Free Racers of the Night: Science Fiction Stories by Brad R. Torgersen by Brad R. Torgersen Page A

nameless set of coordinates that rode directly on the invisible wall between Human Space and Everywhere Else. He’d been on that spot for who knew how long? His cyborg life was composed of a series of long, dream-filled sleeps in between frenetic, life-or-death battles.
    At the time Chang had elected to undergo surgical implant and machine integration, the Watchfleet had been mankind’s best defense against the Sortu: a mysteriously aggressive species of xenophobes actively exterminating all “competitor” races in Earth’s particular region of the known galaxy. Where it took years to build, arm, and crew an ordinary warship, a Watchfleet monitor took mere weeks, and required only its cyborg pilot. Chang—and thousands of other wounded veterans just like him—had all signed up to establish an interstellar line in the sand: this far, no father.
    At the time, humanity had been overwhelmed, and the Sortu had almost won.
    Chang and his comrades had put a stop to it, but the toll had been high. The Watchfleet had grown thin, to the point that Chang seldom heard the comforting murmur of his fellows—their mental signals broadcast instantaneously through the gravtrans buried deep in Chang’s armored shell. Once they had formed an intelligent skein, acting and reacting in concert to surround and crush all opponents. Now they were few and far between, like lonely whales hooting forlornly through the ocean’s inky depths.
    When his sensors did not alert him a third time, Chang set up an automated diagnostic routine and allowed himself to slip back into his dreams.
    • • •
    Lucy’s skin was so pale and freckled that she burned at the merest mention of sunlight. Chang ran a hand appreciatively along his new wife’s bare hip as they lay together in their bed, the hum of the ship’s engines and air cycler filling their tiny compartment—one of hundreds aboard the emigration liner now docked in Earth orbit.
    “We should get up soon,” Lucy murmured.
    “What for?” replied Chang. “I’m on leave until Monday, then we both depart for deep space. There’s nothing to see on this tub anyway.”
    “Yeah, but I feel like a slug just hanging out in bed. We should get some exercise.”
    Chang sighed deeply. “They work the crap out of us in Advanced Crew Training. I get more exercise in a day than you get in a week.”
    “Oh yeah?” she said defiantly.
    “Yeah,” Chang said, smiling as he grabbed her shoulder and turned her quickly onto her back, her breasts fluttering pleasantly on her chest. His hands began to mischievously wander up her belly as the two of them kept talking.
    “You still haven’t told your father, have you?” Chang said, his eyes locked onto hers, but his hands possessing a mind all their own.
    “No,” she said, “He’d have tantrum if he learned I was leaving Earth. Dad never did like— oh! ”
    Chang’s fingers gently brushed her nipples. She shuddered.
    “Go on,” he said with a smile, as if nothing was happening.
    “I’m just glad they offer military spouses a free ride. We’ll both happier off … if … uhhhh! ”
    Chang’s wife never got to finish her sentence. If it was exercise she wanted, it was exercise she would get . Three months in Basic and six months in Advanced military schooling had turned Chang hard and wiry. Her hands reached up for him, and—
    • • •
    Ping! Ping! Ping!
    Damn.
    It had been a long time since Chang had made love to his wife, even in his memory. He reluctantly returned to wakefulness.
    He scanned the diagnostic report on the sensors. As far as his internal maintenance routines could ascertain, everything checked out. So what the hell was going on?
    Ping!
    Chang slipped his more robust active sensors into the vacuum, their huge domes revolving and twirling beyond the confines of the plated hull— Hello, anyone there?
    The cold emptiness of interstellar space remained unbroken. Straight out in all directions.
    Then … wait.