Ashes and Metal (Cyborg Shifters Book 5) Page 13

  Two men entered: the new head guard from yesterday morning and another. His attention landed on the new man. He had hawkish features, a hooked nose, a pallor worse than a corpse, but had intelligent eyes—eyes that were downcast and looking at a hologram held in his hand. A hush fell over the brig.

  Gunner stood, erection jutting out, and faced the fuckers that constantly interrupted his privacy with Ely.

  The guard’s nose twitched but unlike previous days, neither of them backed down from the smell; the androids had done their job well.

  They approached Royce’s cell and the man with the hologram raised his eyes to the door panel.

  “This is where he died. Never seen such a messed-up suicide, clawed his wrist and bled out all over the locking mechanism,” the guard told the new man.

  “Hmm...” The hologram was lifted until it expanded to encapsulate the lock.

  Gunner leaned his back against the wall. He heard more than saw Ely move back to his side and he reached down to curl his finger around the bar next to her head.

  The airy blue holosphere vibrated and billowed, and he could taste the energy it put in the air. Gunner seeped out of his body and poked the connection, testing it, and capturing what information he could. It zapped him and he was thrust back out.

  The hologram flashed red.

  What the hell?

  “What was that?” the guard asked for him.

  “Interesting...” his techie friend mumbled but didn’t answer.

  A different type of sparking flooded his mainframe, one that felt like thorns piercing his skin from the inside-out.

  It fought me. It fucking fought back. Gunner, reconfiguring, approached the tech with more caution. He scoped it from a different wavelength, stalking around it like he would prey, and moved in slowly. The closer he got, the more the thorns embedded themselves, and the more his own systems went on the defense.

  The hologram went red again and stayed that way while he fought through the growing pain. The battle was internal, invisible to any onlookers.

  The tech eluded him, a barbed-wire of a firewall protecting its secrets. The more it fought, the more he wanted to know what it was hiding.

  Passwords. Intel. Where my goddamned ship was taken. He jaw locked. A network virus danced around like will-o’-wisps in his mind.

  A soft caress and a sudden shock of warmth hit the back of his finger, drawing him away. Suddenly Ballsy wasn’t in his head but Ely. The heat spread. He looked at her. Where her temple was resting on his own skin.

  She filled his thoughts and drowned out everything else. That touch, her touch. The sensation mesmerizing and giving, and so out of place with what was happening it took him aback. It was a small connection—that of her brow against the back of his finger—but it shifted something inside him he wasn’t prepared for.

  He didn’t have the chance to take it in, being touched, willingly, by a woman, by Ely, before he was interrupted... AGAIN.

  “Who’s he?”

  Gunner’s eyes shot back to guard and his companion, now both looking his way. He wanted them gone.

  “He’s the dumbass that owned the battlecruiser we picked up. The one that’s got us locked out.”

  “How’d a man with a ship like that even get caught in the first place? You saw the cannons on that rig. Dumbass must have been taking the biggest shit of his life.” The hologram vanished in the man’s hand as he moved away from the panel to stand in front of Gunner’s cell.

  There wasn’t outward strength reeking from him, but calculating, shrewd intelligence. The man smelled clean, except for the artificial fruit released into the air every time he breathed. Vitamins? No, Gunner sifted it out. Energy supplements. This guy’s chosen drug was caffeine, and a lot of it.

  Gunner could also sense the second-hand cybernetic tech inside this new man and he wondered if the hologram he tried to penetrate was actually part of a larger, hidden piece, the source beneath layers of blood and meat.

  If he so much as looks at Ely...

  His shields were already up but he double checked them to be sure.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked.

  “Gunner. Yours?”

  The man squinted and sniffled. “Ballsy. Yours rings a bell.”

  “Does it now?” Gunner smirked.

  “A mystery to be solved another time, but I’ve seen your ship. Walked through it, got comfortable, spent some time there. I’m curious.” The man lifted his gaze to look at the wall, his eyes glazing over. “Very curious.”

