Mated with the Cyborg

by Cara Bristol

The door swooshed open.

  R981 strolled in.

  She gaped. “What are you—How—” she sputtered when she could find words at all. “How did you get on board? Where is Q257?”

  “That’s the android that was here?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s been deactivated.”

  “What?”

  “He’s not traveling with us,” R981 said, and she realized his speech pattern had changed. He used contractions in his wording. Her gaze flew to his face, and her heart skipped a beat.

  His eyes! They were…blue.

  “You’re not R981!” She dashed behind one of the chairs to put a barrier between her and, and…whatever he was. Infiltrator? Another android, maybe? She’d never seen one with blue eyes. Could he be another of her father’s spies? A guard perhaps? She’d never seen a Lamis-Odg—or anyone—with blue eyes before. “Did my father send you?”

  He didn’t answer but reached up and dug his fingernails into the fleshy fold along his hairline. Her jaw dropped to the floor as he peeled the Odgidian ridge from his forehead and temples to reveal a smooth complexion.

  “Who are you?” What was he?

  “My name is Kai Andros.”

  “Y-you’re not an android.”

  “No…” He paused. “I’m Terran.”

  “An alien.” Lamis-Odg sometimes associated with other species. She’d seen a few of them around, most often the blue-skinned Malodonians. Never a Terran. Strangely, he appeared more handsome without the fold of cartilage. Dangerous.

  She wet her lips. “What do you want with me?”

  “I have something to show you.”

  “What?”

  “Come see.” He moved to a screen and beckoned with a curl of his fingers.

  Mariska hesitated to abandon her position, but, in reality, furniture offered scant protection. If R981—no, Kai—intend to do her harm, a barrier of a chair wouldn’t stop him. Swallowing back her fear, she crept forward.

  “I downloaded some vid footage to the computer.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he growled, his voice laden with such regret, her heart almost leaped out of her chest cavity. What could be so awful? He jabbed at the button on the console.

  The screen flickered and then produced an image.

  She recoiled in horror.

  Chapter Six

  The Ka-Tȇ were vicious predators. Mating was a battle, and the only thing that saved the Ka-Tȇ female was her own savagery.

  On the vidmonitor, a female Ka-Tȇ padded through the jungle. Her body was gray and hairless, except for random tufts of dark fur. Two saber-like fangs stuck out of a mouth, filled with sharp teeth evolved for slashing. She retracted her claws, but the sharp tips protruded from the sheaths. The pupils of her eyes narrowed to vertical slits, she darted her gaze from side to side.

  Her pointed ears and nose twitched

  Two Ka-Tȇ males leaped from the brush.

  She screamed with an animalistic howl as the males tackled her, swiping at her with their claws. Red ran from gashes across her back and legs. Fangs gnashed, and she slashed back, drawing blood and retaliation.

  “Turn it off,” Mariska cried, covering her eyes.

  He yanked her arm down. “No, you have to see this.”

  “I won’t!” She squeezed her lids shut.

  “Open your fucking eyes!” Kai shook her.

  Mariska tossed her head. “Why are you doing this? Stop it!”

  “Watch the damn vidscreen!” He hated forcing the Ka-Tȇ porn vid on her, wished what she saw was simulated. Unfortunately, all of it was real.

  While one male restrained the bucking, howling female, the other mounted her and plunged his barbed erection into her. She shrieked. With every outward draw, his penis dripped blood as the snare tore at her flesh. It was over quick, his face twisting into a grotesque grimace as he ejaculated.

  Then the other male claimed a turn.

  The screen flickered. Mariska twisted, but Kai couldn’t release her yet. The next clip was the most important.

  A faria, with gossamer wings and silver hair, crept out of an open cage and glanced around fearfully. A crouched Ka-Tȇ stepped from the shadows. The faria screamed and ran. The creature pounced. With a swipe of his razor claws, he took off one of her wings. Blood spouted like a fountain.

