Releasing Rage

by Cynthia Sax

  “That would arouse suspicion.” He adjusted one of the straps. “I carry what I normally carry and that’s all.”

  That was smart. She nodded. “Then may I use one or two of your daggers?” He wouldn’t need them.

  “Did you lose yours?” He selected two, handed them to her.

  She clasped them, the metal cool against her palms. “I used my dagger this planet rotation and was unable to retrieve it.”

  “Because he lived.” Rage shook his head. “Strike to kill, female. A wounded enemy always seeks revenge.”

  She’d been lucky to escape with her life. Joan dipped her head.

  “Dress,” he commanded.

  She obeyed, quickly donning her flight suit, placing the daggers in the pockets. He plucked at her lapels, straightening them. He’d never helped her dress in the past. It was as though he couldn’t stop himself from touching her.

  That lightened Joan’s spirits. She slipped her feet into her boots, fastened them.

  Rage turned his head. “That human male is here.” He had less respect for Boyd than she did.

  Their time together was over. “Sir.” She stepped toward him, pressing her curves into his armor-covered muscle. “Could you kiss me one last time?” She was too short to reach his mouth and the elevation platform was too far away to use.

  “One more time,” he corrected, his eyes flashing with heated emotion, his face hardening. “Your kisses are mine and mine alone, Joan.” He swooped down to capture her lips. The force of his embrace drove her head back. He cradled her skull, holding her in place.

  Joan plunged her tongue into his mouth, desperate to taste him. He countered, pushing her backward, taking control, whipping her with his tongue, punishing her. She submitted to his aggression, allowing herself to be disciplined, her lips humming, her arousal building.

  She wanted him again, always, and she didn’t know how she’d live without him. If she would live. She doubted she’d survive for long after his escape.

  Joan clung to Rage’s shoulders. He straightened, lifting her off the floor. Her feet dangled. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. Her mouth was filled with his nanocybotics, with his unique flavor.

  “Fraggin’ hole.” He pulled his head back. “You’ll get us both decommissioned, female.” He slid her down, over his hard form, until her boots touched the floor. “You will act as normally as possible.” He ran his palms over her hair. “We can’t arouse suspicion.”

  She touched her lips, still feeling him inside her. “Yes, sir.”

  The look Rage gave her said he didn’t believe her. “Go.” He turned her, slapped her ass. A sexy heat radiated from the point of impact. “He waits.”

  Joan marched toward the inner door, placed her hand on the access panel. The metal slid apart, revealing Boyd’s smirking face. She swallowed her disgust, stepped forward. “Boyd.”

  “Tits.” He leered at her chest. “Are you looking forward to this repositioning? I certainly am.” He grabbed his groin.

  Rage pressed his chest against her back, growling softly.

  Joan reached behind her and patted his thigh in a stealthy attempt to calm her overprotective cyborg. “I’m focused on this deployment.” She authorized the access panel. The exterior door opened and she strode out of their chambers, not looking back. Rage followed her. Boyd trailed him, muttering about payback and how she’d get what was coming to her.

  The guard didn’t care if others heard his threats.

  Because the others were on his side. He had their support, the whole damn ship’s backing. Commander Lewis approved her harassment as he had approved the torture of the cyborgs under his care.

  Joan lifted her chin, not allowing her shipmates to see her fear. They might think her a slut, unintelligent and antisocial, but no being could say that the battle station’s first and last female cybernetic engineer lacked bravery.

  They accessed door after door. Engineers, cyborgs, and their guards filed in front of her. This close, the cyborgs should be able to communicate with each other, using silent secured transmissions designed to coordinate attacks.

  In the field, they could communicate across the length of a small planet, but on the station, that ability had been intentionally hampered. The Humanoid Alliance didn’t want the cyborgs to talk while they weren’t fighting.

  Joan led Rage and Boyd across the docking bay. She ignored the snide comments of the other engineers and guards, the blank looks of the cyborgs, and concentrated on formulating a plan.

