have had a hand in the woman's disappearance
and it occurred to her that paranoia might be gaining the
upper hand, that maybe they were attributing things to the
'evil' company that they hadn't done. "That's ... why do you
think the company might be behind it?"

She shrugged. "I never thought they were ... before. I

didn't know about any of this. All I do know is that she went

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missing right after she told me she was going to get checked
out. I mean, she didn't have a permit, but they usually give
you a little leeway on that sort of thing—just a heavy fine and
the permit, or a heavy fine and an abortion. It's not like it
never happens. I don't understand, if she'd been jailed for it,
why the cops wouldn't have just told me that when I filed the
missing persons report."

"It does seem like they would have."
Beth shivered, rubbing her hands along her arms. "I don't

honestly know what happened. I just know it had to be
something bad. She wouldn't have just taken off without
saying anything. She left her cat in her apartment! Poor
thing!"

"What did you mean—what you said before about your

mother?" Maggie asked after a brief pause of commiseration
for the missing woman.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fourteen

Clair wasn't certain she wanted to tell them ... now. She'd

introduced the subject, though. Short of thinking up a
plausible lie—and nothing came to her—she didn't see any
way to avoid it. "She was the head of the design team on the
programming of the Cyborgs," she admitted a little stiffly.
"That was what we were doing at the company when the
revolt happened ... trying to get the proof she'd left. Or, I
suppose, it was sort of like a confession. She said the new
CEO had forced them to use far more biological material in
building them than was legal—that they were practically
human already, except programmable humans, and the
company had made her team program them. Except she'd
programmed her nanos to 'finish' what they'd started. I don't
understand that part myself. I'm not a scientist and my
mother never discussed it with me. The only thing I
remember her saying about it was that some of the scientists
were mad. They'd gotten so wrapped in building the perfect
soldier they were making the Cyborgs better in every way
than humans were—stronger, faster, smarter, impervious to
disease—almost indestructible because of the nanos—that
they were like super humans because of all of the
improvements they'd made.

"I can't really explain it when I don't understand it myself,

but she seemed to think that what she'd done made them
complete—that they were already humans, not machines.
They'd just been deprived of knowing what they were."

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It was strange but saying it triggered the oddest, most

terrible sinking sensation. Abruptly, she wasn't thinking about
generalizations anymore. She was thinking about Drake,
Simon, Seth, Cole. What must it have been like for them to
suddenly awaken in the world and have nothing to anchor
them? No past to hold on to? No memories, no childhood
experiences—no experiences of any kind to relate to—no
sense of belonging?

Frightening? Disorienting?
"Actually, they were deprived of a lot more than that. They

were created as adults, which means they didn't have
parents, a home, and they were never children. That's just ...
sad."

It was more than sad. It was criminal—as her mother had

said, so heinous it was almost impossible to grasp that
anyone could ever have thought it was acceptable to do such
a thing.

No wonder her mother had gone to such ... drastic lengths

to try to right a wrong she'd been forced to perpetuate.

She could tell the other women weren't certain whether to

believe her or not, but they agreed that what had been done
to them was terrible if it was true they were actually human
beings.

"Sick bastards!" Maggie muttered. "What are we going to

do now? I have to agree that Boyd was right about us being
in danger if we stay here if what Beth suspects is true. I'm
not sure it would even help to try to get an abortion. I mean,
if they think we know something and they're that ruthless

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about covering it up, they aren't going to quibble about
making us go missing, are they?"

"What if we go with them, though, and the Cyborgs don't

want us because we're human?" Beth asked worriedly.

Clair felt her stomach knot with uneasiness. "I don't know.

I think I'd rather take my chances with the Cyborgs. At least
they seem to want us."

"The babies, you mean. I'm not sure if I'm welcome or if

I've just been invited to the party because of the baby. What
happens after the baby's born?"

"You're just a little ray of sunshine, aren't you!" Maggie

said testily.

Unfortunately, Clair couldn't be any more optimistic about

'after' than Cheryl was. She wasn't as convinced as she would
have liked to be that she was of equal importance to Drake as
the child was.

In a way, she supposed she could understand how the

baby could be more important to him. It was a gift she was
certain none of the Cyborgs had expected when they'd
awakened.

She wondered how Drake perceived her now. Did she

seem as different to him as he did to her? Beyond
recognition, did he 'remember' her from before?

He remembered enough he thought he'd gotten her

pregnant.

Were there others—other women—she wondered abruptly

with a surge of emotion she couldn't entirely identify, feeling
her face change color three times in a space of seconds?

"What's running through your mind?"

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Clair's gaze snapped to Maggie when she spoke. She

struggled to think of anything to say except the thought that
had just occurred to her. Finally, she merely smiled a little
weakly. "I think I'll go back to the room at the safe house
where we're staying. It was nice meeting all of you!"

She was so agitated she almost forgot to dispose of her

tray. When she emerged from the restaurant, she glanced
down the street toward the knot of Cyborgs waiting to have
their locators removed, but the crowd was too big and the
lighting too dim to recognize anyone at such a distance,
particularly when the vast majority of them were all dressed
just as Drake was. She didn't see Seth, Simon, or Cole, who
were wearing jumpsuits that she should've been able to
recognize, but that didn't necessarily mean anything anyway,
she realized. They didn't seem to like Drake. They might not
be with him anymore.

It seemed safe to assume she would have a little time to

herself to consider her situation. In any case, she didn't know
where to go except back to the room she'd shared with Drake
the night before.

Victor greeted her. She smiled and nodded and hurried

past him before he could think of anything to say to detain
her. It was a relief to reach the room, but once there she
discovered her mind felt strangely detached. She stared
around at the painfully sparsely furnished room that
contained nothing but an uncomfortable looking straight chair
of no particular style and a bed that was so narrow she
thought she would've fallen off of it during the night if Drake
hadn't slept coiled around her.

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That had comforted her the night before. She wanted to

deny it, but found she couldn't. If it hadn't, she didn't think
she could've slept despite her physical and emotional
exhaustion.

She didn't want to sit on the bed—not at the moment.
Was it completely unreasonable of her, she wondered, to

be so upset at the possibility that Drake could've fathered a
dozen children? Maybe even more?

Just how damned popular was he with the women that had

frequented the brothel, she wondered, abruptly furious? How
many women had he entertained a night? A week?

She knew the answer to that, though, damn it! She'd had

to make a fucking appointment to get him!

When had he become 'aware'? When had he realized he

was capable of producing 'offspring'?

She didn't remember him mentioning any of that when

he'd been so damned busy seducing her the night before!

He'd said it had been a long time.
Did that mean that the last time she'd gone to see him he

was already aware? Already potent?

Of course it did, damn it! He wouldn't be so convinced he'd

gotten her pregnant if he hadn't been well aware of it, damn
his hide! And he'd fucked her anyway!

Alright, she supposed he hadn't had any choice if he was

going to maintain his guise of 'just a sex toy', but he could
have thought of something, surely?

He should've tried! He should've pretended to be

malfunctioning or something like that! He should've warned
her!

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He hadn't because he didn't trust her and if he didn't, just

how was it that he was so convinced that she was his
woman?

Ok, so she wouldn't have believed him. She would've

thought he was malfunctioning. She might even have
reported it to the proprietor. He hadn't even tried, though. He
knew he was her favorite, that she never chose any of the
others, damn it! That should've counted for something!

She supposed it had. That was why he was so damned

sure of himself now, so damned certain that all he had to do
was tell her he was real, crook his finger, and she was just
going to drop into his palm like a ripe plum!

The asshole!
She didn't know how long she'd been pacing the room

fuming when he returned, but it wasn't long enough to wear
off her anger. In point of fact, she'd been doing a damned
good job of building toward nuclear explosion when the door
opened.

The fact that he hadn't even knocked was just one more

nail in his coffin.

The furious accusations died in her throat when she saw

him, however. He stood in the doorway, staring at the bed as
if trying to gather himself to make it across the room and
collapse. He was as pale as death.

"Drake!" she exclaimed in alarm instead of blasting him

with her temper. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, but it looked more like an effort to

shake off impending unconsciousness than a denial. He gave
her an unfocused look and then staggered across the room

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and fell face first into the bed. She let out a squawk of alarm
and flew toward him in a mindless panic. She didn't have to
search for a wound. There was an ugly red gash all the way
down his spine. It looked as if the med tech had filleted him
like a fish. "My god, Drake! What in the world did he do to
you?"

"Removed the locator," he muttered in a slurred voice

further distorted by the fact that his face was buried against
the pillow.

"He had to do this to get the damned locator out? Is the

man even qualified as a damned medic?"

"Different location each model," Drake explained. "It's

alright. Lost a lot of blood. Nanos'll fix it."

Clair burst into tears. He'd ruined Drake's beautiful back!

Just butchered it and she wasn't convinced, at all, that he was
going to be alright. Trying to regain control, she sniffed,
brushing at the tears that were blinding her. "I'll get help,"
she said, more to herself than him as she whirled and dashed
to the door.

Victor wasn't at the desk when she reached the stairs but

he'd appeared by the time she'd pounded down the stairs.
She could hardly control her agitation enough to tell him what
had happened and ask for help.

Victor looked at her curiously. "His nanos will repair the

damage. The locators were not made to be removed. It is
impossible to do so without causing a great deal of damage,
but I have had mine removed. You see."

He turned around and lifted the shirt he wore, displaying a

heavily muscled back without a sign of a scar.

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"I'm supposed to believe you had that done to you and

now you're fine!" Clair raged at him.

He straightened his shirt and turned to study her again.

"He is a Cyborg. We were designed to repair ourselves very
quickly. You will see. He will sleep for a few hours because he
is weak now. When he awakens, he will feel like hell for a
time longer and then he will begin to feel better."

"What about the blood loss? He looks like he's in shock!"
"It is a shock to the system, but the nanos will take care of

that, as well."

She might've stayed longer to argue with him, but the

sounds of another arrival drew her attention and she turned
to see Seth, Simon, and Cole, the top of their suits peeled
from their shoulders and dangling from their waists, and not
one of the three looked to be in any better shape than Drake
was. She wasn't certain any of the three recognized her or
even noticed her. It seemed to require all of their focus just
to make it across the lobby to the stairs.

Victor left her abruptly, striding toward Simon and Cole, in

the lead, and slipping an arm around the waist of each to help
them negotiate the stairs. She rushed to help Seth. He looked
down at her in confusion for a moment when she slipped her
arm around his waist. A faint smile curled his lips. "Hello,
Angel," he murmured a little drunkenly.

Clair felt her chin wobble. "Oh Seth! You look awful! Does

it hurt much?"

"Like a son-of-a-bitch. Hurt a hell of a fucking lot more

when he was doing it, though."

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It took all she could do to keep from bursting into tears

again. "I'm so sorry, Seth! Is there anything I can do to
help?"

His gaze sharpened on her face for a split second. "I don't

know, Angel," he murmured, sounding more like himself.
"What've you got in mind?"

Clair glanced at him distractedly as they rounded the

upper landing and began to move slowly down the hall.
"Which room is yours?"

"The one at the end."
They staggered up to the door, wrestled with the catch for

a moment, and finally made it inside. Seth gave the door a
push toward closed as they passed through it. It slammed
with a reverberating thud as they reached the bed and fell
into it. Clair did her best to slow his fall, and to extricate
herself, but they landed together in a tangle with a bounce.
Seth let out a hiss of pain.

"I'm sorry," Clair exclaimed in dismay, knowing she hadn't

spared him anything even if she hadn't added to his
discomfort.

He gathered her close, wrapping both arms around her and

throwing a leg across her thighs. "This is good. Gods! It feels
good to lie down. My head's swimming."

"Can I get you anything?"
He grunted in response. "This is good."
"Uh ... Seth?"
"Mmm?" He opened one eye a sliver.
"I can't get up."
"This position's good. Keeps the pull off the wound."

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It sounded plausible, but Clair wasn't convinced. She

studied his face suspiciously. "This isn't just a ruse?"

He shifted at that, grimacing in pain. "Angel, I'd love to do

something with you, but big Seth's down for the count right
now. Check it if you don't believe me. I'm unarmed."

His lips twitched when she glanced down automatically at

the suggestion. "You're going to have to use your hand to
search. I think the cowardly fucking bastard ran back into my
belly to hide when he saw that laser."

Clair didn't know whether to laugh or not. She considered

trying to extricate herself, but she couldn't entirely dismiss
his claim that lying with his arm and leg over her eased the
strain of the flesh on his back. Maybe she'd just wait until he
fell asleep?

Every time she decided he was asleep, though, and

shifted, his arms tightened. Finally, she fell asleep herself.

She roused toward consciousness at a tug along the front

of her jumpsuit. Cool air brushed her skin and then hot
breath. A wave of pleasure went through her when she felt a
faintly rough cheek brush her breast and then the heat of a
mouth covered the nipple that had sprung to attention.
Delight instantly rippled along every nerve ending the
moment his mouth closed over the sensitive flesh. She
struggled against it briefly, but between the sluggishness of
sleep and the mounting pleasure she felt at the tug of his
mouth, she lost the battle almost before it started.

Instead of making any attempt to push him away, she

lifted her hands and glided them along the upper arms that
bracketed her, across his broad shoulders to his hair. It was

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surprisingly silky. Somehow, it was so black, she'd expected it
to be coarse.

"Seth," she murmured, dimly certain she should protest

when he released his hold on her nipple and dragged his lips
along the upper slope of her breast to her throat. He
responded by lifting his head just enough to silence any
further protest with his lips.

Remembered excitement cascaded through her as his hard

mouth settled on hers, using just enough insistent pressure to
make her lips part for him. The moment she yielded to his
demand, he thrust his tongue boldly inside the warm cavern
of her mouth. The faintly rough texture of his tongue roused
every exquisitely perceptive sensor in her mouth. A thrill went
through her like an electric charge. A wave of dizziness
followed. His heat nearly scorched her.

He scooped one hand beneath her shoulders as he kissed

her, stripping her suit from her shoulders and down to her
waist with the other. Doubt filtered through the haze of desire
his kiss had created, but she couldn't seem to capture the half
formed thoughts behind it.

Because she didn't really want to. Pleasure beckoned. She

was far more interested in pursuing it than allowing reason to
chase it away.

He settled more fully against her when he'd pushed her

jumpsuit down her hips, lightly, moving restlessly against her
in teasing contact that lifted her awareness, dividing her focus
between the play of his mouth and tongue on hers and the
delightful feel of his skin against hers. The brush of his chest

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against her breasts made her nipples grow harder and harder
until the blood seemed to pound in them, made them ache.

The distress over that had no sooner formed in her mind

than he broke the kiss and shifted downward to pluck at first
one and then other with his lips until he was driving her
crazy. She couldn't decide whether to try to evade him or lie
still in the hope that he would stop teasing her and give her
what she needed. She tried both.

"Seth!" she finally demanded plaintively.
He opened his mouth over one tip then and sucked hard.

Her back came up off the bed at the lightning bolt that jolted
through her, arrowing straight down to her womb and making
it contract almost painfully. Moisture flooded her channel. The
muscles clenched and unclenched, frantically clasping at
nothing and demanding to be filled.

A sense of urgency built inside of her, warring with the

desire to have him suckle her nipples until her lungs collapsed
from lack of oxygen.

She couldn't seem to catch her breath. She sank deeper

and deeper into the dizzying heat fogging her mind until she'd
lost all awareness of anything but his touch, the pull of his
mouth, the kneading pressure of his hands as he caressed
her.

He lifted slightly away from her, shifting upward to watch

her face as he stroked a hand down her belly and parted the
swollen lips of her sex with one finger, lightly rubbing her clit.
She dug her head into the pillow, arching up to meet his
touch, demanding more.

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He accommodated her by sliding his finger along her cleft

and pressing the tip into the mouth of her sex, then
burrowing it more deeply.

She gasped, forcing her eyes open to look up at him.
His face was taut, his eyes glittering with his own needs.
It reminded her abruptly that he was hurt—badly. "You

shouldn't!" she gasped.

His gaze wandered over her face. "I should," he said in a

rumbling voice that made goosebumps rise along her skin.

"Your back," she protested.
He leaned closer. "Just don't move," he murmured against

her lips, shifting over her and cupping his hips to press his
erection against her cleft.

She stilled instantly, fearful she'd hurt him.
His lips curled against hers.
Even as it sank into her mind that his warning hadn't been

a warning at all, he reached between them and dragged his
cock along her cleft, connecting his body with hers and
thrusting. She gasped as she felt him penetrate her, trying to
spread her legs wider to accommodate his hips. The lower
part of her jumpsuit still had her trapped, however.

He seemed to realize that about the same time she did.
Pulling away, he dragged the suit from her legs, pushed

her thighs wide, and then sprawled over her again, impaling
her on the head of his cock. She panted as she felt his
thickness spreading her flesh, sinking with delicious slowness
inside of her until she could feel him butting against her
womb. It spasmed in reaction and she gasped at the sudden
pain.

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He levered the upper half of his body away from her to

look down at her. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, clasping his shoulders and drawing

him down to her again.

He didn't believe her. Slowly, he withdrew until she

realized he meant to withdraw altogether. She lifted her legs,
coiling them around his hips. "Don't you dare stop now!"

He sawed shallowly in and out of her. She squeezed her

eyes tightly, relishing the waves of pleasure that radiated
outward each time his flesh brushed along her channel.
"More!" she demanded huskily.

He settled his mouth over hers, curling his body and

thrusting a little more deeply as he delved her mouth with his
tongue. The dual penetration set her heart to clamoring, sent
a hard rush through her. She made a sound that was a
mixture of need and distress, clutching him more tightly,
meeting his thrusts demandingly as she felt herself rising
quickly toward climax.

A shudder went through him. He began moving faster,

plunging deep and hard until his pace jolted along her spine.
She relished every moment of it, groaning into his mouth as
her bubble burst, shaking with the force of the climax that hit
her.

He tore his mouth from hers abruptly, sucked in a hissing,

pained breath and jerked as his body jetted his seed into her.
"Gods, Angel!" he murmured raggedly when he managed to
catch his breath.

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Clair managed to curl her lips in the semblance of a smile.

She felt like purring like a cat. Her body was awash with
pleasure in the aftermath, sparking and tingling wonderfully.

She drifted lazily for a time, enjoying the stroke of his

hands on her, the little kisses he brushed against her cheek
and hair. It had just dawned on her that neither Drake nor
Simon were going to be at all pleased if they caught her
sneaking out of Seth's room when the door burst open.

Seth stiffened. Clair's head came off the pillow in reaction

and she stared at the crowd of men in the doorway.

Oh, they looked pissed!
"This is your idea of a covert operation?" Simon growled

ominously.

"Oh hell!" Clair exclaimed.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fifteen

Leaping off the bed, Clair grabbed up her jumpsuit and

shimmied into it hurriedly. After sending her an
indecipherable look, Seth got up, picked up his own and put it
on in a more leisurely manner.

Clair was halfway to the door when Simon's comment

finally sank in. She halted. "What do you mean 'covert
operation'?"

Simon stared at her in dismay and then turned an accusing

look on Simon.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Seth growled. "Is there any

fucking part of 'covert' that seems to indicate it's something
for open discuss?"

Simon uttered a snarl and then ducked and charged him

like a bull. Seth waited until the last possible second and leapt
out of the way like a matador and Simon sprawled on the
bed, plowing into the wall.

"Oh my god! Simon! Are you hurt?"
Instead of answering, he shoved his arms beneath him to

push himself up off of the bed. Seth helped him by grabbing a
fistful of his hair and yanking on it hard enough to arch
Simon's head backwards at such a sharp angle Clair's heart
nearly failed her as it struck her that he was going to break
Simon's neck. She started toward them to intervene.

Someone—Drake she discovered when she glanced back—

grabbed her around the waist and carried her to the door.

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"You will be safer out here," he said tightly, slamming the
door in her face before she could even attempt a response.

The door didn't budge when she tried it. She pounded her

shoulder against it a couple of times and desisted, realizing
Cole must be holding it closed as he had the last time. "Damn
it, Cole! Get away from the door! I know you're holding it!"

"Then you should not have tried to open it," he said, his

voice barely discernable over the loud thunks and meaty
thuds coming from inside the room.

Someone grabbed her from behind and moved her away

from the door—Victor this time.

"You see. They are recovered just as I said." He pounded

on the door with his fist. "Come out! You are not allowed to
brawl inside the safe house! Take your battle outside!"

The sounds of struggle inside stopped abruptly. The door

opened and Cole stepped out. He nodded pleasantly to Victor
and strode down the hallway. Drake, Seth, and Simon, all
showing signs of a ferocious battle, stalked from the room,
nodded courteously to Victor and followed Cole.

Victor blocked Clair when she tried to follow them. "Not a

good idea, sweety. You stay here."

"But...!" Clair exclaimed with a mixture of anger and fear.

"They're trying to kill each other!"

"They are trying to damage each other," Victor responded.

"There is a difference. If they meant to kill, they would have
done that already."

Clair gaped at him. She hadn't meant it literally. The

moment he suggested it was possible she felt her heart skip
several beats. "You're sure?" she asked doubtfully.

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"I am certain. They need to settle who is first with you."
Clair felt her jaw slide to half mast. "What?" she growled

when she'd recovered from her shock enough to feel anger.

Victor looked uncomfortable. He patted her shoulder a little

awkwardly. "I am certain there is something that I need to
do."

He left her abruptly, striding away so quickly she had to

practically run to catch up. "What did you mean by that?"

"What?" he asked evasively. "There is always something

that must be done."

"You know damned well that's not what I asked!"
"Ask your men."
Clair stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs, watching

Victor beat a hasty retreat. "My men?" she echoed.

Pretending sudden deafness, he reached the bottom of the

stairs and strode from view.

Clair stared at the spot where he'd disappeared for several

moments, trying to decide whether to return to the room
she'd shared with Drake—or the one she'd shared with Seth.
Deciding abruptly that she wanted her own damned room,
she stalked down the stairs. Victor had disappeared
completely, however. It occurred to her after a moment that
he'd said there were other safe houses.

She discovered by the time she'd reached the exit to the

safe house that 'her' men seemed to have beat the
aggression out of one another. Looking away when she saw
Seth begin to glance in her direction, she stepped outside and
headed in the direction they'd taken earlier. She heard them,
or thought it was them, when they fell into step behind her.

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She walked a little faster.
They didn't have any trouble overtaking her.
"Where are you going, Clair?" Seth asked tiredly.
She thought it over. "Home."
"You can not go home," Drake said tightly.
She turned her head to narrow her eyes at him. "And

whose fault is that?"

He looked taken aback.
"You are pregnant?" Simon demanded, a threatening growl

in his voice.

Clair stopped abruptly and turned to look at him. She

discovered that he was glaring at Drake. When she turned,
however, he dragged his attention from Drake to look at her.
His eyes widened at the look on her face. She poked him in
the center of his chest with her finger. "Exactly how is that
your damned business, Simon ... uh.... What is your last
name, anyway?"

He blinked at her a few times. "CS05099."
Clair stared at him, feeling her anger take a nosedive. A

serial number. She glanced around at the others, discovering
they'd surrounded her. "What was that about?"

The four of them looked at each other uncomfortably.

"What?" Cole finally asked, obviously stalling for time.

"The fight!" Clair clarified tightly.
"We'd been discussing a covert operation ... earlier," Seth

volunteered.

Clair studied him suspiciously. "What kind of covert

operation?"

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Amusement gleamed in his eyes. "That's a need to know

only and you don't need to know."

She felt a blush of embarrassment and irritation flood her

cheeks. "So it doesn't have anything to do with the discussion
I overheard earlier?"

The amusement vanished from Seth's eyes. "I don't know.

What did you hear?"

Clair felt her face heat even more. "It sounded like a

discussion about fucking!"

One corner of his lips twitched upward. "If that's what it

sounded like, that's probably what it was about."

Frustration rippled through her but she knew she wasn't

going to get anything out of him. She might, possibly, trick
the others but not Seth. "Fine! Don't tell me! I don't want to
know anyway!"

She pushed past him. The men fell into step with her

again. "Get lost!"

"It is you who are lost," Drake said coolly. "This is not the

way we came."

"I know it isn't!" Clair snapped. "There's no way in hell I'm

going back that way. There has to be another exit
someplace."

"Why do wish to go home?" Simon demanded.
Clair stopped again, plucking at her jumpsuit. "This, for

one thing! I don't have anything else, not another damned
thing to wear and it's ... uh ... soiled! I don't have a
toothbrush, a hairbrush, a nightgown—no cleanser to bathe
with or wash my hair. I don't have a damned thing!
Everything I own is in my apartment!"

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"We have gathered many things for these needs. You had

only to say you had need and we would have gotten them."

She poked Drake in the chest. "I shouldn't have had to.

Anyway, they aren't my things. I have my own, thank you
very much!"

"You are being unreasonable, mon amour. It is because

you are breeding, yes?"

She punched him in the stomach. It hurt her hand. "I'm

not an animal, damn it! If I'm anything I'm preg.... "She
broke off abruptly and glanced at Seth sharply, but she knew
without asking that he wasn't using any sort of birth control,
and she certainly wasn't! He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Oh you ass!"

He tried to look contrite. "Drake says he got you pregnant.

You can't get pregnant twice."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Unless I wasn't ... before."
He shrugged. "Guess we'll have to wait until it arrives—

yellow hair, his, black, mine—red—anybody's guess."

"My hair is auburn," she said testily, "more brown, really."
"Brown-auburn," he agreed readily. "We'll flip for it."
"It's easy for you to be so cavalier about it!" Clair said,

suddenly angry. "You aren't pregnant! It isn't your problem!"

The amusement left his features. "It isn't a problem at all,

Angel. It's a baby, and welcome, whether it's mine or his—or
Simon's or Cole's."

Clair felt like crying all of a sudden. "Well! I am so glad

you're glad!" she said angrily. "I'll give it to whichever one of
you it belongs to when it gets here. Then, I can go home!"

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It wasn't difficult, at all, to see that she'd managed to

insult and anger all of them. She suddenly found herself
facing four hard faced strangers. They studied her in silence
for a handful of moments and finally turned and left.

Oddly enough, she didn't feel one bit better that she'd

routed them. "I knew I didn't matter!" she muttered angrily,
turning and stalking off in the other direction. "They aren't
interested in anything but the damned baby! I don't count!
They don't care what I want! They never asked me what I
wanted!"

She bit her lip when she noticed the Cyborgs she passed

were studying her curiously. "I'm having a private
conversation here!" she snapped at one who'd stopped to look
at her. "Do you mind? It's rude to stare, you know!"

