The Cyborg and the Scofflaw

By Andrea Renae

One hundred seventy hours. That’s it between me and flying somewhere beyond Inteltech’s reach.

I tug my sleeve over my tracker cuff, wishing my sentence for “reckless flying” could disappear so easily. No matter how hard I pleaded my case, Inteltech refused to listen.

Grivo, my cyborg overseer, adjusts his position atop a graffiti-covered ledge with a series of clicks and whirs. I’m not sure there’s much human left in him—except in that considerable backside.

“Not a fan of your bracelet, sweetheart?” His lipless mouth slants.

“It’s Lana.” I force a saccharine smile and try not to gag from the stench of the alley. Just 169 hours and 58 minutes more. “And I love it. Fanciest jewelry a man has ever given me.”

If removing the cuff wouldn’t alert Inteltech’s androids, I’d have done it already. I may not be guilty of the crimes that have me garbage zapping under flickering streetlamps, but that doesn’t mean I’m innocent.

The cyborg’s electric eyes focus past me. “You’ll have company for this shift. Zaivar, come meet your partner.”

“Fantastic.” I turn around resignedly.

A young man steps out of a patrol pod, scowling at his own tracker. He’s shorter than me, his hair a mess of waves around his ears. When his brown eyes meet mine, an unnerving pressure grips my skull.

I had the same feeling the night Inteltech caught me, when an equally short and stocky jerk in a hood got me in trouble and ditched me before I’d seen his face.

“You.” I’m not naturally violent, but this little twerp deserves what’s coming. The pod whizzes away and I lunge. Before I can slap that smug face, an excruciating shock races up from my cuff and punches my chest. I yelp and stumble forward, falling into Zaivar’s arms. Considering what I was about to do, his gentle hold is surprising.

“None of that, Lana.” Grivo waves a remote in the air, his thumb hovering over a button that must control my cuff. I notice a line of skin between his biometric hand and his jacket sleeve—the only flesh visible on his whole frame. It’s red and horribly mangled. “Got a long night of clearing sludge ahead, and if this sector doesn’t sparkle by morning, I’m not clocking your hours.”

“What?” There’s no way we can do that much in one night. I straighten, pushing Zaivar away. “You can’t do that.”

“Sweetheart, I can do what I want.” Grivo hops off the ledge, grabs two long trash zappers, and thrusts them at us.

It takes everything not to implode right there on the sidewalk. When Grivo saunters away, I unleash my frustration on Shorty. “Happy with yourself, Zaivar?”

“Call me Zai.” His grin is inexcusably charming. “I’m sorry about all this. Never meant to get you caught up with my minor misdemeanor.”

I laugh dryly, imagining Zai’s face as I stab a takeout box. It disintegrates in a puff of dust. “You call hijacking Aunt Nattie’s flyer—with me still in it—minor?”

“That was good.” His chuckle silences with one glance at my face. “Look, I needed an in with Grivo, and—”

“I was your in?” I squeak, catching Grivo’s attention.

I bite my lip and we work in silence until he returns to the show streaming on his communiglass.

“You were at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Zai whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you once I get a proper reading. All that getup is interfering with my…”

I frown. “Your what?”

“Never mind. I just need a bit more evidence. I’ve been chasing false leads on him for a year.”

A chill grips my spine. “What are you—some kind of bounty hunter?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Terrific. Not only am I under Inteltech’s figurative nose, I’m incinerating cigarette butts with someone who could sniff me out if he wanted to.

Zai gives me a strange look, like I just blurted out my thoughts.

Who the stars is this guy?

I toss my black hair out of my face to hide my nervousness. “So, you need something concrete before you can wrap this up.”

“Normally I don’t need anything except my word.”

What would that be like? I zap three pieces of garbage at once—a new record.

“I’m having trouble with this one.” Zai shrugs. “First time trying my talents on a cyborg. Who knows what could be hiding under all those… panels.” He cringes.

“Besides ground beef?”

Zai straightens. “What?”

“Didn’t you see his wrist? Looks like it was put through a meat grinder.”

A triumphant smile splits Zai’s features. Dropping his trash zapper, he approaches Grivo with determined strides.

“What the—stay back, kid.” Grivo punches a different button on his remote, but Zai’s cuff must not really be a tracker. He doesn’t flinch, pries it off, and slaps it around the overseer’s wrist.

“Percival Evans, you’re wanted for crimes against humanity. Ironic, since you mangled your own so thoroughly.”

Grivo’s mouth gapes, his fleshy tongue licking where lips should be. “H-How—”

Zai pulls up Grivo’s sleeve, running a thumb over the angry skin. “Had an unfortunate encounter with a Skizillian razormouth when you were ten, didn’t you?”

Grivo gulps.

“I got you, Percy.” Zai smirks, pulling out a translocator remote and activating it.

The cyborg disappears in a flash of light, and Zai turns back to me.

Now I’m the one gulping. “Well, if that’s all you need, then I’ll just—”

“Wait, Lana. I don’t know what you did…”

Here comes a one-way trip to Inteltech’s prison. I’m hurrying down the alley when my cuff opens and clatters to the pavement. Stunned, I look at Zai, who lowers Grivo’s remote.

“But if you’re not on my list, then I don’t care.”

I blink as Zai’s eyes light with mischief.

“There’s this planet in the outer rim where all electronics go dead, including Inteltech androids. Might be worth a visit.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andrea Renae grew up on the Canadian prairies alongside a cat companion, thrilling in tales of all kinds. She processes life’s wonders, hardships and oddities through words while deepening her hope in the Author of it all. A lover of the beautiful as well as humorous, she believes in the power of a good story to bring hope, truth, and light in the most unexpected ways.

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