by Cynthia Sax
“This grown female will capture your ass.” Her merriment escalated, laugh lines feathering the skin by her eyes.
“My ass wishes to be captured.” Mayhem patted that body part. “Is your ship secure?” He donned his body armor, the only garment he’d ever owned.
“Secure?” She smoothed her hair. The tendrils fell like a sheet of black fabric down her back, straight and long and shiny.
“Has the Humanoid Alliance fitted your ship with surveillance devices?” The humans were usually careless with monitoring, allowing cyborgs to speak on private transmission lines, thinking his brethren would never act on their own commands, but he wanted to ensure his conversations with his female weren’t overheard.
“They wouldn’t dare to fit it with surveillance devices.” She scowled, clearly insulted by that suggestion. “I’d detect them. I scan my ship after every target transfer.”
His female might work for the Humanoid Alliance but she didn’t trust them. That pleased him. “Then we’ll plan our next steps there.” Mayhem preferred that Kralj, her thought-reading mentor, didn’t overhear their discussion.
He removed the restraints from his wrist armor and handed them to Imee.
She pulled on the restraints, testing them, her thoroughness impressing him. “The next steps are set. I deliver you to the retrieval battle station.”
“You might deliver me there or you might not.” He held his wrists in front of him.
“I will deliver you.” Imee looked at his hands. “Binding your wrists behind your back would be more secure.”
It would be more secure for a human but Mayhem was a cyborg. He could break the bonds in either position. “Binding my wrists in front of me is more comfortable.”
She huffed unhappily as she bound him.
He flexed, putting slight pressure on the restraints. They held. Barely.
Imee eyed his body armor. “I should disarm you.”
“You won’t.” No being, not even his female, was taking his weapons away from him. Mayhem strolled forward, out of the chamber, along the corridor.
She grumbled, following him.
They passed rebels. The beings stared at him, the realization that they could have been Imee’s target reflecting in their eyes.
Mayhem lifted his chin. They would tell tales about his female for solar cycles. She’d be a legend, a being others aspired to become.
And she was his. Forever.
He exited the structure, his vision system adjusting to the brightness. Imee stopped, hampered by her human senses.
“Hold on to me, my female.” Pausing outside the structure was dangerous. Throngs of beings gathered, trading goods or, in the case of one uninhibited female, sharing breeding services. All of those beings were armed. Even the near-naked female had a dagger strapped to one of her spread thighs.
“You’re my target. I’m in charge.” Having offered this token protest, his female did as he commanded, curling her small fingers around his arms. A being watching them would think she was adding another level of restraint.
He walked at her pace, scanning the area around them. The crowd parted. Gazes followed their progress. The chattering and commotion stopped, the animosity toward his female palpable.
She was fierce. Mayhem swaggered, his pride compounding with each step.
The gates to the settlement opened. The huge green warrior who had greeted them remained at his post. He nodded to them as they passed.
Menace. Mayhem reached out to his friend through their private transmission line.
Finally, you contact me. The cyborg sounded exasperated. Your buddy Kralj sent me Death’s coordinates at sunrise. His ship landed halfway around the planet.
His friend wouldn’t be alone. One concern Mayhem had slipped from his shoulders. Find them. Protect them. I’ll meet you there. Once he freed his female’s family from the Humanoid Alliance’s clutches.
Meet me there?
I’ve been captured by my human female, he boasted, feeling like the most fortunate warrior in the galaxy.
You’ve been captured by a female? Menace laughed.
Mayhem glanced behind him. His female’s beautiful face was dark. Her forehead was creased with worry lines. I wanted to be captured. He never wanted her to release him.
Is that what you’re telling yourself? His friend found the situation amusing. Wait until I tell Death. You, a J model cyborg, were bested by a human female.
Go ahead. Tell him. Mayhem was unconcerned. He’d found his female; many males, including Menace, hadn’t. He’d even have one last glorious adventure, a mission that would likely increase his kill rate.
“My ship is this way.” Imee smacked his right biceps.
“Our ship,” he corrected.
“My ship.” She stubbornly denied their link. “This is your last opportunity to escape. Kralj doesn’t leave the Refuge. He won’t hunt you outside its walls.”
“I’m not afraid of Kralj and I’m also not escaping.”
“You’ll die,” she murmured, her voice as light as the hot arid breeze. “And I’ll be the cause of your death.”
He turned, saw the anguish in her eyes and his heart twisted. “I won’t die, my female.” Mayhem secured her within the circle of his bound hands and pulled her into him. “You might be the best Retriever in the galaxy but I’m the best warrior.” He ignored Menace’s gibes. “You have to trust me.”
“I want to.” She rested his forehead on his chest. “But…”
But she’d been betrayed too many times. He brushed his chin over the top of her head, seeking to comfort her. The white sand swirled around their booted feet. The sun’s rays heated his shoulders. “We’ll survive this.”
“I will survive.” His female straightened. “I have to.” She ducked underneath his arms. “My family depends on me.”
She stomped in the direction of her ship, kicking up sand with each step.
Leaving him, her target, on his own.
His lips lifted. She trusted him. She might never admit it but she did.