Glancing around, she spotted a building that looked as if it

had been repaired and went in to ask if they had a room.
They didn't, but the Cyborg in charge directed her to another
one down the street. The place she finally found didn't look
any better or any worse than the one where she'd stayed
before. It was clean. It had a community bathroom on each
floor complete with an old fashioned water shower since the
area predated the new particle showers. The water was only
lukewarm, but it beat cold water, and they had cleanser. She
washed everything with it, including her jumpsuit, and then
dashed back down the hallway clad in a towel and spent the
rest of the day pacing the room and checking her clothes
every five minutes to see if it was dry yet. Her stomach told
her she'd missed at least one meal.

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Her anger wore off and depression set in. She didn't know

where to go or what to do. Even if she could've found her way
out, she knew she couldn't go home again. Drake might or
might not be right. Beth could've been right about her friend
and she was a target because the company thought she
might be pregnant. She didn't know and she wasn't anxious
to discover if they were right or not. Very likely the company
was looking for her regardless. They would've identified her
by now and they knew she'd been in mother's office. They
had to at least suspect she'd found something, and she
thought that was probably enough to get her killed.

* * * *

Seth halted abruptly when he heard her parting shot,

turning to look back at her. The others stopped, as well.

"Why does she think we are only interested in the baby?"

Simon asked blankly.

"She doesn't really believe that," Seth said slowly,

thoughtfully. "I don't think."

"That is why she is angry, though?"
"Does that mean she does, or she does not, want to have

my baby?" Drake muttered. "I do not think she wants it."

"Or mine," Seth said dryly.
"She is not having yours!" Drake growled.
"Maybe," Seth retorted provokingly.
"You think, because you fucked her once, that she is

pregnant with your offspring?"

"I made love to her, gods damn it!"

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"She does not think so," Simon pointed out. "I do not think

you know as much about this courting thing as you would
have us believe. You certainly did not convince her!"

Seth glared at him. "It's complicated."
"You did not say that. You said that it must be subtle—a

covert operation. Yours was so covert she has not figured out
that you were courting her! Which does not surprise me, now
that I think on it! You informed us that we were not to fuck
her because, if we were courting, we were to pretend we had
no interest in fucking, otherwise she would think that that
was all that we were interested in.

"I still do not quite understand how she began to think that

we were only interested in the baby, though."

"Because numb-nuts here can't talk about anything else!"

Seth ground out.

Drake narrowed his eyes at him. "You are talking about my

balls?" he demanded. "There is nothing wrong with my balls,
gods damn it!"

Seth rolled his eyes. "Try to focus."
"On what?" Cole demanded. "You have pissed her off and

now she is gone!"

"I pissed her off!" Seth demanded indignantly. "How do

you figure that?"

"You are the one who was talking to her!"
"She was pissed off before that, in case you didn't notice."
"Very likely because you did not pleasure as I do," Drake

said coolly. "You are not a pleasure model, after all."

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"We have that programming!" Cole said indignantly. "It

certainly sounded to me like she was being pleasured when I
was listening at the door."

"Exactly!" Seth said triumphantly, but he glared at Cole.

"What the fuck were you doing listening at the gods damned
door, Cole?"

Cole shrugged. "Waiting for you to finish so that I could

beat the shit out of you."

"Oh. What the hell for?"
"Fucking her," Cole snarled, "when you had just told us

that we were not to, gods damn it! If it is your idea of 'covert'
to tell us not to and then do it yourself, then I do not think I
will take your advice anymore!"

"It was a 'seize the day' situation," Seth said coolly.

"That's part of the courting process. Think of it as sneak
attack. Her guard was down. I went for it."

"I do not understand half of that, but I am glad Drake

kicked your ass!" Simon growled.

"It was a draw," Seth retorted. "I didn't want to damage

him too much. It would've pissed Clair off."

"I do not think that worked. She seemed pissed off to me."
Seth frowned. "We should've thought to grab some of her

things while we were at her place. Now we're going to have to
go back."

The others looked taken aback. "We are going to risk

getting our asses shot off for things?" Simon demanded
indignantly.

"You heard her! She wants her things."

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"That is really very illogical," Cole said. "There are supplies

here."

Seth sent him a look. "Exactly where the hell did you get

the idea that women were logical creatures?"

"We have already debated that and have agreed that they

are ... mostly," Simon pointed out.

"Not when it comes to courting and definitely not when

they're pregnant!" Seth retorted. "The rest of the time ...
maybe. It depends on the female."

"So you admit that she is probably pregnant."
"Either by you or me. So ... was she reasonable before?"
Drake glared at him. "I do not know. She came. Then she

came and she dressed and left."

"That must have been a rough life for you, Drake!" Seth

said sardonically.

"I do not like the way you said that. This is sarcasm, yes?"
"As a matter of fact...."
Drake belted him in the mouth. "I thought so."
"Are you two going to spar again? Or are we going to go?

Because, if we are going to go, I would just as soon do it and
get back. I do not like the idea that Clair has taken another
room. Some of the others may get the idea that she is not
taken."

"I should stay here and guard her from the others," Cole

suggested promptly.

"I don't think so," Seth said grimly. "We've fucked up

enough as it is. We need something to get back into her good
graces before we try anything else. We'll find out where she's

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staying, make sure the guard knows that we're coming back
to collect her, and then we'll go."

"Do you note that he says 'we'?" Simon demanded of Cole.

"He fucked up, but now it is 'we' who fucked up."

"Well, it seems to me that she wouldn't be pissed off about

being pregnant if Drake had handled things better. And she
didn't look too damned happy about you grabbing her and
kissing her, so, except for Cole, I think 'we' just about covers
it."

Simon sent him a sulky look but decided not to comment

and the four of them set off down the street, checking the
safe houses they passed until they found the one where Clair
had gotten a room. Satisfied, they left again and headed
toward the nearest egress from the underground city.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Sixteen

The city was crawling with police and soldiers when they

reached the exit to the surface. They had to wait for a break
in foot traffic to get out without being seen. Seth considered
the situation while they waited. "They're looking specifically
for the sex droids," he said after a few moments, "and that
get-up you're wearing is going to be a dead giveaway, Drake.
You wait here while Cole and I round something up that won't
be as noticeable—You, too, Simon. There's no way the two of
us can walk down the street without attracting attention we
don't want right now."

Neither Drake nor Simon was happy about it, but they saw

the logic of it. As soon as there was a light break in the foot
traffic, Seth shoved the manhole cover out of the way and
vaulted up to the street. Cole followed, pushing the cover
back in place. They discovered they were in a commercial
area of the city, which explained the heavy traffic even
though it was late in the evening. It wasn't the best sort of
place to find clothing unless one had an ID and credits to
purchase them, and neither of them did.

After pulling up a city grid on their internal processors,

they pinpointed their location and did a quick search for the
nearest residential area. Seth paused on top of the manhole
cover. "Thirty minutes there and back," he said quietly.

Without waiting for a response, he and Cole headed down

the alley at a pace just under a lope. The alley was fairly
deserted, but there didn't seem any point in taking a chance

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that someone might spot them and think they were running
away from something. The atmosphere of the city was one
just shy of hysteria. He had no idea what sort of story had
been put out to explain what had happened earlier, but it had
everyone antsy.

Very likely, he thought wryly, they'd taken advantage of

the mob that had gathered outside the company to protest
and blamed the entire incident on rioters.

He caught snatches of conversations here and there that

seemed to bear up that supposition as he and Cole reached
the next corner and headed East at a slightly slower pace.
Fortunately, everyone looked as if they were in a hurry. Three
blocks down, they left the marquee lights behind and entered
a slummy area of the city that was poorly lit. Using his
infrared vision, he scanned the apartments in the buildings
that crowded the street until he found one that was empty—
he hoped it was just that the occupant wasn't there, anyway.
There was nothing for it but to check.

They discovered it was deserted, empty of everything but

debris.

It occurred to him then that their search could take

considerably longer than he'd anticipated if they had to go
from building to building to check every empty apartment.
Instead, he scanned the interiors of the apartments as he and
Cole strode the hallways until he found one where the
occupant appeared to be asleep. He was lying down and his
body wasn't giving off as much heat as it would have if he'd
been awake.

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The door not only wasn't locked, it wasn't closed. He sent

Cole a questioning look, but finally shrugged and pushed the
door open.

The occupant wasn't asleep. He just hadn't been dead long

enough to cool.

Seth scanned the man and decided he looked close enough

to Drake in size and began a search for the man's belongings.
Cole had stayed in the living area to watch the front door, but
it made him uneasy being in a dead man's house. No one,
apparently, had discovered the murder yet, but it was only a
matter of time before they did and he sure as fuck didn't want
to be there when that happened.

Grabbing trousers and shirts, he'd started to turn away

when he noticed the man seemed to have a penchant for
hats. There were three odd looking, wide brimmed hats lined
up on the shelve above the clothes. Shrugging, he grabbed
one, bundled it with the clothing and headed out again.

He and Cole had almost made it to the stairs when they

met up with a woman. She looked them up and down
suspiciously, even turning to watch them as they clattered
somewhat noisily down the stairs. They'd made it to the first
landing when they heard her start screaming.

"Shit!" Seth ground out. "Did you leave the gods damned

door open?"

Cole sent him a guilty look, but they didn't have time to

discuss it at the moment. Both of them charged out the front
of the apartment building and raced down to the next alley.
They dropped to a walk as soon as they were certain no one
was in pursuit, but Seth discovered he hadn't adequately

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considered that the bundle he was carrying might attract
notice.

Almost everyone they passed looked at him and his

uneasiness grew every time he caught a glance. "My face will
be on every vid in the city inside of twenty minutes if it isn't
already."

He wasn't particularly relieved when they made it back to

the manhole they'd emerged from. Instead of allowing Drake
and Simon to come up, he and Cole joined them in the sewer
again.

"We're going to have to take the sewer system as close to

Clair's building as possible," he said grimly.

"Why?" Simon demanded.
"Because I'm pretty sure they think we killed someone."
"Did you?"
"No! He was already dead when we went in to get the

clothes."

"This begins to sound like a very bad notion," Drake said.

"It is not enough that they are searching for the sex droids.
Now they will be searching for all of you."

Simon glared at him. "I was not there!"
"You have the same face!" Drake shot back at him.
"We do not have the same face!" Simon said, outraged at

the suggestion. "This one is mine and that is his!"

"I can not tell one of you from the other," Drake said

pointedly.

"Clair can," Seth said grimly.
"That is because ... never mind."
"Because?" Simon demanded challengingly.

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Drake shrugged. "You do not speak the same. If you said

nothing, she would not be able to tell you apart."

Seth gave him a look that promised retribution, but he

happened to notice a thoughtful expression flit across Simon's
face and he didn't like the look of it. "Don't even think about
it!"

Simon tried to look confused.
"She can tell."
"We will test it," he said, nodding.
"No, we won't!"
"You do not want to know for certain?"
"Not if you're thinking what I think you're thinking."
Simon grinned at him abruptly. "It is probably good that

you do not know what I am thinking.

Seth decided not to take the bait. They'd rid themselves of

the locators to keep from being a target the moment they
surfaced and were in range of the sensors. They were still
deep enough that talking in normal tones wasn't likely to
draw unwanted attention, but he was fairly sure if he decided
to shove his fist down Simon's throat to shut him up that, in
such a confined space, it would make far too much noise.

Truthfully, he didn't feel as inclined to take his frustrations

out on the others as he had at first anyway. He wasn't
entirely certain why. He was pretty sure it was mostly
because he'd finally found the release he really wanted and
needed the most—with Clair—but he didn't think that was all
of it.

He realized after wrestling with it a little while that it was

because he felt less threatened by them—primarily Drake—

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less uncertain, more confident. He didn't think he'd been any
less attracted to Clair from the start than Simon had been,
but he hadn't really been aware of any particular focus of his
interest beyond satisfying the need to bury himself hilt deep
in her and pumping into her until he'd found release. And
then fucking her a few more times until he was too exhausted
to try it again.

Simon's immediate certainty that Clair was 'the one', the

woman he needed to keep by his side, the woman he wanted
to bear his young, had been more of an irritant than a
perceived threat to him. He'd traveled with Cole and Simon
long enough to realize they were far more 'in touch' with their
primal instincts than he was, more inclined to yield to them
the moment their urges hit them than to stop and consider
whether it was a good idea to do so or not. They weren't
entirely civilized, to put it bluntly—not their fault—but true
nevertheless.

He'd felt that, man-to-man, he was their equal—just as

strong, just as well trained in combat, just as intelligent and
capable in every way as they were—and superior to them in
terms of social development in a way that gave him an edge
they didn't have.

Drake had been a different matter. Clair had a bond with

Drake that went beyond the child Drake was so certain he'd
gotten on her. And it was strong. Even though she hadn't
realized he'd undergone the change, even though she still
thought he was no more than a pretty machine designed to
pleasure her, she'd flown into a blind panic when she'd
realized he was in danger. Right up until the moment she'd

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spotted him in the crowd, she had, naturally enough, been
more focused on her own survival than anything else. She'd
instantly 'forgotten' the threat to her own life, though, when
she'd seen him and he knew what that meant even if she
wasn't willing to acknowledge it.

She loved Drake—maybe it was more the sort of affection

one had for a favored pet than the love of a woman for a
man, but it was still a strong bond. He'd known it was only a
matter of time before she realized she didn't love Drake any
less because he was no longer the virtually useless hunk of
flesh and metal she'd known before.

He'd yielded to his own instincts then—find the threat and

eliminate it.

Easier said than done. By the time they'd managed to

track the bastard to his lair, he'd already 'reacquainted'
himself with Clair, staked his prior claim.

It had taken no more than the certainty that he was going

to lose Clair before he'd even gotten the chance to try to
claim her affections to make it crystal clear to him that he
was as smitten with her as Simon was. He supposed it was
the fact that Simon was more 'in touch' with his instincts than
he was that Simon had recognized her first as 'the one'.
Simon hadn't been blinded to the pull. Simon hadn't tried to
reason it away and convince himself he just wanted to fuck
her.

Drake was a real threat, one he didn't know how to deal

with, and because he knew that, he'd felt the need to strike
out at any and every perceived threat.

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It was a damned uncomfortable thing to realize that,

despite his superior programming, he wasn't any more
reasonable than any of the others when it came down to the
mating urge. Instincts had taken over, and they weren't the
best of instincts in such a delicate situation.

It was no wonder Clair was proving difficult. They'd all

been acting like a bunch of gorillas, beating their breasts,
each of them trying to warn the others off of her, or beat
them off, and run off with her.

It was particularly counterproductive when none of them

could—not according to Cyborg law—and they were bound by
it whether they liked it or not. There was no alternative for
them. They could enter the society the others of their kind
had devised, or they could die—eventually. He was part of the
company's solution. He should know that better than most.
He'd been specifically designed and created to hunt down
rogue Cyborgs and destroy them. The company wasn't going
to stop just because they'd now also lost control of their
Hunters. As long as they stayed among the humans they
would be hounded and hunted and eventually, when their luck
ran out, destroyed. The only chance they had for a life was to
leave the Earth and the humans behind and find the Cyborg
Nation.

And producing offspring and rearing them were a part of

the cycle of life none of them wanted to miss out on.

And Clair was the one he wanted to do that with. He didn't

know if the others had simply reached that critical time,
looked about themselves, and zeroed in on Clair because she

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was the most desirable candidate available, or if they truly
felt the bond and would've continued to look if they hadn't.

He loved her. Even though he now knew that the things

he'd felt for his 'wife' and 'children' weren't real, that they'd
been programmed in to him and neither the woman nor the
children had ever been his, he knew what love felt like.

It felt like a boulder was lying on his chest when he saw

her with another man and thought that man was going to
take her away from him. It felt like an insane urge to kill that
other man to keep her from looking at him the way he
wanted her to look at him. It took an effort to try to cling to
reason and to remind himself that that wasn't going to work,
that it was the worst thing he could do.

He knew now, though, that she was open to caring about

him even if she didn't love him ... yet. She'd cared enough to
be concerned when he was hurt. She'd cared enough to want
to ease his pain. She hadn't just yielded to his insistence
when he'd made love to her. She'd loved him back. She'd
given to him.

That was why he didn't feel the irrational need to beat the

others to a pulp to gain her attention. It wasn't because he'd
finally realized it was irrational, although he had. It wasn't
even just because he'd managed to fuck some of his
aggression off. He felt like he'd gained a place with her and
he didn't need to fight for it anymore.

Not that he wasn't going to beat the pure fuck out of

Simon if he tried what he was sure he thinking about trying.

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"We should leave the sewer here," Simon said, breaking

into his thoughts. "There is not another between here and
Clair's apartment that will give us cover to emerge."

Surprised that it didn't seem to have taken them as long

as he'd expected, Seth stopped and accessed his own map to
study it and confirm. "There's one that's closer on the other
side," he said finally, "but we'd have to go past to reach a
junction and cut back."

Simon nodded. "It is getting late. The streets will begin to

clear and that will only make us more noticeable."

Seth glanced around for a place to settle the bundle he'd

been carrying and sort it. There was a narrow ledge built into
the sides of the culvert, but nothing else. Shrugging inwardly,
he settled the bundle, using his body to keep it from falling
off, and disentangled a pair of trousers. "I got enough for
everyone," he said, tossing the first pair to Drake.

"There is nothing wrong with what I am wearing," Simon

said.

"Except that it's just like what I'm wearing," Seth said

distractedly, "which makes us look more like matched
bookends." He'd discovered that, although his night vision
was acute enough to make seeing possible even in the cave-
like sewer, he couldn't tell one color from another. He couldn't
actually recall the colors of the shirts he'd snatched up either,
because it had been dark in the apartment where they'd
appropriated them.

Shrugging off the uneasiness that realization caused him,

he simply passed the trousers and shirts out and peeled his
jumpsuit off.

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"What is that?" Simon asked curiously.
"Mine," Seth retorted shortly.
"It is a hat of some sort," Cole said. "I have not seen one

like that."

"You're not getting it either. I figured it would make it

harder for anybody to see that me and Simon are identical,
which will make us less likely to be remembered. Even if the
cops don't already have my face—and Simon's—on every vid
in the city, the security vids at the company certainly had
every opportunity to capture our images. They'll be watching
for us."

"You should have gotten one for me, also," Simon said

irritably. "It is the same gods damned face!"

"They will have my face, also," Cole said pointedly.
"Well there's only one gods damned hat!" Seth snapped

irritably, "and it's mine! Try not to look directly at anyone.
We'll avoid lights. Their night vision isn't as good as ours."

"I would still feel better if I had a hat," Simon muttered.
"You don't think it would fucking stick out if we were all

wearing gods damn hats when almost no one does except
cops and security personnel? Can we just get this done and
get back while we still have a little dark for concealment?"

To his relief, that silenced the bickering over his fucking

hat. They finished changing and moved to the manhole to
listen for a break. They didn't have long to wait. Either the
people were already beginning to settle for the night or they'd
just managed to find an area that didn't see much traffic. As
soon as they'd emerged, they replaced the manhole cover

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and headed briskly toward the apartment building where Clair
had lived.

They didn't pass many people, but Seth wasn't particularly

comforted by the fact that they seemed to catch the attention
of those they did pass. He looked down at himself and then
the others, but aside from the discovery that the colors they
were wearing didn't particularly seem to coordinate he didn't
see anything amiss with the clothing.

The colors seemed particularly bright, though. Maybe that

was it?

Shrugging it off, he focused on formulating a plan of

action. It seemed to him that the best thing to do would be to
take the service passages as they had before. It was late
enough they were virtually guaranteed to have it all to
themselves. Even the evening shift should have finished and
left by now.

There was a knot of cops at every entrance and exit. He

and the others retreated a short distance to consider the
matter.

"I do not like this," Simon said grimly.
"Me either. They're looking for Clair."
"Why are they looking for Clair?" Drake demanded,

accusation in his voice.

Seth sent him a resentful look. "Because she was with us

when we broke into her mother's office at the company. If
you think they wouldn't have been looking for her anyway,
you're wrong. We took her with us because they'd already
made one attempt on her life at her mother's house. You
obviously don't grasp just how determined they are to clean

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everything up nice and tidy. The worse things get, the more
desperate they are."

Drake subsided, turning to survey the building. "We will

have to scale the outside if we are to get in. Which floor is her
apartment on?"

Seth, Simon, and Cole all turned to survey the climb. "The

fifteenth," Seth said absently. "There's too much light on this
side. If anyone should look up, they'll spot us. Let's try the
alley."

The light from each end of the alley illuminated the area

more than they liked, but they all agreed that it was their
best chance. Scaling it wasn't easy, but Seth discovered that
he could make hand and toe holds when necessary, creating
small dents in the plasti-metal used to cover the exterior of
the building. It was a little more noisy than he liked but he
knew the human hearing wasn't as keen as theirs and
thought it doubtful they'd be able to hear it over the noise of
the city. He led the way, which meant the others could use
the holds he'd created without having to make their own, so
that minimized the noise, as well.

When he reached the floor that was their objective, he

scanned the apartment in front of him with infrared.
Discovering the occupants were still moving around, he began
to make his way across. There was no window in the
emergency stairwell, unfortunately. After studying the plasti-
metal sheeting thoroughly and determining that there weren't
any loose panels he could get a grip on to pry it off, he
calculated how many pounds of pressure it would take to
make a hole and considered how many decibels of sound that

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would produce. Finally, he decided they would have to wait
for some distraction to off-set the racket he was bound to
make breaking through it.

They had to wait almost ten minutes, and he'd begun to

feel uncomfortably exposed attached the side of the building
when a transport rumbled by. He waited until it was even
with the alley, which acted like an echo chamber, and then
drew his fist back and punched the hole, grabbing the panel
and ripping it loose in the same motion. It created a hole big
enough to climb through, but then he still had the gods
damned panel to rid himself of. It was bound to make a hell
of a racket, he decided, if he dropped it. Pushing his head and
shoulders through the hole, he looked the stairwell over and
finally decided, as awkward it was, he was going to have to
climb in holding the damned thing. The stairs were poured
concrete. The stairwell was even more like an echo chamber
than the alley. If he dropped the gods damned thing it would
be like setting off a fire alarm.

"Give it to me," Simon said, inching up behind him.
Relieved at the solution, Seth pulled back, passed the

panel to Simon and crawled through, settling lightly on the
nearest stair. Simon passed the panel to him and climbed in
behind him. The two of them made their way to the door at
the landing while Drake and Cole climbed in.

There were two men standing in front of Clair's apartment.

There wasn't enough detail with the infrared to determine
what they were wearing, but their stance was enough to
assure him it was two guards—human, not droid. They were
bound to feel an immediate threat if approached by all four of

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them, Seth decided. They were going to have to deal with
them very quietly if they were going to have any time to grab
what they'd come for.

"Cole—take Drake, circle around by way of the back

corridor, and approach them from the other direction. Simon
and I will wait until you have their attention and then take
them from behind."

The stairwell door was locked. Seth nearly wrenched the

gods damned thing off its hinges when he yanked at it. The
guards looked around, studied the door for several unnerving
minutes and finally resumed the bored stance they'd had
before.

Seth discovered when he looked around that the others

were glaring at him accusingly. "Well, who the fuck would
lock a gods damned emergency exit?" he growled in a low
voice. "That's completely illogical!"

They looked at one another and finally shrugged, realizing

it was illogical, which made Seth's mistake understandable.

Seth waited a few moments and grasped the lock

mechanism, twisting it off so that he could reach the internal
mechanism and deactivate it. The elevator at the other end of
the corridor chimed, drawing the attention of the guards, and
he jerked the door open quickly so that Drake and Cole could
slip through. They managed to leap out of view of whoever
had arrived on the lift as the doors began to open.

Seth eased the door closed again and settled to wait.
"How long do you think we will have before they discover

the guards have been taken out?" Simon asked.

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Seth shook his head. "It's a pair of cops. They could be on

any check-in schedule or none at all. It depends on what
story the company cooked up and how dangerous they think
Clair is."

Simon sent him a look. "They can not believe that Clair is

dangerous. She is like.... "He stopped, considering.

"Men always think a beautiful woman is dangerous," Seth

said dryly. "Because they know their mind is going to be on
their dick, not what she's doing. In any case, we were with
her. They won't be expecting her to be alone. The company
hasn't told them that we're Cyborgs, though, or they wouldn't
have stopped at two guards. They'd have a battalion out
there."

"They have three battalions on the ground level," Simon

pointed out. "Mayhap they know."

Seth grunted, then grinned. "Won't they be surprised to

discover we don't need to take the elevator?"

Simon grinned back at him. "I would not mind a little

action."

Seth snorted. "You haven't seen enough of that?"
Simon shrugged. "I am tired of being a soldier, but I am

used to fighting. It is not easy to grow accustomed to
sneaking around and hiding."

"I don't like it worth a fuck, either, and I was programmed

for covert action. We don't want to stir them up anymore than
they are already, though. We need to get the women out of
here."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seventeen

Drake nodded politely at the woman they passed as he and

Cole strode down the corridor. It did not help his feelings that
she gaped at him.

He would have liked to think it was because he was so

handsome he caught her eye, but he could not convince
himself of that when he noticed her gaze stray down his
length.

"I do not particularly care for purple and yellow together,"

he muttered. "I can not help but feel that it would have been
better if I had taken the green shirt that you are wearing and
you were wearing the purple one."

Cole slid an irritated glare at him. "You believe that purple

shirt would look better with the red trousers that I am
wearing? For myself, I do not especially care for any of these
colors. They are ... blinding. A man should not wear these
colors ... at all. I was certain it was a man that we saw on the
couch, but now that I have seen these clothes in the light, I
am convinced that Seth snatched his woman's clothing. We
would be far better off if we were wearing the soldier's camo
to my way of thinking. I think when we have taken out the
guards, that I will take what they are wearing and leave them
these clothes."

They discovered when they rounded the corner toward

their goal that they had no trouble at all catching and holding
the attention of the guards. One glanced toward them, did a
double take and elbowed the other.

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"What the hell are you two pimps doing up here?" the first

man growled, turning to face them and planting his hands on
his hips. "Don't bother trying to tell me you live here, because
I ain't buyin' it!"

Drake glanced at Cole. "What is a pimp?" he murmured. "I

can not find it in my vocabulary."

Cole shrugged. "I do not have it in mine either, but I do

not especially care for the way that he said it." He curled his
lips in what he hoped was a friendly smile as they neared the
two guards. "We are visiting a friend."

The guards moved away from the door, abreast of another

and blocking the corridor. "What friend?" the second guard
demanded.

Cole glanced at Drake in consternation. "Joyce," Drake

said promptly, resolutely refusing to glance over the guard's
shoulders at Seth and Simon as they advanced from behind
them.

The cop glared at him and picked up his communicator.

"Joyce who?"

Drake stared at him blankly. "Joyce."
"What's the last name, jackass?"
Cole searched his mind a little frantically for a surname.

