Page 25 of Pets in Space 10

Cass’s fingers flew over the controls, her mind focused almost entirely on the data in front of her.

The station hummed quietly around her; the low buzz of the machinery barely noticeable against the increasing howl of the storm outside.

Despite the storm, this was a familiar environment — familiar except for the huge cyborg sitting at the next console.

He was focused on his screen, a frown on that weathered face.

Not a handsome face, but… striking. His big hands moved competently over the keyboard, the right one gleaming silver in the harsh station lighting.

It was almost the only outward sign that he was a cyborg — a hand that looked human except for the metallic skin.

What would that hand feel like, she wondered. Would his skin feel cool and metallic when he touched her?

Which he is not going to do, she told herself firmly, but then he looked up and met her eyes and her breath caught.

His eyes were the other part of him that didn’t look entirely human — they too gleamed silver — and she knew they were capable of seeing things far outside the usual spectrum of sight.

But as he looked at her, his frown disappeared and the warmth in those silver eyes made her heart thump.

Then he cleared his throat and looked back at the screen.

“I’m not a scientist, but there seems to be an anomaly in this pattern.”

“Exactly,” she agreed eagerly. “The data from this station is different, and I don’t think it’s just a glitch.”

“A storm like this can create all kinds of interference,” he said slowly, and she gave a frustrated huff.

“I know the storm could be a factor, but they started before the storm arrived, and they don’t fit the pattern of any of the regular storm activity I’ve observed. And they’re coming from beneath the surface.”

“If it’s not due to the storm, what do you think is creating them?”

She hesitated for a long moment, not sure that she was willing to put her unspoken theory into words, but for some odd reason she trusted Z-542. He might not believe her, but he wouldn’t ridicule her or call her stupid.

“It’s as if there’s something down there. Something… alive.”

He studied her, his expression unreadable, and she found herself holding her breath. They both knew it should be impossible. Previous scientists hadn’t found any indication of life on Mars, not even from eons ago when there had been water on Mars.

“How would it survive?” he asked finally, his voice neutral.

“I don’t know. Maybe the terraforming process has awakened something.”

“Something?” He frowned and tapped the screen. “Something not small, if it can affect these readings.”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed. “I’m not even sure it is a living thing, but there has to be something down there. The signals are just too regular and consistent.”

“Maybe.” He tapped the screen again, a thoughtful frown on his face, then he gave a decisive nod. “If we’re going to find out, we need to go deeper.”

“We?”

The thought of sharing her discovery — if there was anything to discover — should have irritated her, but for some reason she felt a flash of pleasure at the idea of sharing it with him.

“You can’t do it alone,” he said, and the momentary pleasure vanished as she frowned at him.

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” she snapped, but he only smiled, and something about the way his eyes gleamed made her stomach clench.

“We’ll see.”

Then he turned back to his monitor, leaving her staring after him, trying not to admire the stubborn line of his jaw, the firmness of his mouth…

But he was right about one thing — they did need to go deeper.

“Time to go to work, Roland,” she said, reaching for him. To her relief he immediately abandoned Z-542’s shoulder and jumped into her arms.

“You’re going to have him dig beneath the surface?”

“Yes. Just so I can place an additional monitor underground,” she added quickly. “If there is something there, I don’t want him confronting it.”

“He could also be creating a path to the surface. I’m not sure — ”

“As you pointed out, whatever is under there — if there is anything under there — is large enough to affect the readings. Roland will only create a small shaft.”

Roland’s tail whipped back and forth in an eager rhythm, and she couldn’t help laughing as he scurried ahead of her towards the airlock.

“You’re always ready, aren’t you?”

“You are not going outside,” Z-542 said immediately, rising to his feet and towering over her.

Damn, he was tall. But she refused to be intimidated.

“Of course not. But the floor in the hangar is only packed dirt.”

He was still frowning, but he gestured towards the airlock in what she assumed was permission. Not that I need his permission.

Roland chirped and scampered into the entry hall, then waited as the two of them followed.

She reached for the control but a big silver hand intercepted her.

So that’s what his hand felt like — not cool, but warm and smooth, almost silky against her skin.