  Gunner slowly dropped his finger from the bar and pushed off the wall to stand in front of Ballsy. The man didn’t move at his approach. “It is very curious. Have you broken in?”

  Ballsy smiled faintly, his gaze still averted. “Yes and no. Are you worried?” His eyes moved back to his. “Hiding something good? Besides the sexdolls, that is.”

  “You wouldn’t be asking me that if you knew. You wouldn’t be standing here if you got in.”

  Ballsy’s smile faltered before returning. “We all have our secrets.” He quirked his head. “Did you get a new set of eyes installed? Or are you blind, Gunner?”

  “I see you clearly,” he said menacingly, his voice lower now. He didn’t like the idea of any of these lowlife fuckers touching his things. “Clear as day.”

  “I’m sure you do see me. You won’t be the first to threaten though, and you won’t be the last. But tell me, from one man with an implant to another, was it worth it?”

  Ballsy’s question threw him and Gunner could feel the eyes of everyone watching their exchange in the brig. He felt her eyes on his back. The raw, slow boil of his restraint was beginning to crack.

  “No,” he lied.

  “Interesting... I don’t expect you to give me the passcodes to your ship but I have to ask... is it worth your life?”

  “Is it worth yours?”

  Ballsy’s laugh was soft and wispy and as deranged as a butterfly with its wings pulled off. “No. No, it’s not.” He turned toward the guard. “The lock was tampered with. Not sure how but I’ll find out. Always do.”

  The guard grunted acknowledgment, looking back at Royce’s cell.

  Gunner cracked his neck as Ballsy readdressed him. “We’ll talk again soon... I hope.”

  Hope is a bad choice of word. Gunner watched him move away, out of range for a direct attack, and leave the brig with his head bowed and his hologram holding his attention.

  He listened to Ballsy’s steps recede down the long grated passageways, and he followed the trail of the man’s tech until it faded into the distance. It was enough for Gunner to track him when he was ready.

  “Listen up!” the remaining guard yelled, palming his cattle prod. “We all know what this is so don’t give me any fucking trouble. Do that and I won’t beat the shit out of you!”

  Gunner retreated back to his spot next to Ely and wrapped his fingers around the bar again. A momentary surge of disappointment hit him when she didn’t touch him back.

  “What’s happening?” he asked her, whispering.

  “Recruitment.”

  Gunner could hear the tremor in her voice. He watched the guard pacing the pathway. He wanted to stalk after him, creep on him until he went in for the kill.

  “Don’t say anything,” Ely whispered beside him again.

  He nodded and settled down his beast. “Why?”

  “It’s a game. It’s always a game...”

  ELODIE GROUND HER PALM against the cold floor, poised halfway into kneeling and ready to shoot to her feet in a moment’s notice. It didn’t feel good. Nothing had been the same since her dad left and Gunner took his place.

  And she had touched him. She had broken her own terms. Did it count? Would Gunner touch her now and use that small amount of contact against her? Why wasn’t she afraid?

  She shook her head slightly, still feeling his skin on her temple, his finger, and how she’d rested her head lightly on it. For a blistering moment she wanted to feel h
is breath on her forehead again and the comfort she remembered them bringing. And now she noticed his hand was there again, beckoning her to come to it, to him, and be sated.

  Human contact.

  The guard walked down the row and briefly out of sight and she slowly slinked Gunner’s jacket off her shoulders and pushed it behind her. She didn’t want the guard to see her in it. She didn’t want to be noticed at all.

  Unlike the previous times, her heart wasn’t racing. She knew she was safer with Gunner by her side. Despite not having real proof that he killed Royce, Gunner had somehow left his cell. A fleeting sense of safety took over. The extra rations he’d given her remained hidden in the inner pockets of his jacket.

  Elodie’s eyes drifted over the other prisoners. I’m safe, feeling safe, with him, for now. But for how much longer? Each day could be that fateful day that they’d end up at their destination.