Unfortunately, only one came to mind—Clair's and her
mother's. "La-Clair," he said, splicing the two together, his
entire focus on the finger the guard held poised over the
button that would link him to the others. He shot a hand out
before he'd even finished voicing the name he'd invented,
squeezing the man's hand hard enough to crush the
communicator and the bones in his hand at the same time.

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The man screamed at the pain. Fortunately, Seth and Simon
had reached the guards by that time. Simon clamped a hand
over the man's mouth, giving his head a yank that snapped
his neck.

The other guard whirled to run and came face to face with

Seth. His eyes bulged. He had a split second for recognition
before Seth caught him in the chin with his fist. It snapped
his head back on his shoulders and he dropped like an empty
sack.

The four of them glanced up and down the corridor

quickly. The sound of a door opening down the corridor
galvanized them. Grabbing the guards up, they shouldered
their way into Clair's apartment and quickly closed the door
behind them.

"Fuck!" Seth growled. "I think you killed that one!"
Simon sent him a sheepish look. "You are certain?"
Seth glared at him. "A dead cop. Shit! This one's still alive,

at least." He stared down at the dead man in disgust. "We
need to move quickly," he said finally. "Grab what you can
and let's get the fuck out of here."

Leaving the two cops on the floor of Clair's living room, the

four of them dashed toward her bedroom, colliding in the
door in their haste to get in at the same time. Seth strode
directly to the bed when they finally broke gridlock, whipped
the coverlet off and grabbed the sheet, ripping it into four
squares. "Small stuff," he growled when he saw Drake had
grabbed a lamp.

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Simon appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, grinning

triumphantly. "I have her hairbrush and her toothbrush! Let
us go!"

Seth sent him a sour look. "Clothing? Toiletries?"
Simon's face fell. "Oh." He studied the others suspiciously

and finally tucked the brushes in the waistband of his trousers
for the moment ... just in case any of them got any ideas
about grabbing them and presenting them to Clair
themselves.

Drake, he saw, was dragging drawers from her chest and

emptying the contents on the bed, creating a mountain of
clothing. Turning, he headed back into the bathroom and
began scooping up bottles, dashing to the bed to toss them
down and rushing back for more.

"I hope to fuck you don't think you're going to climb down

this gods damned building lugging all of that!" Seth growled
when he'd viewed Drake's handiwork. "Just grab some of
everything."

Leaving them to take her bedroom and bath apart, he

strode back into the living room to check on the cops. The
dead one was still dead. The other looked like he might be
coming around so he slugged him again. Stepping over them,
he looked around the room for any small mementoes he
might grab. When he didn't see anything that seemed
particularly personal, he started searching through drawers.
In one, he found a vid-album. Opening it, he turned it on and
glanced through the images. It took him a few moments to
realize the child in the pictures was Clair. In was almost

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uncanny how closely she resembled her mother. He'd
thought, at first, that the woman was Clair.

He touched the smiling child's face, wondering if he would

have a child that looked like her. Closing the album
resolutely, he tucked it under his arm and continued his
search, grabbing entertainment vids here and there that
looked worn enough to be favorites. When he returned to
Clair's bedroom, he saw that the others were trying to pack
the things they'd gathered tightly enough to tie the pieces of
the sheet together.

"Give me a few of those to wrap these in. They're liable to

break."

"I need some also," Simon announced.
Neither Drake nor Cole seemed particularly anxious to give

up any of the 'treasures' they'd collected but, realizing their
packing efforts weren't going to do the trick, they finally
tossed a few items of clothing toward Seth and Simon. Seth
quickly and carefully wrapped the clothing around the things
he'd collected and then tied the bundle up, forming the
corners into make-shift straps. It didn't work worth a fuck,
actually, but it freed his arms up.

They were headed toward the door when it burst open and

a wall of cops poured in like ants from a stirred anthill.
Whirling in a hail of gunfire, they retreated to Clair's room
again, grabbed the furniture and piled it in front of the door.

Simon was craning his neck to try to examine his back

when Seth turned. A blackened hole and a trickle of blood ran
from a wound just beneath his shoulder. "You good to climb?"
Seth asked grimly.

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Simon nodded curtly.
Ignoring the command from the other side of the door to

come out before they started firing, the four of them moved
to window. It wasn't designed to be opened, but it didn't take
much effort to knock it from its frame. Seth risked a look out
when the window fell and nearly caught a blast in the face. He
ducked back in. "We're almost out of range," he muttered,
glancing around the room for something he could use as a
weapon. The lamp Drake had grabbed was close enough to a
spear, he decided—at least somewhat aerodynamic. "Throw
me the lamp."

Drake tossed it.
"Get ready to move, Simon. They're going to run for

cover."

Simon moved up to the edge of the window. Seth tore the

shade off the lamp, hefted it a moment to gauge the best grip
and then darted a quick look out to find a target. A hail of
laser fire followed. When it petered out, he stepped to the
opening and hurled the lamp. As high up as they were, they
could hear the pandemonium it created when the cops saw
the lamp coming their way like a missile. "Now! We'll have to
go up and over the top!"

Simon went out the window and disappeared.
The cops on the other side of the door got tired of

screaming commands and started firing. "Either of you hit?"
Seth asked.

"Not yet!" Drake responded.
"My leg."
"Alright, you next, Cole."

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Grabbing one of the plasti-metal drawers that had been

tossed on the floor, Seth flattened it and then rolled the
edges up to form another javelin. Watching him, Drake
grabbed another and formed a second, tossed it on the bed,
and picked up a third drawer to repeat the process.

The police on the other side of the barricade, apparently

having decided the laser blasts weren't going to take the wall
down, ceased fire and began ramming the door with
something, trying to punch a hole through.

Seth zeroed in on the next closest target and launched his

make-shift javelin. Cole went out and disappeared. "I think
they're out of range for the moment," Seth yelled at Drake
over the hammering against the wall.

Nodding, Drake leapt toward the window and climbed out.

Seth threw the last spear for good measure and climbed out
behind him.

It was either too much for the cops or they realized that

the last of the four had climbed out and there was no one to
pitch anything at them. They surged toward the building
when he went out, firing as they ran. He felt a laser graze his
arm as he climbed up to the next floor. Ignoring the burn, he
kept climbing. Drake met him at the top, grabbed his arm and
hauled him over the ledge. Simon and Cole, he saw, had
already raced to the end of the building facing the alley.

The sound of airborne crafts came to them as Seth and

Drake raced to join the others. "Jump!" Seth bellowed,
running toward the edge and bounding upward just before he
reached the low wall at the edge of the roof. Cole and Simon
backtracked to get more momentum up as he and Drake

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soared over the gap between the two buildings. Their goal
was lower by several floors. Seth hit the rooftop hard enough
both feet sank with the impact, bringing him to an abrupt halt
he hadn't counted on.

He was still struggling to extricate himself when Simon

came flying over the roof. "Duck and roll!" he advised. Both
men dented the plasti-metal when they hit but managed to
prevent themselves from wedging a foot or arm in the
material as he had.

They covered three more roofs before they ran out of any

place to run, the cops swarming around them like furious
bees and peppering the rooftops with laser blasts.

"We're going to have to shake them before we get to the

sewers," Seth said grimly.

"I am open to suggestion," Simon shot back at him.
"Inside," Seth responded. "This is a residential building.

They won't fire at us with civilians in the way ... I don't
think."

Drake was way ahead of him. He'd already charged the

door that accessed the roof. He hit it hard enough it took the
entire door off its hinges and disappeared inside. When Cole,
Seth, and Simon charged inside, they saw he'd rode the door
down a full flight of stairs and was just picking himself up.
Seth, in the lead, leapt to the landing, vaulted over the rail
and landed on the next landing.

They'd almost managed to reach the ground floor in that

manner when they heard a door below bang open. Seth
risked a quick look over the railing and counted eight men.
"Bad planning," he murmured, motioning the others back.

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There was nowhere to hide to launch a surprise attack, of

course, but the men coming up would be winded by the time
they reached them and it was obvious they weren't expecting
to encounter any resistance right away.

The moment the man in the lead reached the landing just

below them and glanced up, Seth leapt over the railing,
taking out three men with his weight alone. Simon, right
behind him, nearly landed on top of him. He managed, just
barely, to roll out of the way, launching himself toward the
closest man, who was struggling to extricate himself from the
tangle the group had made when he'd bowled over the first
three. Inside of ten seconds, the four of them had disarmed
and disabled the entire group. Collecting the weapons, they
finished their descent. They discovered when they reached
the ground floor that the stairwell extended to a basement.

Pausing, Seth accessed his city map and located the

building they were in. The basement, he discovered, was a
parking garage. He glanced at the others.

"They will be guarding the exit," Simon cautioned.
"No easy out," Seth agreed, disgusted.
"There is a sub-basement," Drake said after a moment.
"With no exit."
"There is a ventilation shaft that connects with the sewer

system."

Seth pulled it up. "It would be a tight squeeze—damned

tight."

"Which is why they are not likely to check it right away,"

Drake pointed out.

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"They will be converging. We do not have time for debate.

Yes or no?" Cole said pointedly.

"Yes," Seth said, leaping the railing to the next level and

then hurrying down the final flight. The floor above them was
poured concrete, too dense for their infrared to work, but
they could hear the sounds of scurrying feet above them as
they raced to the shaft. According to his calculations, they
would just fit. He wondered, however, if his processor was
malfunctioning when he snatched the cover off and stared
into the shaft.

Shrugging, he turned and looked the others over. "You

first, Drake. If you get stuck, I know damned well we won't
fit."

Drake sent him a look, but hoisted himself into the shaft.

There was no room for crawling. He could do nothing but use
his toes and fingertips to propel him through the slick shaft,
shoving the pack he'd worked so hard to get before him. It
required far more energy than he'd expected, more even than
climbing the building had. There didn't seem to be any way to
move quickly, either, despite the sense of urgency driving
him.

He was going to be seriously pissed off if he managed to

get back and Clair wasn't completely delighted with what he'd
gotten for her!

Seth waited until the others had disappeared into the shaft

and discovered he was going to have to go through it
backwards or leave the cover off to give them away. "Fuck!"
he muttered under his breath. Tossing his bundle inside, he
hefted himself up with his fingertips and thrust his legs into

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the shaft, wiggling until he'd managed to turn over so that he
could reach down, grab the vent cover, and wiggle backwards
enough to replace it.

He hadn't managed to push himself a full body length

away from the opening when he heard men entering the
basement. He stilled. Fortunately, the others heard, as well,
and also stopped. He waited, closing his eyes and focusing on
calming his breath while the cops searched the basement.
Finally, he heard them retreating again.

He wondered if the climb through the shaft was as

nightmarish for the others as it was for him. Every time his
clothes snagged, coldness washed over him along with the
certainty that he was trapped. It seemed to take hours to
reach the junction where the shaft joined the sewer system,
although he knew by his internal clock that it hadn't. Relief
flooded him when he felt someone grab his ankles and haul
him out of the shaft.

Simon looked him over curiously. "You have lost your hat."
Seth grunted. "I lost it when I went out the window of

Clair's bedroom. How much would you like to bet that those
bastards have already traced it to the body in the apartment
where we acquired it and decided we killed him?"

"I do not bet," Simon said, "but I would calculate the odds

are very high."

Guilt flickered through him. "I'd hoped we could do this

without any collateral damage. This isn't going to make things
any easier for the others still out there."

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Drake studied him a moment. "It will not make it harder

either," he said finally. "They were already determined to kill
any of us on sight."

Seth shrugged but he discovered the comment made him

feel better—because he knew it was the truth. "Let's not
mention to Clair that we had to fight our way out of this. It
might upset her."

* * * *

Clair's hunger passed after a while but came back with a

vengeance when it came time for the next meal. A blinding
headache came with it, although she thought it was debatable
how much was due to hunger and how much to stress. Her
jumpsuit was still damp but she decided to put it on anyway.
She didn't think she could make it to morning without eating
something.

She was relieved when she reached the street to discover

that there was no sign of the men—'her' men. She really was.

Ignoring the food places close by, she headed toward the

one where she'd eaten before, hoping, she assured herself, to
run into the women she'd met before, not because she
thought there might be a chance of running into any of the
guys.

She was in luck, she discovered glumly. The women were

there and the men weren't.

They looked less frightened than they had before.
Actually, they looked more excited than frightened.
"How are you holding up?" Beth asked sympathetically

when she reached their table.

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Clair shrugged morosely. "Fine, I guess."
Maggie beamed at her. "I'm pregnant!"
Clair almost choked on the bite of food she'd just taken.

She stared at the woman blankly, trying to decide on an
appropriate response. She didn't seem in need of
commiseration. "How did you find out?" she asked finally.

"We decided to go see the medic when he finished

removing the locators—Of course he isn't completely finished.
They're expecting more Cyborgs to arrive. A lot of them are
out trying to find their women."

Clair blinked at her, trying to absorb all of that

information. Before she could decide what to ask first, Cheryl
spoke up. "We're all pregnant!" she announced. "Did you get
checked?"

Finally, something she could answer. "No, actually, I

didn't. I ... uh ... decided to launder my clothes and I've been
standing around the room naked waiting for it to dry."

"Just standing?" Maggie asked teasingly.
Beth and Cheryl both gave her a knowing look. "And your

men just let you?"

Clair stared at them, feeling her face heat. At the same

time, she had the bizarre feeling that she'd stepped out of the
world she'd been in and into another one. "They ... uh ...
they're off ... uh ... doing something." She didn't know why
she was so reluctant to tell them she didn't have a clue of
where they were, or that she'd left her men and gone off to
sulk by herself, but she was.

"Really? Where did they go?"

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Annoyed abruptly, Clair merely shrugged and focused on

her food. "I didn't ask."

"Maybe they went to help the others find their women?

They're worried sick the company will get them," Beth
suggested.

Clair almost choked again, this time with pure terror. "You

think they might have gone...?"

Maggie seemed to sense her distress before the others did.

"They're probably just helping with the ship. It's not done yet,
and they're anxious to leave as soon as possible ... everything
considered."

Had any of her men told her they were leaving, Clair

wondered? She couldn't recall them mentioning it. "Leaving?"

The three women exchanged a look she didn't particularly

like. It said clearly that they were wondering if she was even
invited to join the 'party' if she didn't know. "They can't stay
here, you know ... now that they've changed and the
company knows. They won't stop until they kill them all—and
us, too, if they find us. We're carrying their babies, after all.
They're taking us to their world."

"They have a world?" Clair echoed blankly.
"The Cyborgs—the others that went rogue. I had no idea it

was happening everywhere. Of course, I'd seen the news
reports, but they made it sound as if it was only a few and
they'd gone totally berserk." She leaned closer. "All of them
have awakened! That's what they call it 'awakening' ... or, at
least, Boyd does. He said that was as close as he could come
to describing it, that he'd been aware that he was changing

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for some time, but he didn't really understand it and then one
day he just knew."

Clair studied Maggie in fascination, wondering what it must

really have been like for them. Maybe something like
awakening from a coma and discovering nothing was the
same?

She shook those thoughts off. She didn't want to think

about how it must have been for them. Just trying to imagine
it made her hurt for them and she was having a hard enough
time at the moment dealing with the fear that they'd gone to
the surface to help the others, that they might, even now, be
dead.

Her stomach churned. She pushed her plate away.
The other women looked at her with a mixture of pity and

consternation. "You aren't going to puke, are you?" Cheryl
asked. "Because, if you do, I just know I will!"

Clair shook her head, struggling with her nausea until she

managed to master it.

"I think I'm going to go back to my room."
"Poor thing! You really ought to go to the medic. I'm sure

you're pregnant, but it's always good to get confirmation ...
so you can surprise your man. Is Drake the father? Or one of
the others?"

Clair ignored the questions Maggie called after her,

pretending deafness even though the woman had practically
shouted them at her. The air seemed suddenly oppressive,
stale almost to the point of being suffocating. What if she
actually was pregnant with Drake's baby?

Or Seth's?

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Clearly, it would insure her a place among the Cyborgs—at

least until she gave birth—but how did they really feel about
her? Any of them? She was human and they'd done a terrible
thing to the Cyborgs. Even now, they were trying to
exterminate them to hide their 'mistake'. How could they look
at her with anything but loathing?

They hadn't seemed to, though. Right up until she'd made

that terrible remark about the baby, they'd seemed ... eager
to please—even excited about the possibility that she was
carrying a baby.

Seth had said it was welcome—whoever it belonged to and

he'd seemed completely serious at the time—for once—totally
sincere. For that matter, it seemed to her that the others
hadn't seemed the least bit jealous or reluctant, a little
disappointed, maybe, that it wasn't theirs, but not angry with
her.

Despite their earlier reservations, Beth, Maggie, and Cheryl

seemed to have made a complete turnaround in their outlook.
They were clearly thrilled at the prospect of having a baby
and not nearly as uneasy about the situation as a whole.

How did she feel besides scared?
She struggled to summon an image. Not surprisingly, the

only thing she managed to pull up was the vids she'd looked
at of her and her mother. She found herself smiling like an
idiot after a moment, though, as an image of Drake came to
mind—a miniature of him.

And then Seth.
She shook her head, trying to shake the image. She

couldn't imagine what it would be like to try to live with four

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of them, and it seemed to her that that was what they had in
mind. Even the women had mentioned 'her' men, as if it was
commonplace for a woman to have a small harem!

It dawned her abruptly that they'd accepted that she did

because they did. She didn't have to look hard to see how
outnumbered they were—male to female. Even though she'd
seen Cyborg females among them, obviously from the
brothels, there were still far more males—so far, anyway.

Maybe they hadn't recalled the female pleasure droids?

Maybe they hadn't seen the need?

If the Cyborg males could impregnate them, though,

surely the females could get pregnant?

Of course, most men—humans—used birth control these

days. They didn't want to take a chance on impregnating a
woman since the fines were so high. And, unlike their female
counterparts, they weren't content just to use the pleasure
droids. They wanted as many 'real' women as they could get.
She'd lost track of the number of men who'd tried to get her
to have sex with them.

It was their promiscuity, though, that had made it

impossible to completely eradicate sexually transmitted
diseases. Every decade or so, a new one would pop up that
was worse than the ones scientists and doctors had already
eradicated.

Beth's comment intruded again, pushing those unpleasant

thoughts aside for far more unpleasant ones, although she
thought she would almost have preferred to dwell on disease.

Why would they go with the others, if in fact they had?

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Had she convinced them that she wasn't interested in

them or their babies?

Anger flashed through her at the thought.
They couldn't have been that taken with her to start with if

they were that easily discouraged!

She realized abruptly, though, that she'd wounded Drake

when she'd snapped at him for calling her his love. She'd just
been too stupid to realize, at the time, that that was why he'd
gotten angry—because she hurt him.

It wouldn't have hurt if he didn't care, would it?
Would they all have been insulted by her remark about the

baby if Simon and Seth and even Cole didn't care just a tiny
bit? Or maybe they were just insulted, not hurt?

Seeing it from their viewpoint, it occurred to her just how

insulting it had been. No doubt they were expecting her to
reject them because they Cyborgs and she was human and
they automatically assumed that was why she didn't want to
be pregnant—not because she just wasn't prepared for it, but
because it was a Cyborg.

Discovering she'd passed the safe house where she was

staying, she stopped and turned back. When she passed it the
second time, she stopped and glared at the building in
annoyance.

She'd come here, she realized abruptly, to try to hide from

her troubles, not from Simon and the others. Hiding from
them wasn't going to make her problems go away.

It wasn't their fault she was in such a mess. If she was

going to blame anyone, it should be her mother.

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Except it wasn't really her mother's fault, either, she

thought with a pang of guilt and regret. She'd been caught up
in an untenable situation herself and she'd done the best she
could to try to make things right.

Robotics, Inc., and more specifically Lyle McGinnis, were at

fault. They'd created the entire mess because of their greed
and their unwillingness to take responsibility for their actions.

If not for that, though, she would never have met Drake,

or Seth, or Simon, or Cole. If the company hadn't done what
they'd done, or her mother, the men she knew as men would
never have been anything but machines.

And she liked them the way were—a lot.
She gnawed her lower lip thoughtfully, wondering if she

should go back to the safe house she'd left—go back to
Drake.

What if he'd left to find some other woman, though?
She could see the others weren't willing to face the

possibility that 'their' men might have gotten any number of
women pregnant. She didn't especially want to accept the
possibility herself, but she couldn't ignore it—not when she
knew Drake had been in high demand at the brothel.

Had he gone to find another woman since she didn't seem

interested?

It would be mortifying to be perched up on his bed when

he came in with another woman. She wasn't certain her ego
could take that.

Seth's room?
But he'd undoubtedly gone, too—all of them. She risked

the same scenario, she realized, no matter which room she

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decided to try and she was far less certain Cole had any
interest in her at all than any of the others.

It might not be as embarrassing to face such a situation

with Cole, but it would still be uncomfortable.

Uttering a sigh of disgust, she went back to her 'new'

home, wondering if there was any chance, at all, that she
could patch things up with any of them.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eighteen

Clair went to bed early because she couldn't think of

anything else to do, but she slept very little. After tossing and
turning for hours, she finally got up. There was no day, night,
sunrise, or sunset, of course—not even any clocks to tell what
time of the day or night it was. Going by the Cyborgs' routine,
however, it was early when she left the room and went
outside to wander aimlessly along the street. Occasionally,
she passed a Cyborg, but for the most part it seemed like she
had the entire world to herself.

The restaurant where she'd been taking her meals hadn't

opened its doors yet when she reached it, but there were
some fairly heavenly smells wafting from it so she surmised
the cooks were up and working at least.

Her stomach growled in appreciation of the smells and

then almost immediately twisted in rejection of the idea of
eating.

Not that there was a chance of it, anyway, until the doors

opened.

She realized her walk hadn't been aimless at all when she

found herself standing in front of the safe house where the
guys were staying, wondering if they'd come back while she
was attempting to sleep. If they had, she decided, they would
probably still be sleeping.

She sat down on the curb, propping her elbows on her

knees and her chin in her hands, wondering if she should just
go back to her own room and try to rest. She hadn't done

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much of that before, but maybe the walk had cured her
restlessness and now she could? She couldn't seem to think
at all now when she'd spent the entire night doing very little
else.

Such as the fact that, whatever it was the Cyborgs

planned, and however she felt about it, she was committed to
it. She had been long before she'd known a thing about it
because her choices had vanished—no, been taken away—
when she was still a kid. She couldn't stay any more than
they could and have any chance of a life. She'd considered
what might happen if she took the holo-chip her mother had
left for Seth to the police, but it had been keyed to his DNA.
Unless he went with her, that was pointless, and she sure as
hell had no intention of even attempting to talk him in to
going with her.

The truth was, she wasn't even all that upset over the idea

of leaving Earth. Her mother was dead. She didn't exactly
have any ties on Earth anymore. She liked her job, but not
enough to risk getting dead trying to hold on to it—or any
other aspect of her life.

Drake had been about the only real highlight, she realized.
Pathetic as that sounded even to her.
She still couldn't completely absorb the possibility that she

might be pregnant, but she had finally realized that it was
almost as exciting a possibility as it was scary. She'd begun
to realize that, even though it wasn't something she'd
considered before, it was something that would enrich her
life. If it was true, she was glad.

Even if Drake had decided he didn't want her after all.

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She didn't have to have a man around to rear a child. Her

mother hadn't. She didn't even know who her own gene
donor was. She didn't know if her mother knew. She might've
been chosen out of a test tube pretty much the same way the
Cyborgs were—except they hadn't even had a mother.

She was lucky that she had, regardless of the way things

had turned out. She'd had a happy childhood while she was
with her mother and it hadn't been absolutely awful
afterwards. She certainly hadn't been lonely even though
she'd missed her mother. There had been plenty of other girls
her age to play with and talk to. There were a lot of people
who'd had far worse.

The Cyborgs, for example.
She just hoped 'her' Cyborgs were alright.
She got up on that thought, deciding to go back to her

room. As she turned to head back, though, she saw a group
of men coming toward her along the street. She stopped,
peering at them through the gloom. The clothes they were
wearing weren't familiar at all. In fact they were downright
strange looking, but the walk ... the coloring. Her heart sped
up as recognition slowly dawned.

The smile that began to curl her lips died when she saw

the condition they were in. Two of them—Seth and Drake—
were limping. Simon and Cole were walking stiffly, as well,
although she couldn't see that they had any noticeable injury
to their feet or legs. They were all dirty, their clothing—which
looked liked something they'd borrowed from a pimp—more
than a little tattered.

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As tired as they obviously were, they picked up their pace

when they saw she was waiting for them. Simon, she noticed,
was looking particularly pleased with himself.

"We have brought...."
"Some things for you," Seth cut in smoothly.
Simon sent him a confused look, but he was clearly in too

good of a mood to take exception.

"What in the world happened?" Clair exclaimed.
The four men exchanged uncomfortable looks. Seth smiled

wryly. "We'll tell you later. Come up and see what we found."

The suggestion that they had surprises in the bundles they

were carrying sent a thrill through her despite her dismay at
their condition and she turned to walk inside the safe house
them. Mounting the stairs, they paused briefly on the first
landing, apparently trying to decide which room to go to, and
finally headed to the room she'd shared with Drake.

The moment they were inside, Simon managed to bulldoze

his way between the others. Heading to the bed, he set his
bundle down and, grinning happily, gestured for her to open
it.

Clair supposed, wryly, that if she hadn't caught the thrill of

excitement from Simon the discovery of what was inside
wouldn't have come as quite a shock. She did, though,
tearing the bundle open with fingers that shook with
excitement, and her face fell with dismayed shock when she'd
managed to open it and discovery what the tinkling noise
was.

Broken plasti-glass bottles of every shape and size. A

rainbow of goop oozed from the containers, creating a mud

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brown paste where the colors had mixed. "Oh!" Clair
mumbled, trying to think of something to say.

She looked sharply at Simon then, wondering if he'd seen

the look of dismay on her face. She wasn't certain whether he
had or the condition of his 'gift' was enough. His smile had
vanished. His swarthy skin had turned a dull red. He looked
for several moments as if he was struggling for something to
say and finally merely turned around and stalked out of the
room.

Clair stared after him in dismay that deepened

considerably when she saw the burn hole in the back of his
shirt. The shirt wasn't just matted to his back with the
contents from the plasti-bottles, it was matted with drying
blood.

She glanced from his back to the bundle again, realizing

with horror why the bottles were all broken.

"Simon!" she murmured shakily.
He'd already strode from the room, however. Throwing an

apologetic glance at the others, she hurried to the door.
"Simon wait!"

She glanced back at Seth, Drake, and Cole. "I'm sorry.

Excuse me just a minute!"

Simon had retreated to his room before she could catch up

with him. She hesitated at the door and finally nerved herself
to go in without knocking. He was sprawled on his back on his
bed—his poor wounded back—staring angrily at the ceiling.

Clair hesitated and finally closed the door behind her,

crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let me
see your back."

