Hers To Command (Cyborg Sizzle Book 8)

by Cynthia Sax

  “I’m a commander. That’s how you address me.” Their female wasn’t tolerating any disrespect. Thrasher’s chest expanded with pride. “Ace, mute the transmission.”

  He complied. “The transmission is muted, Commander.”

  “Do you trust this Mayhem being?” She turned toward Ace and Thrasher, hiding her face from the viewscreen, from Mayhem.

  “Mayhem and his female are the reason the Retrievers rebelled against the Humanoid Alliance.” Thrasher relayed what he knew. “The Retrievers might hate the Humanoid Alliance more than the cyborgs.”

  “And the cyborgs? How does he feel about them?” she asked, her concern for their brethren touching Thrasher. “Your cyborg council must not trust him or they would have included him in the plans. Will he harm your brethren?”

  “No.” Thrasher didn’t doubt Mayhem’s intentions.

  “Never.” Ace was as adamant. “He was told he had to return to the Cyborg Homeland. Mayhem doesn’t respond well to orders.”

  She paused, their Commander considering the situation.

  “If he doesn’t respond well to my orders, I’ll kick his ass,” she finally stated.

  Thrasher chuckled. “We’d expect nothing less.”

  Ace smiled.

  “His unpredictability can be harnessed and we could use the extra warriors.” She faced the viewscreen. “Loop him back in.” Ace unmuted the transmission. “You’ve seen the plans. You know the details. Why would we change our strategy to accommodate you?”

  “Retrievers are the most skilled hunters in the universe.” Mayhem held their Carys’ gaze. “Allow them to infiltrate the battle stations first. They’ll eliminate the Humanoid Alliance senior officers quickly and quietly, perhaps set a few bombs here and there, presents for the remaining crew.”

  Mayhem’s female must have the same unconventional sense of humor as the warrior did. That slang didn’t originate from his cyborg brethren.

  “While that’s happening, you attack,” he advised.

  “Experienced beings are given command for a reason—that factor is often the difference between winning and losing a battle.” Their Carys’ eyes sparkled with interest. “Without their senior officers, the crew will be in disarray. The Retrievers can escape while the besieged battle stations are responding to our attack.”

  Mayhem nodded.

  “You’ll report to us.” Their female, predictably, wanted control of the operations.

  “For this battle.” The J Model’s head dipped again.

  She glanced at Thrasher and at Ace, as though verifying they had no objections.

  They both inclined their heads, signaling their agreement. Mayhem’s plan was solid and could only help their situation.

  Their Carys’ gaze returned to the wild warrior.

  “Consider yourself invited to the party.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mayhem, Ace and Thrasher’s brethren, was as organized as her warriors. With the assistance of Imee, the strong, outspoken female he clearly loved, the cyborg had already allocated Retrievers to Humanoid Alliance targets.

  All Carys had to do was review and approve the assignment. After some clarification, she quickly did that and ended the transmission.

  No Retrievers had been assigned to their target. Mayhem didn’t have to state the reason why. She had two cyborg warriors. He expected her to utilize them, to send them on that dangerous mission.

  That was the right decision, the sensible decision, but her heart screamed ‘no.’ She, a female who had never depended on anyone, desired that they remain by her side. She wanted them to be safe.

  “Commander, about our target.” Ace displayed the image of the enemy’s battle station on one of the viewscreens. “Thrasher and I--”

  “No.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. “We should communicate with the other commanders so they can craft their plans while we’re crafting ours.”

  That would buy her some time, time to figure out another way to defeat their target, one that didn’t involve risking the lives of the males she cared for, the males she loved.

  Shit.

  She did love them, her two warriors.

  Carys leaned back into Ace and Thrasher’s hard bodies. They put their arms around her, around each other, propping her upright.

  She’d grown to rely on their support. To think of them not being there…she couldn’t. She refused to lose them. They were a part of her now.

  “I’ll communicate with my own bridge first.” She stepped forward and tapped on the viewscreen.

  “Commander.” Her new first officer straightened in the captain’s chair.

  “Is there anything to report, First?”

  “There’s nothing out of the ordinary, commander.” Pride edged the male’s voice. He’d worked for solar cycles to gain his new position. “Everything is quiet.”

  “I require you to take the next shift.” Carys preferred to be at the helm herself, especially as she knew she’d soon have that command taken away from her. The Rebel Assembly didn’t tolerate insurrection, which is how they’d view her actions.

  But she had to be the being to contact the other commanders. They would only take direction from her. She’d earned their respect in past battles. They’d trust her.

  “Yes, Commander.” The first officer beamed.

  He didn’t realize he might soon have the captain’s chair permanently.

  The lucky bastard.

  Carys ended the transmission and stared at the blank viewscreen for a moment, aching with loss. There was no doubt in her mind what she was doing was correct. The Rebel Headquarters had a spy within it. That spy could be anyone—a lowly communications worker or the leader of the Assembly. She couldn’t trust anyone there.

  If this action ended the war, freed Ace and Thrasher’s brethren, stopped the killing, the sacrifice of her command would be worth it.