  When she thought about it, Gunner was never chained up at her side. Whether that was an omen, she wasn’t sure. But it did give her a strand of hope that maybe the connection she made with him now could save her and her dad later.

  “Twenty-fucking-five of you left,” the guard harrumphed. “How many were here when we brought you in?” he asked a prisoner far down the row.

  Elodie couldn’t hear the poor man’s answer but knew it herself. Forty-two. Forty-two plus Kallan. Since then the others joined the crew, were killed, or had dropped dead. Add possible suicide to the list.

  “Do you guys want to know how much longer you’ll be in here for?” he yelled again.

  No one spoke.

  “That’s too bad. I guess the answer wouldn’t be comforting anyway. We have four spots that need to be filled. Four damn spots. Our bad-fucking luck is your bad-fucking luck.”

  Recruitment had happened only twice before her dad had left. And both those previous times they had only sought one or two spots to fill after their initial capture.

  She glanced at the guard, bellowing cells away, obscured through the bars. Four was a leap. It would significantly lessen the number of men around her, making the brig that much quieter, and yet she didn’t feel assured. Elodie would rather have those around her walled off than for them to be set free on the floors and hallways throughout. The cell wasn’t so much as a cage to her, but an added source of protection.

  It also increased the odds of her getting volunteered.

  Two men on the other end stood up together.

  “I’ll take a spot,” one of them said.

  The guard turned on his heel.

  “I’ll take one too,” said the other.

  She strained to hear the exchange.

  “You two buddies? Friends? Lovers? Hell if I care.” He lifted his prod out of its clasp. “What’s your vocations?”

  “I’m a mechanical engineer.”

  “Same,” the other grunted. Elodie recognized them only in that she’d seen their faces before her capture, but knew nothing else.

  “We work well together...” one of them said.

  “Is that so?”

  Neither of them answered.

  Gunner lowered himself to the floor next to her, partially pulling her attention away from the exchange. “Know them?” he breathed.

  She shook her head. The clang of one of the cell doors being opened rang through the space.

  “What are you thinking?”

  She shook her head again, briefly looking his way.

  “They can’t hear us.” Gunner tapped the bar between them. “Come closer.”

  Elodie licked her lips and slowly, painstakingly, shuffled a half foot his way. “How do you know?” she whispered back.

  “Know what?”

  “That they can’t hear us?”

  He grunted and her spine stiffened. She kept her eyes trained on the men down the row. “Audio sensory systems, sonar tech, and precisely calculated voice projection software. The codes never stop moving, the numbers are always updating. It’s fucking annoying as shit.”

  What? Elodie frowned. She didn’t put much effort in trying to understand.

  “Have you seen a man killed, Ely?”

  The question threw her off guard and she looked fully his way, meeting his ghoulish grey eyes. “Yes.”

  His finger continued to tap the bar. “I mean, really killed, up close and personal, whites of their sclera exposed and black pupils staring straight at you as the life slips out of them. Have you ever killed a man?”

  Had she? No. She thought back. No. There had been times where self-defense had been needed, tasers used, pipes cracking men’s heads but no, she had never directly killed someone, but then she never stuck around to make sure. I never struck for a killing blow. I don’t feel guilt.

  “No. Have you?” she knew the answer but asked anyway.

  “I’m the reason this is happening right now...” Gunner nodded in the direction of the guard.

  The guard held the prod behind his neck with both arms as he taunted the men. She’d missed some of the conversation and leaned forward slightly to hear better.

  “All you damned engineers. Everyone is an engineer out in abyss space. Your skill set brings little to the table. Can you fight?” the guard asked.

  “As well as any man in my field.” One of them moved inside his open cell and even from where she sat, Elodie could cut the tension with a knife. “I can fight,” he said.

  “You?” the guard looked at the other.

  “Yes...”

  “Well,” the guard took a step back to allow the prisoner to walk out. “Show me.” When the prisoner didn’t move, he laughed. “Oh come on, you two must’ve expected this!”