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He turned his head to look at her. "Why?"
"Because you're hurt and I want to see how bad it is."
"It is not bad ... now. I am Cyborg, Clair," he said gruffly.
She studied his face, trying to think of something to say

that would make him feel better. She could see he was far
more disappointed at the ruin of her 'gift' than she was, and
no wonder considering what he'd obviously gone through to
bring it to her. "Can I look anyway? It'd make me feel better
if I knew it was alright."

He studied her irritably for a moment, as if struggling with

the suggestion that she doubted his word, and finally sat up.
Clair moved so that he could throw his legs off the bed and he
stood up, ripping the fasteners off of the front of the shirt and
peeling it off before she could stop him. The cloth, stuck to
him by the blood, took flesh with it when he ripped it off and
he released a hiss of pain.

Clair felt the pain in her own nerve endings, but despite his

rough handling of his wound she could see he was right. It
had closed.

She wasn't going to be able to get used to the way they

healed. No wonder they had such a complete disregard for
going into danger!

They weren't invincible, though, whether they felt like it or

not!

She moved closer to examine the wound and the bruising

around it. It made her belly clench in commiseration. They'd
been designed for rapid cell regeneration to swiftly repair
damage to make certain it didn't pose a threat to the unit ...

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or their usefulness. They hadn't been designed not to feel
pain.

The muscles along his back rippled reflexively when she

lightly touched him.

He was so stiff—angry, embarrassed, disappointed! She

felt so badly for him and she couldn't think of anything to say
to make him feel better.

"It's the thought that counts," she finally said, knowing

that was lame comfort at best.

He didn't respond for a moment. "It was not my thought,"

he muttered, uttering a deep sigh of disgust. "It was Seth's. I
thought...."

It warmed her to realize Seth had been so thoughtful, but

now certainly wasn't the time to talk about it. "You still went.
You tried. I appreciate that."

"And fucked up!" he growled.
Clair bit her lip. He sounded like a sulky child! She

supposed it was hard not to when one was so thoroughly
disgusted and embarrassed. She moved around to face him
since he wouldn't turn around to face her. Lifting a hand, she
stroked it lightly over his chest, at first to soothe, not really
with any intention of distracting him. His reaction sent a wave
of warmth through her, though, arousing a reactive interest in
her even as it produced a pleasant solution for distracting
him.

It was distracting her.
He had a beautiful chest. It was an artist's pallet of

wonderfully sculpted muscles.

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Dropping any pretense of soothing him, she traced the

light sprinkling of dark hair from breast to breast and then
down the center of his chest over the washboard abs of his
belly.

He sucked in a harsh breath and held it.
She shifted closer. "I'm glad the bottles took much of the

damage and spared you worse than what you got," she
murmured, leaning close to follow the same path she'd just
taken with her finger, nibbling teasingly with her lips. When
she reached the waistband of his trousers, she opened the
fastening and tugged them down his narrow hips to his
ankles.

The trousers were a hideous color! God only knew where

he'd found them, but he should've left them there!

She straightened, leaving him to step out of them. He

caught her beneath the arms, jerking her upright, grabbing
the front of her jumpsuit, and giving it a yank that opened it
all the way to one ankle.

She wasn't completely sure it was just the closure he'd

unfastened, but decided to worry about that later. He settled
his palms on her shoulders, thrusting the suit from her as he
glided his hands down her back and drew her against his
length.

She'd had a slow exploration in mind.
Clearly he had other ideas.
In two seconds flat, he'd rid her of her jumpsuit and traced

every inch of flesh within his reach with his palms and
fingertips, kneading her. His hoarse, rapid breathing made
her heart leap and then race madly in an effort to get oxygen

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and blood flow through her faster and faster. She was already
panting for breath when he coiled his arms around her and
gathered her up to him, dipping his head in search of her lips.

First contact was like throwing an accelerant on a fire—

explosive. Heat scored her insides. Blackness descended over
her like a curtain falling. Her entire focus instantly narrowed
to the barrage of sensations pelting through her mind. She
struggled to disentangle her arms from his desperate grip on
her, clutching at him, straining to push herself a little higher
with her toes. He grasped her buttocks in one hand, dragging
her upward.

She lifted her legs, coiling them around his hips. The

moment she did, the lips of her sex parted, sandwiching his
cock in her cleft.

It sent a fresh stab of excitement through her.
It sent him over the edge.
He broke the kiss. Gnawing and sucking at her jaw and

throat, shaking all over until it flickered through her mind to
wonder if he'd drop her, he seemed to have only two goals in
mind—to reach her breasts and to shove the rod of flesh
nestled between the lips of her sex into her as quickly as
possible.

The moment that occurred to her, she began wiggling and

shifting to accommodate him. She grabbed his head, trying to
lever herself high enough up that he could wrap his lips
around her throbbing nipple. At the same time, as she felt the
head of his cock plowing back and forth along her channel, as
if he was searching for the hole, she rocked her hips, trying to
help him ring it.

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Frustration took the upper hand, briefly, when he couldn't

seem to accommodate either one of her goals for him. She
debated whether to try to climb higher and shove her breasts
in his face or focus on the maddeningly elusive shaft he
seemed to be having trouble sheathing. Just as she was
struggling with the urge to scream in frustration, he found the
spot. She managed a murmur of approval that emerged more
like a grunt as he began jogging her up and down, trying to
stuff her down over the anaconda.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged at his head until

he looked up at her. She pressed her lips to his demandingly.
He accommodated her, opening his mouth over hers and
spearing his tongue into her. Heat fired her blood, forcing a
fresh wave of moisture into her channel and she felt his cock
slip a little deeper. He began thrusting and retreating from
her mouth in mock intercourse. Her kegels reacted by
clenching around his cock and trying to pull it in.

He groaned, wrenching his mouth from hers. Grasping her

hips, he bore down on them until she began to think the
combined pressure of his hands and the cock trying to split
her in two was going to unhinge her hip joints. He hit bottom
and tried to sink deeper. Just about the time she decided she
was going to have to tell him he couldn't go any deeper, that
realization seemed to penetrate his heat fogged mind. He
stopped shoving her downward and lifted her up instead.

The delicious glide of his cock along her channel instantly

switched her mind to the pleasure coursing through her. She
groaned his name like a prayer. He shook harder, began
lifting and lowering her faster and faster and when that didn't

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give him the rhythm he needed, he held her still and began
pumping his hips to drive into her a little deeper and faster.

She felt a tidal wave building inside of her almost the

instant he changed the depth and angle of his stroke. It broke
over her like a tsunami, dragging panting, gasping cries from
her. He uttered a choked groan in response, shook all over,
and jerked as his cock began pumping his seed into her.

Clair thought she was going to sink completely into

oblivion. Simon swayed, however, jerking her back. "If you
fall on me, it's going to break every bone in my body," she
muttered, "and then I'll really be a jellyfish."

He lifted his head from her shoulder and looked around a

little vacantly. Holding her carefully, he moved to the bed and
just as carefully lowered the two of them to the mattress.

She didn't entirely grasp his determination not to dismount

until he rolled with her to gain the upper position and began
to move slowly and rhythmically again. She ignored it for a
few moments, too focused on trying to catch her breath,
trying to decide whether she liked the aftershocks his
movements were stirring or whether she wanted him to quit
so that she could enjoy her climax in peace.

"Simon?"
He hunched over her and covered her mouth with his,

kissing her almost lazily.

It lulled her suspicion that there was any real intent in his

movements. He'd come. She felt the stickiness that proved it.

His cock grew hard inside of her again. His movements

became more purposeful. The languid kiss became heated,
demanding. She groaned into his mouth with a mixture of

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reluctance and censure, but she felt her body responding to
the stimulus, felt heat stir in her belly again.

As impossible as it seemed, desire leapt to a raging inferno

far faster the second time that it had the first and that had
happened so quickly it had blindsided her. She found she
could neither lay passively beneath him nor reluctantly. Her
hips seemed to curl to meet each thrust of their own accord.
She twisted her head to break the kiss, gasping desperately
for breath, groaning with both dread and anticipation as she
felt her body building toward another release.

It took her unaware, exploding through her with a

magnitude that threatened to make her heart stop. She
groaned, gasped, struggled against the building wave until
she was uttering sharp cries that bordered on a scream. She
nearly passed out when it topped out, dropping to a state
near comatose as the world fell out from under her. She was
barely conscious when Simon came again but aware enough
to feel a sublime sense of triumph that he had, as if it was
entirely her doing.

A faint, weary smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"I gave you pleasure?" Simon murmured.
He couldn't be that dense! He was demanding praise and

she was too exhausted to manage it. She struggled to lift one
eyelid high enough to see his face. Her tongue felt useless
and her lips swollen and as rubbery as the rest of her body.
"...Know you did," she finally managed.

He chuckled huskily. "I want to hear you say it."
"Have to wait ... 'bout dead now."

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Disengaging his body from hers, he moved to lay on his

side beside her and then scooped her limp form closer,
arranging her along his length.

"If this is my reward for fucking up, next time I will try

very hard not to fuck up the gift I bring you," he murmured
contentedly, his rumbling voice indicative that he was near to
dropping off to sleep himself.

A flicker of uneasiness went through her but so, too, did

amusement. "If it involves you getting your hide peppered
with holes, I don't want it," she said firmly.

His arm tightened around her reflexively, but she wasn't

entirely certain he'd heard her. He seemed to have dropped
to sleep the minute his lips stopped moving.

She drifted for a little while herself, thought she might

have dropped to sleep at least briefly, but then it dawned on
her that she'd left Drake and Seth and Cole abruptly,
abandoned them to come after Simon.

Groaning inwardly, she lifted her head to study Simon's

sleeping face. His black brows twitched together, but he didn't
open his eyes. She kissed the frown line, certain he'd
awakened. "I have to go," she whispered.

His arm tightened for a moment and then relaxed. Leaning

up to kiss his shoulder, she got off the bed despite her
reluctance. The aftereffects of two seriously potent climaxes
combined with the little actual sleep she'd gotten the night
before made her long to stay right where she was, but she'd
told the others she would come back.

Guilt flickered through her at the thought. No way could

they be in any doubt about what she'd been up to.

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And she sure as hell wasn't up to doling out a round of

thank yous like the one she'd just given Simon!

Anyway, she'd offered more because he was upset and she

felt like he needed comforting than out of any sense of
obligation to repay his generosity with sex.

Alright, also because she'd been wanting to have sex with

him since those mind blowing kisses he'd bestowed upon her.

He'd certainly proven his prowess didn't stop with fabulous

kisses!

She hoped to god everybody in the place hadn't heard her

verbal appreciation!

She shook her head. The others were just going to have to

settle for verbal appreciation ... for the moment, anyway. She
wasn't up to anything else.

Picking her jumpsuit up off the floor, she examined it to

see if Simon had ruined it in his enthusiasm. Relieved to see
it wasn't actually damaged, she debated whether to put it on
and get it sticky with come, or risk a dash to the bathroom
down the hall buck naked. She finally decided to compromise
by appropriating Simon's shirt for cover.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nineteen

A mixture of both irritation and disappointment descended

on Seth as he watched Clair's departure. Anger followed.

Trust Simon to fuck up and then earn all the gods damn

glory for the operation!

It wasn't that he wasn't both sympathetic and

embarrassed for him. It made him wince just thinking about
how he would've felt if he'd made such a production out of
presenting Clair with a present and then discovered it was a
ruined mess.

He still felt like kicking Simon's ass!
The idiot should've checked the package before he gave it

to her. Not that he'd really had much of a chance to do so and
he supposed Simon must have thought the sticky mess
oozing down his back was blood from his wounds.

The thought prompted him to gather his own offering up

and head to his room to check it before he handed it over. He
didn't want to look like a total jackass as Simon had!

In any case, he doubted Clair would be back any time

soon. As pissed off and upset as Simon was, he'd been
wanting to get his hands on Clair so badly it was almost
embarrassing to watch him. It seemed damned unlikely
Simon would let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Clair
was going to have to do some serious evading to make it out
of that room with getting nailed once she went in.

And he didn't honestly expect her to. He wasn't blind, even

if he wanted to be in this particular case. She was sweet on

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Simon, drawn to him, he supposed, because he was so gods
damned awkward. It defied reason as far he was concerned,
but he'd never professed to understand women and what
made them tick. Maybe he just seemed like a big, cuddly
teddy bear to her?

If that was the case, though.... Well, he supposed Simon

was as harmless as a teddy bear where Clair was concerned,
but she sure as hell wouldn't have the same view of him if
she'd ever seen him on the battlefield! He was one seriously
dangerous son-of-a-bitch when it came to fighting, he
thought, feeling an odd sort of pride over the fact.

He shrugged it off. Simon was his brother. It wasn't a bad

thing to feel brotherly pride in him—even if he did want to
kick his ass most of the time. At least he wasn't a total fuck
up and embarrassment—except with Clair.

That wasn't a bad thing either, he decided. He was willing

to admit, to himself, at least, a modicum of brotherly pride.
That didn't mean he wanted his brother to be better than him
at anything ... just not a total embarrassment. It wasn't as if
he could disclaim any kinship to him.

Shrugging the thoughts off, he rose to leave. When he did,

Drake and Cole both grabbed up their own bundles and beat
him out the door. Frowning, he followed more slowly, staring
at them blankly as they headed down the corridor and
stopped outside of Simon's room. He studied them, debating
whether to follow them or not. Since it dawned on him
abruptly what was running through their minds, however, he
stalked down the hall angrily and confronted them.

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"What in the fucking hell do you two idiots think you're

doing?"

Drake and Cole both turned to glare at him.
"Waiting for our turn," Cole answered stiffly.
Seth stared at him, wresting with two equal, opposing

desires—the first to inform them that they couldn't have come
up with a worse idea if they'd tried and the second to simply
step back and watch the fireworks when Clair emerged. He
finally decided to ignore both. He sure as fuck didn't want to
be in the line of fire when Clair came out! He didn't want her
to think he was that big a fucking fool!

He was inclined to think they wouldn't listen if he tried to

point out the error of their ways ... and might not understand
the finer points of proper etiquette if it came to that.

He shook his head at them. "There's a big fucking

difference between Clair offering affection in return for a gift
and you expecting her to offer it! Not my problem," he
muttered, turning on his heels and striding back down the
corridor to his own room.

Cole and Drake exchanged an uncomfortable look. "What

do you suppose he meant by that?" Cole demanded.

Drake thought it over. He was still thinking it over when

the door opened and Clair came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes
widened. Her lips parted.

Drake could not help but think she did not look pleased to

see them. Slowly, an expression of anger transformed her
features. "What are you two doing here?"

Cole smiled at her, lifting his bundle. "We have gifts!"

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She glared at him. "And you two decided to line up at the

door to 'receive'?"

Cole glanced from her to Drake. It did not escape him that

agreeing with her summation was probably not a good idea,
but he could not think of anything else to say.

She snatched the bundle from his hand and whacked him

with it. Fortunately, he hadn't packed anything hard in it.
"Thank you!" she growled, shoving past him and stalking
down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Cole stared after her blankly.
"I believe that I will go to my room to rest," Drake

announced coolly.

Cole was still standing in the hallway, going back over the

scene that had played out and trying to figure out what he'd
said or done to set her temper off when Clair emerged from
the bathroom again. The temptation hit him to beat a retreat
but before he could yield to it, she'd stomped up to him
again. She growled at him as she stalked past him and
swatted him with the bundle again.

It unnerved him when she stopped abruptly and whirled to

look at him with a fierce glare. "Where's Seth?"

"In his room."
She studied him a moment and finally swatted him again.

"Asshole!"

Stopping at Seth's door, she tapped on it, and then went in

when he summoned her.

Frowning, Cole headed to his own room.
Clair dragged in a deep calming breath when she'd stepped

into Seth's room.

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He was sitting on his bed watching her somewhat warily,

and she felt a twinge of guilt for her behavior. She cleared her
throat uncomfortably. "I apologize for dashing out like that
while ago," she said.

He lifted his dark brows but merely shrugged, and then

nudged his chin at her in a summoning motion. "Come see if
any of this is what you wanted from your place. I wasn't sure.
I guess I should've asked."

Feeling a surge of hopefulness, Clair dropped the bundle of

clothes she was still carrying and crossed the room to stand
by the bed and look down at the things Seth had spread out
there. He slipped a hand along her waist, guiding her to sit on
the bed between his thighs, but she was too intent on
studying what he'd brought her to really register anything
beyond getting more comfortable.

The vid-album caught her eye. She sent Seth a smile of

appreciation over her shoulder and reached for it. He tugged
on her until she leaned back against his chest as she opened
the cover and flipped it on. "I'd almost forgotten I had this,"
she murmured happily. "It's been forever since I looked at it."

Seth propped his chin on her shoulder. "I glanced through

the first few and figured it would be something you'd want."

She tilted her head enough to nuzzle her face along his

cheek as she pulled up the first picture. "I never would have
thought of it. It's been so long.... My god I was a fat baby!
Don't look!"

He chuckled. "Too late. You looked like a puffer fish."
She elbowed him in the ribs good naturedly. "I did not! I

was a cute baby!"

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He nuzzled her neck. "You're still a cute baby."
She flipped through several pictures in rapid succession,

the obligatory naked baby pictures that displayed all the baby
fat rolls and the bare butt. Seth chuckled, but he didn't
comment. She paused again when she reached an image of
her mother holding her. "My mother was beautiful."

To her surprise, Seth lifted a hand and stroked a finger

almost caressingly over the image. "I wish I'd gotten the
chance to know her," he said, a strange note his voice.

She twisted around to study his expression, wishing she'd

known her mother a little better herself. For the first time,
she thought about their life through her mother's perspective
and realized how truly hard it must have been for her. She
didn't think she could've borne having to send her own child
away. She thought she was too selfish. She would've been
clinging to it and trying to think of another way.

Maybe her mother had for a while, too?
"I wish you had, too. She would've liked you." She allowed

her gaze to flicker over his face, debating whether it was wise
to say more. "I think she would've been proud of the man you
are.... That she would've felt much better for her part to know
that you were the result."

Seth flushed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He also

looked to be struggling with something. He transferred his
gaze to the image again. "She was the mother in the
memories implanted in my mind," he said a little hoarsely.

Startled, Clair glanced from his face to the vid again,

wondering what her mother had been thinking to do such a
thing. "All of the scientists who worked on the project

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contributed DNA. The company wanted the best and they
were some of the most brilliant in their fields," she slowly.

Seth squeezed her. "Even if she did contribute, Angel, that

would only make us distant cousins," he murmured with
amusement. "It's still legal."

Clair blushed that he'd read her mind, but she felt some of

the tension ease from her, knowing he was right. For all they
knew, her mother hadn't had any more to do with him in
particular than the programming as far as that went.

"I think she did it because she wanted to be certain I'd

give her the chance to explain. I think she thought I'd blame
her, maybe hate her."

"Did you?"
He released a pent up breath. "I didn't. I came because I

wanted her to tell me the truth about myself and because I
wanted to know there was a reason for it. It was almost
worse to discover all the ... pain those memories had caused
me was false, not mine to bear, that none of it had anything
to do with me. It was ... like suddenly being cut loose from a
mooring. I didn't know what to think or feel anymore."

"You thought she was your mother," Clair said with sudden

insight. "That's why you were so reluctant to believe me when
I said she was my mother."

Seth's arms tightened around her. "Actually, you've got it

partly right. I didn't recognize the resemblance between you
and your mother for what it was ... at first." He settled his
mouth over her ear, sending a cascade of goosebumps all
over her as his heated breath teased the sensitive shell. "I
wanted to fuck you so bad I could taste it," he murmured

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raggedly. "I was not happy when I began to suspect that it
might be ... genetically unethical."

Clair shifted against him, struggling with the urge to wiggle

her butt against the hard ridge she'd felt rise against her
buttocks. "When did you decide it wasn't genetically
unethical?" she asked a little breathlessly.

He curled his arms around her, lightly stroking the

distended tip of one her breasts through her suit while he
nuzzled his face against her neck. "When your mother
explained it to me," he murmured between light, nibbling
bites. "She said 'take care of my daughter'. She didn't say
take care of your sister."

"Thank god!" Clair murmured with heartfelt relief. "This

could've been awkward."

He smiled against her neck. "Or seriously naughty," he

agreed. "I think I should admit that the possibility didn't
drastically alter my feelings on the subject."

"It didn't?"
He removed the album from her lax hands, dropped it with

the other things, and then swept them into a pile next to the
wall. "It didn't." He shifted her to the bed and followed her
down, tilting his head to align his mouth with hers.

The moment he began to kiss her, she felt her body

blossom with welcome. She completely forgot that she'd
thought she was so thoroughly sated when she'd left Simon's
room only a short while before that she just wasn't up to any
more physical thank yous.

It didn't seem to matter. His languid kisses and caresses

roused every fiber of her being to a sense of frenzied

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desperation. By the time he'd stripped her of clothing and
divested himself of his own, she felt as fevered as if she
hadn't been touched only a short while before, hadn't been
thoroughly pleasured.

She wondered, dimly, if she was becoming addicted to

carnal pleasures.

Or maybe she was just addicted to Seth?
The climax he brought her to rivaled an atomic blast,

fragmenting her psyche so that she drifted downward from it
into total oblivion.

She woke feeling wonderfully refreshed. Stretching all

over, she winced at the protest of her muscles and opened
her eyes to discover that Seth was propped on one arm,
studying her.

It discomfited her. "How long have you been staring at

me?" she asked, embarrassed.

He grinned. "About an hour. I was trying to decide whether

it was a good thing or a bad thing that you slept so soundly."

She closed her eyes again, but she couldn't prevent a

smile. "What did you decide?"

He dipped low to nuzzle her neck. "That I'm starving."
She laughed. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Time to eat," he said, climbing over her and swatting her

ass as he did so.

She sent him a half reproachful glare, but he missed it,

striding across the room to retrieve the bundle she'd dropped
by the door. "Let's see what Cole managed to snag. I know
you're tired of wearing the same suit."

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Clair sat up, feeling guilt swamp her. "I don't think I even

thanked him."

"He'll live," he retorted carelessly, sweeping the bundle up

and returning to the bed with it.

She caught it when he dropped it on her belly.
"Make it fast or I might just decide to eat you instead of

waiting."

The first thought that popped into her mind shouldn't have

been the one that did. Seth sent her smoldering look. "I'll
keep that in mind."

She felt her cheeks redden. "What?" she asked, trying to

pretend she had no idea what he was talking about.

He chuckled, shook his head at her and strode to the door.

Before she could even assimilate what he intended, he
opened it, stepped into the hall, and closed it behind him. She
stared at the door in shock for a moment and started
chuckling. "Not a shy bone in his body," she murmured with
amusement.

The amusement vanished when she'd opened the bundle

to examine the clothing. It wasn't the fact that it had been
bundled hurriedly and was wadded and wrinkled. It was full of
holes—laser blasts. "My god!" Remembering abruptly that
both Seth and Drake had been limping, a wave of cold
washed over her. "The idiots!" They'd damned near gotten
themselves killed!

Just to get her the things she'd been bitching about not

having!

And it had been Seth's idea! He was as crazy as the rest of

them!

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That would teach her to keep her stupid mouth shut!
But it hadn't occurred to her that they would take such

crazy chances just because.... She broke off the thought,
examining it. To make points with her? To make her happy?

She'd treated Drake and Cole really badly, she realized

abruptly. No wonder they'd looked so crestfallen! They'd gone
through hell to get her things for her!

Not that they hadn't deserved it! Didn't the idiots realize

that they'd made her feel like she was expected to pay for the
gifts in pussy?

Of course not! Subtly was beyond them!
She released an irritated breath, deciding to put on the old

jumpsuit and clean up before she changed—if she could find
something that wasn't too damaged.

She passed Seth in the hall—still naked and now dripping

water. She couldn't help but smile. He swatted her ass again
as he passed. "Watch it, buddy!"

"I am watching it," he shot back at her. "And it's a damned

fine ass!"

She threw a look at him over her shoulder, wiggled it

saucily at him, and dashed into the bathroom when he started
toward her.

She was actually a little disappointed that he didn't follow

her, but decided, wryly, she'd had more than enough sexual
activity for a while. Her inner thighs felt like they were
palsied.

Reminding herself that Seth had said he was hungry, she

took a quick bath and dressed, finger combing her hair.
Simon, she remembered, had brought her toothbrush and her

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hair brush, but it was going to take some work to clean them
up for use. At any rate, she remembered she'd left them in
Drake's room and she didn't feel up to facing him at the
moment.

She discovered she didn't have a choice. The four men

were waiting at the head of the stairs when she came out of
the bathroom. Seth and Simon both sent her smoldering
looks of promise. Drake and Cole stood glaring at the wall,
looking as sulky and bad humored as a couple of grisly bears.

She couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Drake and

Cole were both spoiling for a fight. She thought if Seth and
Simon hadn't been so cheerful they might not have been
quite so outdone, but then again, if they hadn't been, they
probably wouldn't have made it to the restaurant without
another knock-down-drag-out.

Clair tried to subdue her own cheerfulness for Drake and

Cole's sake, but it was hard when she wanted to flirt with
Seth and Simon. Besides which, she didn't want to give them
the impression that she wasn't completely pleased with them.
"I don't suppose we could all take a walk and, maybe, tour
the ship I've been hearing about?" she asked tentatively
when they'd finished eating and left the restaurant.

The question seemed to distract both Drake and Cole from

their sour mood. The look they sent her made her feel low,
really low. It was so hopeful she couldn't interpret it any
other way. It made her realize why the train of their thoughts
had made them both so angry. It wasn't just that she'd gone
to both Seth and Simon and left them out. They thought it

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meant her affections were entirely focused on Seth and
Simon.

"I don't think you want to walk that far," Seth responded.
The comment distracted her from the mental calisthenics

of trying to figure out a way to mend her bridges with them.
She looked at him questioningly. "How far is it? I thought it
must be pretty close."

He shook his head. "We're too far underground here. They

had to build it in an old abandoned warehouse outside the city
dome. I haven't seen it myself."

"Oh," Clair responded, wondering, since he hadn't said,

just how far away it was. "What if...? Never mind."

"What?" Simon prompted.
Clair chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I was just thinking

about the logistics of everyone getting to it ... if there was
any sort of ... uh ... rush."

Simon, Drake, and Cole all stared at each other with

dawning looks of horror. Seth had lifted his head and was
staring into the distance, frowning.

"It was just a thought," Clair offered uncomfortably.
Seth looked at her. "Let's take a walk."
They walked in silence for a while. Clair was uncomfortably

aware that she needed to do or say something to lighten the
mood, but it took her a while to think of anything. "Who
found this place?" she asked curiously, glancing at Drake.

