Discovered (A Galactic Battle Series Book 2)

by L H Whitlock

  Alyssa stared at the man and neither Brock nor Bixom commented.

  “Must have been easy for the two of you,” He motioned to Bixom and Alyssa. “But you know my struggles, don’t ya?” His eyes settled back on Brock. The dull glow from the center of the metal plate didn’t flicker like it would if it were processing information, making Alyssa wonder if it still worked or if he wore it just for aesthetics.

  “Listen, pal, you should mind your own business before it gets you in trouble,” Brock said.

  “Trouble? How much more trouble could I be in? I’m stuck in this filth bucket. What would you do to me? Pummel my face in?”

  “Careful what you suggest, I’m liking your ideas.”

  The stranger laughed. “Nah! There’s no need for that. I just like to meet the new folk, not too many nowadays. I’m May.”

  “May?” Alyssa questioned before she could stop herself.

  “I know, odd name. The theme the day I was born, or initiated, left much to be desired.” When no one responded, May continued, “From your looks I’m guessing you aren’t from around here.”

  “Why do you say that?” Alyssa asked.

  “Well, you could be from here, but him,” he motioned toward Brock, “They don’t make ’em like that around here. The silent one could be, but I’m going with a no. Quite interesting… The Developers aren’t known for their hospitality, which is why you’re down here, but tell me, just for my own amusement, how do you find yourselves all the way down here?”

  “You tell us, May, why were you recycled?” Bixom asked.

  “Oh! He talks!”

  Alyssa glanced over to see Bixom’s eye twitch and his lips press into a line.

  “All right, all right, I was just messing with you. No one knows how to have any fun around here. I was obviously recycled for emotional displays. Which is bullshit, not the emotional part, but why would they care if I showed a little emotion every now and then? If they don’t want us feeling emotion then why not immediately give everyone an emotion damper?” He paused as though waiting for input. “I told them that, but they didn’t care. They just told me to jump off that damn bridge or they would shoot me.” He snorted. “Unbelievable.”

  “Okay, May, what is it you want?” Brock asked.

  “What do I want? I want nothing but to introduce myself to my new neighbors. I live in the hut at the end of the row. I thought you guys would move in next door, but you chose this one, interesting.”

  “We like being in the middle of town,” Bixom said dryly.

  May nodded and his silver-streaked, brown hair danced around his face. Alyssa couldn’t tell if he looked young or old, but imagined he was much younger then he seemed.

  “Why were you following me?” Alyssa asked.

  “I just found your choice of items… peculiar.”

  “They are no more peculiar than what others are using to build their shelters.”

  “True. A word of advice though.”

  “We don’t need a word of advice,” Brock cut in. “We need you to leave our property.”

  “I wouldn’t use that arm. Choose something older.”

  Brock gritted his teeth. “Mind your own damn—”

  “Why do you say that?” Alyssa asked.

  “Well, the older models don’t sync up to the chip they implanted in your brain.”

  “A chip implanted in the brain?” Brock asked.

  “You probably don’t know much about it since you don’t have an advancement.”

  “What does this chip do?” Brock’s heavy black brows furrowed as he felt the back of his neck. Alyssa lifted her own hand and felt along her hairline, but she knew that even if there was a chip, the Developers wouldn’t make it noticeable.

  “Let’s just say the Kaidellen knows more than we want him to.” May touched his finger to his mouth. “Anyway, I’ll be on my way, but I’m sure I’ll see much more of you guys.”

  36

  Well, this was just fantastic. Brock tossed open the curtain concealing the hut’s door and ducked inside. Alyssa and Bixom were already waiting for him. Alyssa sat on the floor, working on the control system for the ship. Brock had gotten most of the ship put together earlier that day, but they would have to work all night to get everything ready. They didn’t have time to tinker around, especially with people like May poking around.

  “We leave tonight. Tomorrow night at the latest. And I’d like to do it when everyone’s asleep,” Brock announced.

  Bixom sighed heavily. “The ship is not even ready yet.”

  “We need to get it ready. We don’t have time.”

