Page 4 of Agrippa's Acceptance

She moved her head, or tried to and only her eyes moved sideways. Vague memories surfaced. Ship. She was on a space ship. The cyborgs had stolen it and … and, her stomach turned. A cyborg had killed someone right in front of her. She should know them both. Panic threatened and then it flooded back. Cyborg 321 had killed the captain with such savage violence, she’d never be able to rid herself of the memory.

The cryo tube she was in had a thin layer of condensation and dust on the glass cover, but she could see enough to know that she was mercifully alone. How long was she in stasis? What was the date?

Chills rippled over her and it was caused by more than waking from a cryo sleep. What if the cyborgs died in their units? What if they found her and just waited for her to come to so that they could send her out an airlock.

“Don’t be silly Agrippa, why would they space you? They may treat you like a clone but surely, they realize you are not. Cyborg 321 knows. I told him.” Yeah, and that will make all the difference.

“Stop talking to yourself and focus on getting out.” Her body ached and her muscles and mind were sluggish. But she was alive. She’d set the unit to wake her when they reached their destination. Where did the cyborgs take her? The hissing sound she’d heard earlier must have been the cover of the regeneration pod unsealing. She opened the glass door and it took several tries to move it. Her breathing erratic, she sluggishly pressed the button until black spots swam in her vision. What if she can’t get out and she died in here from starvation?

The door opened and she took a deep steady breath of the stale ship air. She needed food and a bathroom and exercise. Food was easy, she’d eat some of the provisions she took before she got into the cryo unit. Bathroom should not be a problem either. As long as the ship didn’t see her as a threat it will create a bathroom for her.

She huddled in the corner, cold and shivering and more afraid than she’d ever been.

In the end her need to know what was happening made her take the chance to use the computer. To aid her in getting information for The Souls, she’d set her computer account to be hidden the first day she was assigned to the ship.

She held her breath while she put in her access code, but in less than a minute she was in. Needing to know where she was and what was happening, she accessed the daily data stream. Everything, from ships functions to anything that happened on Tundra used to be streamed daily. Half an hour later she staggered back and sat down in the corner.

They’d found a habitable planet. The cyborgs had been awake for a year already. It was a miracle they didn’t find her.

All the cyborgs had survived cryo sleep. They’d bombed the planet in a move she didn’t understand. It was a beautiful planet. Unlike Tundra’s lovely rock and desert colours, the planet called earth was blue with patches of green and smaller patches of desert gold. The newsfeeds were fascinating. There were different languages and different cultures and wars and peace rallies. How did the humans live in such chaos?

She hid for several days, eating miniscule portions to stretch her rations and staying in the storeroom, debating whether she should reveal herself. She did some exercises but burned with the need to run. To escape from the small store room. Most of all she wanted to talk to someone, to see another breathing person. She’d even make due with a savage human. Though if she was honest, she’d have to admit she wanted to talk to Cyborg 321. She used to spy on the cyborgs from the crawl space, but she had a few close calls.

Five weeks later she’d begun to relax and fall into a routine. Still lonely, she was thinking about finding a way to make herself known to the cyborgs. In a way that would not kill her. And then she realized that Cyborg 321 was conducting a meticulous search of the ship. And she knew, she knew he searched for her.

He hunted her like she was one of those exotic animals on earth and he was closing in on her. She was too scared to get into the crawlspace or venture outside the little storeroom. Lately that cyborg seemed to be everywhere.

Careful not to make a sound, she returned to the small storeroom that had become her home these last few weeks. It took a long time because she moved at the speed of a clone about to transfer his ryhov to his new clone. She’d managed to access the computer from the store room and had used the earth database to teach herself the main languages. She also managed to do some repairs to the ship. In spite of that, she found the inactivity was the worst aspect of her forced isolation.

She went to bed at eight earth time and managed to fall asleep two hours later. Increasing the hours she slept left her with less hours to fill during earth daytime which the cyborgs followed as well.

She dreamt the door of the storeroom opened without making a sound. Light streamed in and shined on her, making it impossible for the cyborg walking into her sanctuary to miss her. Agrippa moaned, this dream seemed so real, the presence of the cyborg who hated her made the space even smaller and the atmosphere hum with tension.

“Did you think because you have ryhov you can outsmart me?”

Agrippa blinked. He sounded so real, looked so real looming over her. She poked his hard uniform covered belly. Her finger ached and she shook it and looked at it frowning at how fast her ryhov raced over the edge of her finger.

“You’re real, aren’t you,” she whispered, too scared to look up. Please let it be a dream. Please, please, please, she begged silently.

She stared at his grey hands that did not have ryhov swirling over it. It was eerie to see someone from her species without ryhov. His brown grey skin had the same deep folds as hers, but where hers were covered with blue and other ryhov colors, his was grey brown.

He might be a cyborg, but apart from his lack of a soul, he looked like a Tunrien. It was rumoured that the cyborgs were created with natural DNA.

At last, dead certain this was not a dream, she lifted her gaze and looked straight into flaming eyes.

“Clone,” he hissed, his hatred horrific to see. “Answer my question.”

Question? “Wha … what was the question.”

His lids lowered and he looked even scarier, but he repeated, “You think because you have ryhov you can outsmart me?” There was no mistaking the rancour in his voice. Did the clones do something to him, say something to cause all this hatred?

“No, why would you think that?”

He grabbed her upper arms and lifted her until she could feel his breath. His body vibrated against her trembling limbs.

The memory of him killing that clone flashed in front of her eyes. She pushed against his chest in a vain effort to escape his hold. “I’m not a clone, I’m not a clone, please don’t kill me.”

She burned with shame, she shouldn’t have to beg this, this savage that killed the captain in cold blood.

---