  Bile rose in his throat, but Kai forced it back. It nauseated him to watch, sickened him more that Mariska had to, but there was no other way to convince her.

  “Let me go!” She dug at him, but her short, rounded fingernails were no weapon against a cyborg, and would be less effective against one of the creatures on the screen.

  Kai stopped the vid as the male prepared to mount the wounded, bleeding faria.

  Tears streamed down Mariska’s face. “Why are you doing this to me? What kind of a sick pervert are you?”

  “The kind who’s trying save your life! Those creatures are Ka-Tȇ! Don’t you understand? You’re going to end up like that faria.”

  Her face contorted in horror, and she twisted to free herself. He allowed her to go, and she backed away, rubbing her arms. “You’re lying!”

  “The female Ka-Tȇ on the screen? She survived. The faria?” Kai shook his head. “After raping her and causing a massive hemorrhage, the Ka-Tȇ disemboweled her with his claws while she was still alive. The scent of blood acts as an aphrodisiac and incites their lust and viciousness.” Females were no less violent; they didn’t rape their victims, but they did torture them to death for sport. He jabbed a finger at the image. “That’s what your father intends for you.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Mariska ran from the lounge.

  “That went as well as expected.” Kai muttered and stomped to the bridge. Perhaps, once she processed the information, she would accept the facts. He could imagine the betrayal she would feel when she did. How could a father do that to his offspring?

  I almost allowed it. Some things took precedence over duty.

  He flung himself into the pilot’s chair and checked Mariska’s whereabouts on the vidmonitor. She was curled up on a berth, sobbing her eyes out. He switched off the screen, unable to watch her distress.

  Kai rubbed his nape. Once they left Obido’s territory and entered the intergalactic zone, he would change their itinerary to…someplace else. Where could they seek refuge that Lamis-Odg couldn’t go? Terra, of course. But he’d play hell getting her though immigration. All Lamis-Odg citizens were on the do-not-admit list.

  Xenia, where the terrorists had almost established a military base, wouldn’t welcome Lamis-Odg back. The emperor might be sympathetic to her plight and offer asylum, but the pacifist nation would be outgunned if attacked.

  Which reminded him…he swiveled around to check the status of the shields. Holding strong. He ran a diagnostic, searching for a signature to indicate the ship contained a tracking device, but nothing popped up. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one—only that its programming enabled it to slip by a scan. He’d bet all the credits in his account the ship could be traced and would be.

  At some point, they’d be out of range, but they could encounter warships on reconnaissance. As insurance, he switched power from ancillary operations to the engines and shields. They needed a craft that could haul ass and take a hit without being crippled or exploding.

  Threat heightened excitement. Hadn’t he joined Cy-Ops for the challenge? To prove to himself he still had the right stuff?

  It was time to strut his stuff.

  He’d been the sole survivor of a Terran military shuttle crash. The government had deemed him disabled and mothballed him. He’d been limping along with a prosthetic leg and an effing cane when Cy-Ops approached him with an offer he couldn’t refuse. After their docs had rebuilt him with some biomimetic parts and a handy little chip in his brain, he’d enlisted in the covert paramilitary force faster than he could say, “Where do I sign?”

  That h
ad been a decade ago. Professionally, he lived his dream. Personally? Not so much. Under deep cover for many assignments, he was incommunicado for long periods, venturing into some of the most dangerous parts of the galaxy where there was a chance he wouldn’t come home at all. His fellow cyborgs were like brothers, but it was no coincidence that most cyberoperatives had few other familial ties. The job didn’t foster or nurture close, intimate relationships. As the saying went, if Cy-Ops had wanted you to have a spouse, Carter would have issued you one. Still, he hadn’t regretted his decision.

  He leaned back in the pilot’s seat.

  A shrill blast split the cockpit. The attack detection gauge flashed red.

  Kai accessed the detail screen. According to the heat signature, a missile headed their way. Origination: the space station.

  His fingers flew over the keyboard. “Computer, report!” he snapped.

  “Impact in forty-nine seconds.”

