Lance put his hand on the small of Bess's back and guided her upstairs. She resisted the temptation to lean on him but each step was a battle. At the top of the stairs, Bess allowed Lance to guide her into a bedroom with white drapes, white walls, and a pine bed with a red and white quilt.

"You can't put me on that fancy bed. I'll get blood all over your sheets," she said. "Take me back."

"Give peace a few days before rushing back to the Academy."

"Did you keep my signal rig?"

"You don't need that here."

"You hacked it out of my back and threw it away?"

"I left it in the night market so the bounty hunter would find it instead of you. Come on. You can sleep while I make breakfast."

The chickens! A vision of scrambled eggs sprang into Bess's mind, but she didn't want to eat anything this man offered her. He was dangerous, poisonous. What did he want?

He walked her to the edge of the bed. Without wanting to she let him support her as he lay her down. She could hardly keep her eyes opened...

* * *

Bess awoke on the softest mattress imaginable, covered in a quilt patterned with red and white maple leaves. She tried to sit up, each movement searing through her wound. The bed was set against the wall and out the window, the second story elevation gave her a view of cultivated fields, pasture land, and trees on the horizon. As she sat up, she noticed her arms were encased in white eyelet fabric, cuffed with frills. She she was wearing a white nightgown.

She blushed, realizing the farmer must have undressed her while she was unconscious. This final violation made her heart pound in her head. Logically, removing the signal rig was worse, but removing her clothes was an invasion of privacy. When Lance came back she was going to hurt him, badly! Nobody undressed her, ever. Her mother and father must have changed her baby clothes, but after the Academy adopted her, Bess never remembered Matron doing it.

She heard light footsteps on the hardwood floor outside. There was a timid knock.

"Come in." She barked it like an order. She might be sick in bed, but that insolent slimeball had to learn who was in charge, or would be, once she was strong enough to stand.

A woman wearing a pink flannel shirt and faded jeans nudged a tray of food into the room. "Homemade chicken soup. It's supposed to cure everything..."

"Who are you?"

She looked younger than the farmer but a bit older than Bess. It was hard to tell. Civilians lacked daily boosts to keep their cheeks chiselled and their abs six-pack solid. To Bess, basic humans looked like kids who had yet to be assigned a specialty, all smooth faces and rounded cheeks.

Bess propped her head up on one elbow to get a better look. There was something familiar about that face. Her eyes matched the farmer's blue-green. This had to be his sister. What kind of murderous fanatic got his sister to feed you chicken soup? Maybe he wasn't as bad as she thought, or maybe they were a criminal family, waiting to sell Bess to the highest bidder.

She knew security specialists, while not the ultimate score, were worth plenty on the black market. Her skills of getting into small places, her superior strength, and her superior senses would (in the wrong hands) make her an excellent spy or assassin.

Time to leave. She tried to throw off the covers but a lancing pain in her back stopped her. Her injury felt worse today. She hated this helplessness, the girlish civilian nightie, being isolated from the Academy. Most of all she missed Cherry. Cherry would crack a joke to take her mind off the pain. Cherry would tell Bess the situation wasn't hopeless and make sure help was on the way.

Instead, Bess had nobody but this strange woman and her chicken soup. Bess examined the woman's clothes for telltale lumps. She didn't seem to be concealing a gun, and she wore slippers. It would be easy to stomp on her instep and incapacitate her, except Bess didn't have boots. Better strike for the vital organs... when she felt a bit stronger.

The woman put the tray on the floor and pushed a long strand of blonde hair out of her face. "Do you mind?" She started to prop a pillow against the headboard. "I'm Lance's sister, Kathy."

"Bess." She gave her nickname. Academy grads were officially known by number anyway.

Kathy took Bess's hands softly in hers and helped her sit up.

Bess struggled to keep the pain off her face. "Where's your brother?"

"Lance has chores to do, plus he wanted a woman to look after you. I can't stay. I don't know why didn't he just bring you to a hospital."

"You don't?" Lance's sister should know better. She must be playing dumb.

The woman frowned. "I know what you are..."

