Breathing Vapor

by Cynthia Sax

  That got a reaction. Her father frowned. “One of the trainers mentioned you had. I thought he was mistaken. You know better than to interfere with my programs.”

  “If the units hadn’t accompanied me, I’d be dead.” She searched his countenance for proof he cared. She found nothing except outrage over his precious cyborgs. “When the other society females saw how K000156 and K000158 saved my life, they asked about purchasing cyborgs of their own.”

  “No.” Her father held up his hands, his palms facing toward her. “Concealing the sale of the newly manufactured units might be possible. No being is tracking them and their mechanics are worth very little. Final stage units are highly visible. The Humanoid Alliance expects them to be deployed to the front lines. Beings will notice if they disappear.”

  Mira knew she couldn’t stop cyborgs from being deployed, from being sent to fight the endless wars. “Two final stage units are slated for decommissioning. The Humanoid Alliance doesn’t expect them to be deployed.”

  “Their mechanics are needed.”

  Shit.

  She quickly formulated another plan. “We could delay those buyers for thirty planet rotations. During that time, we could lend the units to a prominent family, earning extra credits that you can use for your experiments and gaining support for the cyborg program.”

  Her father opened his mouth, hesitated, shut it again.

  He was thinking about it.

  “The Listmanns requested two units.” She pushed for his agreement. “He’s a member of the council and could be a formidable ally. You might get that approval you need to expand the manufacturing facility.”

  Mira paused, allowing her father to think the proposal over.

  “The Humanoid Alliance did request that I assist with squashing the rebellion,” he conceded. “I told them that a puny upraising of locals could be handled by less skilled warriors.”

  She hid her wince. That must have gone over well with the council.

  “Giving them two of the suboptimal units would appease them.” He tapped his lips with his index fingers. “Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll delay the decommissioning for six planet rotations.”

  “For twenty planet rotations,” she countered.

  “For ten,” her father relented.

  Mira said nothing. Ten planet rotations should give the cyborgs enough time to escape.

  “I’ll inform the Humanoid Alliance.” He assumed she agreed to his terms. “You can handle the rest.”

  She always did. “I also require use of K000156 when I leave the compound. The insurgents haven’t yet been subdued. The planet is too dangerous to navigate alone.”

  Her father’s eyebrows lowered. “K000156 has training to complete.”

  What he meant was K000156 had more prisoners to kill. “The program will suffer a blow if the Designer’s daughter is killed in an attack. The council will question how you can protect the Alliance when you couldn’t safeguard your own offspring.”

  There was another lengthy pause as her father absorbed this.

  “They would question my credentials if you died.” He didn’t sound pleased that his success was linked to her survival. “Take it with you. But don’t leave the compound this planet rotation. They’re purifying the districts.”

  Purifying. They couldn’t be doing that. Mira’s mouth dried. The Humanoid Alliance wasn’t supposed to act that quickly. X wouldn’t have had the opportunity to transport the children off planet. She hadn’t given Aumakua the credits she needed to move her family.

  “I have a garment fitting in District 2,” she lied.

  “They’ve purified that district already. Whomever you’re planning to meet is dead.”

  Dead. Aumakua, her husband, sweet little Pepe, all of their neighbors, all of their friends, lined up outside their domiciles and executed. Bile clawed up Mira’s throat, burning her flesh. She couldn’t think about that.

  Because they could be alive.

  She was talking to her father. Mira gazed at him. He might be the most intelligent human in the universe but he could also be absent-minded, his big brain focused on his experiments.

  He could have mixed up the dates.

  That was it.

  Her father had done that in the past. The purifying could be planned for a future planet rotation. He had received the notification, hadn’t checked the date, and had assumed it was occurring now. “You can’t be certain that she’s dead.”

  “I’m absolutely certain.” Her father chuckled, not at all upset that millions of beings could be dead or dying. “The Humanoid Alliance is nothing but thorough. Of course, if they had cyborgs, instead of human warriors, the purification would have been completed in a quarter of the time, but using cyborgs for such a task is beneath their capabilities.”