Mayhem trailed her, admiring the defiant set of her shoulders, the sway of her ass as she walked.
He wouldn’t betray her trust.
Chapter Eight
He wouldn’t die. She should trust him.
What kind of bovine shit thinking was that?
He was being delivered, bound, to the Humanoid Alliance. Those cruel bastards thrived on ending lives, on inflicting pain. Of course, Mayhem would be killed and she’d be responsible. She’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of her lifespan.
Because he refused to escape.
She’d given him a chance to run, accepting that it would end her agreement with Kralj, that it meant she could never hunt within the Refuge again. A Retriever who couldn’t be depended upon to retrieve was useless to her mentor.
Did Mayhem appreciate her sacrifice?
No.
He was an ungrateful ass.
Even now he followed her, strolling casually as though he was taking a pleasure trek around the planet, not striding toward his doom.
He was an ungrateful ass and a fool.
And she cared for him more than she should.
Blast it all.
Imee’s foul mood didn’t alleviate when they reached her ship. She clomped to the most spacious holding chamber on the vessel and opened the door. “Get in.” She jabbed her hands toward the space.
“I go where--”
“Get in.” She didn’t want to listen to any more touching words, didn’t want to hear that he went when she went, that she was his female and he was her male, that he cared. It would increase the pain when she delivered him.
“I’m getting in.” The male stepped inside the holding chamber. “For now.” His eyes glittered with amusement.
The damn warrior thought this was all one big joke. She slammed her hand against the control panel and the door closed. He’d find out how hilarious life was when the Humanoid Alliance sliced and dic
ed his tight gorgeous ass.
She headed to the bridge, her boot heels ringing on the metal tiled floor.
Her chamber within the Refuge was temporary lodging. Her ship was her home, or as close to one as she had. Images of her family surrounded her, rewards for having exceeded her quota, reminders of why she hunted her fellow beings, dooming them to death.
The Humanoid Alliance had better allow her to see her mom, her sister, and her brother after she delivered Mayhem to their clutches. That reward wouldn’t be enough to ease her agony but at least it would be some consolation.
Imee sat in her well-worn seat, the leather shaped over solar cycles to fit her ass. Her current ship had belonged to a target Kralj had assigned to her. The male had been a mean bastard who’d enjoyed hurting children. She’d enjoyed hunting him, returning him to the Humanoid Alliance.
Mayhem’s retrieval held no pleasure.
Imee’s fingers flew over the control panel. The ship’s engines rumbled, the floor vibrating under her boots. Tension stretched across her shoulders. She’d taught herself to fly; thousands of voyages later, she still didn’t feel comfortable with the process.
She guided the ship upward, slowly building acceleration until the ship shot into space. The impact drove her back in her seat. Her teeth clattered. The ship’s panels rattled.
“Our ship’s damage can be easily repaired, my female.” Mayhem filled the chair beside hers.
Imee yelped and reached for her gun.
He grabbed her wrist. “You’re safe. It’s me.”
“It’s you?” She stared at him. “You’re supposed to be locked up. How did you get out?” The locks on his holding chamber were unbreakable.
The ship listed to the right. Mayhem placed his hands on the control panel in front of him and their trajectory leveled.
“And how are you accessing my ship’s systems?” It was her ship. Only she should be able to control it.
He was her target. She should be able to control him also.
Mayhem extracted a dagger from a sheath. Imee tensed. She knew she should have disarmed him. That had been another mistake.
He scraped the blade across his right cheek, removing several layers of skin along with the black stripes she’d thought were permanent marks. A numbering sequence similar to hers was revealed. It started with a J.
“Numbers beginning with RET are given to Retrievers. MOD designates modified humanoids.” She searched her memory for other numbering protocols, couldn’t recall any. “What are you?”
“Model numbers beginning with a single letter are given to cyborgs.”
Mayhem had relayed that information with a straight face. He was never serious.
Which meant this was yet another one of his jokes.
“You’re not a cyborg.” She inputted the retrieval battle station’s coordinates into the system. The ship would plot the best route. “Cyborgs are machines. They’re the Humanoid Alliance’s top weapons. They don’t have emotions or free will, would never operate on their own.” She didn’t know much about them but she did know that.
“Many beings believe Retrievers are evil.” Mayhem’s voice was soft. “That they choose to return rebels to the Humanoid Alliance, that they enjoy it, enjoy the suffering of others.”
She winced. “I am evil.”
“You’re not evil and I’m not an emotionless machine.” He sounded certain about both of those statements. “The Humanoid Alliance wants beings to believe we are. We’re given model numbers instead of names. When we’re killed in battle, it’s reported as a loss, not a death.”
“Making it easier for humans, humanoids, other beings to send you into dangerous situations.” As dehumanizing her targets had made it easier for her to retrieve them. They weren’t living breathing beings. They were items to be delivered.
But Mayhem couldn’t be a cyborg. He was constantly laughing and joking. Wouldn’t a cyborg be more logical?
She studied him. His hair stuck straight up. That disarray would bother a human. Plus, “No cyborg has ever rebelled.” She knew that for certain, being a Retriever.
“Would the Humanoid Alliance tell you if one had?” Mayhem reached under the console, yanked on an exposed cable.
