Page 16 of A Cyborg for the Alien Mercenary

What the hell? Her brow furrowed.What’s onboard memory?

A flood of information cascaded through her mind—technical specifications and schematics that meant nothing to her. But one phrase stood out from the others: “Root access from onboard denied.”

She had no idea what it meant, but at least the voice was communicating now. She latched on to that, desperate for any information that might help her understand what the hell was going on.

What could cause the onboard to lose root access?

Physical damage to memory storage units,the voice began.Corruption of data due to system overload. Viral infection of core programming. Electromagnetic pulse disruption.

Her brows snapped together. It was like listening to someone describe computer problems, not issues with a living, breathing person.

Deliberate memory wipe by unauthorized user,the voice continued.Catastrophic system failure during update process.

But then, one possibility stood out from the rest:

Compromise of neural pathways and synthetic synapses due to radiation.

This caught Jesh’s attention. It sounded more… biological, somehow.

Wait,Jesh thought, a memory of overheard conversations in the hospital surfacing.So, like, radiation sickness caused by an engine explosion?

That is a possibility, the voice confirmed.

Before she could process the new information, she realized that Amanda was speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the back seat.

“Yeah, I think it’s glitching,” Amanda murmured into what looked like an ordinary bracelet. “Can I terminate now?”

Ice flooded Jesh’s veins. Terminate. They were going to kill her.

Threat level increased, the voice announced.Recommend you evacuate the area immediately.

“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered as she yanked on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. She whirled to face Amanda and found herself staring down the barrel of a sleek, matte-black pistol.

“Fucking robots,” Amanda snarled, hatred twisting her features into something almost inhuman. “I fucking hate robots.”

Time slowed. She could see the minute trembling of Amanda’s trigger finger, hear the quickening of her heartbeat, the pulse under the skin of her throat.

She ducked automatically as the sound of the gunshot rang out in the confined space of the car. The bitter smell of energy discharged filled the air as she lunged forward, moving automatically as she wrenched the gun from Amanda’s hand.

Without thinking, she slammed the butt of the gun into the side of her attacker’s head. Amanda slumped over the back seat, unconscious, a thin trickle of blood marring her perfectly coiffed hair to drip onto the leather below.

Jesh whipped her head around and focused on the driver.

“Code red! Code red!” he barked into a radio clipped to his collar, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Subject is active and hostile! Morris is down! I repeat, Morris is down!”

A crackle of static was followed by a tinny voice responding, “Copy that. Containment teams deploying. Proceed to Checkpoint Alpha.”

“Negative!” the driver shouted back, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. His panicked gaze clashing with hers. “Subject is armed and dangerous. I’m bringing her in hot. Clear the gates and have a strike team ready!”

Through the windshield, the high walls of the compound loomed rapidly. The gates were already beginning to open, and she could make out figures in dark uniforms taking up positions.

“All units, be advised,” the driver continued, his voice strained. “Subject has enhanced capabilities. Extreme caution is?—”

He cut off abruptly as Jesh raised the gun and aimed at the barrier between the front and back seats, his eyes widening in fear. “Oh shi?—”

She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

“Fuck!”

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