  The men looked at each other and for the first time, her chest squeezed. They’re friends. They’re haunted. And so, so tired. They had to have known.

  “Gunner...” Elodie whispered, worried. He shifted closer to her.

  Minutes slipped by and nothing happened. The guard waited like the rest of them. Eventually, the shoulders of the freed prisoner sagged, and the pointed, hungry features of his face hardened. He stepped out slowly and moved toward his friend’s cell. The guard poised his weapon at him as he waved a key over the panel and the door clicked open.

  He shoved the man in and locked the door.

  It hurt her heart to see them embrace.

  “Fucking fags,” the guard sneered and tossed his prod through the bars. “You really think I’m going to let you both out to try and jump me?” The weapon clanged against the floor. “The last one standing leaves. There’s no loyalty but to the captain. Don’t keep me waiting, it’ll only be worse if you do.” The guard didn’t stay to watch, seemingly bored and looked back at the rest of the prisoners. Elodie dropped her eyes until his gaze passed. “Who else wants a spot? No one eats until I’ve got meat in the bunks.” he yelled.

  “I’ll...take one,” another person spoke up, pulling the guard in a new direction.

  “Watch them,” Gunner murmured. “The two in the cell.”

  The men spoke to each but it was too low for her to hear. Neither of them made a move toward the weapon.

  “What are they saying?” she asked.

  “They knew it might come to this, but chose the odds that favored them. The guy with his back to the wall needs medical attention.” He paused. “For what, I don’t know. They’re deciding who is going to take the beating.”

  “They care for each other?”

  “Seems so.”

  It surprised her.

  “They could’ve waited, could’ve hoped to make it through to the end. Whatever that may be.”

  Elodie saw Gunner shrug out the corner of her eye. “The evil you know—”

  “—over the evil you don’t,” she finished.

  “Ever seen a flesh ring? Slave market? Body trials?”

  “No.” And she didn’t want too. She thought about it a lot at the beginning, thinking her time imprisoned wouldn’t be long, but when it proved so, she forced her thoughts away. It was inevitable, wh
atever came at the end, and she was determined to survive as long as possible.

  “They’re not pretty. At least the ones that don’t sell women. Those that go on the market are thrust naked in front of a crowd, muzzled if their tongues aren’t cut out prior. If you think a live crowd is bad, think of the thousands of eyes watching from encrypted feeds. Slavers shoot you up with stimulants, overcharging your systems, a cocktail of drugs that’ll give you an erection to last a day or more, and enough energy to flush your skin, make you sweat, and drive you stir-crazy.

  “Some markets are designed for specific things: sex, labor, meat. But most are a free-for-all. You don’t know what the buyer has in store for you. Sex and labor at least means life, albeit an unpleasant and painful one, but it’s better than the third option. If you have a medical condition, you’re already as good as dead. If you even make it that far.”

  Gunner stopped speaking as the newest volunteer was escorted to the exit toward a waiting android that took his arm. This one made it through without pain, one of the lucky ones. She hated him and his luck. Hated the thought of a slave market ringing through her head. Hated that she didn’t know if her dad was safe.

  She wondered how Gunner knew so much.

  “Men have it just as bad as women in those places,” he said. “The outcomes are never pretty. The lucky ones get bought to run ships like this, and the choice is easy if you think about it. At least for some.”

  “What happens to the women?”

  “Everything.”

  She dropped her gaze and stared at the grey floor before her. Her options were minimal and the time she had been given became that much more precious to her. Suddenly, the idea of taking a spot on the crew didn’t seem so bad. Dad warned me. He just didn’t know as much.

  “Don’t,” Gunner hissed, dragging her back from the grey. “Don’t think about it.”

  She didn’t respond, couldn’t because now she was weighing all her options again.

  The guard yelled, making her flinch. “One more spot!”

  One more spot. Elodie twitched, her eyes darting over all the players.

  “Don’t fucking open your mouth, Ely.” She barely heard him.