  If she neutralized the blocking mechanisms, it might help all of the cyborgs to escape, to follow Rage into freedom.

  The location of the mechanisms was a closely guarded secret. The average cybernetic engineer wasn’t informed of where they were situated. The average waste processing engineer thought the mechanisms placed in the support system tunnels cleaned the air.

  She’d realized what they truly did and had diverted herself during shit patrol by finding all of them.

  She had her gray flight suits, the uniform of a waste processing engineer. She doubted that her access to the tunnels had been removed. No one would ever think that a being with her higher status would reenter that smelly world.

  Crash and Gap, Rage’s friends, waited with their guards and engineers by their ship. She met Crash’s gaze and nodded. His unnaturally black eyes remained void of emotion, his blank expression not changing.

  She turned to her cyborg, took his wrists, pressed the release buttons, allowing him to depart the battle station for the last time, to board his ship, to leave her forever. “Be careful, sir.”

  She gazed up at him, showing him all of her emotions, not caring who else saw. They knew she was fucking her cyborg. What did it matter if they knew she had feelings for him also?

  Rage gave her the expected blank look, didn’t say anything more. She watched him as he stomped up the ramp, wishing she could say goodbye, that she could kiss him one more time, feel his arms around her.

  That wasn’t possible. It had to appear like a normal deployment, one of hundreds, nothing unusual. Joan hid her breaking heart under a fake smile, joined a group of engineers, and returned to the chambers she once shared with her cyborg.

  He wouldn’t be returning. She drifted around the space, touching pieces of broken armor she’d replaced, the horizontal support where he’d held her, his body warm against hers, the guns with triggers calibrated to his fingers only. His scent hung in the air. His nanocybotics bubbled inside her, repairing aging cells and other damage that came from simply living.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. It was a foolish reaction. She wiped the wetness away. She hadn’t cried since her family was killed in the agri lot attack. That had been a horrific moment, the grief overwhelming.

  This moment should be a happy one. The cyborg she cared for, might even love, was safe, free. He’d exist for many more human lifespans, find his version of peace, fighting battles, breeding with lucky females. She hugged her stomach, her pain intensifying.

  Pull it together, Joan, she chastised herself. You don’t have time to wallow in wishes or what-might-have-beens. Rage and his friends are counting on you.

  She’d deactivate the blocking mechanisms. That should be easy to do. A dagger through their circuits should render them inoperable.

  Then what?

  She chewed on her bottom lip. A distraction would divert focus from the cyborgs.

  She rummaged through the wall panels, searching for materials. There were odds and ends of mechanics, enough to create dozens of small bombs. After the attack on the agri lot, she’d learned the basics of quickly and efficiently defending a plot of terrain. A perimeter of bombs slowed even the most aggressive attackers.

  Where should she place them? She was already entering the service tunnels to deactivate the blocking mechanisms. They ran though every area of the battle station. She knew which tunnels led to where, could target exactly where she wanted to the bombs to be. She could time them to explode dur
ing the repositioning.

  That would make a stinky diversion. Joan grinned, her fingers flying over the mechanics. Commander Lewis would rue the planet rotation he assigned her to shit patrol. His perfect battle station was about to become a lot messier.

  Chapter Ten

  You’re happiest in battle.

  Rage slid along the war-scorched ground, shooting, a gun in each of his hands. That wasn’t true. He was happiest when he was with her.

  But battle was a close second. He rolled, blasting a Mantidae with a barrage of projectiles. The insect enemy’s head exploded, a satisfying mess of blood and shell.

  He didn’t know when he would next fight a foe face-to-face. Dogfights in space required skill but didn’t give him the same satisfaction. They didn’t siphon off his excess energy. He dodged a projectile and retaliated with three of his own.

  He should slow the battle, savor the experience.

  He couldn’t. The sadness in his female’s eyes when she told him to be careful flashed through his processors. She didn’t think he was returning. He should have told her the plan, should have reassured her.