He sent her a speculative look but shrugged. "It was

known. It is not on the city maps of today, but it is in the
archives we accessed when we were searching for a place
that would work as a gathering point if the need arose. We

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had expected that it would, even though we were agreed that
we would maintain the façade that we were as everyone
thought for as long as possible.

"We came down as we could to explore and then to make

it ready when we realized that the company must begin to
suspect that we had changed when they learned about the
others.

"We are the same, after all. We were all created at the

same time, even though some of us were shipped to the
brothels and others to the government as soldiers."

Clair sent Seth a look that begged him to understand and

crossed in front of him to loop her arm through Drake's. He
looked down at her in surprise when she did, but after a
moment, he smiled at her faintly.

"How many did you calculate would come here? I mean,

did you actually know how many women you'd impregnated?"

Drake looked a little reluctant. "We did not calculate the

humans ... or ourselves for that matter. We did not realize
then that we were capable of it. We counted. Even though we
knew the odds were very against the possibility that we would
all make it here, we ... planned as if we believed that we
would." He frowned. "I suppose that is not logical at all."

Clair smiled at him sympathetically. "That's called hope—

hope for the best and plan for the worst."

He cast a vastly uncomfortable glance at Seth and Simon.

"I am not at all certain that we planned for the worst," he
admitted finally.

Clair glanced at the brothers, as well, made a kissing

motion at Simon and sent Cole a significant look, holding her

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hand out in invitation. He stared at her hand, then glanced at
her curiously, but after a moment he closed the distance
between them. She caught his hand, tugged him closer and
looped her arm through his, as well.

Drake was giving both her and Cole a nasty glare when

she looked at him again. She ignored it, smiling at him
sweetly until he looked away. "It seems to me you all thought
of just about everything," she disputed him politely.
"Considering how little time you must have had, and
everything that must have needed to be done, what you've
accomplished here is remarkable really."

He shook his head, frowning. "We were not designed to

make plans, mon amour," he said almost apologetically.

His face darkened when he realized he'd fallen back into

the habit of calling her by the endearment she'd thrown in his
face before and Clair felt like kicking herself. She tightened
her grip on his arm when he tensed as if he'd pull away,
rubbing her cheek along his shoulder. She smiled at him
saucily when she met his gaze again. "I know what you were
designed for," she said teasingly.

Simon frowned, glancing at Seth and then discovered that

Seth had dropped behind. He stopped. Waiting until his
brother had caught up once more, he looked at him
frowningly. "What are we doing?"

"We're finding out how long it'll take Clair to walk to the

ship."

Simon's frown deepened. He hadn't been referring to that.

He was far more interested, at the moment, in knowing why
he and Seth were trailing the others like dolts while Cole and

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Drake had Clair's attention all to themselves. The comment
redirected his thoughts, however. "You are thinking about
what she said?"

Seth grunted. "Since she pointed it out, yes."
Simon considered that. "She did not say the plan would

not work. She does not even know the plan."

"She doesn't have to. She pointed out the weakness in it

that we hadn't considered."

"They had not expected to have human women among

them when they made the plan ... or that the militia would be
brought in to search for them." He turned to study Clair. "You
think she can not walk that far?"

"Not without resting," Seth said grimly. "We'll see. If she

can't walk that far, she sure as hell can't run it."

Uneasiness swept through Simon again. "One of us could

carry her."

"If we're here," Seth said pointedly.
"Why would we not be here?"
Seth shook his head. "I'm just saying we have to consider

the possibility, and not just for Clair's sake. She isn't the only
human woman here. We don't have to worry about the
Cyborg females. They won't have any more trouble than we
do. The human women are another matter. How close are we
to having the ship finished?"

Simon shrugged. "Mayhap another week, mayhap less.

They have been working continuously since we came. Before
that, only when they could get away without being noticed for
a few hours here and there, which is why it is not done."

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Seth frowned. "They would get done faster if we all worked

on it."

"This is true, but the women have not all been found and

we have been losing men when they go out to search for
them. Five go out, and sometimes only four come back,
sometimes none."

Seth's expression hardened. "This is a bigger mess than I'd

realized. Tactics have to be changed when the situation
changes. We need to sit down and figure out a plan of action
and then we need to call a meeting and make sure it's
something we can all agree on."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty

"We can't focus on our personal problems and ignore the

needs of the group," Seth said with determined patience as
he looked out over the gathered crowd. They'd called the
meeting in the street since there was no place else where
there was enough room for everyone. "If we don't, we'll all
die."

"You are not concerned because you have your woman

with you!" one of the Cyborgs near the fringes of the crowd
shouted at him. "Many of us do not!"

"I'm concerned because Clair is with us! She's no safer,

here, than the women in the city!"

That comment shocked them into silence for a space of

several minutes. "There are no militia here and no police!"

"Yet!" Seth shot back at them. "This place isn't a secret. It

isn't unknown to the humans. They just haven't thought
about it yet. As soon as they'd combed the city and realized
we aren't on the surface, they'll start looking for where we
might be and it isn't going to take them long find this place.

"It was a good plan when you had no idea what would

happen beyond the need to have a place to gather, but it isn't
going to work the way things have turned out. You expected
the company to send their security out to look. You expected
them to be trying to keep it quiet. The riot at the company
the day of the recall changed that. They couldn't keep it
quiet. There were too many witnesses and the militia's been
called in.

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"It's a military operation now—not a company action and

we have to consider it from that viewpoint. The militia isn't
going to be constrained by any of the things the company
would've had to consider. Many of you have already been up
top, have had nasty encounters with them. The company
wouldn't have opened fire in the streets. They wouldn't have
dared to. They wouldn't have brought in flying war machines
to chase us through the streets and across the rooftops."

He stopped to allow them time to discuss the information

among themselves and digest it.

"You are not a soldier," one of the men in the front said

after a time. "Even if you were, you know no more than we
do. We had the same programming."

Seth's face hardened. "I was designed for covert

operations," he agreed, "but Simon wasn't. He fought on
Hellios-12. And he led his men off of that fucking rock. He has
something none of you have—experience as a leader. Just like
you, he was designed to be a soldier, only to take orders, not
to give them, not to plan, not to understand battle strategy
beyond what he needed to follow orders. But he's learned far
more than that through experience. He knows how to plan
and execute an offense, an attack, and a retreat."

He nodded at Simon and stepped back. They'd anticipated

the situation. The others knew him for what he was—not that
he'd made any attempt to hide it. They accepted him as one
of them—to a degree, but they didn't entirely trust him
because he'd been a Hunter and, he suspected, because he
seemed more human because of his speech patterns and
behavior modification.

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Simon looked vaguely uncomfortable after Seth's speech,

but he relaxed as he looked out over the crowd.
"Strategically, we are in an indefensible position here. The
street is wide open, the safe houses death traps where we
could be pinned with nowhere to retreat. We must move
everyone and all of our supplies to the ship as soon as
possible or risk the possibility of losing both if the militia finds
us before we have done this."

A deathly silence fell over the crowd.
"The ship is not finished!"
"If they found us there before it is ready, we risk losing the

ship!"

"If they find the ship, we risk losing it if we are not there

to defend it. And the ship is finished enough to house us as
comfortably was we are housed here," Simon responded
coldly. "I can not order you to do this. Your logic must guide
you in your decision."

He gestured toward either end of the street where they

stood. "The militia will attack from these two points and herd
us to the center where they can slay us. The street is our only
avenue for retreat, which means that we would be fully
exposed, and we would die, if we attempted it. If we stay
here and allow them to cut off our retreat from either side,
then they would not even have to risk the lives of their own
men. They could flood the area with gases and we would die.
They could plant explosives above us and bring the concrete
down upon us to crush us.

"We can not defend this place. It is of no use to us, at all,

beyond becoming a grave. The plan was that we would gather

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here to leave. We have gathered. We need to leave before
they discover where we are."

He didn't wait for more questions or disputes. He turned

and leapt down from the abandoned car where he and Seth
had stood to speak.

Clair was studying him with a strange look on her face, her

skin pale. Regret filled him that he had frightened her, but he
had known there was no other way but to point out the threat
to everyone. She slipped her arms around his waist when he
reached her and an odd sort of warmth filled him. There was
trust in her embrace, he realized, and a search for
reassurance. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her
tightly, searching his mind for something he could say that
would take the look of fear from her eyes.

"Is it really that bad?" she whispered.
He could not lie to her. "It could be, yes," he answered. "It

will not be for you, however. We are taking you to the ship.
We will gather our share of the supplies and leave as soon as
we have done so."

The crowd parted for their party as they turned to head

back to the safe house where they'd been staying, but they
hadn't gone far when they were stopped by some of the
Cyborgs who'd been shouldering their way through the crowd
to speak with them.

"Our women are still in the city."
Simon paused to study the man who'd stopped him. "The

good of the many must come before the good of the few," he
said.

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"You would not say that if it was your woman!" another

said angrily.

Simon looked at the man. "No, I would not. It is because

she is here that I can focus on the good of the many. I will
not allow her to stay here when there is danger."

"But afterward? Once she is safe?"
"No one's really going to safe as long as we're here," Seth

responded. "She'll be safer at the ship. That's all we're
saying."

Simon studied the faces of the men around him and finally

turned to Cole. "Take Clair and begin to pack. Seth and I will
come to help in a few minutes."

Clair didn't like the way he'd said that. "But you're

coming?"

"Yes."
She still wasn't satisfied. She knew he wanted her out of

the way so that he could talk to the others and she suspected
she wasn't going to like whatever it was he decided to do.
There didn't seem to be much point in arguing over it right in
front of all of them, though. He wasn't likely to be more
receptive to her arguments if she embarrassed him in front of
the others.

Nodding, she went inside with Drake and Cole.
When he was certain she was beyond hearing, Simon

turned to the men again. "You want to find your women and
you want to ensure their safety."

The men nodded.
He shook his head. "You can not accomplish that in the

way that you have been trying to do it. You would have found

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them by now if the company did not have a hand in their
disappearance."

"We had surmised that," one of the men said angrily.

"There are posters up in the city now which state that they
are missing."

"If they are holding them, then they are using them to bait

a trap. That means that they will be safe for now—as long as
the company believes that they can use them to draw you in,
they will be safe. It also means that they will make certain
that they can be found.

"Once you locate them, you will discover that it is easy to

release them, because that is the trap. They do not only want
the handful who still have women out there. They want to
destroy us all. They will try to follow you back here. We can
not risk freeing the women until we are prepared. If you are
in agreement with me on that issue, then I will help you when
the time comes.

"First, we must move everyone out and make certain that

we have sufficient supplies for the journey, however. We
must finish the ship and make certain that it is waiting only
for our return to leave this world."

* * * *

"What was that all about back at the safe house?" Clair

asked as causally as she could once they'd all gathered what
they could and headed out.

Simon frowned, but he didn't look at her.
Clair's stomach instantly knotted with nerves.

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"They have not found their women. They are not willing to

go without them."

"Do you think they're still alive?" she asked quietly.
Simon and Seth both glanced at her.
"That's anybody's guess," Seth answered. "There's no

getting around the fact that they'd never have a better
opportunity to make them disappear, or a better cover story.
The city's in hysteria. Everyone's expecting the Cyborgs to
attack at any time. After all they've been told, they'd probably
believe just about any story the company wanted to cook up."

"But they might be," she insisted.
"It's possible."
Clair decided to let the subject drop. She wanted to order

Simon and the others to forget any plans they might've made
to try anything crazy, but there were several problems with
that. First and foremost, she didn't think they'd listen to her
no matter how much she showed her ass about it. They
hadn't mentioned it, either, even though she'd given them a
lead, given them every opportunity to announce their
intentions, and it was hard to argue with silence.

Beyond that, she felt guilty about the women—because

she didn't honestly care about them, not if it meant that
Drake, Cole, Simon, and/or Seth might die trying to get to
them and rescue them. She'd tried really hard to bury her
head in the sand and not listen to what was going around her,
but she knew there'd been an ongoing search for the women
from the time the Cyborgs 'revolted'. She knew that every
time they went out, some of them didn't come back. It was
impossible not to know that when she could hear the Cyborgs

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around her talking about friends that left and didn't return, or
men they'd seen die.

She still had nightmares when she thought about the

danger the men had put themselves in just to get her
belongings. If she'd known about that plan before they'd left,
she would've been clamped to their ankles when they tried it.
And she hadn't realized before that just how dangerous it was
for any of them to leave the underground.

She was a firm believer in not facing anything she could

run from, in any case. She wanted to believe the issue was
dead and Simon had refused to do whatever it was they'd
asked him to do.

It was harder to convince herself when she'd heard the

things Seth had said about him, watched him speak. She was
so used to his mostly bumbling attempts to court her that
she'd managed to completely put it from her mind that Simon
was, first and foremost, a soldier and in that arena he knew
exactly what he was doing. She supposed she'd managed it
because she hadn't actually seen him in action except when
they'd broken in to the company, and she'd been too
mindless with terror to fully appreciate how quick and
efficient Simon was when it came to any matter of self-
defense.

She was tired enough after the first few hours of walking

to put her worries from her mind. Discomfort held her full
attention after that and it only got worse. Just about the time
she was so tired she'd begun to seriously consider begging
them to stop so that she could sleep for a few hours, they
reached the 'end' of the underground, or at least the area

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that had been restored for the use of the Cyborgs. A rubble
filled, completely black tunnel opened in front of them.

Seth stopped and looked her over assessingly. When he

did, the others stopped, as well. Unshouldering the pack he'd
been carrying, he handed it off to Cole. "We'll have to carry
Clair from here, at least until we get to the other end of this
tunnel. She won't be able to see."

To say nothing of the fact that she was too damned tired

to walk anymore! "I could walk if someone could lead me,"
she offered, feeling obligated to and just a little insulted that
they'd automatically assumed that she'd be helpless as soon
as they entered the tunnel.

Which she would be, of course.
"There's too much debris," Seth said, scooping her up

before she could protest any further.

Not that she really wanted to! Looping her arms around his

neck, she dropped her head to his shoulder wearily.

And fell asleep.
She woke up when Seth stopped walking and discovered

she couldn't even tell that she'd opened her eyes. "Where are
we?" she asked groggily.

"Still in the tunnel. The floor's relatively clear here,

though. I think we can find enough room to bed down for a
rest."

She froze when he set her on her feet, afraid to move in

any direction. It took all she could do just to remain on her
feet, as far as that went. The absolute absence of light played
hell with her equilibrium. Relief flooded her when someone

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took her hand. "This way, mon amour. You will sleep beside
me."

She clung to his arm, sliding her feet along the floor until

he caught both of her arms and helped her to sit down. "Is it
safe to stop here?" she asked uneasily, more unnerved about
being completely blind than anything else.

"We are near the junction of the other tunnels," Simon

responded. "Near enough for a quick retreat if necessary. It is
safe enough to rest for a few hours."

There'd been others both before and behind them when

they'd left the underground. She listened, but she didn't hear
any noises that indicated any of the others were nearby.
"Where is everyone?"

"The others have moved ahead of us."
Clair chewed her lip, but it was impossible to convince

herself, she discovered, that they hadn't been left behind
because of her. She'd slowed them down.

Someone placed a bottle in her hands and wrapped both of

her hands around it. She had to feel for the top. When she'd
removed the cap, she lifted the bottle and nearly missed her
mouth. She giggled a little hysterically when she felt water
trickle down her chin, mopping at it self-consciously. "My god!
I can't even ring my mouth!"

That brought to mind another dilemma. She had to pee.

They'd been walking for hours and hours. She wished
abruptly that she'd demanded that they wait while she made
use of the facilities in the underground one last time before
they left, but she hadn't wanted to mention it when they
hadn't covered more than a few miles.

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She heard the men relieve themselves.
It made her need to go worse.
Making up her mind, she carefully put the lid on the bottle

again, set it down on the pallet beside her and turned to crawl
on her hands and knees in the opposite direction from where
she'd heard the men.

"What the hell are you doing?" Seth demanded, laughter in

his voice.

"I have to go, too, damn it!" Clair said irritably.
"I'll walk you over to the wall."
"I'll find it myself damn it!"
"Not if you keep going in that direction."
Clair halted. "Which direction should I go?"
"To your right ... three feet."
"Is there ... uh ... like a boulder or something I could hide

behind?"

"You can't see us. Why worry about it?"
"Don't be an ass, Seth! You can see, damn it!"
He was shaking with suppressed laughter when he reached

down and picked her up. "I'll take you and I promise not to
watch."

"Pervert! I don't trust you! Not when you're laughing."
He chuckled out loud at that. The sound echoed eerily

through the tunnel. "Stop that!" he commanded her in a
shaky voice. "You'll make me give up our position."

She glared at him. "I am so glad you find this so

entertaining!"

He set her on her feet. "Watch the rocks!" he cautioned.

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She bent her knees until she was crouching and felt

around. There was one rock! And it barely came up to her
waist! "Damn it, Seth!"

"Calm down. I'm turned around now."
She unfastened her jumpsuit and then paused. "What

about everybody else?"

"They're standing around you watching."
"Ass!"
She didn't really believe him, but she discovered her

bladder wasn't convinced. It took a concentrated effort to
empty it. As relieved as she was, she was still horribly self-
conscious when she stood up again and closed the legs of her
jumpsuit.

"Better?" Seth asked as he scooped her up.
She sent him a drop dead look. He almost poked her eye

out with his nose when he leaned in to kiss her just about the
time she turned her head toward him. "Ow!" she exclaimed,
squeezing her eye closed.

"If you'd be still," he muttered, "that wouldn't have

happened."

"If I could see it wouldn't have happened!"
He set her down, caught her face in one hand, and kissed

her on the lips lingeringly. "Get some sleep."

She felt a hand settle at her waist when Seth stepped

away. Relieved, she allowed Drake to guide her down onto
the pallet again. "More water?"

She took the bottle from him. Took another few sips and

then capped it again and settled beside him.

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He curled around her. "You have a very pretty ass, mon

amour," murmured near her ear.

It took her a moment to digest that. "Drake! You

watched?"

He chuckled. "I am only teasing."
"It is a beautiful ass, though," Simon said. "What do you

think, Cole?"

"Very pretty."
"You're all asses!" Clair said irritably, but she couldn't help

but smile. "Did anyone happen to notice the birthmark?"

"It is a geometric shape, almost a diamond, and pink,"

Cole volunteered.

"If I could find something, I'd throw it at you! You were

looking, you ass!"

He laughed. "I saw it when you went into the bathroom

the other day. Simon's shirt did not cover it."

Slightly mollified, she snuggled more comfortably again

Drake and closed her eyes, not that it made that much
difference. She was still wondering if she could sleep after the
nap she'd taken when Seth was carrying her when she did fall
asleep.

It was completely disorienting to waken to a darkness so

thick she could almost feel it, but she opened her eyes and
sat up when she felt Drake get up. He helped her to her feet
and rolled the pallet up.

Someone scooped her up so unexpectedly that she

gasped. "It is my turn to carry you," Cole said.

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She looped her arms around his neck sleepily. "You say

that as if it's a treat," she murmured dryly. "I could probably
walk if the ground's clear here."

He nuzzled his face against hers. "It is a treat. You are as

light as a feather."

"Right!"
"I had not thought you would be so light."
Because he was a Cyborg, she realized abruptly. He could

probably lift a thousand pounds without flinching! Fortunately,
she didn't weigh that much.

It still made her feel dainty and she liked it.
"Did you really see the birthmark the other day?"
"No, I saw it last night."
"Cole!"
"What?"
"Now I don't know what to believe!" she said irritably.
"Believe that I think that you have a beautiful ass—a

beautiful everything," he said matter-of-factly.

It was surprisingly easy to believe him when he said it like

that. She felt herself blushing with pleasure at the
compliment. "Thank you."

She felt the movement of his head and knew he was trying

to look at her face. The urge struck her to offer her lips for a
kiss.

It was bad impulse. She caught his nose with her eye.
She dropped her head to his shoulder again, blinking her

eye until it stopped stinging. "I hope it isn't far now," she said
irritably. "I don't know if I'll still be able to see when there's
light."

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They stepped into a narrower tunnel a short time later and

followed it for what seemed like hours and hours. They didn't
stop to eat. Someone produced some sort of finger food—it
tasted like tuna.

A discussion followed regarding the fact that tuna was their

favorite food.

She didn't know if they were hinting or not, but she glared

around, hoping she'd caught all of them with her drop dead
look, and they fell silent.

"It does not taste or smell like tuna!" she informed them

challengingly after a few minutes had passed.

"It tasted like tuna to me," Cole said, clearly confused.
She socked him on the shoulder.
"Did to me, too," Seth volunteered, laughter threading his

voice. "And I love tuna!"

"Carry me over to him so I can punch him in the nose!"

Clair growled.

"Not again! My nose is still sore from last night."
"I know my eye did not hurt your nose!" Clair informed

him.

"Was that your eye?"
She shook head at him, or at least the point where the

thought he was and laid her head on Cole's shoulder again.
She discovered it was hard to stay awake, surrounded by
complete darkness, and dozed again. She woke when Cole
stopped. He put a finger to her lips in warning. The warning
brought her to full alert and she discovered a tiny amount of
light was filtering into the tunnel where they'd stopped. Cole
set her on her feet, holding her until she'd caught her

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balance. She saw the man directly in front of her make some
kind of signal with his hand and then move forward.

She thought it was Simon, but it could've been Seth. It

wasn't Drake. Even as low as the light was, she could see the
faint gleam of his light hair. He disappeared, swallowed up by
the darkness. They waited in tense silence. A few minutes
later he reappeared, making no attempt to be quiet. "All
clear."

Cole held her arm to steady her and led her forward until

she saw that the 'tunnel' they were standing in was a huge
culvert. It was night. Clair felt a leap in her pulse as she
gaped at the night sky for the first time in weeks—she
thought. There'd been no real way to tell whether it was night
or day while they were underground and she had no clear
idea of how long they'd been in the underground city.

She discovered when they reached the lip that it was

several feet from the ground. Cole leapt down, grasped her
waist and set her on the ground.

The air smelled ... strange. She realized after a moment

that that was because it wasn't 'canned' oxygen. She'd never
been outside of the city—not outside. It was actually pretty
unnerving, she discovered, once she'd had time to realize
there was no dome overhead.

They followed a steep path down from the culvert where

they'd emerged, heading toward a huge rectangular building
that stood in the midst of nothing but vegetation, and sparse,
stunted vegetation at that. She could hear sounds of activity
emerging from the building a while before they reached it.

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Two figures emerged from the shadows as they neared the

building. "Identify," one said in a clipped voice.

"Seth HC18970."
"Simon CS05099."
"Drake PD4233"
"Cole CS00161."
Clair stared at the two men uncomfortably. "Clair

LaMotte."

The other man spoke for the first time. "LaMotte?"
"She's Mother's daughter," Seth said before she could

think of anything to say.

His remark sent a shockwave through her.
Clair was still too numb with shock to fully assimilate what

was going on around her when she was escorted inside. A
wave of excitement seemed to follow them step for step,
though, as they moved inside the hanger and headed toward
the access ramp of the ship that took up almost the entire
interior of the building.

The whispering outstripped them.
Clair glanced around uneasily and then looked at Seth. "I

don't understand."

He moved closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

"It's alright, baby."

"But ... what did you mean?"
"They call her Mother."
"My mother?" Clair whispered blankly. "Who calls her

mother?"

"Everyone. I should have explained." He shook his head.

"Let's find our cabin and I'll explain it to you."

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They had a cabin?
She was anxious to reach it and not just because she

wanted him to explain. Everyone they passed stopped to
stare at her. She couldn't quite decide what the expression on
their faces denoted and that was one of the things that
unnerved her.

They must know her mother had been the one who'd

altered their programming and brought about 'awareness',
but how? And did that mean they felt hostile toward her as
her mother's daughter? Or just curious?

They traversed several long, narrow corridors before they

stopped before a cabin door that looked like every other door
that Clair could see. Seth opened the door, however, and
ushered her in.

It was tiny, but that was hardly surprising. She'd only

made one off-world trip before in her life and it had been just
as cramped.

In fact, she was pretty sure that the ship the Cyborgs were

renovating had been an interstellar transport. There were
bunks stacked along two of the walls and a double row of
lockers between them that had been built into the bulkhead.
They had to settle on the bunks once they were all in the
room. There was barely room between the two rows of bunks
for two people to pass.

Particularly if those two people were as big and brawny as

Cyborgs.

Seth took a seat on the bunk across from her.
"Don't keep me in suspense, Seth!" Clair said plaintively.

"If it's something bad...."

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He shook his head. "It isn't anything you need to worry

about, Clair. I didn't mean to give you that impression. It's
just ... I knew it would make you uncomfortable."

"I still don't understand."
"She made us," he said. "She's the mother of the Cyborg

Nation."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-One

Clair stared at him, trying to take that in and fully grasp

what he was getting at.

A look frustration crossed Seth's features. "I told you that

the image of your mother was the image I had of the woman
I'd been programmed to believe was my mother?"

Clair nodded.
"I wasn't the only one. The others, like Simon and Cole

and Drake—they weren't given the same programming. When
they were created, the company saw no reason to make them
'realistic' beyond the functions they'd been designed for. It
was different when they created the Hunters. They needed us
to believe that we weren't Cyborgs so that we'd see them as
the enemy. We were all programmed with a 'past',
programmed to believe we were human.

"I believe, just as I told you, that your mother implanted

her image so that, when I came looking for her, which she
expected, it would make me ... open to listening to her, to
give her a chance to explain. I'm almost positive I wasn't the
only one, even though she said that I was the only one that
she'd given a past that could be disproved.

"At any rate, although she couldn't do that with the

Cyborgs, she did make an attempt to.... "He broke off,
seemed to search for words. "I suppose she was desperate
for someone to rescue you, and her, if she managed to stay
alive long enough. With some of the Cyborgs, she
programmed what she called the genesis gene to plant a

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suggestion, I guess, in their minds. All I do know is that that's
how we knew where to go. I didn't realize it until I saw the
holo-gram. But Simon knew. Cole knew. They were the one's
who told me about her—Mother LaMotte."

Clair digested that for several moments. It was a lot to try

to take in, even considering everything else she'd learned
about her mother. "They're not ... angry about it, then?" she
asked hesitantly.

"We love Mother," Simon said simply. "She gave us life.

Why would we be angry about that?"

She stared at him, warmed by he'd said. At the same time,

it hit her that he actually thought of her as his mother.
Clearly, they all did.

It made her feel like crying.
It was such a tiny dollop of solace to people who'd never

known a mother and never had a childhood.

It occurred to her after a moment to wonder if that was

why they were so interested in her, if it was because of her
mother, not because she was particularly special herself.

It wasn't a pleasant thought.
She studied her hands, but she realized she needed to

know. "Is that why...?" She chewed her lip and tried to think
of a way to ask the question that wouldn't be leading. She
wanted an honest answer. She didn't just want them to tell
her what she'd prompted them to say.

