Page 10 of Agrippa's Acceptance

“I do not fear anything.” But he did fear her answer. “I will make her give me a soul.”

“How?” Arakhu didn’t try to hide his scepticism.

“I will order her to give me my sould. And I would make it clear there will be consequences if she refuse.”

“I am interested to know if that will work.”

***

It was the fourth day that he floored her with a demand that really scared her. He walked into the infirmary in that storming the temple kind of way and came to a stop in front of where she sat with her legs dangling of the bed.

“You will give me my soul. Now.” He planted his palms on the bed next to her thighs. Caging her, making her tremble with a mixture of fear and something she did not want to acknowledge.

If his demand didn’t scare her this much, she would’ve loved having him cage her in like this. It was like some of the fantasies she had about him. Except in her imagination, he desired her too.

He thought she might be able to give cyborgs souls? What would he do to her if she said no, she couldn’t? “You think you can have a soul?” She wanted to pluck out her own tongue the moment the words left her. It came out all wrong.

He grew bigger and his hands moved to her hips in a clasp so firm it was almost painful. “You think to deny me? You think because I am a cyborg I am not worthy of a soul? You think I am backward.”

Backward? “No, please, I did not mean that at all.”

“Then tell me exactly how you will put my soul in my body.”

Agrippa was speechless. But she’d better come up with something quick. “Uhm, I’ve never done it before. I need some time to prepare.” She had rudimentary knowledge of cloning. After persecuting the naturals – she hated being called that – for refusing to be cloned. Now they jealously guarded the technology and were only interested in persecuting her people. Allowing them to be cloned has been taken off the temple contract. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was because the clones feared the naturals who did not have to deal with the outcome of being copies of copies.

Amelagar’s hand moved up her side, briefly brushed against the side of her breast and then clasped her neck. Her ryhov flowed to where his hands touched her. “I will return tomorrow.” He stared at her, unblinking, as if deep in thought. Should she just sit there. Stare back at him or maybe sidle away?

He gave one slow blink and said, “when I return you will tell me the procedure to give me my soul.” She wanted to scream at him that there was no reason for him to sound so suspicious. She’d never said she could give him a soul.

Amelagar leaned down. “We will practice conversation when I return.”

Whatever that meant she wasn’t about to argue. “All right.”

“We will practice kissing now.”

“All r … wait what?”

He pressed his lips against hers and then stepped back. As if he didn’t just press his lips against hers, he looked like the cyborg that had killed the captain with savage efficiency. “I have seen a cyborg receive his ryhov, do not try and fool me.”

Chapter Eight

He stormed out again. Of all the things that would happen to her when they discovered her, she would never have expected him to demand his soul. She touched her lips that still tingled from her ryhov there going at crazy speed. Or to kiss her. Why would he think she can give him a soul? She should’ve asked him, but she’d been so surprised by his demand and his threats, she lost the ability to think.

He was gone several days and little by little she convinced the doctor to let her help with servicing the infirmary systems. Apparently, the cyborgs had decided she could be trusted if they watched her closely. Then Amelagar returned, but not to storm into the infirmary and demand his soul. Instead, he returned in a nightmare.

Two cyborgs came running into the infirmary, carrying a stretcher with pieces of gleaming silver on it. Agrippa stood stock still, something horrific going through her mind. Suspicions so terrible, she immediately rejected it. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t him. It just wasn’t.

She kept repeating it, but in every bit of ryhov travelling over her skin she knew whose bones lay on that stretcher in an obscene display of what was left of that vibrant cyborg.

The truth hit her with a clarity that made her knees gave way.

Stupidly she thought he couldn’t be dead, because he haven’t stormed up to her yet to ask her weird questions today. Haven’t demanded his soul yet.

Hamurabi came running and placed the remains of Amelagar in a regeneration tube. She didn’t want to see, but her feet walked closer without her willing it. Her knees threatened to give way and bile burned her throat. Only part of his skull and his eye were left.

“He can’t be dead. He said he would return for me to give him his soul. He can’t be dead.”

“He is not dead clone. Make yourself useful by shutting up and staying out of my way.”

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