“We mean to enlighten you!” the cyborg shouted back. “And before you dismiss it, consider this--Why would they send humans against cyborgs when we were designed to be stronger and faster than any natural born human? Logically, they would not. No human could hope to be victorious against beings designed to be physically and mentally superior to them. Why is it that not one among you has a single, living relative--no parents, no brothers, no sisters, no aunts, uncles--no one? The creators gave you your memories. They are not your own. These memories were programmed into you at the time of your creation to prevent the problems that arose among those of us created without a past, with full knowledge of what and who we are.”
Amaryllis was on the point of flatly vetoing the suggestion when she noticed that an uncomfortable, thoughtful silence had fallen among her comrades. A sense, almost of drowning, swept over her as she looked around at the other hunters as if seeing them for the first time and finally turned to look at Reese.
She couldn’t say that she knew any of them on a very personal level, but of those she did know well enough to have learned something of their background the cyborg’s comments struck uncomfortably close to home. She couldn’t recall a single one of them that had family. She supposed she’d assumed that that was one of the preferences for their line of work--that all of them were orphans, loners, with no one to distract them from their job, no ties that might interfere at a critical moment.
A coldness followed the sensation of drowning. There was one among them that certainly did not fit that profile, who not only had a wealth of living relatives, but who also had endured a childhood so horrendous not even a mad scientist would consider it mentally healthful to instill such memories.
Her.
Chapter Two
Reese had no living relatives. The two of them hardly exchanged more conversation than was necessary to complete their missions, but Amaryllis had been curious enough about him to do a background check.
It hadn’t occurred to her to question his humanity.
She’d always thought he had an almost uncanny control in the face of situations that made even seasoned soldiers flinch, but she’d also admired that cool head under fire, the ability, whatever the situation, to think, and act accordingly. She’d only seen him in action a few times, but she’d admired him from afar long before he’d been assigned as her partner.
She would’ve been lying to say she didn’t think it was a shame the attraction wasn’t mutual, but she’d also been relieved at the same time that he was so unaware of her that there was no chance anything could ever get ugly. If it had been entirely left up to her to keep things professional, she wasn’t confident she could’ve managed it, despite the company’s prohibition, despite her training, despite the drugs they were issued that were supposed to counteract their natural libido and keep their mind on business.
Regardless, she’d considered his coolness pure training—and a lack of interest in her in particular. He wasn’t emotionless. He simply had a better than typical control over the weaknesses that beset other soldiers that weren’t as good as he was.
The suspicion had teased at her that he’d become oddly protective of her since they’d begun working together. As many times as she’d assured herself that it was under orders, no more than insurance by Robotics, Inc. to protect their investment, she’d toyed with the notion that, maybe, he wasn’t as indifferent to her as she’d at first supposed.
The incident between them on the trip out had seemed to support her wishful thinking.
She’d woken from one of her brief rest periods to find herself virtually nose to nose with Reese on the bunk in one of the cabins, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath caressing her, could feel her body responding to his nearness and his scent.
He wasn’t asleep. He was staring at her in a way that had made her belly clench. When his gaze had strayed to her lips and lingered there for a handful of heartbeats, she’d thought that he would kiss her. She’d desperately wanted to feel that hard mouth covering hers, to tear his control from him and feel his heated possession. Instead, after several shuddering heartbeats, he’d seemed to collect himself and had rolled away from her, exerting, once more, his supreme control over himself.
But that presupposed that he was human and capable of feeling human emotion, of experiencing the throes of passion. Maybe what she saw was all there was? Maybe it had only been her imagination playing tricks on her when she’d thought he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, as badly as she wanted him to, her own desires controlling her mind?
Maybe he was nothing more than a machine, incapable even of curiosity?
“You believe them?”
It wasn’t a question, not really. Amaryllis’ gaze skidded away from making eye contact even as she glanced toward him. “They seem to believe it--unless they’ve evolved to the point that they’re capable of lying. But then the company has assured us they aren’t capable of evolving, that it’s only faulty programming that makes them behave as they do.”
He merely grunted. The sound could’ve indicated agreement, disgust--any number of things. It seemed like a purely human reaction, but Amaryllis felt as if she’d been drugged, as if she was caught up in some sort of bizarre hallucination.
She refused to allow herself to dwell on the fact that she was, quite possibly, the only human on this world, surrounded by cyborgs who despised the race that had created them. To allow it would be to allow terror to seep through her veins like a corrosive acid and the one thing she was certain of was that she couldn’t afford to fall apart. Her chances of survival might be slim anyway, but she had no desire to let go of a slim chance for none at all.
It was almost a relief when the cyborgs began to move among them. The fact that they singled out the injured seemed to indicate they had meant what they’d said. Extermination would not be immediately forthcoming.
It would’ve been more of a relief if Amaryllis hadn’t feared the treatment itself would expose her. She’d been debating the matter and what her chances were for some moments when a shadow fell across her. Her heart seized immediately, as if a fist had closed around it. “I’m fine,” she said without looking up, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering with reaction.
“You are injured.”
“Not seriously.”
“I’ve checked her myself. She has superficial wounds only.”
Both surprise and relief flickered through Amaryllis at Reese’s unexpected championship. It was short lived. Even as she glanced toward him, she sensed the cyborg kneeling on her other side to examine her more closely. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth when she glanced toward him.
He was as dark as Reese was fair, and somewhat slighter of build, but his face was so similar they might have been cast from the same mold--so to speak. Nausea swam through her as the thread of doubt she’d been nursing vanished. If they weren’t brothers--and she knew they couldn’t be--then they’d certainly been developed from the same gene donor cocktail. She jumped when the cyborg tucked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head, examining her closely.
After a moment, the cyborg’s gaze moved from her to Reese. “She has head injuries. It cannot hurt to have her examined.”
Reese’s hard mouth tightened into a thin, uncompromising line. “She has displayed no symptoms suggesting serious damage. She is cut and battered, but sound enough to need no treatment.”