  Rage downed the last Mantidae encroaching on his combined territories and trekked back to the ship, kicking up ash as he walked. He was angry. That wasn’t a new development. He was often angry, except this time, the target of his rage was himself.

  “You clear the areas faster with every deployment.” Crash didn’t look up from the energy converter he was modifying.

  Gap stripped a gun down to parts. “Did your female make more improvements?”

  “No.” Rage discarded his armor. “She sent this for you.” He ripped the memory chip off his chest and tossed it to Crash. “The third tracking device is positioned over the twelfth vertebrate. She recorded instructions on how to remove it.”

  “Do you trust her?” The cyborg turned the chip over in his fingers. “Or should I perform a scan on this first? That might destroy some of the data.”

  “I trust her.” Rage sat on a boulder. “Broadcast the information to me.”

  “And me too.” Gap never wanted to be excluded.

  If Rage thought the chip was infected, he’d protest, try to protect the kid, but he meant what he said. He trusted Joan, more than any being in their cursed universe. He picked up a weapon, planning to repair it.

  Crash slid the card into one of his neck slots. “I’m broadcasting.”

  A flood of images, narrated by his female’s voice, surged through Rage’s processors and his gun was forgotten, her words tearing at his heart.

  I care for your friend. Very much.

  His security is my first concern. If he dies, my sacrifices will be for nothing, my life meaningless.

  “Lucky bag of bolts,” Crash muttered.

  He was fortunate. Rage didn’t realize how much until this message. His female relayed a stream of information, positions of fleets, lists of Humanoid Alliance-controlled planets and sectors, possible modifications they could make to their mechanics, how to slow their energy consumption if that was needed. Some of the insights they knew. Some they didn’t.

  A smile spread wider and wider across Crash’s face, his upgrade-loving friend growing giddy on the data. Gap appeared as enraptured, cuddling against a gun barrel.

  Rage’s concerns, however, multiplied. He heard the sadness in his female’s voice, the desperation, the fear. Her words spilled out of her mouth faster and faster.

  Then they stopped. The images of ships and systems disappeared. Her beautiful face dominated the viewing area.

  “I’ll record my message for Rage now. Remember your vow, Crash. Only give this to him when he’s safe. I’m counting on—”

  The recording paused.

  “What the frag?” Rage turned his head and glared at his friend. “Did you do that or is the chip corrupted?”

  “Your female is trusting in me, is trusting in my honor as a cyborg and a warrior, to uphold my end of the bargain.” Crash’s jaw jutted.

  “I’m safe.” He wanted, no, he had to hear all of it.

  “That’s not what she meant.”

  Rage knew that. “That’s what she said.” His friend opened his mouth. “We’re warriors. She’s aware of that. Warriors don’t interpret orders or try to decipher their meaning. We follow them. She said to give me the message when I’m safe. Am I in danger?” He looked around them. The landscape was barren, devoid of other life. “No. I’m safe.”

  “I—”

  “Give. Me. The. Message.” Rage stood, prepared to beat the chip out of him.

  “Okay. Okay.” Crash waved his hands. “I’ll give you the message, big guy.”

  “You.” The recording played. Joan looked away from the screen for a moment, her mouth moving, no words coming from her lips. She then took a deep breath and gazed straight at him. “Rage, sir, when you receive this, you’ll be home, wherever your new home is, and I’ll be dead.”

  Dead. His Joan. He couldn’t process that thought, would do anything to prevent it.

  “Don’t be concerned about me, sir. I realized when I agreed to our pairing that I wouldn’t survive it.” She touched the screen and he reached out, wanting to feel her soft hands against his. Instead, he grasped ash-heavy air. “I don’t regret that decision. These past planet rotations have been the happiest of my lifespan. I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for any other being. It was an honor to serve you.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes misting with tears.

  That disturbed Rage more than her words. His female never cried.

  “I didn’t tell you the whole truth, sir, and I hope you will forgive me with time. I knew if you were told, you’d try to save the others first, and I couldn’t allow that. You’re my first priority.”