  “What is the missile type?”

  “X49Z base-to-craft.”

  Employing an X49Z against a ship this size was like using a battering ram to swat a gnat. Obido intended to insure they were dead with a capital D.

  He braced for impact and hoped like hell the shields held out.

  Chapter Seven

  Mariska could not erase the horrific images from her mind. They played over and over, every slash, every gash, each shriek. Blood. So much blood.

  That can’t be the Ka-Tȇ . It can’t! She had only the Terran’s word those things were Ka-Tȇ. They could be any species. Whatever they were, they’d ripped the wings off that poor little creature. She’d seen what the penile barb had done to their own female. She’d bled from her womanhood after they’d penetrated her. The winged female had suffered the same, according to Kai, and she’d not survived.

  Lamis-Odg mating could be rough, but the females weren’t killed.

  Among her father’s household, she ranked low in status, but she was his daughter, his flesh and DNA. He wouldn’t send her off to be torn apart by monsters—only another monster would do that.

  Father put Mother to death. Kept me in isolation.

  He had to. I am an abomination. He could have put me to death, too, but he was merciful.

  He showed no mercy. He feared the Great One’s wrath. He is getting a heathen to do it, a Ka-Tȇ .

  Kai lies!

  What does he stand to gain?

  Who knows? He is an alien.

  He tried to dissuade me from going to Katnia right after Father announced it. And again before I departed. He broke the spy device so Father couldn’t overhear.

  Clumsiness.

  Or did he stage it to look like an accident? He hadn’t demonstrated any clumsiness before. Perhaps he knew C684 had been deactivated and dismantled after he’d removed the devices?

  It does not matter. He can’t be trusted.

  I was never punished when R981 served me. He never reported my infractions to Father. He carried my bags, helped me up when I stumbled. He talked to me. Kai has shown me more small kindnesses than anyone.

  It is his plot to gain my trust.

  And save me from death?

  Mariska sat up and dragged her wrist across her eyes. Her head ached from crying and arguing with herself. Faith insisted Kai was a liar. Facts suggested otherwise.

  With a boom, the shuttle lurched and shuddered as if the Great One had reached out and smacked the ship with the palm of His hand. The jolt flung her off the berth and slammed her onto the floor. Her head smacked against the hard frame of the adjacent bed.

  The cabin went dark, and a shrilling alarm pierced her ears.

  “Help!” she cried, flailing around until she found her berth and pulled herself up.

  The lights flickered on. Both her heavy bags had been tossed to the floor. Had the ship hit something? Was it disabled? Its engines continued to hum. She cocked her head. Was that a higher pitch? A greater vibration? Were they moving faster now?

  The door burst open. The man who’d caused her so much consternation stood there, unable to enter because her bags blocked the passage. “Are you all right?” He scanned her face.

  “Y-yes.” Her voice shook. “What happened?”

  He tossed her bags onto the vacant berth like they weighed no more than feathers. His bulk filled the tiny cabin, but rather than feeling threatened, she felt reassured by his presence. But not by his words. “We sustained a missile hit.”

  Mariska pressed a hand to her mouth. “Is the ship still operable?”

  “The shields protected us, but I doubt we can take another strike of that magnitude.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I came to check that you were all right, but I have to monitor the situation from the bridge.” He turned to leave.

  “My father did it, didn’t he?” she said to his back.

  His shoulders raised and lowered as he took a breath. “Yes. The computer identified the missile as Lamis-Odg and the space station as the origin.”

  Everything he had said was true. Every horrifying bit of it.

  The truth chipped through the hard crust of blind obedience, releasing suppressed anger. She lifted her chin. “I do not wish to go to Katnia.”

  “I never intended to take you there,” he said.

  “Can I accompany you to the bridge?”

  Kai held out his hand.

  She gawked, feeling the gesture as palpably as if she’d already placed her hand in his. Accord. Friendship. A journey shared. To accept would mean leaving behind everything familiar. Mariska tucked her hand into the broad expanse of his. He closed his fingers. Protection. And something else she trembled to name. Warmth tingled from hand to arm into her chest and fluttering stomach.

