by Cynthia Sax
That was effective, the chatter over the communication lines commenting on their possessiveness. The original rumors had been modified. The consensus now was the three of them were in a relationship. Their Commander had taken both of them as her lovers, a feat many crewmembers interpreted as proof of their leader’s strength.
Their Carys hadn’t verbally claimed them, but the beings on the battle station knew she belonged to them.
That satisfied Thrasher.
For now.
Chapter Nine
Many planet rotations later, Carys fought a losing battle. Her walls, the emotional boundaries she erected around her heart, were falling down around her.
Ace and Thrasher’s visit to the bridge was to have been a one-time occurrence. Now, they accompanied her every shift, standing by her side, unofficially part of her crew.
Their fucking was to be merely that--fucking. Yet here she was with her head resting on Ace’s bare stomach and her legs draped over Thrasher’s naked thighs, staring up at the ceiling, chattering about battles fought.
Ace played with her hair, curling the short tendrils around his fingers. Thrasher stroked her legs up and down, up and down, his caresses soothing, hypnotic, sexy.
It felt good, right, too right. Part of her wanted to panic. It was too much, too close to caring. But great commanders didn’t lose their cool. They plotted.
About strategy, not about how she wanted to suck one warrior’s cock while being ridden by the other. Her nipples tightened.
Ace breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring. “We smell your need, Commander.”
Thrasher slid his hands between her thighs, cupping her mons. “She’s dripping for us, ass.”
“And what are you going to do about that, warriors?” Her body vibrated with awareness.
“We--”
They stiffened, turning their heads, their movements perfectly in sync. She followed their line of sight. All of the viewscreens flashed red.
“What is that?”
“A ship is approaching.” They leapt to their feet, taking her with them.
Ace slung her over one of his shoulders, juggling her while he donned his body armor. Thrasher dressed as quickly, filling sheaths with daggers and holsters with guns.
“My uniform.” Carys reached for it.
Thrasher handed her the garments. “You’ll dress as we move.”
Shit. She pulled on her ass coverings.
They ran out of the chamber into the corridor. Ace carried her. Carys’ surroundings blurred around her. If she couldn’t see others, they couldn’t see her.
She hoped that was the truth, hastily dressing, trusting Ace not to drop her. “Why haven’t the battle station’s alarms sounded?”
“They’re short range.” Thrasher didn’t sound impressed with her alarms. “We guard a greater perimeter.”
They’d have more time to react to threats.
Thrasher slapped the control panel and the doors to the bridge opened. Carys’ lips flattened. They must have given themselves access to every area of the battle station.
Ace lowered her bare feet to the floor. She hurried onto the bridge, fastening her chest garment as she moved. “What is the status?”
“Commander?” Her first officer vacated the captain’s chair. “Status of what?”
Thrasher’s hands flew over the control panel in the console. An image of a warship displayed on the main viewscreen. “An A Class warship is approaching us.”
There was a collective gasp from her crew. They flew into a flurry of action.
“That isn’t one of ours.” Carys was certain about that. It was too new.
“It isn’t one of ours either.” Ace stood at his console. “I’m performing a lifeform scan.”
“Communications, sound the alarms, prepare the crew.” They were under attack.
“Yes, Commander.”
Alarms wailed. Her bare feet were freezing, the floor tiles cold. The scent of Ace and Thrasher clung to her skin.
Carys tuned all of that out, her concentration solely on the upcoming battle, on the prospect of survival. “An A Class warship will be faster and more mobile than we are.” And its missiles would eventually breach the battle station’s shields. They were at a disadvantage. “Navigation, can we reach the nearest planet, preferably one with at least one moon, before the warship gets within firing range?”
“We can reach Gliese 999, an uninhabited planet with three moons,” the officer responded.
“Set course. Full speed. Position us between the planet and a moon, outside the planet’s atmosphere.” That would limit the warship’s ability to move.
“The lifeforms are human and humanoid, Commander.” Ace informed her.
There were no cyborgs on board. Her warriors wouldn’t attempt to stop her from blowing up the attacking warship.
“Weapons, adjust all trajectories to account for the gravitational pull.”
The battle station shot forward, knocking Carys off her feet. Thrasher caught her before she hit the floor, righted her, and returned to his raising of the shields.
She hadn’t authorized that, but she would have soon.
“The warship has adjusted their course.” Her navigation officer relayed. “They’re gaining on us.”
Carys tapped on her control panel. “Space Traffic, prepare our ships. As soon as we stop, I want them flying.”
“We’ll reach our destination in ten, Commander.” Her navigation officer gave her the update. “It’ll be a tight fit.”
“The warship will be within range in eight.” Ace’s tone was grim.
Shit. “Will our shields hold?”
“If the warship hasn’t upgraded their missiles, the shields should hold.” Thrasher’s nod was curt.
Should, not would. Fuck.
“5…6…7…8.” Ace counted.
“They’re firing, Commander,” her weapons officer announced.
