Hell On Heels (40 page)

The part of him that was always held apart from what was happening around him flinched. He was annoyed to hear hesitation. . .and yes perhaps that was also a little fear. . .in his voice. He felt the urge to do something more to prevent her from acting but the pain was already starting with his hesitant explanation. He couldn’t do anything other than what Kyra Winters asked him to do without suffering a fires of hell kind of pain torturing his body. Even efforts to delay were excruciating. The very act of hearing his assigned wife speak always forced him to obey her every command.

Kyra walked back to the doorway and held out her hand hoping to establish some form of a trust bond. It wasn’t like she could reveal what she planned to do, but she did have the best of intentions towards him. She was pleased when Peyton 313 immediately responded to the gesture. His hand gripping hers was gentle and warm, even though he had the capacity to easily crush her fingers. Fortunately, Kyra knew that using too much force was something his current programming would never allow.

“Come with me, Peyton 313. I’m not going to take sexual advantage of you—not tonight and not ever. I did not purchase you for that reason. I just want to study you and learn as much as I can. At least come inside the lab. I can’t speak freely while the door is open.”

Peyton studied Kyra Winters’ skin, registering the mild sheen of perspiration her pores exuded. She was obviously nervous about something even though her voice and her gaze were kind. When he stepped across the threshold, the door slid quietly closed behind him. She squeezed his fingers tightly before abruptly letting go.

Unable to discern what she was planning, Peyton studied the sway of Kyra Winter’s attractive ass as she walked back to stand beside the chair again.

“Forgive me, Captain Elliot, for taking these measures. If I am successful, this is the last time you will ever have to do what me or any other human orders you to do.”

Danger signals suddenly sent adrenaline to every cell in his body. A command activated inside him prompting him to take whatever measures were necessary to halt her speech. Peyton started across the floor at a rapid clip, but in the three seconds it took to reach her side, it was already too late.

“Activate program Mankind Redefined on Creator 2 of 2 Authorization Code 002970463. Machine ID is 98765320A7. Subject is a Cyber Soldier. Rank is Captain Marine—Name is Peyton Eliott—cybernetically redefined as
Peyton 313
. Commence Maximum Reboot. Transfer full control of all controller files to Dr. Kyra Winters. Delete all previous authorizations. Destroy primary processor and both Level 1 torment chips. Leave life support running at full and all secondary chips unharmed. New processor will be installed upon unit shutdown.”

Kyra watched current fly through Peyton’s chest and head as his cybernetic eyes flared with the processor’s death. His upper body bent forward from the pain. The man groaned, but didn’t call out. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat as he struggled against what was happening. Peyton Elliot’s current agony was wrong on so many levels that she almost couldn’t handle acknowledging her part in creating it. She immediately shut down her emotional reaction. It wouldn’t help either of them if she ended up a weeping mess at his feet.

“Please get into the chair, Captain Elliot. Do it now before you pass out. My purpose for doing this is to help give you back your life—
your real life
. I swear you can trust me not to hurt you any more than is necessary.”

Unable to fight the excruciating torture of the complete reboot she had activated, Peyton automatically obeyed and stumbled to the chair. He felt Kyra Winter’s arms come around him and tighten as they aided him to sit. He heard her make a tortured sound followed by a sob. Was the woman actually on the verge of crying? She hugged him hard as she eased him down. Even through the agony he registered the warmth of her body and her pleasant scent.

“Captain Elliott, I read your service record over a hundred times while I waited for you to be put back into the bidding system. I know how many people you saved during your military service. All those people in the dessert villages. . .and the children. You deserve a hell of lot more than to be a fuck toy for the highest bidder. I’m trying to help you escape what they’ve done to you. I swear I really am.”

His gaze was barely focused enough to see at all now, but Peyton was sixty-one percent sure he saw tears in her eyes. Her weeping meant something, but what did it mean? He couldn’t think straight, but the muscles in his chest tensed in empathy for her emotional reaction. Probably the damn husband chip was malfunctioning.