Simon curled his arm around her, pulling her close. "You

do not believe that, Clair. Do not think that. Drake did not
know at all. Neither Seth nor I knew when we first met you
and you must know that we wanted you at once."

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She stared at him blankly a moment before the memory

he was referring to surfaced. She bit her lip to keep from
smiling. "You mean the 'weapons' you and Seth pointed at
me?"

Seth grinned. "Exactly. A dead giveaway every time."
Feeling a welling of relief, she smiled back at him. She'd

settle for instant sexual interest as proof.

Remembering the whispers, she frowned after a moment.

"You're absolutely certain there won't be a ... problem
bringing me along?"

"They may want to worship at your feet, Clair," Seth said

wryly. "It might make things uncomfortable for you until they
get over their awe, but no one here would harm you or allow
you to be harmed. You can be certain of that."

Clair chuckled, certain he'd only said it to tease her. She

discovered he wasn't far off, though, when they left their
cabin and went up to the next level to the vast room that was
both dining hall and recreation room for the occupants of the
ship. Everyone they passed either stared at her or smiled and
nearly fell over their feet.

It was disconcerting and just as uncomfortable as Seth had

suggested it would be, but Clair was of the opinion that, if she
had to be notable, it was far better than the alternative.

When they'd eaten, the men left her to sort their

belongings and stow them while they returned to the
underground for more supplies. Despite the size of the
bundles the men had carried, it didn't take her long to put the
cabin in order. Bored shortly after she finished, she decided to
familiarize herself with the ship. It was a mistake, she soon

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discovered. The ship was a maze of corridors crisscrossing
one another. She wandered for hours and finally found the lift
to the next level and made it to the rec room. Exhausted,
feeling weepy over the fact that she didn't know how to get
back to her cabin, she plopped down in a chair and stared at
nothing in particular while she tried to mentally retrace her
steps.

A woman approached her after a while. Clair looked up at

her questioningly, feeling dismay descend over her when she
saw how absolutely beautiful the woman was.

"You are Mother's daughter?" she asked tentatively.
Startled to realize the woman was Cyborg, she merely

nodded.

"May I sit with you?"
Clair gestured toward the chair across from her, wondering

a little uneasily what the woman wanted.

Discomfort flickered across the woman's features. "I am

Jade."

Clair couldn't help but smile. "What a beautiful name!" Of

course she would have a pretty name! She couldn't have
been Gertrude, or Maude or anything simple.

"Thank you." She hesitated. "Will you tell me about

Mother?"

Dismay filled Clair, not the least because she'd seen so

little of her mother in the last years of her life that she hardly
knew what to say. "What do you want to know?" she asked
uneasily.

"Anything that you will tell me. Do you look like her?"

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Pity replaced her uneasiness as it sank in that Jade was

just hungry to know about the woman she thought of as
'Mother'. "A little," she hedged, cudgeling her brain for
something to tell the woman that would paint an image for
her. "I have her hair, I guess. She was about the same height
and build as I am, too."

Before she realized it, several other Cyborgs had joined

them, and then more until she was surrounded by at least a
dozen. She let them ask the questions at first, but when she
discovered that they seemed to enjoy hearing about things
her mother had done and said, she began dredging up
memories to relate.

She was almost hoarse from talking when she looked up

and discovered that Seth was watching her, a faint smile
playing about his lips. Relieved, she excused herself.

"I got lost," she admitted as soon as he'd walked her out

of the rec room.

He slipped an arm around her shoulder's and kissed her

forehead. "We'll take care that doesn't happen again. Drake
and Simon have been searching the ship frantically for nearly
an hour."

Clair winced. "Sorry! I really did get lost."
"That isn't going to reassure them," he said wryly.
"How did you find me?" she asked curiously.
"I ran into someone who told me Mother's daughter was in

the rec room if I wanted to learn about Mother."

Clair grimaced. "Jade asked me about her and before I

knew it there as huge group asking me questions."

"I did warn you."

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Drake, Cole, and Simon looked like they couldn't decide

whether to grab her and kiss her or beat her when Seth led
her into the cabin. She stared back at them guiltily for a
minute, trying to think of an excuse besides the truth and
finally realized nothing she could say was going to make them
happy. "I got lost."

All three of them stared at her in disbelief. "You got lost?"

Simon growled finally. "Inside the ship?"

She glared at him. "Are you serious? This thing is a maze!

None of the doors are numbered or marked in any way! And
every corridor looks like the next one!"

"She isn't Cyborg," Seth said dryly. "She can't triangulate

her position.

They looked so disconcerted she felt like hitting them.
Seth abandoned her to the sulky threesome. He was gone

nearly an hour before he returned, but came back armed with
something that looked a lot like a laser pen. Except it wasn't.
It made a black mark on the door when he ran the tip across
it—wrote her name. Clair's cabin. She glared at him for the
sarcasm but once he'd marked the outside of the door, he
closed it and began drawing a diagram of the ship on the
inside.

She wasn't certain how much that was going to help when

she couldn't carry the door with her, but since he focused on
the few destinations that would be of any interest to her she
decided she might be able to memorize that much.

It did help. She discovered the next time she left the cabin

alone that she could go directly to the rec room without
wandering around for hours. It was a good thing, too. She

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hardly saw any of the men after they arrived at the ship,
despite the fact that they were sharing a cabin.

They rotated bed partners.
She was a little disconcerted about that at first, but

apparently they'd arrived at some sort of agreement she
hadn't been informed about because a different man climbed
into her bed every night, arranged her to suit their comfort
and promptly fell asleep.

It was almost more disturbing that none of them seemed

interested in sex. She supposed, since they were gone from
the time they woke until it was time to go to bed, that they
were exhausted.

And it still disturbed her.
Particularly when she noticed she'd developed a distinct

bulge. It didn't make her feel any better when she realized
she wasn't the only one. She didn't even have the most
noticeable bulge.

It didn't seem to her that she could possibly have been

pregnant long enough to be showing already but no one else
seemed perturbed about it. Actually, they seemed very
pleased with themselves and the Cyborgs were definitely
pleased about it. Cyborgs she didn't even know looked
pointedly at her belly and grinned at her.

Drake, convinced it was his, couldn't keep his hands off of

her belly if he was close enough to rub it and she was torn
between amusement, pleasure that he was so happy about it,
and the desire, occasionally, to slap the hell out of him.
Truthfully, Seth, Simon, and Cole were almost as bad but, to
do them justice, they did curb the belly stroking when she

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finally snapped and asked them, nastily, if they were trying to
rub it off.

It dawned on her one day, with something of a shock,

when someone asked her about 'her' man, Drake, that
everyone, including her, thought of the men who shared her
cabin with her as 'her' men when not one of them had ever
asked her to co-habit with them. She felt perfectly blank
when she realized it. How, she wondered, had that come
about? Simon had asked her right after they'd met if she
would contract with him. Drake had informed her that she
was 'his' woman, and carrying 'his' baby, but neither Seth nor
Cole had even gone that far.

They'd simply taken it for granted that she belonged to

them!

She wasn't sure of how she felt about that, but she

thought she was insulted.

What happened to the courtship? What happened to

asking, damn it?

And why wasn't she getting any damned sex?
She brooded over it for a while, but finally decided she just

didn't feel up to merely brooding. She wanted answers!

She didn't actually get the chance to demand them. After a

week of frenzied activity around the ship everything went
ominously quiet.

She knew what he was up to the moment Simon came into

the cabin in the middle of the day and halted as abruptly at
the sight of her as if he'd hit a wall.

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"You are not in the rec room," he said unnecessarily, so

unnecessarily she realized instantly that he'd thought he
could sneak off before she discovered he was gone.

"No, I'm not. You thought I would be."
He flicked a glance at his locker.
Clair felt her heart sink. "You're going after them, aren't

you?"

He looked like he was tempted to retreat. After a moment,

though, he moved to the bunk where she was sitting and
crouched down to her level. "I have to, Clair."

She felt her chin wobble.
A look of panic crossed his features. "Do not cry!"
She sniffed. "Why do you have to? I'm your woman,

right?"

The panicked look eased from his features. He lifted a

hand to caress her cheek. "You are my woman."

"Then I don't understand why you have to go! Why can't

they go after their own women?"

"They will go. They are not soldiers, Clair."
"But ... they have the same programming as you do,

right?"

He shook his head. "Not the same. They have only the

basic programming of a soldier. They know how to fight. They
know how to follow orders. They can not carry out a mission
without an officer to lead them, to oversee the battle, to keep
order, to change plans when necessary. We gave them our
word that we would help if they would ensure that the ship
was made ready."

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"We?" Clair echoed, feeling a harder stab of fear at the

realization that they all meant to go.

"Drake, Seth, and I. Cole will stay ... to take care of you

for us."

She almost lost control of her emotions when he said that.

She knew instantly that he was saying Cole would take care
of her if they didn't come back. She searched her mind a little
frantically for something she could say to make him change
his mind, but she knew it was useless. "Why Drake? He isn't
even a soldier."

He settled his palm on the slight bulge on her belly. "Cole

is needed here."

And she was carrying Drake's baby so it wouldn't matter if

he died? What kind of reasoning was that, damn it?

She threw her arms around his neck abruptly, nearly

pitching him off balance. "I want to have your baby, Simon."

He tightened his arms around her. "I want that, as well ...

or Seth's. We are brothers."

She pulled away from him angrily. "Don't say that! It

wouldn't be the same, whatever you think! You're not
interchangeable!"

He looked pleased but somewhat disconcerted. "Then I will

have to be certain that I give you mine."

She managed a wobbly smile. "Yes! Be careful."
He nodded, stroking her cheek. "If all goes as planned, we

will not be forced to kill."

"Don't worry about that!" Clair said quickly. "You shoot

them if they even look like they're thinking about shooting
you!"

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His lips curled faintly in a smile. "Yes, Clair," he murmured,

leaning close to kiss her. It was woefully brief. "I must go. We
need to be in position before midnight."

It took an effort to peel herself loose from him. She

wanted to cling to him. Balling her hands into fists, she
watched him miserably as he moved to the lockers and
removed dark clothing for himself and the others.

"Oh God! Drake's blond!"
He threw her amused look. "He will have that beacon

dulled. Seth is painting his hair."

She gaped at him. "With what?"
He shrugged. "Paint. We have nothing else."
"Tell them I'll never forgive them if they leave without

kissing me bye!" she threatened when she'd followed him to
the door.

He grabbed her up and kissed her so thoroughly she

slumped weakly against the door when he let her go. She
watched him until he reached the end of the corridor and
disappeared, struggling with the urge to burst into tears.
When she couldn't even hear his footsteps any more, she
returned to the bunk, fighting the desire to fling herself down
and cry until she couldn't cry anymore. The hope that Seth
and Drake would come to at least say goodbye was the only
restraint she could manage.

She was glad she hadn't yielded to her urges when they

did come.

Together.
She stared in horror at the mess Seth had made of Drake's

hair.

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Drake sent Seth a sulky glare.
Seth grinned, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
Despite her fear for them, their good spirits, or at least

Seth's, buoyed her own a little. She admonished both of them
to stay low and throw someone else in front of them if there
was any shooting, kissed them with enthusiasm and then,
when they'd left, indulged until she was exhausted.

Cole returned to the room while she was enjoying her

misery to the fullest. She didn't even know he'd come in until
he lay down beside her and gently pulled her into his arms. It
comforted her. She clung to him until she couldn't cry
anymore and then fell asleep.

Her eyelids were so swollen when she woke that she could

barely open them. Cole kissed her forehead and left the
cabin. When he returned he had a damp cloth, which he
folded and lay across her eyes. The coolness of the water
soothed and took some of the swelling down, but it didn't
help her see any better. She couldn't bring her vision into
focus when she'd removed the cloth.

"We should go to the dining hall for food."
Clair sighed. "I'm not hungry."
Cole caught her face in one hand and forced her to look at

him. "Simon is the best soldier and the finest officer that I
know. You should not doubt that he will carry out his mission
and return or that he will leave a man behind. If he had not
gone, there would be cause to worry."

Clair blinked at him, trying to bring him into focus. "You're

not just saying that to make me feel better?"

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"I would not." He thought about and finally shrugged. "I

would lie if I thought you needed it. You do not. I have every
confidence in Simon. You should, also."

She managed to smile at him a little wanly.
He got up and helped her to her feet. "Now we will go and

eat. I am starved."

She smiled a little more easily. "You men are always

starving."

He grinned at her. "It is the metabolism—and the weight.

It takes a great deal of food to produce enough energy to
carry all of this around."

She looked him over with some interest. "You're

muscular—and trim."

"And possess a titanium and steel alloy chassis that weighs

three hundred pounds without the flesh attached," he agreed,
nodding.

"Oh! I keep forgetting...."
He tilted his head at her curiously, looking extremely

pleased. "You do?"

She studied his face, realizing he'd taken her comment as

a compliment. "I do," she assured him.

Food was being served when they reached the rec room,

but there were very few people to take advantage of it. Clair
didn't know what to make of it. Simon had said they needed
as many men as they could get, but she couldn't imagine that
they could launch much of a 'covert' operation with so many
men. She certainly couldn't imagine Simon considering any
other option when the entire Cyborg force together wasn't

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more than a fraction of the number of police, militia, and
company security men they were liable to run in to.

"Where is everybody?" she asked Cole when they'd gotten

their food and found a table.

"Some have gone with Simon. The others are preparing

the ship for departure."

Clair gaped at him, feeling her heart flutter uncomfortably.

It sounded an awful lot like they had a departure planned and
whether it included the sortie party or not depended on when
they got back. "But ... they're not back yet! Wouldn't it be
better to wait until Simon and the others got back?"

"Not if they have the humans on their heels when they

arrive," Cole said matter-of-factly. "It was Simon who ordered
it before he left because of that possibility."

Clair discovered she'd completely lost her appetite. "You're

saying, if they don't come back by a certain time, we're
leaving without them?"

Consternation flickered across Cole's face. "Do not be

upset. That is only worse case scenario."

Clair gaped at him in disbelief and outrage. "Don't be

upset? Don't tell me whether to be upset or not, damn it! We
can't just take off and leave them! They'd be trapped here!"

He shook his head. "In the worse case scenario, they

would not be trapped and we would not be leaving them."

It took several moments for that to sink in. Clair's fear and

distress threatened her control when it finally did. She
thought for several moments that she was going to burst into
tears again.

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Clearly, from the look of horror that crossed Cole's

features, he did, too. He began to pat her hand a little
frantically and fan her face with his other hand. "You do not
look well. I should carry you back to the cabin."

Clair was sucking in gulps of air as if she was drowning as

she battled her emotions. To hear Cole speak as if there was
any chance at all that they might not come back was almost
more than she could take. He was supposed to reassure her,
damn it! He wasn't supposed to be dragging out worse case
scenarios that were worse than the ones she'd already
thought up!

"You think they won't come back! They think they won't

come back or they wouldn't be getting ready to leave!"

"It is not that, Clair!" Cole exclaimed in dismay. "I swear it

is not! Simon only said that we must prepare for that because
it is a possibility, not a likelihood! It is the logical thing to
do—to consider all possibilities and be prepared for whichever
should transpire. That is all that they are doing—on orders
from Simon. He thought the chances were good that they
would have militia following when they returned, and that is
the main reason that he wanted to be sure that we were
prepared to leave immediately...."

Clair's eyes bulged with horror. He thought the militia was

going to chase them back?

"Although," Cole added hastily, "that is certainly not the

plan ... and very likely will not happen. They know where the
women are being held. He has planned a diversion and means
to get in, grab the women, and be gone before they realize
the trap has been sprung...."

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Clair grabbed his arm with both hands, curling her nails

into him like claws. "They're walking into a trap?"

Cole studied the fingernails she was digging into his arm,

trying to decide whether he could ignore the fact that she was
making holes in his arm or if he might persuade her to let go.
"But they know it is a trap," he said a little distractedly. "The
trap loses all advantage if the one it is to be sprung upon
realizes that it is a trap."

She released his arm, to his relief, at least momentarily,

and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Cole! This is worse
and worse!" she wailed on the edge of a sob.

Panic sliced through him once more. He had thought she

had mastered the urge to weep again. He got up abruptly and
helped her up. "It is no worse than it was a few moments
ago!" he said bracingly. "Come! We will go back to the cabin
so that you can lie down and rest!"

"I don't want to lie down and rest," she said petulantly. "I

don't know how you can say it's no worse than it was. I didn't
know they were walking into a trap before!"

Cole stared at her blankly. "I am certain there is no logic in

that, even though I am not entirely certain what it was that
you just said."

"The trap! The trap!"
"You do not need to shout at me! I have not grown deaf!

The trap was there before ... or not! It is only that you did not
know before."

"Exactly!" Clair exclaimed indignantly. "So now it's worse!"
Cole stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to decide if

she was being normally irrational—as in upset to the point of

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being unable to reason—or abnormally irrational—as in
unhinged. Giving up on it, he scooped her up, and rushed
from the rec room. "You are pregnant," he muttered, more to
himself than to her as it dawned on him that he had heard—
somewhere—that the hormonal imbalance caused some
erratic behavior from time to time.

"I know I'm pregnant, damn it!" Clair snapped at him.

"Exactly what does that have to do with anything? I was
pregnant before!"

"I am only saying.... "He stopped, realizing with a jolt that

he had lost the tail end of the statement he had been about
to make. "I do not know what I was saying!"

"The trap?" Clair prompted.
"Gods damn it, Clair! Did we not establish that the trap

was always there?"

Her face crumpled. "I don't know why you're angry with

me," she wailed. "Why are you yelling at me?"

Cole rolled his eyes heavenward, seeking patience.

Relieved to see that they'd reached the level where the cabin
was, he hurried down the corridor. "I am not angry with you,
Clair," he said, trying to soothe her. "I do not know why I was
shouting, but I am not angry. I think it is because you are
driving me insane," he ended, muttering the last under his
breath.

Clair gaped at him as he pushed into the cabin and set her

on her feet abruptly, looking hurt and bewildered.

He should not have interrupted her crying before, he

thought absently. Clearly she had not been finished and she
would not be rational again until she had. The hurt look sent

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a pang through him, however. He captured her face between
his palms, trying to think of something he could say that
would take the hurt from her eyes. Nothing to say came to
mind, but the urge to kiss her did. He yielded to it, covering
her swollen lips with his own.

For a moment, she seemed more intent on evading him

than kissing him back. Even as he began to withdraw in
disappointment, however, she looped her arms around his
neck and began to return his kiss feverishly. It caught him
completely off guard, threw him off kilter.

Need surged through him, driving rational thought—any

thought—from his mind.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Two

It was no easy feat stripping her clothes away and

reaching the more strategically appropriate battle ground of
the bed without letting go of her completely and still avoiding
the hazards between where they had been standing when
they began and the objective. In point of fact, he did not
manage it as well as he had hoped.

He managed to get her jumpsuit off—it was designed, after

all, for comfort and ease of dressing and undressing. It had
closures from neck to crotch and ankle to ankle that needed
no more than a few quick jerks to open the entire seam. He
even managed to get her on the mattress without slamming
her into anything along the way.

He did not manage to remove his own clothing or to get

himself into the bunk without banging his head hard enough
to leave a dent in both his forehead and the bunk above. The
dull thud of pain in his head rivaled the pain in his groin for
several moments, but he was so intent on exploring the
creamy, soft white flesh he'd uncovered that the pain in his
groin rapidly overtook and then surpassed the pounding in his
head.

Clair had uttered a choked snort of laughter when he

slammed his head into the bunk, but he diverted her by
diving on top of her and latching onto one pert nipple
hungrily. It felt and tasted like nothing he had ever imagined
and made the fire inside of him leap higher the more he
pulled at it with his mouth. He moved from one to the other

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and back again and sampled everything between, above, and
below all the way to her faintly rounded belly.

He reached a dilemma very quickly. He enjoyed suckling

her breasts as much as he enjoyed fucking her mouth with his
tongue. He wanted to slide his cock inside of her before it
exploded, though—except he wanted to be kissing her mouth
or her breasts when he did it and he was still prevented from
penetrating her by the fact that he had not gotten his
trousers off before he climbed on top of her.

It he got off to remove the gods damned trousers, he

realized, she might have time to recover from the heat he
had stirred inside of her and object when he was ready.

Fuck it! He reached between them and yanked at the

closure of his trousers until he had created an opening large
enough for his hand ... but not quiet large enough for his
swollen cock. The pain from trying to pry his cock through the
opening that was not big enough brought about a brief return
of sanity and reason and he let go of his clock long enough to
tear the fucking closure completely open.

He had the vague notion that he had permanently

damaged the closure apparatus, but dismissed it as of no
consequence at the moment. He would worry about that
later.

Her woman's place—hot, moist, and tight—beckoned. He

wanted to explore it more with his hand, but his cock had
already begun to jerk threateningly and the fear arose that it
would spew his seed and deflate before he got it inside of her
if he was not quick about it.

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He shoved it home, digging furrows in the mattress with

his toes as he tried to crawl inside of her. It took him several
moments to realize that she was making strange gurgling
noises in her throat and that he was not making any real
progress. He still had no more than the head of his cock in
the opening and he was already drenched with sweat from
effort.

He desisted, panting for breath and trying to focus his

mind on 'the problem'. When he lifted his head to study 'the
problem', he discovered Clair's head was thrown back at a
particularly awkward angle and she was still making the
strange noises and twitching. Panic ran through him briefly.
Fortunately, before it could completely annihilate reason, he
realized her hair was caught beneath her back and had jerked
her head backwards on her neck.

He was not entirely clear of how that had happened, but

she seemed to be much closer to the wall above the bed than
she had been when he had started. Grabbing her hips, he
dragged her back down the bed, plugged his cock into the
hole, and dug his toes into the mattress again.

That time, he realized she was slipping up the bed—no

surprise since she was almost as slick by now as he was.
Grabbing her shoulders, he pinned her and tried another tact,
pumping instead of pushing.

He gained ground but the squeeze of the muscles along

her channel made it feel as if she was shoving his cock
through his belly instead of him inserting his cock into her. He
released her shoulder and checked with his hand. Relieved to
discover he actually had made progress, he decided to rest a

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moment and reacquaint himself with her breasts before he
tried again.

She grabbed his head with both hands, squeezing so

tightly he was not certain for several moments whether he
would smother in the softness of her breast first or his head
would explode with the lack of oxygen.

He came up for air, realized finally that she was

demanding 'more' in a panted litany, and grabbed her
shoulders again. To his vast relief, something gave. Either the
muscles along her channel relaxed fractionally, or her
moisture slickened his skin enough to allow full penetration.
He was not certain which, and he did not care. He was so
blinded by bliss, in point of fact, and so focused on the effort
to keep from spilling his seed, that it was several moments
before it penetrated his heat fogged mind that he had gone as
far as he could and hit an impediment.

Holding on to his control with an iron mental grip, he

sawed back and forth experimentally a couple of times to
determine if was possible to go any deeper and finally decided
it was not. She was still demanding deeper, but he had hit
bottom.

Realizing finally that she was no more rational at the

moment than he was, he decided to ignore the demand.

Actually, silencing it seemed like the better route since her

chant was making it a hell of a lot harder to focus on holding
onto his seed. He withdrew far enough to clamp his mouth
over hers and kissed her to distract her.

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She coiled around him, arms and legs, digging her heel

into his ass and pulling him deeper than he had thought he
could go.

It broke his control. He wrenched his mouth from hers,

sucked in a harsh breath and held it, trying to focus, and
realized he had lost all will or possibility of stemming the tide.
He could feel his body racing toward explosion. He began to
pump into her frantically in an effort to take her with him.
She groaned, writhed beneath him, stiffened, and then began
to buck and jerk with the spasms of release.

"Gods!" he growled, grinding his teeth as the first, nearly

painful spasm hit him. The second knocked the breath from
him. He grunted, trying to capture air in his lungs and
managed a miniscule breath before the next spasm collapsed
his lungs and forced it out. His body convulsed on and on
until he began to think he would black out before it stopped.
Finally, to his vast relief, it did stop. He expelled a harsh
breath and sucked in another with an effort, feeling as if he
was going into meltdown. His body had never felt so heavy
before, nor his muscles so weak. It took all he could do to roll
off of her and once we had he could move no further. He lay
perfectly still, panting for breath, allowing his mind to wander
with a blissful sort of vacancy, capturing no real thought and
happy to have it that way.

It sank into him slowly that he had never felt anything as

wonderful in his life. Before he'd even reached a point where
each breath was not an effort and his heart had ceased to feel
like it might burst from pounding so frantically, it occurred to
him to repeat the experience.

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He lifted his head enough to examine his cock and

managed, to his delight, to twitch it. It was not dead yet!

Rolling onto his side, he took one of her nipples into his

mouth and began to suckle it. The nipple hardened. His cock
hardened.

Clair popped him on the head.
It wasn't nearly hard enough to distract him. It was

enough, however, to jog his programming and remind him
that he had skipped 'the kiss'. He released the nipple a little
reluctantly and shifted upward to gather her lips beneath his,
teasing her with the play of his mouth and tongue until she
stopped shoving at him and curled her arms around his
shoulders.

Satisfied with his progress after a few moments, he wove

his way down to her breasts and played with her nipples until
she began to twist restlessly beneath him, uttering soft gasps
and moans that prompted him to enter her again. Intense
bliss enveloped him the moment he felt her hot body
clenched tightly around his cock, but the desperation of
before had not gripped him yet. He managed to set a pace
less frantic, managed to savor the pleasure that radiated
through him each time he withdrew and thrust again.

For a time, he thought he could continue on and on,

wanted to, but the fever began to grow, the tension coiled
more and more tightly until he could feel himself building
toward release, and then felt the desperation again that drove
him to move faster and faster. Her cries of ecstasy broke his
control. He lost the will for anything beyond pumping his seed
into her and, once he had, lost all muscle tone. It was

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unbelievably harder to roll off of her the second time. He
thought for several moments, in fact, that he was not going
to be able to manage it. He finally succeeded in levering
himself upward enough to tip the balance of his weight,
however, and roll off.

He stayed where he fell, uncomfortable, but unable to

move even a hair. Clair turned over, snuggled close and went
perfectly limp. He threw one arm and one leg across her to
balance himself on his side and gave up the effort to remain
conscious himself.

* * * *

Dread began to filter through Clair's psyche in a vaguely

nauseating way before she was even fully conscious. She
shied away from it, struggling to burrow deeper into
nothingness again, but it was persistent, determined to
disrupt the peacefulness of not knowing and she finally
couldn't resist the need to understand it. The reason for her
dread blossomed full blown the moment she felt Cole stir
beside her.

He nuzzled his face against the side of her neck.
The temptation arose to thrust him away. She tamped it

guiltily, stroking his silky blond hair instead. "They haven't
come back." Her voice cracked slightly when she voiced the
fear she couldn't ignore anymore.

