by Cynthia Sax
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “You won’t die, my female. I’ll keep you safe.”
“And I’ll keep my Nymphia safe,” Gap unabashedly intruded on their private moment. The kid had no discretion. “I’ll rescue her, impressing my female with my speed, my stealth, my killing skills.” He preened. “She sent another signal at sunrise, allowing me to locate her. I know exactly where she is.”
Judging by the heat bursts around that signal, his Safyre’s friend was caught in the middle of several battles. It wouldn’t be an easy rescue.
But she remained alive and they were cyborgs. They were faster, stronger, better trained than the humans and humanoids battling on the surface.
They’d retrieve Nymphia and Safyre would reward him with more caring, more passion. She might even grow to love him.
“Are you wearing my Nymphia’s scarf?” Gap’s humanlike eyes lit with interest.
“I always wear it.” Safyre rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm.
The young cyborg lowered his head and inhaled deeply. A silly smile crossed his face. “Her scent fills me with a joy I’ve never known. I experience a warmth here.” He touched his chest, above his heart.
Safyre blinked once, twice, slowly, her dark lashes fluttering. “That’s how I feel when…” She glanced at Crash.
Did she feel that way when she was with him? Crash stood taller.
“You should always feel that way.” She unwrapped the scarf. “Bare your right forearm.”
Gap discarded a piece of his armor.
She wound the fabric around his arm. “When Nymphia sees this scarf, she’ll know that I trust you, that you’re special to me. She’ll trust you.”
“She’ll love me.” Gap’s happiness was almost painful to witness. If the female weren’t his, it would damage him emotionally.
“I can’t promise you that she’ll love you.” Safyre tied the scarf. “But think about it. If she doesn’t love you, there’s a female in the universe whom you’ll love even more.”
“There’s no such female.” Gap stroked the red fabric. “I will never care for another being as much as I care for my Nymphia. She’s mine and I’m hers.”
“I hope you are hers,” Safyre murmured.
“I am hers.” There was no doubt in the young cyborg’s voice. “I’ll take good care of my Nymphia’s scarf, Crash’s female. You won’t regret giving this gift to me.” He strode away, swagger in his steps, a big smile on his face.
She gazed after him. “I regret not giving it to him sooner.” She glanced at Crash. “I suspect he’ll be the first to see her. When she sees the scarf, she’ll know he’s a friend. He won’t frighten her. And she’ll know I’m coming for her.”
“Is that why you gave it to him?” Crash pulled her against his armor-clad chest.
“No.” Her smile was rueful. “I care for the kid. I want him to be happy.”
“You care for him.” Crash rubbed her back. “But you care for me more.” He hoped.
“You’re an arrogant male.” She laughed, the sound falling like stars around him. “But yeah, I care for you more. I showed you how much I cared during our rest cycle. Several times.”
“You’ll show me again after this mission is complete.” Crash grinned, scooping her into his arms.
“Put me down.” She kicked her legs. “The warriors are preparing to depart.”
The doors had been closed. The engines roared.
He backed up, carrying his curvaceous female. His grip was loose. Safyre could escape him at any time. She made no attempt to do so.
She liked being in his arms.
His former ship departed with no incidents and he felt a frame-deep satisfaction. Twenty-six cyborgs would never again submit to the humans.
Until they met their females. Crash glanced at his Safyre’s beautiful face. He happily submitted to his little human.
Voices carried over the transmission lines. Crash groaned. His female was about to, as she often told him, lose her shit.
The ship lifted, glided forward and then tilted heavily to the right, the tip of the wing almost grazing the floor.
“What they doing? Who the fuck is flying my ship?” His Safyre jumped out of his arms. He caught her and drew her back to him. “Let me go.” She struggled. “They’ll crash it into the side of the docking bay. They don’t know what they’re doing.”
The cyborgs around them howled with laughter, doubling up with mirth.
“They’re teasing you, my female.” He smacked his lips against her neck. Blood pulsed through her veins. His guilt compounded. Their foolish stunt had scared her.