  If it weren’t for her father’s elitist view about cyborgs, Vapor could have been one of the warriors tasked with killing mothers, children, babies. He wouldn’t have been able to refuse those orders, not if he wished to live.

  Mira’s stomach churned. That duty would have destroyed her honorable cyborg. She would have failed Vapor as she’d failed…

  No, she wouldn’t say it. Pepe and Aumakua were alive. Her father was confused. She still had time to save them, to transport them off the planet.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Y-yes.” She couldn’t hide her concern. All she could think about was Pepe, that adorable, kind, trusting child.

  Fortunately, her sole remaining parent’s attention had returned to his personal viewscreen. He didn’t notice her reaction. “Then go. I have work to complete.”

  When didn’t he have work to complete?

  “Thank you.” She was speaking to no one. Her father was lost in his research, not looking up as she walked out of the chambers.

  Mira returned to her own quarters and contacted Lydna. While she negotiated with her mom’s former friend, charging her outrageous sums for ten planet rotations of protection, she ignored the communiqués popping up on her private viewscreen.

  Or tried to. The damn headings were impossible to disregard.

  District Six Purification Completed.

  District Seven Purification Completed.

  District Eight Purification Completed.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Her father could have been telling the truth. But that would mean…

  She couldn’t think about what that meant. Her father forwarded the authorization from the Humanoid Alliance. Mira finalized the loan of the cyborgs. She’d deliver the two males to Lydna next planet rotation.

  She couldn’t think of anything other than Pepe and Aumakua right now. Mira scanned the headings.

  District Nine Purification Completed.

  District Ten Purification Completed.

  Stay Inside Your Domiciles.

  That communiqué had been sent because the Humanoid Alliance expected more violence. Some insurgents always survived the purifying. They would seek revenge.

  Pepe could be one of those survivors. The Tau Cetians could have found some way of fooling the lifeform scanners. The little girl and her parents could be hiding, waiting to be rescued.

  Ho'aloha, the child had called her. Friend.

  A true friend would save her, protect her.

  Mira gathered up her personal viewscreen and all of the credit-containing chips she’d accumulated and stuffed them into a stylish white pack. She exited her chambers, quashing the urge to run to the final stage fighting ring and collect Vapor.

  That would attract unwanted attention and jeopardize the entire operation. She had to appear normal, giving away none of her intentions.

  When she saw who was in the ring, her composure almost slipped.

  Because, despite her request that Vapor be ready at any time, her cyborg was fighting, dealing out death to a bunch of rough, ragged-looking criminals.

  Fuckin’ Hun. Mira didn’t wait in the viewing area. She descended to the ring, standing on the edge of the red dirt. Hun’s gaze flicked to
her and then away. The trainer knew he was in deep shit.

  Vapor shifted until his body was between her and his opponents. Her cyborg was magnificent, clad in black skintight body armor and boots. His outfit was covered with blood and his skin glistened with sweat.

  Mira didn’t have time to admire him. “Finish this quickly,” she whispered. Lives were in jeopardy.

  Vapor obeyed her instructions. He burst into a whirling vortex of killing, his arms and legs blurring. Her cyborg wielded the primitive pike in his hands like it was an extension of his arms, thrusting, jabbing, dispatching his opponents with well-placed blows.

  The more intelligent criminals ran from him. They were chased by Ace and Thrasher. While the cyborgs competed for the kills, they fervently grappled each other’s muscular forms, skimming their hands over armor-clad backs, arms, asses.

  The two males were a couple. The three of them were a team, aligned in their mission, trusting each other completely. They were closer than many families, certainly closer than hers.

  Not closer than Pepe’s. Her mother and her father loved her. Before Mira had met and hired Aumakua, Pepe’s parents had gone without food to ensure their child ate.

  They couldn’t be dead. The universe couldn’t be that cruel.

