Page 9 of Agrippa's Acceptance

She moaned softly and then forced herself to concentrate on the computer. Never in her life had she been as scared of anyone as this cyborg who’d casually broken the neck of the captain. And the thought that he saw her as a clone was not reassuring. If he became enraged, she would be the first one he went for. Did he get like that easily, or was it just the years of oppression that had made him turn into a killing monster?

She went back to pretending running a diagnostic while she updated the organic component of the ship. It needed to be improved because she was not going to be captured by clones.

She settled in for the night, wishing she had her own room. Maybe she’d wait another week or so and then request her own quarters. She was drifting away when his breath wafted over her ear. “Why did the clones allow you to work on the ship?”

She sat bolt upright and he jerked back before she could hit his chin with her head. “You scared the temple out of me.” How did he manage to walk all the way up to her without her noticing. At the very least she should have felt danger in the air.

“Answer me clone.”

“I am qualified in most of the Bunrika sciences. They needed my skills.” She eyed him carefully. One thing she’d picked up from spying on them was that they had massive insecurities. “And I’m not a clone,” she mumbled.

“What did you say clone?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, wishing she had the spirit to take him on.

“How is it that a natural is capable of working on a space ship?”

She sighed. “I showed some ability with the sciences and they trained me to work for them. When they started the ships, they sent me there to work on the hybrid wiring.”

After watching her with narrowed eyes for several moments he stormed out. But he was back the next morning after she’d had breakfast. What did it say about her character that she was glad to see him while he looked as if he wanted to murder her. After she’d seen him kill the captain in cold blood. No, not cold, in a hot savage rage.

He stalked closer and it took every inch of her self-control not to flinch back. He stopped flush against her and leaned down, staring into her eyes and then looking at her face with an intensity that made every inch of ryhov on her skin tingle.

His lips pulled back in a sneer. “Clone.” He turned around and stormed out again.

Agrippa stared after him. Something was going on, but she had no idea what. It couldn’t be that he tried to interrogate her. Could it?

The next day he arrived right after she had showered. She’d showered the previous evening and was seriously considering taking one three times a day just to do something. The monitoring and adjusting she did on the ship took very little time. They did not give her deep access. Improving whatever of the ships systems she could gain access to didn’t take that much time.

Again he stormed up to the bed. She looked up at him tried not to flinch when she looked into those emotion filled eyes. At first she’d thought it was hatred glittering at her, but it was something else. An intensity so fierce, it cold almost be hatred.

He stormed up to her. “Good morning, clone.”

They were greeting now? “Good morning Cyborg 321?”

She held her breath. Would he retaliate, punish her?

He leaned down until his face was mere inches from hers. “Why are you small, natural?”

She should be afraid, but she was fed up with his dislike of her. After all, she wasn’t the one who killed people with her bare hands. Or stole space ships. She lifted her chin higher and stared into his eyes without blinking. “We were both oppressed by the clones. Why would you call me by a name they imposed on us. A name every Tunrian finds offensive?”

“Why would you consider it offensive. You are a natural?”

He was clueless. “No, I am a Tunrian living the way Tunrians have lived before the clones tried to impose their unnatural ways on us. How would you like it if I keep calling you by the number the clones gave you.”

He wasn’t blinking and she wasn’t going to do it first, but her eyes burned with the need to bring down her lids. “Try it,” he said softly.

“Cyborg 321.

***

Outside the infirmary, Amelagar scowled at the cyborg standing there. “What?”

“Did you ask her?” Arakhu asked.

“No. You are acting like a nosy clone.”

Arakhu shrugged off his taunt and said. “You fear asking her?”

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