High Plains Cyborg

by Honey Phillips

  “Better make that Mrs. Columbus. They’re all female. I’ll get… I mean, he'll get a rooster later, when he has space.”

  The slip did not escape her notice and she gave him a suspicious look. “You do have a friend, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated slightly. “His name is M-231.”

  Of course, she should have known his only companions would be other cyborgs. It had just never occurred to her that they might want homes of their own.

  “Then I’ll be happy to take care of them for him.”

  The chick snuggled down in her palm, warm and soft and alive, and she couldn’t help her delighted grin. She was going to have company after all.

  Chapter Five

  C-487 forced himself to concentrate on assembling the habitat for the chickens, trying to ignore his throbbing, aching cock. Ever since he had walked into the shelter and caught the delicious scent of Josephine’s arousal and seen the heat still radiating from between her legs, his cock had refused to obey his commands. Nothing would satisfy his body except burying himself in that sweet, hot little cunt and he was not about to risk the progress he had made today by making an advance on her.

  He was well aware that human females were told to avoid cyborgs. Even the whores in the town would refuse one openly—although he knew of several that were perfectly willing to take their money when no one was looking. He had never chosen to make the attempt. He remembered only too well the damage that lifestyle had done to his mother and the price his sister had paid. No. He refused to think of that. Instead, he concentrated on putting together the coop.

  When the habitat was completed, he helped her place the chicks inside. They rushed around making excited little cheeping noises, then settled under the heat lamp in a single fluffy pile.

  “They grow rapidly,” he warned her. “I will bring the materials to expand their habitat on my next trip.”

  “Clint.” She stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. It was the first time she had touched him voluntarily and the feel of those small fingers burned through his shirt.

  “Yes, Josephine?” His voice sounded distant in his own ears. It took all of his considerable self-control not to sweep her up in her arms, carry her back to her mattress, and show her how much he wanted her.

  “Thank you.” She looked up at him with big dark eyes. “You didn’t have to bring the chicks to me to raise but I’m so glad you did.”

  “You’re welcome. But I chose you because I know you will care for them.”

  “And because you knew I was lonely?”

  “Are you?”

  Her eyes went distant. “Yes. And no. I have spent most of my life surrounded by people and I always wanted to get away. To have a chance to be by myself.”

  He understood. His life had been the same until he had been chosen for the cyborg program. After that, he spent far more time alone than he had ever thought possible.

  “But it isn’t quite what you envisioned?”

  “Yes. Do you know how I feel?”

  “More than you can imagine.” He thought back to those first days on Mars. The jobs they were assigned were difficult, dangerous, and frequently solitary. Earth Government had never encouraged them to associate with each other and he suspected that they had kept them apart on purpose.

  “It’s just so much more… desolate than I had imagined.” Her eyes were still staring off into the distance. “Sometimes during the day, I look up and all I see are miles and miles of empty land. And at night, there is nothing but the stars.”

  “Yes. I am very familiar with both of those sights.” Unable to resist, he cupped her face, delighting in the soft, smooth texture of her skin beneath his fingers.

  Her hand came up to cover his, not to push him away but to press his hand more firmly against her cheek. She smiled, but he caught the hint of tears in her eyes.

  “Why does it feel like you know me better than anyone I’ve ever met?” she asked.

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  Giving in to temptation, he bent down and kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips against hers. She didn’t respond, and he started to raise his head, but then her hands came up to circle his neck and she pulled him back down, clinging to him with fierce desperation as her mouth opened under his and her tongue tentatively brushed against his. His control disappeared. He lifted her into his arms, bringing her closer, tighter. She was all soft, warm woman in his arms, and he could feel her nipples rubbing against his chest as she squirmed closer. One of her hands sank into the short strands of his hair, tugging urgently, the other clasped his shoulder, her small nails sending a delightful prick of sensation straight to his cock. He could feel the heat of sweet little cunt against his stomach. He had never been so close to exploding from a kiss. His hand slid up under her tank, wanting to feel more of her skin, and she shivered, then suddenly froze.

  He felt the tension in her small frame and immediately lifted his head.

  “Josephine?”

  She wouldn't meet his eyes. “I… We shouldn't be doing this.”

  His long-forgotten heart ached but he very carefully set her down. As soon as he left, he was going to need to find a rock to smash his fist against. Hopefully that pain would replace this one.

  “I apologize. For a moment I forgot that I am no longer a man.” He turned to leave and once more her fingers closed over his arm.

  “What? No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “No?”

  “No, of course not. You’re very much a man.” Her cheeks flamed as her eyes seemingly dropped involuntarily to his still obvious erection. “But I’m trying to do this on my own. I… I can’t depend on anyone else.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he said softly.

  “Maybe a little of both? In my experience, depending on someone else only leads to disappointment.”

  He wanted to assure her that she could count on him, that he would never let her down, but he suspected that his words would not be sufficient. He would have to prove his worth. Patience, he told himself.

