Jenna McCormick - Born

Cormack shook his head. “Lies! I have seen her hurt, seen her bleed. Felt her body! She is no Cyborg!”

Allora said nothing.

He gripped her by the shoulders, shook her. “Tell them! Tell them about your mother.”

“My mother….” Her eyes had gone unfocused, and he shook her again, until her head wobbled. Damn it, she had to tell them!

“Soldier, it will be all right.” The child said, slipping her arm around his. “She is just as you’ve always known her, the same as you’ve always loved.

Does it matter so much how she came into being?

Would the world be a better place if she did not exist?”

His vision blurred as he stared at Allora, still lost in a daze, so far away from him, so far he could never hope to reach her again.

“Cassandra…,” Vitrolith warned.

The girl held Cormack’s arm in a vice-like grip.

“Be at ease, my sire. We need him as much as we do her.”

“He’s losing it, he might hurt you.”

Cormack shook uncontrollably and fell to his knees. My task mistress is a Cyborg creation? It must be false, he would have sensed it about her, the same way he did the others.

“He needs to see the truth. Only then will he accept what is rightfully his.” She kissed his cheek and the world went fuzzy and dark.

When Allora saw Cormack fall flat on his face, she came out of the odd trance Cassandra had cast over her with her touch. Nothing was as she’d believed it to be, not even herself. Memories of things that happened before her birth vied for her attention, shouting inside her own head, but she locked them all away, needing to help Cormack. “What did you do to him?”

“She is beginning to see.” Cassandra straightened her shoulders and stepped back toward Vitrolith. “In time you will accept it as truth instead of the lies you were fed from infancy.”

Questions plagued her and as she leaned over Cormack, checking for his pulse she had to ask, “Why did you come for me now, after all these years?” The answer doesn’t matter , she told herself even as she braced for impact. Just like the overlord, these people needed something from her. She’d be a fool to give it to them just because they claimed to be the family she never thought she’d have.

Cormack’s heartbeat was strong, his breathing steady. She stroked his face while staring up at Vitrolith as he responded to her question.

“It was prophesized that your mother must take you to a Born colony, where you were to be raised as one of them.”

“Cyborgs can’t reproduce sexually—they feel no drive toward anything but power.”

“Really, Allora, is that what you feel when you look at him? Only the need to take, to assert your power over him?”

He shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I am not a Cyborg.”

“Dearest sister, do you even know what a Cyborg is? We have been around since well before the earth stopped turning. Anyone with a pacemaker or hearing aid used technology to enhance his way of life. This colony is made up of scientists, who used our technological know-how to better our lives. Look around you, Allora. What do you see?”

Despite herself she looked through the open doors, out at the utopia beyond. A real civilization, people not at the mercy of the weather, with art and culture far more advanced than any she had ever seen before. And I have their memories.

“The Borns are afraid of us, Allora, not because of what we do, but because of who we are and what we represent. Control over our lives, the ability to heal the sick and injured, to level the playing field so that those born to power would be no more important than the Bred who picks through the trash for scraps.” He glanced down at Cormack.

“They created the Bred to seek us out and destroy us so we would never be able to undo what they did.

The wars saw the death of many of our kind, people who were not trained for battle the way your soldier has been. A senseless waste of life on both sides by those who would keep you all under their thumbs.”

She shuddered as a new wave of memories broke over her, Cyborgs lined up on a field of battle, dying one by one. A small child, a boy watched the slaughter as Breds took them out efficiently and then returned to their masters for more abuse. He stayed hidden from view and collected their memory chips to add to the collective.

Cassandra knelt down beside her. “What did you see?”

Haltingly, Allora relayed the vision, stroking Cormack’s cheek to ground herself as much as reassure him.

Vitrolith grunted, and as Allora watched, disgust showed on his face. “They created the Bred to be guard dogs as well as slaves, cutting them down in their prime, neutering them with those packets. They could be our greatest allies, have the most to gain with reunification and instead they react with violence whenever they see us.”

“Neutering? Breds are infertile by design.”

Vitrolith crouched down so their eyes were level.

“Can you see the double standards here, Allora? The way they use technology as they see fit, for draining, for engineering a whole new race of people and feeding them nutrients which will keep them strong but not allowing them to spawn of their own accord.

There is plenty of water and warmth down here but above people still die of thirst, from exposure. Basic economics of supply and demand, those who have what is rare, hold all the cards. And because of their innate hatred of us, we have not been able to explain it to them.”

“But Cormack didn’t know I was one of you, he never attacked me.”

“You are new, Allora, a new generation of us. Your enhancements are all internal. Though you don’t know it, your senses are as acute as a Bred’s, genetically compatible in every way. The only difference, you were born instead of created.”

“Even now, sister, there are programs inside your head, ready to be used to make you stronger, faster, able to heal more quickly. All you need to do is access them.” Cassandra grinned at her. “Do you have my journal? I would like to add it to my archives.”

Hands shaking, Allora dug inside her armor for it.

She didn’t even glance at it as she handed the book over. Cormack groaned, and she muttered nonsense designed to soothe him even as she withdrew. “He will never accept what I am.”

“He already has.” Cassandra held the journal in front of her face. She scanned the words, hope fluttering low in her stomach.

Cormack loves you, Allora, never give up on him.

“Let’s take him somewhere where he can rest more comfortably.” Vitrolith suggested. “He’ll be less likely to hear us out if he awakens with a crick in his neck.” A quick motion with his hand and Rothguard stepped forward but Allora waved him off.

“I’ll do it.”

They backed off and taking in a deep breath for fortitude, Allora bent and heft Cormack over her shoulder in one smooth motion. She blinked unable to believe she had actually been able to do it. Meeting Vitrolith’s—her father’s—gaze he nodded once. “Show me where.”

The room they led her to had an actual door that Rothguard opened. Allora placed her unconscious Bred down on the mattress, rolling her shoulders though there was no muscle strain. Lush green growing things covered the wall and she breathed in the sweetly scented air. “Tell me why I was sent away from here.”

Cassandra had followed them inside. “You needed to follow the path destiny laid out for you. Everything happens for a reason Allora, by design.”

“Your design? Or your predecessor’s?”

Cassandra hopped up on the railing overlooking the lavish garden beneath. “Neither. She saw more of the grand design than most, but she was not its architect.”