“What?” Her voice was sharp.
“The most skilled cyborgs are at the helm of your ship.” He wouldn’t trust any other being with her home. “They won’t crash it.”
“They’re teasing me? Teasing me about destroying my home?” she yelled.
The laughter around them stopped.
“I’m going to beat you into the next solar system.” She slapped his armor-clad chest with both of her small hands. “That wasn’t funny.”
“It was really funny,” Death contributed.
Safyre stopped struggling, turned her head and stared at the cyborg. “Don’t lie to me, Death. You don’t find anything funny. You’re grim as fuck.”
Warriors chuckled. Crash grinned. The cyborg was grim as fuck.
“Cyborgs never lie.” Death’s lips curled upward. “I’ve never seen anything like your reaction. You looked like this.” He rounded his eyes and dropped his jaw.
A laugh escaped her. Then another and another. Her mirth spread to Crash, to Death, to all of the cyborgs around them, until the docking bay rocked with joy.
Safyre had done that, Crash realized. She’d created happiness where there’d been only resignation, killing, death.
He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her.
Chapter Eleven
Many moments later, Safyre sat in the captain’s chair, her worry concealed under a blank expression. She had sole responsibility for this part of the plan. If she failed, every being on board the freighter, including Crash, would die.
Fuck.
“I’ll wait in one of the holding chambers until they complete the lifeform scan.” Her cyborg bent over and brushed his lips against hers, his embrace frustratingly brief. “Then I’ll return to you.”
“Return quickly.” Safyre wished to be with him if anything went wrong. No being should die alone.
“I’ll return quickly.” He straightened. “You can do this, my Safyre.”
“I hope so.” She met his gaze. “And I’m more than your Safyre. I’m your female.” She wanted him to know that.
“You’re my female.” Her normally serious cyborg smiled and she sucked in her breath. He was so damn handsome. “Roll up your right sleeve.”
She obeyed him, baring her arm.
“You can communicate with me through our private transmission line.” He wrapped a black leather strap loosely around her forearm. “This will remind you that I’m with you and that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” She skimmed her fingers over the binding.
“Be fierce.” He kissed her forehead and then he was gone, moving at cyborg speed.
She was alone. Safyre pulled on her sleeve, concealing the strap with a layer of fabric, and she gazed at the main viewscreen. Tau Ceti was barely detectable, a small dot in the blackness.
“The Humanoid Alliance Base, Tau Ceti location, requests hailing frequencies be opened, Captain Safyre,” the freighter’s system relayed.
It was time. She gripped the armrests of her chair. “Open hailing frequencies.”
The image of a brown-haired male youth in a Humanoid Alliance uniform was projected on the main viewscreen. “This is Communications Officer Weston. You are entering Humanoid Alliance controlled space. Identify yourself and state your purpose.”
“This is Captain Safyre with delivery K1P2YY2, authorization code 15867294,”
she recited, reading the information from the system.
“Authorization code verified, Captain Safyre. According to our records, your contents are—” The youth’s face paled. “Classified. Cease your approach while I contact my superiors.”
The image on the main viewscreen froze, the volume muted.
The authorization code checked out, Safyre transmitted to Crash.
You’re doing well, my female.
He had been listening to her conversation. She wasn’t truly alone. Safyre drifted her fingers over her sleeve.
“Captain Safyre.” A gray haired, wrinkled male had replaced the youth. The older male’s uniform was weighted down with metals. “Commander Alakai speaking. I was expecting Captain Kray.”
“But lucky you, you got me instead.” Her tone was dry. “I guess the Humanoid Alliance wanted to send the best to Tau Ceti.”
He tapped on the console before him. “Your history is impressive…for a female.”
“For any being.” You sexist ass. “I haven’t lost a package yet.”
A lifeform scan is being completed, Captain Safyre, the system’s robotic voice communicated.
She tensed, waiting, waiting, waiting.