  “Ace, we need individualized packets of information to send to each commander.” She gave her logical cyborg that task. “Relay the timing, the specs on their targets, the numbering sequence, the instructions that any ship transmitting that sequence is an ally, plus anything they require to complete their missions. They don’t need to know about your brethren’s involvement or the assistance from the Retrievers.”

  The Retrievers’ missions had high risks of failure. Strategy had to be crafted for the likelihood the missions wouldn’t be fulfilled.

  And the less the other commanders knew about the master plan, the less likely they’d be assigned blame for the insurrection by the Rebel Assembly. Her compatriots wouldn’t know they were acting without approval. Her crew wouldn’t be aware of that fact.

  She’d bear the full brunt of the reprimand.

  “I’ll craft the message for the commanders.” They would require visual verification that she sent it. “Thrasher?”

  “Look into my eyes, Commander.” The warrior turned her toward him. “I’ll record it.”

  She met his gaze. His eyes were the darkest blue, lit with humor, lust, and a softer emotion she didn’t dare name. It was a struggle to maintain a dignified, commander-like expression.

  “Fellow commanders.” She dipped her head, showing them the respect they deserved. “I’ve had the great honor of fighting by your side in past battles. I will have that honor again. If we’re fortunate, this will be the last battle we have to fight. We have an opportunity to end this war, to strike a decisive victory against our enemies. I’m sending each of you an individualized packet of information. Your missions are contained within it. If there are any questions concerning your missions, communicate directly with me.” She lifted her chin, gazing into Thrasher’s eyes. “Fight well so your children will never have to fight.”

  Pimmy’s smiling face flashed through her mind. Her child, her cute little daughter, hadn’t lived to see peace. But some other mother’s child would. She’d fight to ensure that.

  Silence stretched.

  Thrasher blinked. “I’ve ended
the recording, Commander.” He pulled her against his chest and hugged her close. “You’re thinking of Pimmy.”

  “We’re all thinking of Pimmy.” Ace pressed against her back. “She’s in our processors also.”

  “She will always be there.” Thrasher kissed her forehead.

  She wasn’t alone in her grief, in her remembrance. Carys closed her eyes and savored their warmth, their comforting embrace. It was tempting to hide within the caring circle of their arms, to act as through the battle wasn’t approaching.

  She couldn’t do that. She was a commander.

  For now.

  Beings were counting on her.

  Carys wiggled out of their arms. “Bundle my message with the packets.” Her voice was gruff. “Transmit it on my line.”

  Ace returned to the viewscreen. “We’ve increased security on that line, Commander.” His hands flew over the vertical surface.

  She trusted him to ensure the communications wouldn’t be intercepted.

  “We’re contacting the other commanders.” Thrasher watched her, not Ace. “We can craft our battle plans now.”

  Did they have to? Carys stifled a sigh.

  “The Humanoid Alliance battle station we are attacking is more advanced than ours.” Thrasher informed her. “They have more ships, greater firepower, their missiles are longer range, and their shields will outlast ours.”

  “Even with the modifications we’ve made to our shields?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Even with the modifications,” he confirmed. “Those improvements will buy us time. That’s all.”

  “Our Commander is highly intelligent.” Ace continued to send the communications. “She knows what we have to do.”

  “No, I don’t.” Carys lied.

  “Commander--”

  “I have to speak with Space Traffic.” She had to escape.

  Thrasher followed her to the doors.

  “Stay here.” She required solitude to come to terms with what she had to do.

  It was her unique version of solitude. She exited their private chambers and marched along the corridors. Her crew straightened as she approached and the passed them.

  Commanders were rarely alone.

  Soon, she wouldn’t be important enough to watch. In two planet rotations, she’d no longer be a commander. The Rebel Assembly would relieve her of duty.

  She couldn’t lose Ace and Thrasher also.

  Carys entered the docking bay. Her space traffic officer stood in front of a ship. Crew were removing its panels, knocking the dents out of them, the clang of metal against metal echoing in the space.

  It was regular maintenance, but now was not the time to perform it. “All repairs have to be completed by sunrise.”

  The male stiffened at the sound of her voice. “You heard the commander.”

  His crew worked faster.

  Her space traffic officer turned. “If we had three planet rotations, we’d have an additional ship. There’s one undergoing intensive repairs.”

  “We don’t have three planet rotations.” The cyborgs weren’t moving on their schedule. “I want a detailed report on the ships we’ll have available, their capabilities, the abilities of their pilots, everything.”

  The space traffic officer complied.

  Carys listened, hiding her dismay over how few ships they had. Their pilots were skilled, but they couldn’t down a battle station’s shields.

  They could provide a distraction, allowing two cyborgs to sneak on board a battle station.

  Her next stop was a walkthrough of their missiles, led by her weapons officer. All of their guns were operational but Thrasher was correct. They didn’t have the range that a new battle station would have.

  She directed that two packs be filled with timed explosives. Her weapons officer’s eyes widened but he didn’t question that request.

  Which was good because Carys wasn’t ready to answer any queries. She couldn’t yet admit to herself what had to be done.