  “I need to get just a few more things and then the control systems should be good to do,” Alyssa said as she screwed on another bolt.

  “Okay, take Bixom with you. We need to hurry this shit up.”

  Alyssa stood with a nod. “I won’t be long, promise.”

  “I’ll stay here, keep watch, and try to get some of this ship done.”

  “Perfect,” Bixom said with a slight wave before the two left the room.

  Brock watched them go then turned to look at his work in progress. He had the round frame put together with a few seats inside, and the navigation and control dashboard were already assembled. Now he would work on putting the outside together. He hefted a metal slab against the frame, held it upright with his shoulder, and grabbed the drill.

  The whining of the bolt burrowing into the metal soothed him, a reminder of his team. He and Gustavo normally took care of maintenance and repair, and he loved the feeling he got when he stepped back and looked at a completed project.

  He had to admit, the project would be much simpler if he had both his arms. He was getting tired of that shit.

  Another thought bothered him. May had said that the enhancements linked to a chip in the brain. Brock sat the drill down and carefully rubbed his fingers over his skull, shoulders, and neck, but he didn’t feel anything out of place. No bulge or scar. He wondered if he had one too or if he had been overlooked because Alyssa was put in charge of giving him the advancement and she didn’t know about the chips. Still, he remembered the assembly with the Kaidellen and how a feeling of overwhelming admiration had swept over him when he laid eyes on the leader. And how he known the chant everyone was reciting? He had never heard it before, and he certainly held no admiration for the Kaidellen, but for some reason he found himself ready to die for the false leader. Alyssa hadn’t known the chant. She stumbled along with it like she had heard it many times but it wasn’t engrained in her like it seemed to be with him. Not to mention she didn’t have an advancement.

  The sound of creaking drifted in from outside the hut and Brock stilled. He glanced at the door, holding his breath. A moment later Alyssa and Bixom entered.

  “You guys should say something next time; I was about ready to attack.”

  “Sure,” Bixom said. He studied the ship. “You did not get much done, did you?”

  Brock’s eyes narrowed. “I was working on it, tough to do with one arm.”

  Alyssa beamed at Brock. “Don’t worry, I’m fixing that tonight.”

  Brock smirked. “What ya got for me, baby?”

  Alyssa dropped the sack she had been dragging behind her and pulled out a metal arm. It consisted of several fitted and smooth panels, some gears, wired tendons, and jointed metal fingers. It looked a lot like his old arm. Brock found he was nearly giddy to be reunited with it.

  “Sorry, it’s kinda old, but I didn’t want to take chances with the chip thing. But…” She raised her hand into the air like victory. “This one can transform into a machine gun, but nothing else. As I said, it’s an old model, but you should be used to that since that was your model of choice before. So I guess you probably don’t care that it’s older—”

  Brock held up his hand. “It looks perfect.”

  Alyssa fisted both hands in a victory stance and hopped away. “Come on, let’s get it attached so we can get back to work.”

  “Rig
ht, that is a fine idea by me. Do not worry, I will continue doing actual work,” Bixom said, a grin creeping on to his face.

  Brock threw a middle finger into the air and followed Alyssa. He sat on a stack of material so that she could reach him easier.

  “All right, this could hurt a bit. I don’t have all my normal supplies, but I think I can figure it out.” Alyssa tossed her long blue-black hair over her shoulders, grabbed a drill, and hefted the arm up. She fitted it over his shoulder, used a hammer to mold it to his muscle, fussed around with the wires, and then bolted it into his shoulder.

  Brock ground his teeth as pain shot though his shoulder and down his arm, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. He had forgotten how bad it hurt to put an arm on and was glad he was knocked out for the last one.

  Alyssa paused. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes softened and glossed over. Seeing her look at him like that made his heart ache. He never wanted her to be sad in any kind of way.

  Brock shrugged, causing more pain, but he attempted to look relaxed. “It’s no big deal. This ain’t nothing.”

  “I’m almost done, promise.” She then gave his arm a hard yank. Brock yelled out and his left hand clenched his thigh.

