He rescanned his perimeter and checked on the women before decrypting it and downloading the missive into his hardware. No virus was attached, but there never was. The was an easy death sentence to the sender if ever caught.
He preferred to speak to his brethren one-on-one but his curiosity won out.
188.151.3.111. The message was from Rose.Rose?
What the fuck?
She was a doctor, like him, but lived and worked in Ghost City. They communicated once every three to five years, to share new information and developments, but all that was preplanned. She held up her end when it came to cybernetics run by cybernetic beings, and he kept tabs on, well, human experiments on cybernetics and cybernetic beings.
His heart thudded against the metal in his chest and his eyes roved through the heavy shadows and patterns of wall art from eras past. He felt a bottom feeder creature of worry suck at the wires in his gut. This was why he didn’t get involved. This was why he remained alone. His need to give all his attention to Marsha and her girlfriend weighed against the abrupt message from a trusted colleague. Reid stepped further into the gloom and made his choice.
Dr. Reid Canis,
First, let me apologize for this message and its inopportune appearance. I hope it finds you at an easy time.
Please delete all traces of it and any sources it’s attached to after you’re finished reading it.
To get to the point, we have a human female aboard Ghost, attached to a temporary resident, Dommik. She’s pregnant.
A bubbling sense of anger rose within him. Cyborgs didn’t get females pregnant—ever. The risk was too great. The law of it was well regarded... but in recent years more and more ‘borgs ignored it.
Even he ignored it, thinking about Clara, and his seed that had already claimed her egg. He let some of his anger simmer down to frustration. He disliked what he couldn’t control.
Every other Cyborg started their family in the security of deep space... if anyone was risking his species, it was him.
He read on...
The fetus is unusual. The pregnancy abnormal. Katalina is well into her second trimester but has shown no signs that she has ever progressed past her first. The child has... Dommik is like you... and with unconventional DNA.
Kat remains bedridden and attached to medical all cycle long. It’s stabilizing her and slowing down all progression even further. I’m afraid I may miss something...
Attached is her basic chart—nothing incriminating. They won’t be much help, I believe, but it’s something at least. Some information I can give you.
My reason for this correspondence should be clear. You should know by now what I want from you. What would benefit our...
Don’t send your response. You’ll either give me what I want or not.
Rose.
Reid deleted everything immediately, having already memorized everything, before connecting back to the network. He quickly then sourced out all traces of the message through the network for as far as his signal allowed him and cleaned up the trail. He knew Rose would take care of things on her end.
When he grounded his conscious again, his fists were clenched at his sides. He loosed his fingers before he crushed the metal in his hands, straightened the sleeves of his jacket, checked his gun, shifted his canines back and forth once more, and stepped back out into the moonlight.
Dommik was a shifter, like him, but not. He was a hundred times worse. Even now, after dozens of years since their last meeting, he could see Dommik’s ropes clogging up the Cyborg’s ship, back when they were both commanders. They worked in the same fleet and battlestations as many of the others of their kind—shifters—and no one went into Dommik’s territory. Ever.
Not because it bothered the Cyborg and his peculiar tendencies, but because it was private.
Like my den is private. My family. My fucking office and even the damned parking is mine on a good day.
Reid checked on Marsha and Natalie’s position, finding no movement on their end, and walked headfirst into the street, over the potholes and broken asphalt, until he got into his flyer and was positioning to land beside them mere minutes later.
The doors shot open and he didn’t say anything, didn’t need to because his face said it all. The women loaded in and he shot up into the air.
“That sucked,” Marsha snapped the safety of her brand new gun, one he replaced before they had left the facility.
“He’s not an idiot.” Reid really wished Santino was. But the guy left no trail after prison and knew how to keep on the down low.
“Would’ve been too easy. So now what?” Marsha asked.