  “Very well, Josephine. But there are some people you can count on.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect little oh, and he couldn't resist. He dropped one last, quick kiss on her sweet mouth and left before his good intentions deserted him.

  Josephine stared after Clint. Had she done the right thing by sending him away? Her long-neglected body adamantly disagreed. Yet it would be far too easy to rely on his strength. She needed to know she could depend on herself.

  A small cheep sounded from below and one of the chicks peeped up at her. She laughed. “You aren’t worried about strength, are you?”

  She picked up the small ball of fluff and cuddled it before sighing and returning the chick to her habitat. She had work to do.

  Despite her conviction, her heart still lifted two days later when she looked up from spreading her lichen mixture over the rocks to see a tall figure riding towards her. He looked like an image from an old Earth movie, strong and competent and somehow at home in the desolate landscape. She remembered the way he had understood her when she spoke of the joys and terrors of loneliness. How much more must he have experienced over his years on Mars.

  “Hi, Clint.”

  “Josephine. I brought the supplies to begin building the larger habitat for the chickens.”

  He spoke stiffly, his face as carved from stone as it had been the first day that she met him, and she wondered if she had offended him. That had never been her intention.

  “Thank you.” Before he moved away, she rushed on. “Do you want to join me for lunch? It’s just MREs but I’m going to take the first cutting from the duckweed and see if it helps to improve them.”

  “You want me to join you?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes.” She knew she was blushing. “If you want to, I mean.”

  “I would be honored.”

  The stiffness left his body and his mouth twisted in what was surely a smile. Her heart lifted much mo
re than it should have at the mere prospect of having a lunch companion, but she resolutely ignored it. She still had every intention of proving her independence, but she wouldn’t hurt him by constantly pushing him away. She would just have to make sure that he understood that she could take care of herself.

  Her resolve was thoroughly tested over the next month. Clint showed up every few days, almost always with some small way to make her life easier, even if it was just with his companionship. He listened to all of her plans with rapt attention, but never volunteered his opinion unless she asked—or unless she suggested something that he thought dangerous. He frequently ended up helping her as well, but as time passed and she grew more confident in her own abilities, his help no longer seemed as threatening to her ability to take care of herself.

  She even managed to convince herself that her constant awareness of his big body, the warmth of his skin, the subtle scent of leather and man, were the natural result of an extended period without male companionship. But while she could be sensible during the daytime, at night she still dreamed of him, hot, hungry dreams that left her panties soaked and her body aching with desire.

  Chapter Six

  “You have not been spending much time in town,” M-231 observed, coming up besides Clint as he stared out over the town.

  He had been automatically noting the changes—the influx of new faces, the additional buildings springing up like mushrooms—but his thoughts were far away.

  “No,” he agreed.

  “You have been with the little female, have you not?”

  He hesitated. He did not want to discuss Josephine with anyone, but it was a reasonable question.

  “Yes.”

  “And she… accepts you? Or is she just using you to perform work for her?”

  A startled laugh escaped before he could prevent it and M-231 stared at him. Humor had been drilled out of all the cyborgs a long time ago.

  “I wish she would use me. It is very difficult to get her to accept any help from me.” He shook his head. “My female is very stubborn.”

  “Your female?” A trace of something that looked like longing crossed M-231's face.

  “Yes,” he said immediately, then sighed. “At least, that is how I consider her. I am not sure that she recognizes my claim.”

  No matter how fervently he wished she would. She seemed to have accepted that he would show up every few days and she had been gradually accepting more of his help—especially if he could think of some way to present it as if she were doing him a favor. His last ploy had been that helping her to spread the lichen mixture would help him maintain his flexibility. The process consisted of almost continuous bending over in order to paint the substance over the rocks that cluttered the soil. She had given him a suspicious look, running her eyes over his body in a way that made his cock threaten to escape his control once more. But in the end, she had shrugged and relented, even though she still insisted on accompanying him and doing her own share of the work.

  “At least you have hope.”

  “And you do not?” The longing in M-231’s voice captured Clint’s attention. “Is there a female in whom you are interested?”

  M-231 moved over to the window, his robotic hand clenching on the frame. “I might have been. But she is taken. By a human.”

  “My female arrived with a male, but he deserted her. Perhaps…”

  “No. He seems to be a good male. For a human.”

  There was nothing he could say, no hope he could offer. He could only imagine the pain that M-231 must be in, under the circumstances. Just the thought of Josephine being claimed by another man turned his vision red with anger. He bent his head in acknowledgement before he turned to return to his room, then paused.

  “What were you called? Before…”

  The other man finally turned away from the window, leaving a portion of the frame bent in the shape of his hand. “Why do you ask?”

  “My Josephine. She likes to name things. My horse, her chickens. And me. She calls me by my name.” He hesitated, the words unexpectedly difficult. “It is Clint.”

  M-231 stared at him, but just as Clint was about to give up on a response, he answered.