He drew away from her, frowning. She could see his

internal calculations of the time and very likely a mental
playing of the scenario the men had considered when they'd
been planning the raid. His gaze slid away from hers after a

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moment. He climbed over her and got up, adjusting his
trousers, which she saw he'd never actually taken off.

He hadn't even taken his boots off!
She studied him as he grabbed his shirt and shoved his

arms in to the sleeves, trying to decide whether she was
insulted or flattered that he'd been too anxious to undress.
Warmth tingled through her despite her anxiety, though, and
she finally decided she wasn't insulted.

She wasn't particularly flattered either. Poor man!
She'd felt sexually starved and she hadn't done without

nearly as long as he had.

He met her gaze when he'd done what he could to fasten

up his shirt—and his trousers. She saw he'd torn up most of
the closures in his haste. It sent another, slightly harder,
shaft of warmth burrowing through her.

A faint flicker of amusement followed. It certainly hadn't

been lovemaking. She'd never experienced a more animalistic
groping and humping, and yet it had definitely 'hit the spot'.
She hadn't wanted 'gentle'. She'd wanted something as raw
as she felt.

Actually, the second time had been more like making love,

but she'd been too exhausted from the first round to feel any
pangs, to feel regret that it was Cole and not Seth, or Simon,
or Drake.

The stab of guilt was worse that time.
She wasn't sorry that it had been Cole. She loved Cole.

She was just sorry....

He leaned down, bracketing her with his arms. "They had

hoped to return by daybreak, but there are any number of

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things that might have delayed them that are not necessarily
something to worry about. If they were successful, they
would have had the human women with them to slow them."

It soothed a little. She lifted a hand to the back of his neck

and drew him down for a kiss. He didn't resist. He kissed her
lingeringly, showing obvious reluctance to stop there. It was
he who broke the kiss, though. "I will go out and see if I meet
them along the way."

Clair sat up abruptly as he straightened, feeling anxiety for

him for the first time. "Don't!" She swallowed with an effort
when he glanced at her frowningly. "Don't get into trouble,"
she finished a little lamely.

He grinned at her. "I will run like hell if I see the humans

coming this way!"

She knew he'd meant it as a joke and it still took an effort

to smile. "I'll hold you to that promise!"

She got up when he left and went down to the community

bath. She almost burst out crying when she pulled her
toothbrush and hairbrush out and looked at them. Both of
them were still stained from the combined beauty products
that had coated them from Simon's last wild adventure. She
tamped the urge. She looked like hell already. She didn't
want to look worse when the men came back—and they
would, she assured herself. She didn't want them to think she
had so little faith in their abilities. She knew that they were
strong and smart and damned good at the art of war.

When she'd finished grooming, she went up to the rec

room on the next level, got food and mostly pretended to eat
it.

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There were no clocks. The Cyborgs didn't need them. They

had their internal clock, and they hadn't thought to supply
them for the 'handicapped' humans among them.

It felt late, but she couldn't decide whether it was her

anxiety that made her feel that way or if it actually was. She
discovered she was too nervous to distract herself with
anything in the rec room and headed back to the cabin. The
moment she arrived, though, the emptiness seemed to close
in on her.

Seth hadn't drawn the way out, she saw when she studied

the diagram he'd made, but she began to feel anxious to get
outside, to watch for them, to make sure the ship didn't leave
without them.

Or, if it left without them, it didn't take her along.
At that point, she didn't care as long as she was with

them.

The thought brought her to a mental halt. She examined it

and her feelings, again wondering if it was the product of
nerves or true feeling and she realized it was completely and
totally true. She didn't care what happened or where she was
as long as she was with them.

She'd spent days fuming over the fact that they'd just

assumed that she belonged to them and now she realized she
did. She had decided. The question hadn't been asked and
she hadn't answered—not consciously, but she hadn't made
any real attempt to disabuse them of their audacity. She'd
never had the option of just leaving, but she'd always had the
option of leaving them. She'd chosen to stay. They had every
reason to assume.

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Those thoughts made it impossible to dismiss the real

reason for her pique. She knew she wanted them. She didn't
have any assurance that it was mutual. Was she just a
comfortable 'habit' they'd fallen in to? Did she matter to
them? Or would any female do?

It wasn't as if she had a lot of competition. Maybe they'd

chosen her just like she'd chosen them and maybe not. She
wanted more than just 'falling' into a relationship and going
along with it because it was the path of lease resistance. She
needed to know she wasn't the only one that would be
heartbroken if one of them suddenly decided to look around
for better.

She might never know ... now, she thought morosely when

she finally managed to find the gangplank and trudged down
it.

When she reached the bottom, uneasiness instantly

supplanted her resentment over the fact that none of 'her'
men had told her they cared about her. The hanger was
empty and dead silent—empty of everything. There were no
workers, no supplies, no tools.

Fear worked cold fingers up her spine. Cole had said Simon

had ordered them to be prepared to go, but she hadn't
expected ... this! She hovered at the foot of the gangplank
indecisively for a moment, debating whether or not to go
back in and try to wrangle a promise to wait from whoever
was piloting the ship. She didn't know how to find her way to
the bridge, though, and an equal paralyzing fear seized her
that she would no sooner get back inside than the gangplank

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would be retracted, the door slam closed, and the ship launch
skyward.

Pushing that fear away, she strode toward the door where

she and the men had entered. It wasn't locked.

It wasn't guarded, either, she discovered when she'd

pushed it open.

That made her even more uneasy, but she pushed the

thought aside and narrowed her eyes against the sun's glare,
scanning the landscape for any sign of the missing men. She
wasn't even certain which direction to look. The hanger sat in
a depression. She couldn't see the city dome.

She spied the culvert they'd come out of, however, and

began to climb the trail that led up to it, wondering if the men
would come that way, or from another direction entirely. Her
fear shifted to the anxiety that she'd get just far enough from
the hanger to be left when the men charged into the ship
from a different direction.

With that in mind, she kept glancing back toward the

hanger as she climbed, scanning the landscape on either side,
and then glancing toward the culvert again. She paused near
the top and performed a one hundred eighty to scan in every
direction. The hum of the ship's engines abruptly broke the
silence around her. Fear leapt along her nerve endings. A cold
sweat of pure terror broke from her pores. She whirled
toward the culvert again. Her heart stuttered painfully. A man
leapt from the culvert even as she turned. He'd barely landed
when men began to pour from it like a pot boiling over. The
surge of excitement that went through her when she

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recognized Simon in the lead turned to horror as they
charged toward her full tilt.

The primal urge to run with the herd thundering toward

her hit her.

They wouldn't be coming at a dead run if there wasn't

something awful behind them!

Whirling, she tried to run, but the angle of descent made

running hazardous at best.

"Gods damn it, Clair!" Simon roared from almost directly

behind her. He slammed into her, jerking her off her feet
even as she flew forward and carrying her down the
embankment at full tilt. She bit her tongue and tasted blood.
It made her mindful of the need to clench her teeth to keep
from biting it again at the jarring pace Simon set.

"Where's Seth? Drake?" she gasped when Simon finally hit

more even ground and she thought she could safely unclench
her teeth.

"Guarding the retreat!"
Instead of opening the door to the hanger, he angled his

body and slammed his shoulder into it, knocking the entire
door, frame and all, from the building. They rode it to the
ground but, contrary to Clair's expectation of slamming into
the concrete with the door, Simon managed to remain on his
knees. He sprang off of it before it had even stopped
shuddering with the impact and charged toward the
gangplank and up it. Pounding feet followed them every step
of the way.

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Simon hit the com unit by the door the minute he reached

it. "Loading!" he barked into the unit. "Get the engines up to
full. We have company on our heels!"

The whine of the engines instantly increased until it

reached a near deafening roar. "Cole!" Clair exclaimed
abruptly. "He went to find you!"

"And I am going to kick his ass for insubordination when

we are away from here!" Simon growled, furiously. "He is
bringing up the rear with Drake and Seth."

Clair tugged at his hand, trying to pry him loose. She

wasn't certain what she had in mind, but she discovered
Simon had no intention of finding out. He set her on her feet,
but retained a firm grip around her waist.

Clair searched the faces of the men pounding up the

gangplank, spying a round dozen female butts in the process
since the men running with them had them slung over their
shoulders, but she didn't see the faces she was searching for.

The last of the men charged inside and disappeared.
Simon released her and moved to stand in the opening.

Clair charged past him to get a look at the hanger door. He
grabbed her before she managed more than a glimpse, but
she saw two men leap through. Before they reached the
bottom of the gangplank, an explosion erupted around them.
Fire and debris flew in every direction. Simon yanked her
back from the opening, set her on her feet and gave her a
push. "Go to the cabin! Now!" he roared at her.

She sent him an indignant look, toyed with the idea of

rushing back to look, and then decided against it when Seth
leapt into the corridor. Drake and then Cole came off the

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gangplank fast enough to slam into the wall on the other side.
Simon punched the button to retract the gangplank, grabbed
the door and shoved it closed.

Deciding it was time to retreat before Simon discovered

she'd ignored his order, Clair whirled and began to race down
the corridor. Seth caught her as she charged past the
intersecting hall that led to their cabin and yanked her into it.
"What the fucking hell were you doing outside, gods damn it!"
he snarled.

"Looking for you!" Clair grunted out as he reached their

cabin and finally stopped to shove the door open.

He sent her a fulminating glare as he pulled her inside,

pushed her onto the bunk, and grabbed the restraints built
into the wall. When he'd secured her, he sat back on his heels
and glared at her again.

"You could've been left, gods damn it! Did you think about

that?"

"Yes, I thought about that!" Clair yelled at him. "I decided

I wasn't going without you ... any of you!"

He stared at her, but some of the tension eased from him.

"Woman! I don't know whether to kiss you or beat your ass!"

Clair glared at him. "Well, you'd better kiss me, then!

Because if you even try to beat my ass we aren't get along at
all!"

He grinned abruptly and kissed her. It was woefully brief.

Clair had just gotten in to it when the shudder of the ship
rocked him away from her. He dropped to the bunk and
grabbed his own restraints as the shudder became more
pronounced.

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Simon, Drake, and Cole were strapped in on the bunk

opposite them.

They were all glaring at her. She glared back at them and

after a moment they transferred their attention to examining
their wounds.

She hadn't realized they were wounded. They were all

dirty and liberally spattered with blood, but she hadn't
realized it was theirs!

Drake looked like some kind of wild man.
She chewed her lip, trying to keep from smiling.
His expression grew more sulky than furious. Finally, a

faint smile curled the edges of his lips. "I am glad you find
this amusing!" he muttered, flicking a hand at the clumpy
strings of hair hanging down on either side of his face.

Something slammed into the ship, rocking it. Clair bit back

a scream. Several more missiles pounded against the hull of
the ship in rapid succession and the ship bounced a little
harder in reaction.

Seth slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I think he

looks better with his hair that color, myself."

Clair smiled at him a little weakly, more than willing to be

distracted, but she couldn't help but strain to listen for any
sound that might indicate the ship was falling apart.

She heard a string of explosions directly behind the first

barrage. The ship shuddered, but it sounded as if the missiles
had fallen short. Seth confirmed it.

"We're out of range."

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Clair's shoulders slumped with relief, but the ship was still

climbing, fast, and shuddering more and more as it neared
the edge of space and the strain on the hull increased.

Almost with the suddenness of a thunderclap, the shaking

stopped. Clair felt herself levitating off of the bunk, felt her
stomach lurch. For several minutes, she felt as if she was in
freefall and then the artificial gravity finally kicked in. She
settled on the bunk again with a faint jolt.

Seth immediately began unfastening his restraints. "That

was close! Good thing it didn't occur to them that we had a
ship waiting."

Drake got off the bunk where he'd been sitting. "I think I

will go find something to remove this from my hair."

Simon gave Cole a look filled with promise. "Cole and I will

take a walk around the ship and inspect for damage," he
growled.

"Wait!" Clair exclaimed before Drake could vacate the

cabin. "Before you go wash your hair, and they go off to beat
the shit out of each other, I just want to point out that no one
asked me!"

All four men turned to stare at her in confusion.
She folded her arms over her chest. When they still looked

blank, she glared at them. "Think about it!"

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Three

They folded space just past the first meteor belt, emerging

beyond the last belt of the system near time for the evening
meal. With the exception of the crew manning the ship and
monitoring their wake for trouble, everyone gathered in the
rec room to celebrate the victory of their raid and the launch
of the ship toward the Cyborg Nation.

Clair was in good spirits despite the fact that none of her

men seemed to have figured out what her demand entailed.

Either that, or they had, and they were just too pig headed

to ask her.

She was so vastly relieved to have them back, though, and

relatively unscathed, that she was more than willing to set
aside that minor annoyance for another time.

She meant to get some sort of commitment out of them,

regardless, even if she had to pry it out of them.

For the first time in days, she had an appetite and then

some. It was fortunate for her that it corresponded with the
victory feast and the cooks had outdone themselves. She
overindulged and it still seemed like a drop in the bucket
compared to what the Cyborgs put away. She supposed it
wasn't surprising given their metabolism and the fact that
they'd hardly eaten, or had time to, since they'd set out to
retrieve the women.

The women themselves—their newest colonists—seemed

subdued, but they were still shaky from their ordeal so it was

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difficult to tell how much was due to that and how much was
anxiety regarding their new circumstances.

She thought, once they realized they were free from

threat, they would be far more enthusiastic, but it was hard
to say.

When everyone had eaten all they could hold, they cleared

the room and settled to relax, those who hadn't taken part in
the raid pumping those who had for details.

Clair didn't particularly want to hear it. She'd been

distressed enough imagining what was going on, but she
wasn't in any rush to leave the rec room when the men
seemed inclined to stay. Truthfully, she wasn't ready to let
them out of her sight for more than a few minutes after the
scare they'd given her.

They seemed distracted—all four of them. She couldn't

decide if it was because it made them uncomfortable to listen
to the tales of their 'adventure' or if it was because they were
all still miffed at her for leaving the ship.

She supposed she could see their point. They'd gone to

great lengths to make sure she was taken care of. Simon had
specifically ordered the crew to take off if they weren't back
within a reasonable length of time so that he would know that
she was safe from harm.

None of them seemed to grasp the fact that she didn't

want to be safe if it meant she was halfway across the
universe from them. She would've preferred stay with them
and take her chances on Earth if they couldn't make it back.
She had considered that, if they didn't get back before
launch, it might well mean that they weren't coming back at

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all, and she'd still preferred to stay and hope that she might
find them alive.

They thought that was illogical.
Maybe from their standpoint it was. Maybe they just didn't

understand what love was.

Hope—because the heart could never let go.
Her mother was here. If everyone she loved was still on

Earth, dead or alive, she wasn't leaving them.

Thinking of her mother brought her attention back Seth.

He'd been toying absently with a narrow strip of leather
around his neck since they'd finished the celebration feast
and had finally pulled it off. She'd seen then that, attached to
it, was the holo-chip that carried the message her mother had
left for him.

She wondered what was running through his mind.
Shifting a little closer, she held out her hand, silently

asking him if she could hold it. Reluctance flickered in his
eyes, but he dropped it into her palm. She studied the disk.
She'd been so hoping she would discover that her mother had
left her something, some message of goodbye. She'd known
it was silly. Her mother hadn't expected to die when she had.
It wouldn't have occurred to her to leave a note, or a letter.

It was comforting, though, to think about her mother

holding the holo-chip, composing her thoughts when she'd sat
down to record a message for Seth.

She rubbed her thumb over the holo-chip. Her heart leapt

in her chest when her touch activated the chip.

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"Hello, Clair," her mother's image said, looking directly at

her with so much love that Clair felt a knot of emotion rise in
her throat.

She glanced at Seth. "She left something for me!" she

exclaimed breathlessly.

The announcement wasn't necessary. The moment the

holo-gram had activated, she had the entire attention of
every Cyborg in the rec room. Conversation ceased.

"I knew I could trust Seth to find you and keep you safe

for me. I only wish.... I wanted to see you again. I didn't
dare. They've been watching me so close. I know they
suspect something. They haven't found out what I've done ...
yet, but it's only a matter of time. The genesis gene, unless I
did something wrong, activated months ago. By my
calculations the nanos should be finishing what we started
here in the labs most any time now and once my poor
children obtain awareness.... I hope I haven't made things
worse.

"Take care of Seth. He needs you as much as you need

him. Kiss all of my grandbabies for me when they come and,
if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, tell them about
me. I like to think there'll be grandchildren. Don't be angry
with me for suggesting it. It's just ... I hardly got to be with
you at all and I like to think that you'll be able to make it up
to your own children. They'll fill the emptiness I left. They'll
give you the love I had for you but couldn't share. And I know
Seth will, too."

"Play it again, please?" of the cyborgs in the crowd, a

female, asked.

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Clair glanced around at the hopeful faces through the tears

that blurred her eyes. She didn't want to share it, but she
realized that was selfish. It would cost her nothing to share
and give them something they desperately wanted—some
contact with the woman they thought of as Mother.

She glanced at Seth questioningly. When he merely

nodded, she set the holo-chip in the center of the table
nearest her and activated it, moving back to allow the
Cyborgs closer. She saw that Drake, Simon, and Cole were
among those gathered to watch and listen. Sniffing, wiping
her eyes with her hand, she went to Seth, settling on his lap
and curling her arms around his neck. "She left something for
me," she said happily.

Seth lifted a hand, rubbing her back. "I never thought.... It

didn't occur to me that there'd be another message or I
would've given it to you. I thought it was meant for me."

There was a strange note in his voice that made Clair lift

her head to look at him. He was trying to hide it, but she
knew immediately that he felt cheated in some way. She
pressed her forehead to his. "It was meant for you. She
meant for you to find it and then to find me. She expected
you to. That's why she put a message for me on there."

He tilted his head to align his lips with hers, lightly melding

them together and then nibbling just as lightly. To Clair's vast
disappointment, he didn't take it any further. Instead, he
pulled back to study her face. "Do you think she knew I'd fall
in love with you the minute I set eyes on you?" he asked
huskily. "Or was she just hoping?"

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Clair felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. "What did you

just say?" she asked breathlessly.

His lips curled. "You heard me, woman. So ... will you?"
Clair stared at him blankly. "Will I?"
"You're supposed to say yes."
She felt her lips curl and then spread into a wide grin.

"Yes, to what?" she teased.

He pulled a little further away. "You're going to insist that I

ask the entire question?" he demanded with mock anger.

She gave him a look.
"Will you contract with me, Angel, love of my life,

sweetheart, baby?"

She laughed. "You know the answer to that!"
He frowned at her. "That's my answer? What about ... Yes,

Seth! Absolutely, Seth!"

"Yes, Seth. Absolutely, Seth," she repeated obediently.
"It has stopped," Simon announced, interrupting the

promising kiss Seth had just started.

Clair released an irritated breath. "Bring it here."
The holo-gram activated the moment he touched it. It

startled him so much, he dropped it to the table with a clatter
that drew both Clair's and Seth's attention.

"Hello, Simon!"
Clair and Seth exchanged a look of surprise.
"She has left me a message!" Simon exclaimed, almost

sounding awed. "She called me by name!"

"Maybe she left it for a different Simon?" Seth suggested

tauntingly.

Clair elbowed him.

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"She did not!" Simon said angrily. "She used my full

name!"

"He was just teasing, Simon," Clair said soothingly. "Don't

pay him any mind."

Seth listened for a moment and finally shook his head.

"You think she left one for everyone?"

Clair sent him a wry look. "I think we'll find out. There'll be

no holding them back now."

Seth chuckled. "I guess we know what the main source of

entertainment of the voyage is going to be." He slipped an
arm beneath her legs and stood up with her. "For them,
anyway. I have something else in mind."

Clair nuzzled the side of his neck and then bit his ear lobe.

"And we'll have the cabin all to ourselves."

They almost didn't make it back to the cabin. Seth decided

to stop along the way for a kiss that grew a lot warmer a lot
faster than either of them had anticipated. It was touch and
go and Clair wasn't actually against the idea of having sex on
the stairs, but Seth finally opted for the cabin after the
second Cyborg begged pardon and climbed over them. They
tumbled onto the bunk half dressed the moment they reached
it and removed the rest as necessary.

Panting for breath in the aftermath, Clair rolled onto her

side and cuddled close to Seth. "I was worried sick about
you," she murmured. "Promise me you won't ever do
anything like that again."

Seth had been stroking her back, but at that his hand

stilled. "I can't make that promise, Clair."

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Clair pulled away and looked at him. His stroked the hair

from her cheek. "We don't know what we'll face when we
reach the new world, but it's a colony, Angel. It's a living
world. There are bound to be threats of one kind or another. I
can only promise that I'll do whatever it takes to get back to
you ... always."

She settled her cheek against his chest again, swallowing

against the tightness in her throat. "I'm glad you're Cyborg,"
she said after a moment.

His arm tightened around her. "I'm glad you're glad," he

murmured, a smile in his voice.

"You know what I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"I won't have to worry quite so much."
He grunted. "That's why you weren't worried sick? I'm

damned good at what I do, Angel."

She felt her face heat. "Don't go all macho on me. I'll

worry about you if I want to."

He stroked his hand down to cup her rounding belly. "No

more worrying. No more crying yourself sick, and no more
skipping meals. It isn't good for you or the baby."

"Cole's a tattletale."
"Damned straight, and you can bet your ass the others will

be, too. We worry about you."

"I notice they haven't asked," she said a little petulantly.
He chuckled. "That's because the poor saps haven't figured

out what the hell you meant, yet. You want me to throw them
a rope, prod them a little?"

"No."

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"Good, because I'd rather watch them squirm," he said

with a chuckle, and then let out an exasperated sigh.
"Speaking of which, they should be arriving any time now.
Simon will be standing over the bunk, glaring at both of us
and informing me that this is his night."

"We can still cuddle until he gets here."
He leaned close enough to nip her earlobe. "Except I have

other things in mind."

He didn't get the chance to elaborate. As he'd predicted,

Simon, Drake, and Cole arrived. Simon stalked to the bunk
and glared down at them. "This is my night," he said tightly.

"What did I tell you?" Seth asked, climbing over her,

pushing past Simon and dropping onto the lower bunk on the
other side.

"It is my night to have the lower bunk!" Cole said

indignantly.

"Bite me!" Seth responded.
"I do not want to bite you!" Cole said with revulsion. "I

want the bunk!"

Seth rolled his eyes and got up again. "Alright, who has

fucking dibs on which bunk?"

Drake took the second tier.
Shaking his head, Seth climbed to the top, taking care to

step on both Cole and Drake on his way up.

Simon settled beside Clair and released an ecstatic sigh as

she cuddled against him. "Mother spoke to me," he
murmured.

Clair lifted her head to study him for a long moment and

finally rolled over, presenting him with her back.

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With no appearance whatsoever of having grasped the

pointed snub, Simon curled around her and fell asleep.

There was no chance to relax or to forget they were the

enemy as far as the human race in general was concerned
and the company in particular. They'd managed to escape
from Earth with only minor damage to the ship, due
completely to dumb luck. As Seth had said, no one had
anticipated that the Cyborgs would have a ship waiting for
them and they hadn't been prepared for that contingency.
The troops advancing on them hadn't had anything but short
range missiles to lob at them as they shot toward space and
they'd been far enough from the ships called upon as soon as
they were discovered to fold and evade.

Their second week out, they encountered Confederation

vessels. It was clear it wasn't just accidental. The moment
they came within range the Confederation vessels began to
fire upon them without even attempting a hail. The Cyborg
ship was far more maneuverable than it looked, however. The
Confederation forces, expecting the ship to be nothing more
than what it appeared to be—a huge, awkward deep space
transport—were caught off guard and only managed to hit the
ship once before they folded space, evading the net set for
them again.

For obvious reasons—at least obvious to the Cyborgs—they

couldn't head directly toward their objective even though they
knew, in a general way, where to find the world the Cyborgs
had settled on. They had to make certain that they weren't
followed.

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A month passed with no close and nasty encounters while

they zigzagged across the cosmos trying to lose their
persistent pursuers. Clair blossomed enough she was
beginning to get uneasy. She hadn't been pregnant before.
She didn't actually know anyone who had, but it didn't seem
to her that the baby should be growing so fast. Unfortunately,
the medic who'd removed the locators for the other Cyborgs
not only wasn't much more than a nurse, he didn't know
anything about gestating humans—or Cyborgs, for that
matter, since this was a totally new thing for them.

Not that the gestating Cyborg women were the least bit

worried about it.

The Cyborgs weren't inclined to worry about it, she finally

decided, because, unlike her, they lacked the imagination to
invent dreadful possibilities to terrorize themselves with. They
were completely convinced that 'nature would take its course'
and they had only to wait and let it.

The medic told her with a pleased smile that he could hear

the babies' heartbeat and that they were fine according to his
research of the available data.

"Do you mean baby's, as in possessive?"
He stared at her for a long moment and finally nodded.

"No. Plural."

Clair glared at him. "Nodding means yes, damn it! Don't

nod at me and make me think one thing and then tell me
something else entirely! Are you sure?"

He eyed her warily that time. "Yes?"
"You don't sound sure. You think you made a mistake?"

she asked hopefully.

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"No. There is yours and then two others."
"Maybe it's just an echo?"
"No. It is yours and then two others."
She felt like braining him for being so calm in the face of

her disaster! "I haven't had one before! I can't have two!"

"You must. There are two. You can not have one and then

not have the other."

She stared at him, fuming that he could be so willfully

obtuse! Why was it the Cyborgs always made her feel
unreasonable only because they didn't grasp things like
denial? "How far along am I?" she asked as evenly as she
could manage.

He lifted his brows. "I do not know when you conceived.

This is something you should know."

Clair gaped at him. "Am I supposed to have felt the ...

collision? Or are you naïve enough to believe I've only had
sex once and therefore that would be the time it happened?"

He frowned at her. "You have a cycle. When was this

interrupted?"

She let out a huff. "Maybe I should just ask Drake if he

knows when it happened? It would make things much easier
for me if you could give me a hint of how far along I am.
Does this look like two months or three? Because I had sex
with Seth and if it's two it could be his and if it's three or
more then it's definitely Drake's."

He studied her stomach hard for several moments. "I do

not have the instruments that would tell the size and maturity
of the fetus," he responded finally, "And there are two. I can
not tell from the size of your belly."

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"You have been so helpful!" Clair said sarcastically.
"Thank you."
That was the problem with Cyborgs, she thought irritably.

One could never tell when they actually 'got' sarcasm and
when it went right over their head.

She decided not to think about two. She could face that

hurtle when the time came. She also decided not to say
anything to the 'father' since she wasn't as convinced as
Drake was that it was his. Not that she didn't want Drake's
baby. She loved him. She just wasn't happy with the
possibility of acknowledging the wrong man as the father. If
she did, both of them might be upset with her.