Was she afraid of Bess? It was hard to read civilians. Academy missions minimized civilian contact: Get in fast, rescue cybers, soldiers, and civilians (where possible) then get out. No time to chat with locals.

"What has Lance told you about me?" The question sounded awkward in Bess's own ears.

"He didn't tell me you needed long-term nursing. That back wound is deep."

"And getting worse."

She narrowed her eyes at Bess. "Where are you from, exactly?"

"The city," said Bess.

"I figured that." Kathy chuckled drily. "City gangsters are always coming here, trying to take over. What sets you apart are your eyelids." She swept aside the dark curls that covered Bess's brow.

Bess had to stop herself from grabbing the woman's wrists but it more strategic to appear meek and helpless — so she could surprise Kathy later.

"So you know I'm augmented."

"It's not that obvious. You could probably hide it if we have to go into the village. I'm really good with makeup."

Bess had never worn eyeshadow. "Could I still see with my augments?"

"I don't know. You're the super soldier." Kathy stood up, hands on hips.

"I'm a search and rescue cyber dedicated to saving people. You don't need to be afraid, unless you're trying to hurt me."

"Good, uh, get well soon." Kathy gave a little wave and backed out of the room, never taking her eyes off Bess.

Bess had only remained upright for appearances. The minute the door closed, she eased herself gingerly back onto the soft mattress and rolled gently onto her side to take the pressure off her wound.

She lay still until the throbbing pain subsided. That was when the look on Kathy's face came back to her. The poor woman had backed out the door as if facing a bear. Bess wondered how much courage it had taken Kathy to face a cyber alone.

And Kathy had her brother's word Bess wouldn't kill her. What would the rest of the community think of her? It would take more than eyeshadow to hide her true nature. Lance and Kathy were afraid of her, and scared people were dangerous people. It was the first lesson in rescue training. If the person you are trying to help flips out, they can take you down with them, like a drowning victim grabbing his would-be rescuer.

Bess strained to sit up again but got too dizzy. She wasn't used to this much pain. In the Academy, the signal maintained optimum levels. A little pain protected you from injury by telling you when to stop pushing it. Without boosts, she would have to work through the pain just to stand. As she got her feet, agony rolled over her in a black wave. Her knees sank and her vision faded.

* * *

Bess woke up under the covers again. Lance was standing at the foot of her bed.

"How long have you been standing there watching me sleep?" It was creepy, even if Bess could take him down in thirty seconds — should be able to.

"Kathy said you hadn't eaten so I came to help."

Bess propped herself up on one shoulder, successfully suppressing a wince. "How did you subdue me in the market?" Bess had a professional need to know. What a shame she'd never been trained in interrogation.

"I had to put you out to remove your signal rig." He picked up bowl and spoon from the tray Kathy had left on the floor.

"How do I know you aren't going to sell me?" Bess couldn't help raising her voice.

Lance stepped back and closed the door before answering.

"If I wanted to do that, I'd have left that thing inside you. They use it to control you."

"That's propaganda."

He pulled a chair up to her bedside and continued softly. "You seem brave and kind." He loaded the spoon with soup but Bess kept her mouth shut.

He pressed his lips together. "What a waste."

"You wasted me." Her health would deteriorate every minute she stayed here.

"Trust me." He held spoon and bowl hovering between them.

The tantalizing scent made it hard to concentrate. She hoped he couldn't hear her stomach growling. "Please, only Academy doctors can fix me."

"They won't. I'm telling you straight. Armistice means the end of cybers in this country. People see you as a threat and the politicians have promised to get rid of you."

"Good. I don't want to stay anyway. I've been working for the day when I can return to the New Union States and get a life."

"You weren't born here?"

"Don't know, but the NUS are officially home. Living in this northern war zone is temporary. The Academy promised me I can move somewhere warm and join a fire department in peacetime."

"That sounds perfectly perfect." He put the spoon back into the bowl.

"I can keep saving lives." Bess opened her mouth.

He rewarded her with a spoonful of soup. Delicious!