“Brace for impact.” And hope the shields held. Carys grasped the edge of the console, her knuckles whitening.
Ace and Thrasher stepped closer and put their arms around her. She was the commander. This wasn’t her first fight. She didn’t need their protection.
Carys would reprimand them after the battle. Her focus was on the warship behind them. She couldn’t think of anything else.
The battle station shuddered. She was jostled between the two males, bounced around like a projectile in an impenetrable container.
“It was a direct hit, Commander.” Her weapons officer stated.
His observation was unnecessary. Her battle station had taken many hits with her at the helm. She knew the difference between a direct hit and a graze.
“Damage report,” Carys barked.
“Minimal damage,” her first officer stated.
“We’re in position, Commander.” Her navigation officer displayed their location between the planet and the largest of the three moons. The planet was covered with ice and darkness, far from its sun. The moon was as inhospitable.
Her navigation officer hadn’t been joking. It was a tight fit. There wasn’t enough room between the battle station, the moon, and the planet, to comfortably pass.
It was exactly what she needed. The warship couldn’t use its greater speed to its advantage and battle would be limited to two fronts.
“The warship isn’t slowing.” Her navigation officer gave her the bad news.
They’d collide. A warship traveling at that speed would cut through her battle station, slicing it into two pieces. “Prepare to fire.” They might be able to slow it.
The warship abruptly swerved the wrong way, taking a hard right instead of a left.
She frowned. “What are they doing?”
“I created a decoy.” Thrasher grinned. “But they’ll be back.”
Carys and her crew had been gifted time to prepare for their return.
“Our ships are in the air, Commander.” Space Traffic gave his update.
The image on the vie
wscreen visually confirmed that. Their ships had been scavenged from past battles, were all different sizes, shapes, models. Many weren’t fully functional, as her cyborgs would phrase it.
The beings piloting the ships had nerves of metal, however. Her people had skills rivaling any others in space. They’d pulled off the impossible in the past, and she hoped they’d do that again this planet rotation.
“The enemy will attack us from this direction.” Carys drew her best guess at the warship’s course based on their present trajectory.
The enemy could enter from either the near or the far side of the moon. She was counting on the Humanoid Alliance being as overly confident as they usually were. They would take the most direct route, wouldn’t attempt to be stealthy, believing they could outmaneuver a large, older battle station.
If she was wrong, some beings on the other side of the battle station would die, beings she was responsible for, beings who looked to her to keep them safe.
There was also the very real possibility they wouldn’t recover from the error, couldn’t redirect their ships and missiles in time.
They could all die.
Because she guessed incorrectly.
That was war. Leaders made their best guesses and hoped they were right. “Space Traffic, direct our ships to pin them in.”
“Clever.” Ace murmured his approval.
It was only clever if it worked. “Weapons, once the warship is within range, fire at will. Give them everything we have.”
“Which isn’t much,” Thrasher said under his breath.
It wasn’t much. Carys admitted to herself. The battle station’s weapons were as old as the rest of the vessel. But it was all they had and she’d done more with less.
“The warship is approaching,” Her navigation officer announced.
The enemy took the shortest route. She’d guessed correctly. Satisfaction filled her.
“They’ll be within range in 4…3…2…1,” Ace droned.
They launched a barrage of missiles, the vessel retching the projectiles into space, heaving with the effort. The warship fired back.
The battle ship was a static target, impossible to miss. It rocked with each impact.
“Shields?” Sweat dripped down Carys’ spine.
“Holding. Barely.” Thrasher confirmed. “We should outlast them.”
“They must realize that too.” Why were they attacking a battle station?
“Space Traffic, update?” Was the goal to pick off her ships?
“Three lost. Formation holding.”
Three lives, three ships lost. She’d failed those beings as she’d failed her daughter. Pain pierced her heart.
Carys pushed it aside. If she didn’t concentrate, she’d fail more beings.
She studied the main viewscreen. The Humanoid Alliance blithely sacrificed their warriors, wouldn’t hesitate to send a warship filled with living, breathing, loving beings to their deaths.
But sacrificing them for a handful of fighter ships was illogical even for them. They had a plan, a reason to hunt her battle station, to attack her.
The longer her vessel stayed stationary, the more at risk they were. Her gut said they had to win this battle quickly and get out of there.
She magnified the image of the warship. Missiles exploded around it, flares of red, orange and yellow against the black and gray.
“What’s the weakest spot in their shields?”
“The weakest spot is here.” Ace circled a point by the hull.
“Redirecting the missiles will erase any time we save,” her weapons officer advised.
Shit. “Can we speed that redirect up?”
“Working on it.” Thrasher’s fingers moved at cyborg speed over his control panel.
“Is Gliese 999 or its moons inhabited?” Were they being trapped by their own trap? Had the enemy known they’d position where they were? “Are there any structures on the surface or below, any history of Humanoid Alliance activity?”
“Missiles redirected, Commander.” Thrasher nodded.