“Who the hell are you, lady?” Peyton demanded, wincing as lightning flashed through his circuitry.

“Just someone who thinks this bullshit has gone on long enough,” Kyra answered, patting his hand. She knew one of his hands was cybernetic, but at the moment she couldn’t recall which. She could only hope Captain Elliot felt her touch.

“No. . .Who are you
really
?. . .You activated the creator code,” Peyton stated, his voice breaking through bursts of pain.

Kyra drew in a sharp breath. “Yes I did activate the creator code, but how do you know about that? The code is buried in a locked file that only Jackson or I can access.”

“Been trying. . .for years. . .to free myself,” Peyton admitted, groaning at what was happening in his head.

Kyra nodded and sniffed. “Good for you, Captain Elliott. I hope others are doing the same. Now stop fighting the reboot and shut completely down. It’s less painful if you don’t fight it. I’m going to remove your controller wiring. Please try not to kill me when you wake up.”

“Damn it. . .can’t kill you. . .programmed. . .to be. . .your. . .
husband
.” Peyton spat the words, letting his anger slip through the searing fire he was enduring. Being pissed was just too hard to block.

Kyra rubbed his arm as she sniffled harder. Even after watching many others go through what he was enduring, Peyton Elliot’s suffering was still hard for her to witness. But sympathy had no place in what she was planning to do to him.

“Is that actually sarcasm, Captain Elliot? If so, I really like you for it. And thanks for proving the dickwad was wrong. The human brain is superior. I knew it was. . .or at least I’d hoped my suspicions were true.”

“This process. . .always hurts. .
.like
fucking
hell
,” Peyton declared.

Kyra used her sleeve to wipe his sweating brow, trying to soothe him. She was so out of practice. The woman that used to know how to give comfort had been gone for many years. “I know it hurts bad. I’m sorry. It’s going to get much worse before it gets better. Hang in there. I can’t knock you out because I don’t have the equipment. But once the processor is dead, you won’t feel what I’m doing.”

“Will I. . .remember you. . .or anything
?
” Peyton asked.

Then he groaned loudly as his upgrades sizzled and popped inside his head. His neural attachments freaked out at the separation from the organic paths he had painstakingly created. Blackness swept across his vision removing his consciousness at last. He was relieved to give in to the pain-free darkness that swallowed him whole.

Chapter 3

Kyra closed her eyes and sent a plea out to the universe as she donned her lab coat. “Please. . .please. . .
please
. . .let it work this time.”

There was no choice but to move forward. Peyton 313’s primary processor was now destroyed. If she didn’t replace it within a couple of days, his cybernetic heart would eventually run out of back-up power and stop beating.

She swallowed nervously as she stared at the eerily still man. His eyelids hadn’t closed completely. Golden cybernetic orbs glowed softly in reserve power warning from under them.

Kyra walked numbly to her console, touching screen commands without really seeing them.

“Record voice notes and visual of all work being done to restore cybernetic unit Peyton 313.”

When she saw the camera activate and shine its roving eye at the man in the operating chair, she walked numbly back to her task.

She lifted a hand to brush his perfect hair back from his nearly unlined forehead. Captain Peyton Elliot was definitely more handsome in person than his online records had portrayed him to be. Nothing said in his profile had done justice to describing broad shoulders covered with sculpted muscles. His waist was lean but flared into strong hips bracketing a pelvis that naturally drew a woman’s eye to see what might be happening there. With the sexual training chip he had received as part of his Cyber Husband indoctrination, it was easy to understand why Peyton 313 had been optioned so many times.

But neither his proclaimed sexual talent nor his outstanding looks had been part of her purchase requirements when she had looked up his profile. For her, the most intriguing mystery about Peyton 313 would remain unanswered during his rebooted silence. Just how bad had the man’s human-based traits been that so many women had ended up returning him? His Cyber Husband record was full of vague criticism from his previous wives. The hyped-up propaganda written to excuse Peyton’s shortcomings was similar to that of UCN chancellors whose long-running political careers relied on them being perceived well.