Not that she wasn't pretty pissed off with Drake! He'd

either dismissed her ultimatum that she expected him to ask,
or he still hadn't figured it out. Ditto Simon and Cole.

For supremely intelligent men they could be incredibly

dumb!

She was almost tempted to prod Seth into giving them

hints. There were two problems with that, though. One, she
wanted them to think of it themselves, damn it! And two,
they not only hadn't thought of it, they were angry with Seth
because she wasn't angry with him.

She went down to the rec room when the medic had

finished his examination. None of them spent much time in
the cabins. They were just too cramped for comfort.
Although, in general, the men worked on the ship in various
capacities for several hours out of every day, as luck would
have it all four of them were in the rec room. Since they were
all occupied with some kind of game, however, and she

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wasn't especially in the mood to talk to them, she decided to
join the women.

The human women tended to segregate themselves from

both the Cyborg males and females. After a brief debate, she
joined the Cyborg women. There were at least three human
women in that group that she didn't particularly like and she
wasn't in an especially patient mood.

Jade smiled at her warmly when she joined them. "Hello

Clair! Did you go to see the medic?"

She stared at her, wondering if she'd said it loud enough

the men could hear. After a moment, she risked a glance
across the room.

Sure as hell they were looking straight at her!
Trying to convince herself they'd merely noticed her

arrival, she smiled, waved gaily, and returned her attention to
Jade once more. "For all the good it did," she muttered.

Jade lifted her brows, inviting her to elaborate, when she

didn't Jade pursued it. "But he was able to tell you that the
baby was healthy and soothe your anxiety?"

Now was the time to admit there were two. She didn't.

"According to the data he'd accessed. He doesn't actually
seem to know much about the process—which makes going to
him for any sort of answers virtually useless. I hope we're
going to get where we're going before the babies get here. I'd
really like to have a trained medic in attendance—or a
thoroughly programmed one."

Jade frowned. "We do not know that there will be one

there. There are bound to be combat medics, for the colonists
are primarily soldiers, but I do not think that it is likely that

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there will be medics who are programmed in gestation and
delivery of infants."

Dismay filled Clair and she wasn't the only one. The

humans might not have the keen hearing of the Cyborgs, but
the Cyborgs had nothing on human nosiness. "What do you
mean there won't be a gynecological medic?" one of the
women nearby demanded.

Jade turned to look at her. "The colonists are primarily

soldiers. There are bound to be combat...."

"I heard that! I just don't believe it! You mean to say we

were dragged out here to the middle of nowhere, pregnant,
and we can't expect to have anyone to help with delivery
when we get there?" she demanded indignantly.

Clair wasn't particularly happy about it herself, but she

thought it was damned rude of the woman to behave as if
she'd been kidnapped when she'd been rescued by men who'd
risked their lives to do it. "You should've informed the
Cyborgs when they were running through a hail of laser fire
to drag your ass out of that holding cell that you preferred the
prison the company shut you up in!"

The woman had the grace to blush, but it was hard to say

if she was embarrassed or angry. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Then you shouldn't have said it. They have feelings, you

know! Everything that could be provided has been provided.
We're colonists now. We'll just have to make do."

"And you're alright with that?" another woman asked.
Clair huffed impatiently. "I'm scared shitless, but how hard

can it be? People have been doing it a long time or we
wouldn't be here."

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She didn't realize Seth had crossed the room to stand

behind her until he settled a hand on her shoulder. "Care for
a game of chance?"

She smiled at him wanly. "There is no chance that I'll win

against you," she said with a touch of amusement, but she
got up and followed him to the game tables.

"What was that all about?"
Clair shrugged then chuckled. "Gathering together so

many pregnant women and confining them in a very small
space over a long period of time wasn't the best of ideas.
There could be war."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Four

Drake waylaid Clair before she'd reached the stairs to the

lower level. Clair eyed him a little warily, almost certain that
she knew what it was that had prompted him to follow her
from the rec room, even though he'd seemed occupied when
she'd slipped out.

"You went to the medic?" he asked after an obvious

struggle over how to introduce the subject most dominant in
his mind.

Clair sighed. There was no point in avoiding it any longer.

She just wished she'd been in a little better frame of mind. It
was hard to try to fake enthusiasm when she was so
unnerved about the news the medic had given her. She
pasted a smile on her lips with an effort. "Yep. I'm definitely
pregnant! I'm not just getting fat!"

He studied her for a long moment.
The look on his face was eloquent of hurt, anger, and

confusion.

Clearly, her effort to fake enthusiasm hadn't fooled him.
She sighed with a mixture of frustration and guilt, realizing

she should have long since put forth the effort to try to repair
the damage she'd done to their relationship when he'd hauled
her off to the underworld like a caveman. She hadn't really
known how when she'd so thoroughly mucked things up,
made so many absolutely stupid remarks that she couldn't
retract. She'd hoped they could just sort of gloss over it and
pretend it hadn't happened and forget about it after a while.

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He wasn't going to forget, though, she realized.
Because he'd been deeply hurt, even though he'd managed

to convince her he wasn't.

She caught his hand when he started to turn away,

bringing it to her stomach. He sent her a sharp look, but he
didn't resist. "He heard its heartbeat."

He flushed slightly ... with pleasure, she realized.
She moved closer to him, lifting a hand to stroke his

cheek. "Will you be as disappointed as I am if it turns out that
it isn't yours?"

He sent her a startled look. "You think it is not?"
She shook her head. "I'm almost sure it is, but he doesn't

have the instruments to tell. I just ... I don't want you to get
your hopes up and then be disappointed." She slipped her
arms around his waist. "You know I love you, don't you?"

She heard him swallow. "You do?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't realized she'd

managed to convince him she didn't. "I always have." She
leaned away from him. "It was ... just hard for me to adjust
to the change in you. You seemed so different, but then I
finally realized that you're the same person you always were."

He frowned. She could see that he found that somewhat

insulting, that he thought she was saying he wasn't behaving
any differently when he felt so much different. She planted a
kiss in the center of his chest. "The minute you made love to
me that first day after we'd gotten to the underground city, I
knew that."

"I want to make love to you now," he murmured.

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She pulled away to look up at him, smiling widely. "I think

we'll have the cabin all to ourselves."

He gave her a smoldering look. "If we do not, they can

watch."

Laughing, Clair turned away, drawing his arm across her

shoulders and leading him toward the cabin. "Kinky."

He chuckled. "You will have to get used to it. I have tried

to discourage the others, but they are dead set that you are
their woman, as well, and that I can not have you all to
myself."

She smiled up at him. "I'm your woman, huh?"
He looked a little uncomfortable. "Will you contract with

me?"

That deserved a kiss! Two down, she thought happily while

she could still think straight. Actually, three, she amended a
little later while she was drowsing in the blissful aftermath of
a very satisfying afternoon of lovemaking. Simon had been
the first to ask.

That left Cole.
Maybe should tell Seth to give him a little nudge? It would

be nice to have the contracts signed before the babies
arrived.

* * * *

Clair was just about ready to start her own war with the

damned Confederation by the time they finally managed to
shake the bastards. She'd never dreamed when they left
Earth that they would spend months trying to elude them
before they could even set a course for the new world—

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nobody had—or that, once they did, they were still looking at
months more of space travel before they reached their
destination. She was not only heartily sick of living on the
damned ship long before that happy day arrived, she'd come
to realize her happy day was going to arrive before she ever
saw the new world. As ignorant about pregnancy as everyone
on board the ship was, it became abundantly clear when all of
the women 'blossomed' that they were about to need a
nursery.

The complacency of the Cyborgs vanished when that

dawned on them. Apparently, Clair thought wryly, they hadn't
actually anticipated that nature would take its course while
they were still trapped on the ship and unable to run from
nature in all its glory.

This was when the expectant mothers discovered that, not

only was there no actual med center on the ship since the
Cyborgs themselves had no need of one and it hadn't
occurred to them to set one up, there wasn't an available
room that could be made into one.

The women weren't terribly happy to realize that their

cabins would have to suffice for a delivery room and the
Cyborgs were even less happy with that prospect.

With absolute dedication to the project, the Cyborgs

unloaded one of the storage rooms, stuffing the contents in
with the other supplies. With the best will in the world,
however, they'd only managed to produce a delivery
room/med center that was big enough for one woman to
deliver at the time.

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They decided it would do. What were the odds, after all,

that the fifty odd women on board would all decide to have
their baby at the same time?

About a hundred to one in favor, they discovered.

Apparently, the baby Cyborgs had as keen a sense of timing
as their fathers. The first woman to go into labor seemed to
set off a domino effect. It was almost as if a timer had gone
off telling the babies it was time to come out.

The contented clucking of all the expectant mothers had

finally eased some of Clair's own fears after a while. Next
came the monster waddle when she reached a point where
she couldn't even see over the balloon of her belly and had to
be damned careful not to overbalance if she decided to do
any gymnastics—like pulling her boots on. She passed from
acceptance then to impatience to get it over with.

That lasted right up until the first woman went into labor

and the Cyborgs went into panic.

She'd never actually seen a Cyborg panic. She hadn't

thought they had it in them to panic, to be perfectly honest.
Very little shook them from 'cool' mode.

The imminent arrival of the first Cyborg baby turned them

all into quaking jelly—her included.

She thought she might have maintained her own aplomb if

it hadn't shaken everyone up so badly—or if she'd had a
chance to distance herself from it with time. It didn't turn out
that way. She felt her first labor pains before the woman had
even stopped screaming 'just kill me and get it over with!'

Her men, who'd finally, officially, become her men when

they'd signed their contractual agreement less than a month

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earlier, had managed to maintain some dignity right up until
that moment. They'd been pale, true, obviously quaking
inwardly, but none of them had fainted.

At that point, they decided to play 'hot potato' with her.

Drake, who'd stubbornly maintained throughout that the baby
was his, suddenly decided it might just as easily be Seth's
and he didn't see why he should be there for the delivery if
Seth was allowed to escape.

"Chicken!" she snarled at him in the midst of a labor pain.

"Just go away then, damn it, all of you! I'll do it myself!"

White-faced, the four of them, on their way out the door,

halted, exchanged sheepish, uncomfortable glances with one
another and filed back into the cabin.

"I was going to find the medic," Drake said.
"Oh?" Clair asked sarcastically. "Has he come around from

his faint already?"

"I am sure he has," Drake said a little more hopefully.
"Well, I'm sure I don't care! He doesn't know any more

about delivering a baby than any of you do!"

"Angel, we don't know a damned thing about it!"
Clair felt her chin wobble. "That's so helpful!"
Seth swallowed a little convulsively and moved with

obvious reluctance to the bed, staring at her belly until the
contraction ended. As soon as the pain eased, he gathered
her up and settled behind her as a prop. Pulling her back so
that she could recline against his chest, he began to stroke
her belly in a soothing motion with his hands. Clair relaxed
against him gratefully. The position, she discovered, made
the pressure build all the harder when the next contraction

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started, but she realized it was helping to the push the baby—
babies—out faster.

Anything to make it happen faster!
The other three took turns—due to the fact that they were

too weak-kneed to stand for very long without collapsing for a
few moments to keep from passing out—waiting between her
legs to catch the baby with their hands locked like someone
about to hike a football.

She thought it was highly unlikely that it was going to

shoot out given the fact that she was having so much trouble
pushing it out, but she decided not to complain. As terrified
as they all were, they'd stayed. They were at least trying to
help and it was comforting not to be alone if nothing else.

Simon turned out to be the lucky one who caught the

'pass'—at least the first one.

Once he'd tied off the umbilical cord, he sat back on his

heels and stared down at the sticky, wiggling, red-faced,
squalling thing lying at Clair's feet with a look that was a
mixture of horror, awe, and tentative pleasure. "It is a male,"
he said in bemusement.

Drake, still recovering from the last near faint, bounded off

the bunk with the receiving blanket they had for the baby.
"My son!" he exclaimed proudly, then frowned. "He is small.
Should he not be bigger?"

Clair grunted as the next pain hit her. "There's two."
"Two what?" all four men chorused blankly.
"Two babies."
Drake looked as if he couldn't decide whether he liked the

sound of that or not. Simon took the blanket from him,

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wrapped the baby up with shaking hands and plunked the
bundle in his arms.

Clair was about to caution them to be careful with him, but

she saw it wasn't necessary. They were too terrified of it to be
careless with it. Drake froze the moment Simon plunked the
baby in his arms, as if he was afraid to move in any direction.

"Someone else will have to the catch the next," Simon

muttered a little drunkenly. "I do not feel well at all."

"I will do it," Cole volunteered at once. "I see how this is

done now!"

Clair glared at him. As unhelpful as it was to have them all

threatening to pass out and fighting over the bunk, his
cheerfulness made her want to punch him in the nose. The
labor pains distracted her. Finally, though, she was rewarded
by the sound of another thin wail and the wonderful cessation
of pain.

Releasing a relieved sigh, she slumped against Seth, so

grateful to have it over with all she could do for several
moments was luxuriate in the almost orgasmic freedom from
pain. "Is it another boy?" she finally asked feebly.

"It is a female," Cole said in a strange voice. "This one is

yours, Seth."

The comment was enough to bring Clair upright, which

was just as well since it brought Seth off the bed so fast he
would've dumped her otherwise. The two of them peered
down at the baby girl, studying her thick cap of coal black
hair blankly.

They turned to look at one another. Slowly, matching

smiles began to curl their lips.

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Ok," Clair murmured, "I don't know how you did it, but

I've stopped trying to understand Cyborgs."

They were all still more inclined to think it was just a fluke

that Carol, named for her mother, had black hair when
Drake's hair was blond. His son, Luke, was tow headed.

Of course, considering the fact that they had twice the

DNA strands she did, there was no telling what all was in their
genes. One of Drake's contributors might have had black hair.

She did bear an uncanny resemblance to Seth, though,

and Clair couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, the
extraordinary beings her mother had 'given birth' to had
proven yet again just how incredibly, wonderfully special they
were.

"Remarkable beings, the Cyborgs," she mused when she

awoke a little later, studying her family across the cabin from
her with pride. "No wonder I love my men."

All four men, on their knees studying the two babies lying

on the bunk with absolute fascination, looked up at her and
smiled.

"They are beautiful, mon amour," Drake said. "Just like

their mother."

"But ... neither one of them look like Clair," Cole objected.

"I am not saying she did not do a wonderful job, mind you!
They are certainly perfect, but Luke looks like you and I can
not help but think that poor Carol...."

Seth and Simon both glared at him. "Poor Carol?" Seth

growled ominously.

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Cole studied them uncomfortably. "Well, you do not look

the least like a female—either of you. It will seem strange to
see someone in your image with breasts."

Clair didn't know whether to laugh or throw something at

him. "You'll have an entirely different viewpoint if your
daughter looks like you."

Cole frowned, thinking that over.
"She does not look like Seth," Simon disputed angrily.

"She is the image of her mother and she is beautiful."

"Exactly!" Seth agreed.
"When do you think that you will have a daughter for me,

my love?" Cole asked.

Clair sent him a look. "Don't 'my love' me! If you think for

one minute I intend to go through that again any time
soon...."

The End.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Read an excerpt from Kaitlyn O'Connor's next book,

coming soon.

Chaos Forged

By

Kaitlyn O'Connor

© copyright by Kaitlyn O'Connor, April 2008

Cover art by Eliza Black, 2008

ISBN 978-1-60394-144-0

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One

"Houston, this is Dr. Danielle Stevens aboard the ISS

Pegasus. Do you read?" Danielle paused, listening intently for
several moments and then repeated the transmission.
Nothing but dead air greeted her each time she switched from
send to receive.

That was all any of the ten member crew aboard the

international space station had heard for weeks now. Dead
air.

Releasing a pent up breath, Danielle propped her arm on

the console and her head on her palm, closing her eyes. They
burned, feeling grainy from the little sleep she'd had ... not
that she was by any means alone. No one was sleeping.
Everyone was wrestling with the big question.

What do we do now? Wait here to die? Go home and die

with everyone else?

Swallowing past the painful knot that rose to wedge in her

throat, Danielle lifted her head. It was too late, she thought,
for the last option.

No one wanted to admit it. She didn't want to accept it,

but there was no getting around the fact that the more time
that passed, the less likely it was that anyone at all was left.

"Any luck?"
Danielle swiveled her seat and stared at Dr. Lindsey

Peterson, watching the faint hope in the other woman's eyes
die.

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She swallowed with an effort, shaking her head. "I've only

been trying for about an hour, though. With the delay ... and
there could be interference."

They both knew she was grasping at straws.
Danielle swiveled around to face the console again.

"Houston, this is Dr. Danielle Stevens...."

"Give it a rest! You're using up battery power we can't

afford to waste."

Danielle twisted to look at the doorway to the com room

again. Clancy Morton stood next to Lindsey now, scowling at
her. Danielle's lips tightened. "What the fuck are we going to
use it for?" she snapped.

Clancy's scowl deepened. "Watch your mouth, Doctor

Stevens," he growled. "I'm still the head of this mission."

"What mission, for Christ's sake?" Danielle demanded.

"They're all dead! What the hell are we doing up here?"

"We're doing our jobs!" Clancy snapped. "Some of us,

anyway!"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Danielle shouted at

him as he whirled and stalked off. She transferred her
attention to Lindsey when he didn't respond. "What the hell
did he mean by that?"

Lindsey shook her head. "Raging at each other isn't going

to change anything."

Danielle swallowed her fear, anger, and grief with an

effort. "It makes me feel better," she muttered, looking away.

"Does it?"
Danielle dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"No," she admitted reluctantly.

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Lindsey was silent so long she thought the other woman

had left. "Do you really think they're all dead?"

"I don't know." She did, she just couldn't bring herself to

repeat it. She wouldn't have said it all if Clancy hadn't made
her so furious. It was almost as if, as long as she didn't say it,
accept it, it might not be true.

"As long as we don't know there's still hope, right?"
Defiantly leaving the com open, Danielle thrust herself

away from the console and shoved herself to her feet.
"Hope?" She shook her head at Lindsey. "The very last
communication we had was from Robert Rawlins. He said not
to come home until we got an all clear because the virus was
completely out of control. Don't you think somebody would
have contacted us in this length of time if there was anybody
down there who could?"

"The could've closed down mission control. He said they'd

been trying to quarantine to slow the spread."

Danielle had thought of that. It was what she hoped

herself. They'd been ordered to stay put, told the seriousness
of the situation. If the virus was spreading, and killing, as fast
as Robert had indicated.... "Robert seemed to think the kill
rate was in our favor, that the virus was killing off its hosts so
fast it was slowing the spread. If it didn't go airborne...."

Lindsey managed a tremulous smile. "That's probably it.

They shut everything down and quarantined people in their
homes to stop the spread. The kill rate was only about sixty
percent when he gave us the first report, right?"

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Danielle shrugged. He'd actually said they thought the kill

rate was around sixty percent. The last report had it at closer
to eighty percent.

"Well ... a lot more people sick than well. I imagine they

have their hands full. We just need to keep trying until we
reach somebody. Had you thought about trying another
bandwidth?"

Guilt made Danielle's cheeks redden. "I toyed with it a

little," she lied, avoiding Lindsey's gaze. The fact was, she'd
tried every channel when they'd lost contact with Houston
and when she hadn't been able to pick up any of the other
stations, she'd begun frantically scanning the airwaves for
anything at all. She'd picked up a few transmissions—all bad,
all indicating a global pandemic and then she'd lost even
those. All was quiet on planet Earth. There hadn't been so
much as a radio or TV station broadcasting anything but
static, or prerecorded shows on a loop, for over a week.

It was almost as if someone had set off a viral bomb.
There hadn't been any indications, though, that it was viral

warfare.

That didn't preclude the possibility, unfortunately. It just

meant that things had gotten so bad so fast that there hadn't
been time to investigate. They hadn't had time for anything
but trying to fight it and burying the dead—not to contain it,
not to find a treatment or a cure.

The abrupt surge of static from the microphone made

Danielle and Lindsey both nearly jump out of their skin. Both
women whipped their heads toward the microphone, holding

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their breath. "ISS Pegasus, this is Lymra Sabin Au-ture of the
Galatic Confederation flagship Mertosin."

Danielle felt her jaw sag. She whipped her head toward

Lindsey again. They stared at one another blankly in shock for
an endless moment.

"Dr. Danielle Stevens, this is Lymra Sabin Au-ture...."
Danielle and Lindsey both let out a scream of hysterical

joy, launching themselves at each other and bouncing up and
down.

"Do you read? Dr. Danielle Stevens of the ISS...."
Danielle broke from Lindsey's frantic embrace. "I have to

talk to him. Run! Get the others!"

Her hand was shaking so badly when she flopped into her

chair and grabbed the microphone that she nearly dropped it.
"This Dr. Danielle Stevens of the ISS Pegasus speaking," she
said in a voice quavering with excitement.

"This is Lymra Sabin Au-tere of the Galactic Confederation

vessel Mertosin...."

Danielle's mind went abruptly blank. "Who?"
"Danielle!" Lindsey called from down the corridor. "Come

here!"

"I'm trying to talk to this ... person!" Danielle yelled back

at her impatiently.

"Don't!"
Danielle swiveled around in her chair, frowning. "What?"
When no one responded, Danielle debated with herself a

moment and finally got up, moving to the doorway. She could
hear a mumble of voices coming from the rec room area.

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After glancing at the com again, she finally stepped into the
corridor.

"We have communications!" she called.
"Get in here!" Clancy bellowed.
Danielle's lips tightened but after glancing at the com

again, she jogged down the corridor to see what was
happening, skidding to a halt when she reached the rec room
and discovered that the entire crew was bunched around the
viewing ports on either side, gaping at something outside. A
wave of cold crested over her. Uncertain she could handle
more bad news, Danielle moved slowly toward the nearest
group and glanced outside.

A silvery gray object filled the entire view port, blocking

out any view of space that would ordinarily have been visible.
Danielle stared at it uncomprehendingly. Of their accord, her
eyes moved, recording, tracing the smooth surface from top
to bottom and end to end, noting view ports, lights—strange
markings along the side of the vehicle, the space craft.

Feeling perfectly blank, she dragged her gaze from it after

a moment, glanced at Lindsey, Clancy, Bud, Joyce, and
Richard and finally turned to look across the rec room at the
other group. There was another ship like the first hovering on
that side of the space station.

Clancy finally turned away from the port, staring at

Danielle, or rather through her for several moments before
his gaze finally focused on her. "You've had communications?"

It took Danielle several tries to find her voice. "Yes," she

managed to say a little hoarsely. "I couldn't ... He has an

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unfamiliar accent. It sounded like he said something about
Galactic Confederation."

Their conversation seemed to snap everyone out of their

shock. They all started trying to talk at once.

"It's them. It has to be them! Who else would it be?"
"Houston?"
"Give me a fucking break! We haven't heard from Houston

in weeks. She said an accent!"

"What kind of accent?"
"Will you all shut up!" Clancy roared abruptly, sweeping a

glare around the room. "I'm trying to think, god damn it!"

"I left him on the com," Danielle said uneasily. "What do

you want me to do?"

Clancy's lips tightened. Finally, he motioned her down the

corridor and followed her. "Let's try to find out who they are
and what they're doing here."

Danielle swallowed a little convulsively, nodded jerkily, and

preceded Clancy to the com room. When she'd collapsed
weakly in her seat, she took a moment to try to collect
herself. Striving to steady her madly pounding pulse, she
closed her eyes and took deep even breaths until she felt a
little more calm. "This is Dr. Stevens. I apologize for breaking
communications. Is that ... are you aboard one of the vessels
currently alongside the ISS Pegasus?"

There was a lengthy delay. Finally, the same deep male

voice that had spoken before answered her. "Yes. I must
apologize, as well. There is a delay in the translator."

Danielle slid a wide eyed look at Clancy. She saw

immediately, though, that Clancy wasn't going to be any help

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at all. Depressing the link again, Danielle spoke into the
microphone. "What are your origins?"

"The Kirsian Galaxy," Sabin responded after another

lengthy pause.

"That's bullshit!" Clancy snapped, uttering a bark of

laughter that held no humor.

Danielle sent him another wide eyed look. "Have you lost

your mind! For god's sake, Clancy! What if they'd heard you?"

"I don't give a flying fuck! Kirsian Galaxy? Where the fuck

is that? He's trying to say they're ... aliens?"

Danielle stared at him. "You think they aren't? Just who,

on Earth, do you think would have ships like that? Did you
see the size of them?"

Clancy ran a shaking hand over his face, glanced around

the room, and finally dropped heavily into the only other chair
in the room.

After studying him for several moments, waiting to see if

he meant to give her any input, Danielle returned her
attention to the console. "What is the purpose.... What are
your intentions, Lymra Sabin?"

"The people of the Galactic Confederation send greetings,"

Sabin said formally. "We have come to offer aid."

"I'll ... uh ... I'll have to speak with my superior and

convey your message."

The pause was longer that time. "Permission to board?"
Danielle stared at the console as if she could see through it

to the being on the other end. "Clancy? A little help here. He
wants to come on board."

background image

Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

404

"We understand that the situation is dire. If it will help to

work things out more quickly...?" Sabin said, almost as if he
knew the chaos he'd thrown them into.

And maybe he did? What must their puny space station

look like to beings capable of building ships like those
surrounding them?

Clancy frowned, obviously considering it. "Tell him

permission granted."

Danielle felt her jaw slide to half cock. "Clancy! We don't

know anything about these beings—nothing! Don't you think
we should discuss this among the crew...?"

Clancy glared at her. "I'm in charge. And just how the hell

do you think we could stop them from coming aboard? We
need to try to present a front of friendliness until we can
figure out what's going on!"

Danielle was almost as surprised that what he'd said made

sense as she was that it hadn't occurred to her.

She turned to the com again. "You have permission to

board. You may dock with the starboard bay."

"That will not be necessary. I will transport to the large

central area of the station."

Danielle turned to Clancy again. They stared at one

another. "The rec room!" they both said at almost the same
instant, leaping up and rushing from the com room.

Danielle saw when they reached the room that a blur of

light had appeared in the center of the room. Drawn by her
and Clancy's entrance, the rest of the crew turned from the
view ports, staring as the blur rapidly became more solid and

background image

Illumination [Cyberevolution V]

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

405

finally vanished altogether, leaving a man standing where the
light had been only moments before.

Frozen, no one moved. Danielle didn't think she even

breathed.

His suit looked like nothing she'd ever seen, almost more

like some sort of armor than a space suit, and fit him almost
like second skin. As she stared, he reached up and removed
the helmet that completed his suit. Her heart slammed into
her rib cage as the head slowly emerged ... skin tones much
like theirs, a square jaw and chin, a firm mouth. Long, inky
black hair fell around his shoulders.

He's human, she thought blankly.


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