  “Morgan. My name was Morgan.”

  Clint inclined his head. “Good night, Morgan.”

  After he returned to his room, he laid on his bunk and tried to think of a reason to return to Josephine tomorrow. He had foolishly told her that his patrol took him by her homestead every three days, but he did not want to wait another day to see her again. Would she believe him if he said it had changed to every two days? He knew she enjoyed seeing him—he saw the way her eyes lit up. He even knew that she was physically attracted to him. The scent of her arousal and the increase in her temperature were obvious. And yet, she had never acted upon the attraction. She had never even indicated that she wished to repeat their kiss, even though he had caught her watching him sometimes with a wistful look on her face.

  Should he be the one to take action? His cock jerked at the thought and he sternly suppressed it. Although he longed for another taste of that tempting little mouth, of the delicious essence permanently imprinted in his memory banks, he did not want to frighten her, or even worse, have her refuse to see him. Patience, he reminded himself. All of the cyborgs had been programmed to take their time, to wait for the right moment, but he had never found it as hard as he did right now. Perhaps he would go spend the night on the ridge where he could watch her shelter. Knowing that she was close and that he was watching over her would be better than just lying here thinking of her. As he was sitting up, a sharp knock on the door was followed immediately by M-231—by Morgan.

  “Dust storm coming. From the north. Is your female prepared?”

  “To the best of my ability.” He began throwing supplies into a bag as he spoke. “But I will not take any chances with her safety. I will go to her.”

  “Do you need assistance?”

  “No, but thank you, my friend.”

  Friend. How long had it been since he used that word? Morgan looked almost as startled, but he clasped his shoulder briefly before heading for the door.

  “I’m going to prepare the town.”

  Clint was halfway to Josephine’s homestead before it occurred to him that Morgan had not asked for his assistance. Apparently his… friend had understood that nothing would keep Clint away from Josephine. What of Morgan’s woman, he wondered? How could he stay away from her?

  Jo tossed and turned. Normally, she had no trouble sleeping thanks to the hard work she did every day, but tonight felt different. An unusual restlessness had her staring out into the night instead. Maybe a hot drink would help her relax she decided and gave up on trying to sleep.

  As she sipped the tea—another one of the little luxuries Clint had provided—she tried to plan the next day’s work, but it was useless. Her mind kept returning to the big cyborg. He usually showed up every third day, so she didn’t expect him tomorrow and the day already seemed to stretch out interminably. It wasn’t the fact that the work would be easier if he were with her, it was his actual company. Being able to look up and see his face, or to sneak a glance at that massive body, brightened her whole day.

  “Some homesteader I turned out to be,” she muttered. “I haven’t even made it two months on my own.”

  As much as she had wanted her own home, her own land, sharing it with him was far more satisfying. And what if he stopped coming? How much worse would it be now that she had grown accustomed to his presence? You can’t count on him, she tried to remind herself, but the words rang hollow. He had never yet failed to do whatever he said he would—she had no reason to think he would fail her. And yet…

  Still lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment before she realized that the chickens were chirping anxiously. She frowned; they never usually stirred after dark. She glanced through one of the clear observation panels and frowned again. Was something wrong with the panel? The surrounding rock formations were
dim, barely visible against the night sky—a sky where the stars had disappeared. Dust storm, she suddenly realized, her pulse increasing.

  Rapidly running through her checklist, she decided she was as prepared as she could be. That knowledge only helped a little as she watched the outside visibility continue to decrease. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. How much she wished that Clint was here with her. His calm competence would have eased her mind considerably. And even if everything went well, these storms could last for a week or more. A week or more before she could see him again.

  “You see? This is why you can’t depend on anyone else. They’re never around when you need them.” she muttered then shook her head, knowing she was being irrational. He had no way of knowing what would happen.

  The darkness increased until nothing was visible through the panels. The wind had picked up as well, and she could feel the walls of the shelter tremble. Thank goodness that she was at least partially sheltered by the ridge. Another gust shook the walls, but the shelter was well-anchored, and she remembered that Clint had gone around inspecting and strengthening every strap.

  The wind roared and she huddled in the center of her mattress, all thoughts of sleep abandoned. Another gust, even louder, shook the shelter and she barely heard the outer entrance to the airlock chime. The outer door was open? Had the wind somehow breached it.? She rushed to the porthole, then breathed a sigh of relief as Clint, and Red, forced themselves inside. It was a tight fit and she waited impatiently for him to close the outer door. He moved with unusual slowness as he reached for the button, but it wasn’t until the pressure equalized and she could open the inner door that she realized why.

  He stumbled inside, his coat flapping oddly and to her horror she saw that it had been torn to shreds and the skin beneath it was equally shredded, blood staining much of his remaining clothing.

  “Oh my god. Clint!”

  She rushed to his side as he started to collapse, but he was too heavy for her to hold up. The best she could do was provide some support as he collapsed to his knees.