  A small voice inside Mira whispered that it was. She ignored it, focusing on the battle before her.

  The last humanoid in the fighting ring fell, twitching and jerking on the red ground. Vapor flexed his muscles, his face and form coated with crimson.

  Hun stepped forward. “K000156, K000157 and K000158, tidy yourselves.” He tossed cleaning clothes to them. “Swiftly.”

  Vapor, Ace and Thrasher dropped their pikes and wiped the blood, dirt and sweat from their fit physiques. Daggers and guns filled the sheaths and holsters built into their battle armor.

  Vapor might have to use his weapons to protect Pepe. “I don’t have time for this.” Mira curled her top lip. “I have a garment fitting and my father insists that K000156 accompany me.” She rolled her eyes. “It can tidy itself as we walk. I assume the best warrior in the universe can handle two tasks at once.”

  “You might need more than one cyborg. There’s a purifying this planet rotation.” Hun’s eyes were feverishly bright. “I volunteered for it but it was decided the warriors could handle the locals.”

  He had volunteered to kill innocent males, females, children. Mira dragged air into her lungs, rage coloring her sight red. “Did I ask your opinion? No, I did not. Stick to what you do best, soldier—teaching stupid machines to kill.”

  She turned and stalked toward her transport ship, shaking with anger and grief and a solar storm of equally turbulent emotions. Vapor followed her, his proximity providing a sliver of comfort.

  She needed him. She couldn’t face this alone.

  Mira opened the door to her ship and plunked her ass on the seat, placing her pack by her feet. Vapor claimed the spot across from her.

  The door closed. She inputted the destination into the control panel, verified that her transport hadn’t been tampered with.

  The ship moved and Vapor reached out, hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her onto his lap.

  She squeaked, surprised. He covered her lips with his, plunged his tongue into her mouth and took what he wanted from her.

  She wanted this also. Mira straddled his waist, the action pushing the hem of her fabric wrap up to her waist. His kiss was a reminder that there was more to life than killing and death and grief. It contained hope, lust, caring, perhaps more.

  And fuck, he tasted good, like male and metal. She threaded her fingers into his hair, holding onto the short strands, striving to make the embrace last, to delay the darkness they could both face.

  As though sensing her desperation, Vapor ravished her with his tongue, whipping her flesh, branding her with hard, deep strokes. His nanocybotics bubbled in her mouth. His breath wafted over her cheeks. He was inside her, all around her form, his big hands cupping her ass.

  Mira ground against him, her need and frustration building. He was encased in body armor, his shoulders, chest, cock inaccessible. This would have to be enough.

  It was more than she deserved.

  Because Pepe, damn it, Pepe could be dead.

  She sucked back a sob and turned her head, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Vapor petted her, moving his hands from the top of her head to the small of her back, then reversing direction, his touch allowing her to regain control of her emotions.

  “Talk to me.” His voice was low and deep and soothing.

  “It’s nothing.” She couldn’t voice her fears.

  “You’re a strong female. You don’t break down over nothing.”

  Mira said nothing, unable to say the words.

  “Our destination is in District 2.” Vapor played with her left ear, tracing its shape, tugging on her earlobe, flicking it with his fingers. “It has already been purified, which is the only reason I’m allowing this trip.”

  She straightened, frowning. “You couldn’t stop me from going there.”

  “I could and I would.” He sounded certain about that. “Purifying is dangerous for every being. It isn’t led by logical cyborgs, female. The warriors are humanoid, and after a few kills, their puny brains stop processing thought. They’re driven by bloodlust, chasing and killing any being who moves.”

  Those animals could be hunting Pepe. Mira trembled. “Some of the beings could have escaped.”

  “The warriors have lifeform scanners.”

  “But beings could have fooled those scanners and escaped.” She held his gaze. “That is possible, right?”

  Vapor’s eyes softened. “Mira, it’s unlikely that—”

  “Answer the question.” She didn’t want his sympathy. She needed the truth.

  “It is possible,” he conceded.