  “Joan,” he rumbled.

  “You’re not the only cyborg they plan to decommission. The Humanoid Alliance is replacing every unit on the battle station.” Her beautiful face hardened. “Every warrior who fought for us, who risked his life for ours, will be terminated. I can’t allow that, sir. A cyborg didn’t save me solar cycles ago so I could sit back and watch his brethren die. You, above all other beings, will understand why I must take action.”

  “Female, what are you planning to do?” Rage glared at her image, frustrated that she wasn’t here to answer him.

  “I’ll save as many of your friends as I can, sir.” Her normally sunny smile held a heartbreaking sadness. “I am and will always be your cunning, scheming female. Remember me that way and try to be happy. Oh.” Her brown eyes glittered. “And forgive Crash for giving this message to you now. I made him swear on his honor that he’d wait.”

  The image went black.

  “I have no honor.” Crash’s shoulders slumped. “Your female trusted me and I failed her.”

  “What did she mean—she’ll be dead?” Gap looked at Rage for an answer.

  “She’ll risk her life to save the other cyborgs.” How? He didn’t know. His female was too intelligent for his sanity.

  The kid frowned. “But we’re returning to help her.”

  “She doesn’t know that.” Rage paced back and forth, back and forth, wanting to punch, kick, kill something. “She thinks we’re escaping during this deployment.”

  Crash lifted his head. “You didn’t trust her with the entire plan?”

  “No.” It was a mistake that might have cost him his female’s life. “We have to return to the battle station.” She was in danger.

  “If we return now, we’ll be violating direct orders.” His friend was the voice of reason. “They’ll fire on us and our shields won’t hold at close range. We can’t save your female if we’re dead.”

  “If we do nothing, she’s dead also.”

  “Use those huge primitive processors of yours.” Crash rolled his eyes. “Your female is intelligent. Yes?”

  Rage grunted his agreement.

  “Her first priority, as she stated numerous times, is to ensure your safety.” His friend spoke slowly.
“Freeing the other cyborgs would bring attention to all of us. She wouldn’t do that, not while we’re on deployment. She’d wait until the last moment, until after we’re scheduled to arrive. Your female relayed to us how long it would take for command to send out reconnaissance probes. That’s when she’d take action.”

  Crash’s logic was sound. Some of the tension eased from Rage’s shoulders. “Ours will be the first ship to return.”

  “Are we taking the female hostage?” Rage didn’t like the way Gap’s humanlike eyes lit up.

  “I’m taking my female hostage.” He wanted there to be no misunderstandings as to whom she belonged to. No other cyborg, not even his friends, would touch her. “We’ll remove our tracking devices now, holding them in place with medical tape.” That part of his female’s plan was solid. “When we return to the station, we’ll wait until we reach our chambers to take action. Kill your handlers there, quietly. Wait for a tenth of a shift. The guards will have discarded their weapons by then, making them easier to kill. That’s when we’ll leave our chambers.”

  “And then?” Gap leaned forward.

  “Everyone, except for my female, dies.” The battle station would be blown up, the blame cast on the Mantidae. They couldn’t risk any being following them. Their ships were designed for short trips, not journeys across vast galaxies.

  “I’ll relay those instructions to the other cyborgs.” Crash tapped the memory chip in his neck. “They’d benefit from the information your female shared also.”

  Rage hesitated for a moment, part of him wishing to keep everything associated with Joan to himself. But Crash was correct and his little engineer would wish every cyborg to have the knowledge she gave them. “Share the contents of the chip with them.”

  Crash’s eyebrows lifted. “Not all of it.”

  “All of it.” They should know what their fate might have been, that they were slotted for decommissioning and that one small human female sought to stop that, to save them.

  “But—”

  “They’re risking everything to follow us, Crash. They deserve to know why.”

  His friend gazed at him for one, two, three triple heartbeats. “True.” He lurched to his feet. “I’ll transmit the information.” He strode purposefully around the ship, looking for the ideal spot.