  She walked through her battle station, looking at the trusting faces of the beings who depended on her to lead them, to keep them as safe as possible, to win the war they all believed in. They had sacrificed loved ones during the fight. Her boot heels rang on the floor tiles.

  She’d already sacrificed her daughter to this damn war. It was unfair that she was being asked to risk the lives of the males she loved.

  But life was unfair. And they were cyborgs, fast, strong, almost indestructible. They could enter the battle station, plant the bombs, and leave before anyone realized they were there.

  If they managed to land their ship. If they were able to fly it past the battle station’s missiles and other defenses without being blown up.

  Her aimless wandering returned her to their private chambers. Her heart pounded. Her two warriors, the males she loved, were inside the space, waiting for her.

  Carys pressed her hand to the control panel and walked through the doors, her head held high. She was the commander for a reason, and it wasn’t because she was afraid to make the tough decisions, the possibly heart-breaking, soul-destroying choices.

  Ace and Thrasher turned their heads, looking so fuckin’ handsome she almost melted. Right then. Right there. How could she send them into danger?

  She had to. It was the only logical choice.

  “You’ll fly the best ship we have.” Carys leveled a hard glance on both of them. “You’re to set the bombs and leave. Kill whomever you need to kill but there will be no hunting down of officers. We’re blowing them up, killing them all at once. That’s more efficient.”

  And it would get them off the battle station and out of danger faster.

  “Two warriors aren’t required for this mission, Commander.” Thrasher glanced at Ace. “One of us will complete it. The other will stay with you.”

  The mission didn’t require two cyborgs. It was tempting to keep a warrior by her side, to ensure one of her males survived.

  But that was selfish.

  “Both of you will complete this mission.” If anything happened to them… Carys’ breath hitched at the thought. They’d be together. They wouldn’t die alone. “Thrasher, I’m depending on you to bring Ace back alive. Ace, I’m counting on you to do the same with Thrasher.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She turned and faced the wall, unable to look at them.

  Great commanders didn’t show fear or concern. They acted with confidence, giving their crew strength and assurance.

  She couldn’t pull off that act, not now, not with them, the males she loved.

  “We’re hard to kill, our female.” Ace nuzzled along her neck, his lips hot and firm against her skin. She tilted her head, giving him access to more of her.

  “We’ve completed similar missions multiple times, have accessed your own battle station twice without setting off any alarms.” Humor lilted Thrasher’s voice. “And you’re the best commander we know.”

  At the moment, she didn’t feel like the best commander. She felt like a female frightened to death of losing her males.

  “Don’t joke about this, Thrasher.” Carys smacked his body armor-clad chest with her palms. “You could die.”

  “We could die.” Ace, her practical warrior, admitted. “The odds of that happening are low but it is a possibility.”

  He wasn’t easing her worries. “Sometimes I wish cyborgs could lie.”

  Thrasher, her seldom-serious warrior, laughed.

  She wanted to strangle them, to kiss them, to keep them safe. Carys settled for glaring at them.

  “Come here.” Thrasher pulled her to him and skimmed his smiling lips over hers. “I’ll ensure Ass doesn’t do anything foolish.”

  “My name is Ace, and I’m not the foolish one.” Ace turned her head toward him and tasted her lips also, his kiss harder, more passionate. “K models were designed for these types of stealth missions. That’s one of the reasons we look human.”

  “We look better than any human male.” Thrasher insisted on
claiming her lips again, the two of them competitive to their frames. “Though not better than our human female.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “You’re beautiful, Commander.”

  “Don’t try to distract me with flattery, warrior.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “It won’t work.”

  “What will work?” He grabbed her hips. “Will breeding distract you?”

  The ridge in his body armor pressed against her, long and hard and thick. Ace was as aroused, the male’s chest rumbling with need.

  She wanted them badly also, her pussy wet, her nipples tight, her body aching for theirs. But her concern for them overrode her desire. Her number one priority was keeping them safe.

  “No breeding. Not yet.” Carys pushed away from them. They didn’t allow her that distance, closing the gap between them. She relented, aware she wouldn’t win this battle. “There will be none of that until after we’ve planned for your mission.”

  “You’ve given us our orders – infiltrate the enemy’s battle station, plant the bombs, and leave.” Ace said that as though it was all they needed to know.

  “Do you know how to approach the battle station? And at what velocity?” She frowned at them. “Which docking bay to enter? How to gain approval to dock? What to do if that request is denied? There are many details to consider while planning a mission.”

  “And you plan to review all of these details?” Thrasher’s tone was incredulous.

  Carys’ frown deepened. “I plan to review every single one.” She wasn’t taking any chances with their lives.

  Ace and Thrasher exchanged a look.

  “What is it?” Was there something she didn’t know?

  Ace captured her face between his hands, gazing at her with a stomach-clenching intensity, his dark eyes glowing. “The Humanoid Alliance gives cyborgs a mission and the parameters around it, and they expect us to complete it.”

  “The cyborg council does the same.” Thrasher moved his thumbs in circles over her hips, massaging her through her ass coverings.

  “No one has ever reviewed our plans before we implemented them.” Ace’s lips lifted, not into one of his rare small smiles but into an adorably goofy ear-to-ear grin.