  “Good.” She rested her head on his armor-covered chest. “That’s all I need to know.”

  Vapor ran his fingers through her hair, mussing her carefully arranged upswept do, freeing each strand. “Does it matter to you if some of the beings survive?”

  “Pepe is a sweet innocent child. Of course, it matters.” She wasn’t the monster she pretended to be.

  “This is war.” Vapor curled a tendril around his index finger and pulled gently. “Children are often casualties in battle. You’re the Designer’s daughter. You know this.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  He sighed. “No, that doesn’t make it right.”

  Silence stretched. Mira twisted the material of her skirt, making the M hidden in its design ripple. “I need your help,” she confessed.

  Asking for assistance was hard for her. She’d been alone for so long, guarded, independent. But she’d swallow her pride and her fears if it meant Pepe might live.

  Vapor didn’t say anything.

  “I’m human. I can’t control my emotions as cyborgs can.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “But it’s essential that I do. I have an image to maintain.”

  “Your Mira the Merciless image.”

  She flinched at that label. “Yes, my Mira the Merciless image. The situation we’re walking into will be…hard. I might lose control.” She was on the verge of doing that right now. “And I can’t, Vapor. Emotion holds truth and the truth is dangerous for every being I care about.” Including him.

  “I’ll protect you.” He increased his hold on her.

  “You won’t allow me to fall apart?”

  “You won’t fall apart, not in public,” her cyborg assured her. “Only when you’re safe, when we’ll alone.”

  “Thank you.” Mira relaxed, trusting him to safeguard her.

  They’d find Pepe, Aumakua, Aumakua’s mate. They’d transport them off the planet. No other being would know of her involvement. Vapor’s life wouldn’t be put at risk.

  Everything would be okay.

  Chapter Eleven

  Vapor had vowed to help Mira contain her emotions. That could be the
greatest challenge he had ever faced.

  Because his little human was lying. This time, she told her lies to herself, clinging to hope where there was none.

  Vapor held her close to his chest.

  Yes, it was possible for a being to fool a lifeform scanner. He had to concede that truth to her. A K model cyborg with the required tools and an in depth knowledge of the device could manage it.

  Fooling a lifeform scanner was beyond the skills of a humanoid female and her small offspring, however. If Aumakua and Pepe had been in the districts during the purifying, they were now dead. They wouldn’t have escaped the warriors.

  Thus far, no beings had survived. All of the structures and streets around them were devoid of life, eerily empty of sound and movement. The ship slowed.

  “You’ll follow my orders.” He cupped Mira’s chin, lifting her gaze to his. “If I tell you to move, you move, without question, without hesitation. Do you comply?”

  “I comply.” She nodded. He’d kill some being happily to erase the sadness from her eyes. “And if I fall apart—”

  “You won’t,” he promised. “I’ll prevent that from happening.”

  The ship stopped. Mira looked out the viewing panel and her breath hitched. She didn’t move, frozen in her seat, her hands still.

  He followed her gaze. Blood splatters covered the outside of a structure, the gore spaced shoulder widths apart.

  The corpse retrieval units had already swept the area, disposing of the bodies. Vapor didn’t have to see the faces to know the victims.

  The beings executed weren’t males convicted of heinous crimes or enemy warriors waging war on the humans. The victims were innocent males, females, offspring whose only crime was residing on a planet the Humanoid Alliance coveted.

  Some humans were cruel. Vapor rubbed his female’s back. Not all were. The devastation on Mira’s beautiful face shredded his mechanics.

  “Did you scan the area?” Her voice was small.

  “I detect no beings.”

  “That means nothing.” Mira clung to her false hopes. “The lifeform scanning technology incorporated into your design is the exact same kind that the Humanoid Alliance uses.” She clasped her pack and opened the door. The scent of blood, of gunfire, of human fear assaulted Vapor’s nostrils. She must have smelled it also, because her nose wrinkled. “Aumakua and Pepe fooled the warriors. They’ll fool you also.”