The Commander’s bushy eyebrows lowered. “No other humanoids were detected on board your ship.”
“No other humanoids are necessary. I work alone.” That information would be in her file. She never risked another being’s life on deliveries.
“I expected one thousand units. I detect nine hundred and fifty. You’re fifty units short.”
“Mark that on your acceptance form and take it up with Central.” She shrugged. The Humanoid Alliance was fighting multiple wars. Short shipments were common. “I deliver the units. I don’t pack them.”
The holding chambers would have been sealed by the Central packer.
“You’re not delivering nutrition bars.” The Commander’s face turned red. “I need those units.”
“You have two choices, Commander.” Her voice was level. “You can accept the nine hundred and fifty units and indicate the short shipment on the acceptance form or you can refuse delivery. I have to return this freighter to Central. It doesn’t matter to me if it is full or empty.”
“You know I have to accept the delivery.” The male glared at her.
She gazed back, not at all intimidated.
“You’re authorized to land.” He ended their communications.
“Thank you, Commander.” Tau Ceti once again appeared on the main viewscreen.
“You did well, my female.” Crash sat beside her. Gap and Death claimed their respective seats on the bridge. “Gap, scramble all visuals.” If the Commander hailed them, he wouldn’t be able to see the cyborgs. “Death, block lifeform scanning abilities.”
“I’m bringing her in.” Safyre guided the freighter manually. For landing and takeoffs, especially in a war zone, she preferred to be at the controls. There were too many variables for a machine to incorporate.
She glanced at Crash. She suspected that was why partially human cyborgs, not fully mechanized androids, made the best warriors. There were too many variables in battle also.
As they neared the planet, the extent of the fighting became clear. Pockets of explosions burst over the terrain, able to be seen from space.
Nymphia, her friend, was in the midst of that chaos, surrounded by bombs and guns and other weapons, wedged between the Humanoid Alliance and the rebels, two factions determined to eradicate the other.
Ships parted, creating a space for her to guide the freighter through. “Getting off the planet will be challenging,” she observed.
“We have a plan for that.” Crash pulled straps over her shoulders and buckled her into her seat, his assistance allowing her to maintain visuals.
A projectile shot toward them. The freighter’s systems flashed a warning. “Warning: Incoming Missile. Warning: Incoming Missile.”
“Female,” Crash growled.
“I know. I know.” She steered the vessel to the right.
The missile passed them. The ship behind them exploded. Their freighter rocked. A personal viewscreen skidded across the console.
“Shit. That was close.” Safyre continued their descent. “We might not have to simulate a direct hit.” Another missile whizzed by them. The warning repeated. “The rebels could actually win this war.” They had help. The Humanoid Alliance had accumulated quite a few enemies.
“They won’t win.” Crash assisted her with stabilizing the vessel. “Once the Humanoid Alliance realizes the cyborg reinforcements aren’t arriving, they’ll blow up the planet.”
Destroying everyone and everything on it.
Warning the rebels wasn’t possible. All they could do was save the newly manufactured cyborgs and Nymphia. Another missile shot by, coming damn close to the freighter. Sweat dripped down Safyre’s spine.
“Simulate the—”
The freighter jerked to the left. “Oomph.” Safyre was thrown against her seat’s harness. The vessel spun. Lights flashed red.
“We’ve been hit,” Gap stated the obvious.
“Death, coordinate defenses,” Crash ordered. “Target any weapons within range.”
“I’m supposed to be flying this thing solo.” Safyre gritted her teeth as she pulled the freighter out of the spin. “I can’t shoot targets and steer a damaged ship at the same time.”
“They’re allowing enemy missiles to leave the surface.” Crash sealed the breached area. “They’re losing valuable ships. Their ground defenses are in chaos. No one is tracking one freighter.”
“Shit.” She yanked the controls right. Another missile zoomed above them. The freighter plunged. “We’re going down.”
“Pull left. You’re off course,” Gap pointed out.