He’d anticipated her orders, something one of her crew would never dare to do. She could have changed her mind.
She hadn’t but she could have.
If they survived the battle, they’d talk about that also.
“Space Traffic, direct your ships’ fire to the same location.” They would concentrate their efforts, hope to quicken the shield breach.
Once they’d damaged the warship sufficiently to impede their speed, they’d retreat. The battle would be a draw, but they’d survive to fight another planet rotation.
“Lifeform scans indicate no beings are currently on Gliese 999 or its moons.” Her first officer frowned. “There’s also no history of the Humanoid Alliance on the planet.”
Carys shifted her weight from one numb foot to the other and back again. “I don’t like this.”
Her officers looked at her. They’d fought with her for solar cycles, trusted her judgment, knew that if she expressed concern, it wasn’t without reason.
“It’s a warship. We’re on a battle station.” Her first officer continued to place too much emphasis on superior firepower. “We will defeat them.”
“They know that.” Carys snapped, losing patience. They were wasting time discussing the obvious. “Yet they engaged us anyway. Ask yourself why they’d do that?”
The younger female opened her mouth and then shut it again.
“We can’t retreat now. They can outrun us.” She dismissed that possibility. “I need ideas, ways to incapacitate the warship quicker.”
Officers volunteered ideas, some infeasible, some wild.
Thrasher looked at Ace. They were communicating silently again, excluding her. She was already on edge and that irked her even more.
“We could--”
Thrasher stopped talking, his attention diverted to the activity on his private viewscreen. “A second A Class warship is approaching us.”
“What?” Carys’ voice whipped over the bridge.
Her officers jerked. They recognized her tone.
They were in deep shit.
It had been a trap, like the capsules of Erinomean Green Fire. The battle station would be caught between the two warships, pounded by missiles until there was nothing left of them. “
“Navigation, get us out of here.” They had to depart. Now.
“It’s too late.” Thrasher dared to negate her order. “The warship has blocked our retreat.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Carys raked her fingers through her hair. They could fend off one warship but not two.
“Do we redirect the ships, Commander?” her weapons officer asked.
“No, the focus remains on the first warship.” They couldn’t bring down the shields on both warships. “Any missiles, any ships that can reach that warship should be directed at that target.”
“They have two ships, double the fire power.” Her first officer stated the truth Carys already knew. “They’ll bring down our shields faster than we can bring down theirs.”
“Then give me a solution.” Because Carys didn’t have any. “We have warships on two fronts, a moon on one, and a planet on the other.”
“If we land on the planet--”
“We’d never leave.” She dismissed that solution. “They’d hammer us into the ground, destroying our battle station. The planet doesn’t support human life.” The air wasn’t breathable. “Blowing up the moon would take longer than breaching the first warship’s shields.”
“We could load our fighter ships with missiles and fly them into the warship’s shields.” That was the weapons officer’s suggestion.
Her pilots would do that, would sacrifice themselves so the rest of them would live. It was an action Carys didn’t want to ask them to undertake. “Would that work?”
Her trepidation must have shown. Ace covered her hand with his and squeezed. “We might not have to do that.”
“What other options do we have?” She looked to the cyborg
for another tactic, one that would result in more of her crew living.
“One of our brethren is on board the second warship.” The warrior’s expression was more solemn than usual. “His assistance could be limited, however. He’s severely damaged.”
“He might be too damaged to help us.” Thrasher glanced at Ace. “If he was fully functional, he could easily overthrow the crew. But this warrior is transmitting single words and random guttural sounds, growls and rumbles. Freeing himself from his holding chamber might be a challenge for him.”
“He doesn’t need to overthrow the crew.” Though that would be ideal. “All I require for him to do is distract them, slow their bombardment.”
“We won’t be able to control him.”
That wasn’t shocking. She couldn’t control her fully functional cyborgs. “Will he fire at us?”
Were they exchanging one enemy for another?
At this point, she’d take that risk but she wanted to be prepared for it.
“I doubt he has the processing capacity to operate the guns.” Ace jutted his jaw. “I can work with him, try to free him.”
If Ace freed the cyborg, if the cyborg distracted the crew of the second warship, they might survive this dual attack. There was hope. They still could pluck victory from the jaws of absolute disaster.
Some of the weight lifted from Carys’ shoulders.
“Then do that. Work with him.” She nodded at Ace. “I’m counting on you, warrior.”
Chapter Ten
Their female was counting on him. Ace didn’t know if he was worthy of her faith.
Ghost, the C Model cyborg on the second warship, was damaged to the point of shutting down, his processors experiencing a mere flicker of activity. He was able to transmit indiscriminately, dumping all of his visual, auditory and other system information into the lines. Ace could work with that.
Ghost, we need your help.
Ugh.
Open your holding chamber, warrior.
The male placed his dirty hands on the control panel. His fingers were ragged and unkempt. His processors whirled. Nothing happened. It should have been a simple feat for any functional cyborg. Ghost didn’t have the awareness to access the warship’s systems.