  Alyssa dropped his right arm and took a step back. “I’m sorry, but you’re all done. Good as new, well, you know what I mean.”

  Brock brushed away the tears in the corners of his eyes and attempted to move his right arm. It was painful and stiff, but it seemed he had all his motor skills. Just for old times’ sake, he stretched it from side to side, lifted it above his head, and twiddled his fingers. Then, the best part, he focused on transforming it into his trusted machine gun. The nerve links were new and his body and brain were still trying to acclimate to using them, but the weapon slowly took shape. Gears turned with a slight squeak, panels split apart with a low groan, and the barrel of his gun jutted out. Brock gazed at his new weapon. It may be a little rusty and stiff, but it felt damn good to be packing again.

  Alyssa giggled and shook her head at him. “Don’t overuse it. Give it a few hours to start feeling better.”

  Brock nodded. “Will do.”

  ***

  Alyssa couldn’t remember ever being more exhausted. She took a step back to look at their creation and was filled with a sense of accomplishment, and, she had to admit, they built a scrapyard ship pretty darn well.

  She glanced over at Brock and smiled. He had his arms crossed and was staring at the round, rusty body of the ship with a smile. Even he felt it, she knew. The ship itself didn’t look like anything special. It had an oblong body designed using metal pieces, some with patches and holes in it. The wings were a bit off and certainly didn’t look like they would hold up the ship, but she sure hoped they did. They had to use multiple engines to get the thrust required and each of the engines sat on the back of the ship. It should get them to the surface, but once there they would need a different ship.

  Bixom peeked outside. “We should try and get some rest. In a few hours, hopefully, everyone will be asleep and we will not have any interference.”

  “As much as I’d like to leave now, you’re right,” Brock agreed. “We are going to have a long day ahead of us and it’d suck balls to get caught after all this.”

  “I will take first watch,” Bixom offered.

  “You sure? You took first watch last time.”

  “Yeah, I could not sleep if I wanted, too much on my mind.”

  “All right, we’ll sleep; wake us when you want us to relieve you.”

  Bixom nodded and took his perch next to the closed curtain, keeping a slight gap in it so he could see out, but not large enough so anyone could look in with any clarity.

  Alyssa stretched her hands over her head and yawned. She was glad they were going to rest first. She didn’t think she would be able to keep her eyes open any longer.

  Brock held the curtain aside for her, and she ducked behind it and into the second makeshift room of their hut.

  “How’s your arm feeling?” She took the cleansing spray and sprayed her body with the slender suit on, then reached behind her back to unzip it.

  Brock stepped up and snagged the zipper, slowly lowering it. His fingers trailed down her back, igniting flutters of heat down her spine that seemed to hit every nerve, almost like he knew exactly what he was doing. She shivered as he slid the material off her shoulders and down her arms; his chest and stomach pressing close against her. He bent as he continued tugging the fabric lower—over her thighs, her knees, her calves—then he gently lifted her feet out.

  Her skin felt warm everywhere his fingers had brushed against, and wetness seeped between her legs. She clenched her thighs together to try and ease the desperate throb he had started. She turned to face him, not entirely sure she was brave enough to look at him.

  His eyes were heavy, his hair rustled. He reached behind himself and unzipped the jumpsuit, his gaze never leaving her. He went slowly, peeling it from his body. She found fascination in the ripple in his arms, the flexing of his shoulders, and the tightening of his pecks.

  Her mouth dried up and she licked her lips, her eyes darting up to find Brock’s for a moment but finding too much intensity so that she was forced to look away. She distracted herself by following the valley of his abs and paused where the suit rested on his hips.

  She swallowed heavily as Brock lowered the material past his hips and she found herself exploring that area—the thickness in his trousers, the pulsing of his thighs—before realizing that he now stood in front of her in almost nothing.

  Her mind scrambled. Gods I shouldn’t stare at him like this! But the reality was, she wanted to see more, to do more. But what was she to do? She could cleanse him, like they had last night, or she could look at his arm again and make sure everything was holding in place.