  “Ready to scoot?”

  “Scoot?”

  “Light a fire.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “Not the way I do it.” He laughed, a rich, warm rumble, and kissed her knuckles, sending another electrical surge racing through her body. Tugging on her hand, he drew her from the cabin, and they hurried for the bridge.

  * * * *

  Obido eyed Vison. “I assume you have good news.”

  “The missile information system transmitted a ping verifying we scored a direct hit.”

  “Excellent.”

  The officer hesitated. “We cannot confirm the kill. We are no longer picking up the shuttle signal from its tracking device, which could mean the craft has been destroyed or merely that it’s out of range. It’s unlikely, but possible, the android activated the shields.

  Obido’s Odgidian ridge pulsed. “Dispatch a fighter to verify. Notify all vessels to destroy the shuttle on sight.”

  “What if it’s in intergalactic territory?”

  “We do not adhere to the Association of Planets’ nonaggression pact. Besides”—Obido twisted his mouth—“I doubt the AOP will care if we destroy one of our own ships.” He waved his hand. “You’re dismissed.”

  Vison saluted but did not leave.

  Obido raised his eyebrows. “Is there something else?”

  “Before we lost tracking, the shuttle had altered its course away from Katnia. To a barren moon of an uninhabited planet in sector three.”

  Obido clenched his fists and strove for calm. How long had Mariska planned this? If she was outside his territory, she was no longer his problem, no longer a blemish. He could report her death, and no one would question it. However, he could not allow mutiny to go unpunished.

  He might not have predicted her disobedience, but he did know one thing: she did not have the know-how to execute an escape. She knew nothing of other planets or how to alter computer coordinates. Clearly R981 had assisted her.

  All robots were programmed to customer specification before delivery. R981 was supposed to have been a standard issue household service droid, augmented by a few spy apps.

  How had Mariska gotten it to obey her commands? What glitch in programming had permitted such an
improbability to occur? Everything had been proceeding according to strategy until R981 had been shipped to them…no. Obido frowned, remembering. Before that. C684, who was supposed to keep her under surveillance, instead had destroyed the spy devices in her quarters. At the time, he’d dismissed the incident as a simple malfunction. Some bots were buggier than others.

  What were the odds that two androids assigned to his daughter would malfunction? “Contact the manufacturer of C684 and R981. Have them transmit the specs for all the bots we ordered from them in the last 90 days.”

  “Immediately, General.”

  “Oh…notify the Ka-Tȇ there will be a slight delay in the shipment, and then pick two non-producing females as compensation and send them to Katnia.” He leaned back in his chair and waved his hand. “Dismissed.”

  Chapter Eight

  “We’re landing on that? There’s nothing there. It’s a large rock.” Mariska gaped at the inhospitable and barren Deceptio displayed on the viewer.

  He stifled a grin. “Wait.” He opened a secure wireless frequency and hailed the lunar satellite. Alfa Zulu Papa nine nine. Request permission to dock.

  Yankee Zulu four six? came the request for verification of identity.

  India Golf seven one one.

  Permission to land granted. Set coordinates to five zero by nine six. Kai, you ugly bastard, I haven’t seen you in a while. I suppose you need a favor.

  Big time. Nah. You’re gonna owe me. I’ve got a gift for you. Kai tapped in the coordinates.

  Why am I doubtful?

  Because you’re a dumb fuck.

  Laughter. I must be, if I’m willing to help you out. See you soon.

  The shuttle adjusted its trajectory and descended toward the moon’s surface. Deceptio’s atmosphere shimmered like a desert mirage then cleared to reveal a landing strip.

  “A runway!” Mariska exclaimed. “It wasn’t there a moment ago.”

  “It was there,” he said. “But it was invisible until the control center switched off the cloaking shield.” The computer aligned the craft for touchdown.