“No.” The Humanoid Alliance told her very little. They trusted her as much as she trusted them, which was not at all. “But I review the communications from the other Retrievers. No one has ever mentioned cyborgs.”
“No one other than cyborgs and their females know we’ve rebelled.” Mayhem bared the live wires, splitting them. “Millions of our brethren remain enslaved. They’d be killed if that was reported. So we’re careful.”
That made sense…she supposed.
He inserted the wires into his wrists, into the interfaces she’d never noticed there.
“What are you doing?”
“Replenishing my energy levels.” He placed his palms back on the control panel. “The nourishment bars we consumed during the rest cycle didn’t provide sufficient inputs.”
“You’re replenishing your energy levels.” She gazed at him. “Because you’re a cyborg.”
“And I want to be prepared for our next round of breeding.” He grinned at her.
She’d fucked a cyborg, a machine. That hardness under his skin was his metal frame. She’d sensed he wasn’t completely human. He’d referred to his processors, not his brain, talked about repairing damage, not healing wounds.
“I don’t know much about cyborgs,” she admitted. Not realizing they could rebel against the Humanoid Alliance, she hadn’t studied them, hadn’t considered them to be possible targets.
“I don’t know much about Retrievers.” Mayhem’s eyes sparkled. “Is this your mom?” He tilted his head toward one of the images.
“Yeah.” Her heart warmed as she gazed at her mom’s smiling face.
That image had been sent to her two solar cycles ago. Her mom was older, had a couple more wrinkles, more gray hair, but she remained strong and vibrant.
Imee would ensure that didn’t change. “Do cyborgs have moms?”
“We’re manufactured in vats.” Mayhem shared that appalling information with a lack of concern, as though it didn’t bother him. “We don’t have mothers or fathers but we do have thousands of brethren.”
“Menace is one of those brethren.” She guessed.
He nodded. “As is Death.”
That was the male he had been searching for.
She’d forced Mayhem to leave his brothers as the Humanoid Alliance had forced her to leave her family. Imee wiggled in her seat, restless with guilt.
“This is your younger sister?” Mayhem indicated another image.
“Her name is Jae and this is my brother Geo.” She pointed to her brother’s image. “He was a baby when I left them.” Now he neared adulthood, his formerly round face lean. “When I meet quota, I’m sent an image. When I exceed it, I’m sent more. Sometimes I receive a recording. Last solar cycle, the footage was transmitted live. I couldn’t communicate with my mom.” The Humanoid Alliance didn’t allow that. “But she knew I was on the other end, listening.”
She didn’t want to think about the lives she’d traded for that reward.
“Can I view that footage?”
She hesitated. The footage was rare, hard-fought for, and she feared if she shared it with others, it might vanish.
That concern was irrational and Mayhem sounded genuinely interested. He’d understand why she had to return him to the clutches of the Humanoid Alliance, their mutual enemy.
“I’ll bring it up.” Imee searched through her hoarded files.
“There’s no need. I have it.” Mayhem’s lips quirked upward. “I’m a cyborg, remember?”
Being half machine, he’d have the ability to access every file in the system. His request for permission had been a courtesy. The lack of privacy, of control, irked her.
“Then watch it.” She didn’t care. Imee turned her back slightly to him.
Mayhem chu
ckled. “We’ll watch it together, female.” He scooped her out of her seat and set her on his lap.
“I have to other tasks to perform.” She slapped his hands, not appreciating his handling of her. “There are communications to read.” The indicator light on the control panel flashed. “One of them could be urgent.”
“We’ll read the communications first and then watch the footage of your mom.” He brought the first written communication up on a corner of the main viewscreen, against the backdrop of stars, the unknown vastness of open space.
“Take that down.” She reached for the control panel. He caught her hands, stopping her. “The communications are confidential, for Retrievers only.” She didn’t want to lose credits or become a target herself for revealing the information.
“I’ve already scanned them, my female.” The cables at his wrists pressed against hers. He was a cyborg, had likely read all of her files.
“I don’t like you,” she grumbled.
He laughed.
He was an impossible male. Imee shook her head and read the first communication. It was a reminder to not dispose of dead targets at the retrieval battle station.
She discarded it, scanned the second communication. That information was more administrative refuse. She moved to the second, the third, the fourth.
Imee read the fifth communication once, twice, three times, unable to absorb the words. A Retriever, having fewer solar cycles than she did, had lost control of her targets. They had escaped from their holding chambers and had tried to take over her ship. The ship had blown up, killing every being inside it.
“She made one foolish mistake and she died.” Imee leaned forward, covering her face with her hands, trying to hide from the horror that message invoked.
“Was she a friend?”
“No.” Imee had no friends.
Was that still true? She peeked through her fingers at Mayhem. She’d told him about her family, her role, her fears, and he’d listened, understood. Wasn’t that what a friendship was?
“Do you grieve every loss of life?”
“I’m not grieving her death.” She wouldn’t have him thinking good of her. “My reaction is purely selfish. That Retriever could have been me.”
Mayhem had escaped from his holding chamber, as those other targets had. He had control of her ship. If he had meant her harm, she’d be dead.