  “I can… let me cleanse… clean… work on your arm.” She chewed on the bottom of her lip as heat burned in her cheeks.

  A smile tugged Brock’s bearded face. “Of course, baby, remember, you can do what you want to do now. You don’t need to worry about rules.”

  Since she wasn’t quite sure which task she had officially offered, she grabbed the hydro spray and walked up to Brock. He ducked his head so she could get his hair, and she spent several minutes running her fingers through the thick black curls. She then moved down to his shoulders, misting them and rubbing her hands over his skin. She was just making sure that every inch of him got some of the spray; it could be inconsistent, and she didn’t want that.

  Brock tensed beneath her fingers, his muscles clenching and twitching as though pressing her to go on. She was happy to oblige. After spraying his chest, she ran her fingers over the soft curls that decorated him. Not too thick, just a light accent. She enjoyed how thoroughly masculine Brock was; there was nothing soft about him. Or, at least, she had originally thought so, but his eyes and his hands, for that matter, could be incredibly tender despite his hardened exterior and no-nonsense, overly-confident attitude.

  When she got to the seam of his boxers, she paused. Should she dare? She wanted to, but the rules. She shook her head. No, there were no rules. She could do what she wanted.

  “Take them off,” she demanded.

  Brock blinked at her. “What?”

  “Take them off.”

  “Are you sure, baby?”

  “You said I can do whatever I want. I want you to take them off.”

  Brock shrugged as he hooked his thumbs on the seam of his boxers. “Of course. I’ll take them off.”

  With one tug, Brock sprung loose. She had never fully looked at the male anatomy before. It was inappropriate, and although she knew she could look at him she found heat washing over her face. Brock didn’t say a word but stood still and allowed her to look at him.

  He looked soft, big, swollen. Without realizing what she was doing, she sprayed Brock’s crotch with the cleansing spray. Brock gasped in surprise and took a step back. Alyssa reached out and wrapped her hand around him, so sh
e could rub in the cleansing spray of course. He pulsed and she found herself rubbing up and down the length of him, enjoying the feel of his velvety skin in her palms.

  He gave a throaty groan and gripped her shoulders, yanking her into a kiss. She moved her lips against his frantically. Her hands moved over Brock’s member in a beat of their own. Brock’s hands reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Then he slid his hands over her breasts. His fingers were hot on one, cool on the other, and she found the difference intoxicating. She groaned against his mouth, and he broke the kiss and gazed at her, his dark eyes intense and half-lidded.

  He bent his head and trailed kisses along her neck and shoulders, and Alyssa couldn’t figure out what to concentrate on. Her mind blurred and her knees shook. Her womanhood wept for attention and her nipples hardened to the point that even the slightest brush sent bolts of desire through her entire body.

  With a nip to her neck, Brock lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him for support. She crushed against Brock with only her underwear in the way, and she found she didn’t want the barrier between them any longer.

  She briefly dropped her legs and wiggled out of her underwear. Brock groaned and lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all. Her back hit the wall, and Brock released her and dropped to his knees. One of Alyssa’s legs draped over his shoulder, putting his face level with her throbbing, wet core.

  Her breath hitched. He echoed with a groan. His beard brushed against her inner thighs and he delved in. Pleasure erupted and all she could do was grip onto his shoulders and hope he would catch her when she fell. Just when she thought she would lose her mind, Brock inserted a finger into her and her gasp mimicked his own approving groan. He stood, picked her up by her thighs and pressed her against the wall with himself between her legs. She gripped onto his shoulders, bringing their bodies closer. Brock surged forward, slipping inside of her in a single, quick thrust.

  He stilled as she gasped. Her discomfort quickly melted into bliss and her body slumped against him, trusting him to keep her upright. He thrust forward, again and again, each time reaching a new level of pleasure, of torture, that she hadn’t experienced before. Her muscles clenched and tightened until she thought she couldn’t take it another moment, then everything released and the room faded around her. Brock cried out as he pulsed inside of her. The muscles in his arms and back loosened, and he slowly lowered them to the ground. They lay together for several moments, wrapped in each other’s arms in a cloudy abyss.