What part of ‘we’re going down’ didn’t he understand? She jutted her jaw and tried to correct the trajectory, the muscles in her arms and shoulders straining. Rivulets of moisture dripped down her cheeks.
“I’m with you, my female.” Crash’s voice was calm.
He wasn’t worried. She shouldn’t worry either.
Safyre pulled the nose of the ship upward and reduced the velocity. Whoever was manning the guns knew what they were doing. Projectiles bombarded the ground around them. The missiles stopped, the rebels around them annihilated.
“Brace yourselves,” she warned.
The freighter touched down, bounced, touched down, bounced, throwing her against the harness, back into the seat, against the harness, back into the seat. The ship then glided, the metal below them whining, parts being ground into the surface.
The brakes finally engaged and they stopped suddenly. Anything not locked down flew forward. Crash lunged toward her. His body slammed against hers and he grunted.
“Fuck.” She panted, her entire form aching. “Status.”
“Repairs are needed but the ship should be flyable.” Gap’s voice lilted with humor. “Did you take flying lessons from Rage?”
“Fuck you.” She wouldn’t allow him to mock her. “We were surrounded by enemy fire.” They were lucky to land at all. “And I positioned the ship between the two sites, didn’t I?”
“We’re too close to the cyborg manufacturing facility.” The warrior wouldn’t accept anything less than a perfect landing.
“Then the newly manufactured cyborgs will be loaded quicker.” It would take them longer to rescue Nymphia, however. “Is everyone okay?”
“Every cyborg is accounted for,” Death confirmed.
“Send the defense team out to secure the premises.” Crash’s voice was soft. “The rebels saw us go down. They’ll arrive to finish us off.”
“They’ll try.” Death’s eyes gleamed.
Her cyborg didn’t move, his chest pressed against her left side. She glanced at him. His jaw was clenched, lines bracketing his lips.
Something was wrong. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing serious.” He pushed himself upright. “Gap, wha
t did I say about securing your weapons?”
“Fraggin’ hole.” The younger cyborg stood. “I’ll pull it out.”
“Pull what out?” she demanded.
No one answered.
“Crash, what is he pulling out?” She had to know.
“This.” Her cyborg turned. A blade stuck out of his neck, lodged in the skin directly above his body armor. Blood dripped down the black material.
“Nothing serious?” She jumped to her feet. “You have a dagger in your neck. That’s not nothing serious, warrior. Why isn’t your neck covered with armor?”
“Neck armor would restrict our ability to scan our surroundings.” He turned his head to the left and grimaced. “It’s a small weakness.”
“It’s a big enough weakness to fuckin’ hurt you.” She touched the hilt of the dagger. “You need a medic.” If only Tifara was here. She’d ease his agony. “Gap, retrieve medical tape, a cleaning cloth and some pain inhibitors.”
The young warrior rushed away from them.
“I’m a cyborg.” Crash leaned forward, gripping the console. “I don’t need pain inhibitors.”
“You need them.” She glowered at him, covering her fear with anger. “Don’t give me any of that ‘I’m a cyborg’ shit.”
She had to help him, had to do something now to make him feel better. His nanocybotics bubbled inside her. When she was hurt, he’d kissed her, relaying them to her and she’d healed.
She curled her fingers over his shoulders, drew his face lower, and covered his lips with hers. He hesitated for a moment and then opened to her. She plunged inside him. Their tongues entwined, twisting like the ship had in free fall. Her heart pounded. Her palms moistened, the experience as exciting as the crash they’d survived.
More nanocybotics flooded her mouth. He was transferring them to her. She wasn’t transferring them to him.
Crash required his nanocybotics for healing. She reluctantly drew away from him. “I was trying to make you feel better. It didn’t work.”
“It worked.” His lips lifted. “I feel much better.”
“You can’t feel much better. You remain injured.” She stroked the back of his head, unable to stop touching him. The lights overhead shone on his black hair, the strands short and decadently soft. “Your reflexes are faster than any human’s. Couldn’t you have avoided the dagger?”