"Listen to you. You believe their propaganda." He offered her more heavenly chicken broth. "Of course you do. How old were you when they took you?"

"Don't remember." Bess decided to play along, as long as he kept the delicious broth coming. He was delusional but well-meaning — and this soup! It really did taste like the cure for everything. It was her duty to get better so she could get back out there and rescue people. Which made it her duty to finish every last drop!

When they got down to the bottom of the bowl there were big of chunks chicken. This sure beat Academy rations, and if the chef weren't such a crazed fanatic he'd be cute. She shot him a smile.

He smiled back, so sadly you would swear he felt sorry for her, rather than the other way around.

"Good luck with the orchard. I hope your chickens make lots of eggs for you," she said. With soup in her belly, she felt better. She put a hand to her back and felt the dressing.

Dry.

"Looks like I've stopped bleeding. You can drive me home tomorrow."

"You can't just walk back into danger. I risked my own sister to make sure you would be alright. Come to think of it, she should leave now and stay away until this is over."

He opened the door but before he could go to look for Kathy, Bess asked, "so why not take me back? The Academy can fix me."

"Going back would be suicide."

"You didn't mean to hurt me. Don't worry. I won't report you." Bess had to make him believe it or she was never going home.

"Suicide for you, not me," he said.

"If I stay here without a signal rig, my body will fall apart." There it was. She had admitted it. If he was a nice guy, now he would have to take her back. If he wasn't, at least he would know she was damaged goods and harder to sell.

"You're safer here. The NUS won't let your type wander the streets anymore."

"My type?"

"Cannon fodder."

She pointed to herself. "Search and rescue specialist. My type doesn't go into armed conflict zones. None of the Academy grads do."

"I've been around too long to believe that. What are you, nineteen?" He didn't wait for Bess to answer. "I'm twenty-five and I can remember before the war, when civilians flew drones like model planes. I can remember when they started using cyber soldiers on the front lines. Now there is no frontline. It's all drones and surprise attacks, and strategic targets — chosen by algorithms. People are being chosen and killed completely by computers."

"So?" Bess knew the economics of war. Eliminate casualties, eliminate costs.

"The public hates you. Automated war brings terror from the skies and murder without remorse. The big powers fighting here don't even want my country. They just need a third country to fight in so they won't wreck their own."

"It makes strategic sense," said Bess.

"We die so they can have a nice clean war where none of their citizens gets killed on camera. Academy cybers are orphans for the same reason the battle is in my backyard. We're all expendable."

"The NUS is proud of the Academy."

"You're a good person being used by a corrupt system."

Bess didn't like the way he was talking to her now, as if he were a parent and she were some ignorant little street Loon.

"It's okay," Bess said. "You can't know the secrets of the Academy, our code of honour, our true role in protecting your country."

"The citizens have demanded that cybers be decommissioned once there's peace. Unless my government and your government are lying to everyone, the recall of cybers meant you were ordered back so the Academy can eliminate you."

"You mean repatriate us."

"There's no one to stand up for your rights. Nobody to miss you if you never reach Union soil."

"You think they're going to kill us?" This Loon was a fanatic.

"Or put you in sweatshops."

"Somehow I can't imagine security cybers sewing ladies' garments." The image of Capt. hunched over a tiny sewing machine, his head crunched between two giant shoulders made Bess smile. This was just too ridiculous.

"They have promised to disband you. Why wouldn't they make it financially profitable?"

Bess laughed. "I'll remember you when I'm working in my factory. Maybe I'll send free samples at Christmas."

Lance got up, shaking his head. "Stay away from the windows and don't go outside. I'm gonna tell my family to leave. Until we find a safer place for you, things will be dicey."

"Does that mean I'm not free to go?"

"I keep my word. I'll drive you back, but not until you're well enough to walk, and informed enough to know why you shouldn't go."

So, he wanted to brainwash her. No chance of that.

"What if I convince you you're wrong?"

"Fair enough," he said.

Bess relaxed back into her pillow. "Get your tank filled," she said. "It won't be long." 

*****************************************

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please vote and share it on social media. Your participation is always appreciated.

Maaja