“External review of the cybernetic unit’s responses indicates the reboot was successful in shutting down all onboard cybernetic controllers. Due to a lack of body movement, I can conclude that typical human unconsciousness occurred because of the extreme pain during destruction of the processor. Based on my discussion with Captain Elliott during his shut-down, he believed he had somehow been creating his own neural connections to his cybernetics. While long thought to be impossible, his rather startling question about how I had evoked the creator code was surprisingly accurate.”

Kyra pushed her doubts aside as she finished recording her initial discoveries. All she could do now was hope that she hadn’t been wrong in choosing to release the Marine captain from his cybernetic chains. Under the full control of his cybernetics, the man would have lived two hundred years or more. But now? Kyra had no idea what the captain’s longevity would be.

Not only was she changing his processor programming, she could very well be shortening his life span if he wasn’t able to keep his cybernetic enhancements in good condition. Her new processor would allow for natural neural pathways to be established, or maybe re-established in Peyton’s case if he was right about doing some internal rewiring on his own already.

She felt the recording camera’s blue light panning around her as she worked. Long used to not discussing the restoration process with anyone, it was challenging now to remember to talk to the camera.

“Based on my past two failures, there are no predictable outcomes with any attempt at restoration. A full reversal is not possible because it would have to include the removal of the cybernetic enhancements. With Captain Elliott, my plan is to restore his cybernetics to a basic state that will allow his human mind to function alongside his cybernetics. Whether this will ultimately prove to be a positive possibility for other soldiers or not remains a theoretical supposition. Captain Elliott’s survival and adaption are critical to scientific discovery and proof.”

Kyra paused talking to consider what she was saying. There were a great many things that could go wrong with what she was doing. If she lingered on even one potential failure too long, she knew she might lose her nerve to finish what she had started.

She stared at her Cyber Husband’s handsome profile and waited another full minute before finally shaking off her indecision. Motivated at last, she strapped the chair restraints into place around his ankles and wrists. She had to expand the one for his chest to the maximum width her confiscated operating chair allowed. That’s when the truth hit her full force, and worse than it had with the first two cyborgs she had tried to restore.

“Add a personal note to the file.
There is no universe in which it is fair that such a strong, good man’s free will should be thwarted by a few simple spoken words in his ear. Further apologies for my part in this would only be redundant. However, I remain incredibly ashamed of myself for not acting sooner to rescue all cyborgs from this fate.
End note. Pause recording.”

Tears—hot regretful tears about her part in his circumstances—fell on the metal bands holding him in the chair. They fell faster than she could blink them away. An occasional swipe with the sleeve of her lab coat was necessary to keep working.

“I’m truly sorry I didn’t do this a long time ago, Captain. I hope it really is a case of better late than never. Restoration will work this time—I swear it,” Kyra whispered.

After she had secured him as best she could, Kyra walked to a nearby sink and washed her face. Nervous nausea threatened to eject the measly breakfast she had consumed earlier. This time when she’d killed the primary processor she hadn’t left anything behind of the government’s latest updated programming. Instead of trying to amend existing code as she had before, she had totally erased all former initialization routines. Problem was she had no idea how much of the real man she’d erased in the process. Captain Elliot might be an empty shell when he came around. Or he might be anything from a very confused to mentally unstable cyborg.

As well as knowing what to turn off in the reboot, from her failures she had also learned that the risks were not all on the side of the cyborg. Without the primary processor’s safety protocols, nothing prevented a still very dangerous man from misusing the greater physical assets his cybernetics provided. When he woke, Captain Elliot would be quite capable of killing her or anyone else he chose.

His military training happened prior to his cybernetic enhancements. That earlier fully human programming was encoded in his cell memory which cyber scientists had discovered could never be erased from any soldier’s mind. Kyra counted that in the positive column for the restoration. Captain Elliot would need that kind of training for what he had to do. A full scale revolution needed a real leader with his kind of background. His service was a large part of why she had specifically chosen him.