Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (e novels to read TXT) 📕

Bronte eyed the thing doubtfully. “I think I’d rather have a laser pistol.”

A faint smile curled his lips. “You could not wield a sword. They are far heavier than the pistols—and nigh as long as you are.”

She gave him a look. “I’m not that short!”

His smile broadened. “Not quite. But I am that tall, and this blade was designed for one such as I am.”

“I still think the pistols would be more effective,” she said, mostly because she didn’t like the idea of anyone getting close enough to any of ‘her’ men for them to use the lethal looking blades.

“That is because you know nothing about what we must deal with. The trogs swarm when they attack and, most often, they are upon you before you know that they are there. The pistols are of no use, or very little, in such an attack, and I would far prefer to meet blade with blade—for that is what they use—than to find myself with nothing but my bare hands to fend off their blades.”

She stared at him unhappily at that, almost sorry she’d gotten that much information out of him. It couldn’t be worse knowing the danger of the situation, though, than not having a clue until she found herself in the middle of such a battle. Not that she thought anything could prepare her for such a thing, but the information was certainly inspiration to do all she could to help avoid the possibility.

When she said nothing else, he took the edge of the blanket covering her and flipped it back. She was horrified when she saw herself. Her body looked like one massive bruise. Dried blood was smeared over most of her body that wasn’t covered with bandaging and clotted in the fabric that had been used to bandage her, as well. She was going to be a walking horror even if she recovered she thought dismally as she took in the dozens of small cuts they hadn’t dressed.

She bit her lip as he pulled up the bandage around her middle and studied the wound. When he was satisfied, he shifted downward and studied her leg and then covered her again. Without a word, he rose and crossed to Gabriel and Jerico. “We will give her the remainder of daylight to rest and mend. I do not like that we must move her so soon as even that,” he added, lifting his head to scan the area, “but this is a poor defensive position at best. The only advantage at all is that it is clear enough they can not come too close without our knowledge. But we have no coverage for her at all.

“I have found a small cavern in the cliffs a half day’s walk down the coast. It is a much better defensive position and will be more secure for her, also. I believe we can defend it long enough to allow her time to mend beyond danger and then, if we are not picked up in the meantime, we will make our way to the city by way of the coast as long as we can follow it. The trogs are not fond of water and will stay as far from it as possible, I think.”

“You do not think they will come for us?” Gabriel asked.

Gideon shrugged. “It is possible, but I will not wait upon it. They will almost certainly be convinced that there is nothing to find. If we had not had communications open at the time we were hit they might have been more inclined to think we had survived. In any case, you are aware the ship had no locator to prevent our enemies from tracking us. They will not be able to locate us without a great deal of searching and we are many clicks from the point where we would have disappeared from their screens. They will be searching the sea.”

He turned away from them after that to study the things they’d recovered from the wreckage.

“Bronte said those things were not of great importance. We have gathered those she said were important here,” Jerico said.

Gideon lifted his head to look at her for a long moment and finally returned his attention to Jerico and nodded. “She will know. Make a pile of next in importance, as well. If we get the chance and it seems feasible, we will return for it and carry it to the cavern to be retrieved later. I found a few useful items as I was looking for the swords. I left them in the cavern. There is no fresh water nearby, though. We will need to carry as much of that as we can and also food. I want to limit the number of times we have to leave the cavern to get either. The more times we risk it, obviously the more chance the trogs will see and will follow. I do not want to have to defend the place if we can avoid it. There is too much chance that Bronte could be hurt if we have to fight.”

Make me feel worse, why don’t you? Bronte thought. Not that she thought he’d intended for her to overhear the conversation. In fact, she knew he hadn’t realized the low voiced conversation would carry so well or he wouldn’t have gone to the effort of lowering his voice. She’d heard enough, though, to get the general idea that things weren’t looking up for them right now and she was the biggest cog in the wheel.

She chafed over it, but she was fairly certain she couldn’t get up without help, and even if she managed it she was liable to tear something fragile loose that had only begun to mend and make things even worse. She worried over it until she fell asleep again. When next she woke, she saw that the sun had shifted a good distance in the sky.

She also discovered she had