And incredibly strong. He wasn’t hurting her but she had absolutely no chance of escaping his grip.

“Not without a breathing mask,” he said firmly.

The atmosphere on Mars had been stabilized to the point where pressure suits weren’t necessary but full humans still needed supplemental oxygen when outside of a controlled environment.

“The hangar is airtight,” she reminded him, gesturing to the green safety indicator.

“Right now it is, but that could change when Roland starts digging. Take the mask.”

She winced, knowing he was right and annoyed that in her eagerness, she hadn’t considered it.

“All right,” she agreed, but he didn’t immediately release her and she was suddenly conscious of how close they were standing in the small entry hall.

He was so big, his chest a solid wall of muscle barely inches from her own smaller body, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes dropped involuntarily to his mouth.

The hard lines of his face softened and his eyes flared with a silver light that made her heart beat even faster. For a moment she was sure he was going to kiss her, but instead he stepped away.

“Your mask,” he said gruffly.

She stared at him, a dozen emotions warring inside her, before she managed to give him a stiff nod and take the mask. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t even sure if he was interested in her, and she certainly wasn’t going to make a fool of herself over him.

Lifting her chin, she turned away to fasten the mask over her nose. She certainly didn’t wonder if he’d chosen one of the smaller ones that left her mouth free on purpose.

“Let’s go, Roland,” she said, ignoring the look on the big cyborg’s face.

They passed through the airlock into the hangar and Roland immediately scampered over to the big silver horse standing next to the rover, his nose twitching. The horse bent his head with equal interest, his nostrils flaring as well.

She’d seen Phantom before, but only from a distance, and she paused to admire him. The silvery metal that covered his body gleamed dully in the dim light, the mechanical joints a harmonious complement. His mane was a mass of thick silver cables, and even his ears were metallic, the ends gleaming.

“He’s beautiful,” she breathed, and the horse came to join them, nudging her hand with his head. She laughed and ran her fingers through the cables that made up his mane. “And you know it, don’t you?”

“He’s functional,” Z-542 said stiffly, and she looked up to find him watching them, an odd look on his face.

“You can be both.”

She wasn’t sure if she meant the horse or the man, but he only frowned and nodded at Roland.

“Where do you want him to dig?”

Giving Phantom a last pet, she knelt next to Roland, pointing at the area she wanted him to dig. He immediately set to work, his mechanical claws making quick progress as the soil piled up around him and his tail moved in an eager, hypnotic rhythm.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let him dig like this?”

“It’s what he’s designed to do. Look at him,” she said, unable to resist smiling at Roland. “He loves it.”

“What if something happens to him?”

“There are sensors and safety protocols built into his programming, plus he has a built-in tracker that would allow me to locate him if necessary.”

“That’s not what I meant. If there is something beneath the surface, Roland could attract its attention.”

The fact that he was even willing to admit the possibility pleased her; his objections to Roland digging did not.

“Whether there is or isn’t, we need more information,” she said firmly. “Roland is a lot tougher than you seem to think.”

He studied her face again, then gave a curt nod.

“I suppose you’re right. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Roland had already disappeared beneath the surface but she was glad Z-542 wasn’t going to be too difficult about it.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we monitor his progress.” She raised the portable scanner that displayed the information from Roland’s sensors. “I’m afraid that most scientific work consists of watching and waiting.”

He gave her a half smile and came to join her as she perched on the rover’s wide running board.

“There is a lot of that in the military as well.”

She knew that all of the cyborgs were former soldiers but he’d never spoken about his past.

“What did you do in the military?”

His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment she didn’t think he would answer.

“I led a reconnaissance team,” he finally said slowly.

“Was it exciting?”

“Sometimes.” He grimaced. “Most of the time it was either boring or dangerous.”

“Did you… enjoy it?”

“No. I simply did what was necessary — or what I thought was necessary at the time.”

“Why did you become a cyborg?” she blurted out. His face hardened and she immediately regretted asking the question. Most of the soldiers who underwent the transformation process were severely injured. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s painful to talk about,” she added quickly.

He looked at her, his expression unreadable and his eyes gleaming silver.

“I became a cyborg because I was tired of killing people.”