by Liz Crowe
The engineers filed out of the chambers, in high spirits. Joan exited between two large groups, hoping the sheer number of beings would discourage an attack. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, wrapped her fingers around the handle of the dagger, ready to defend herself.
“Joan, wait up.” Denny jogged behind her.
She gazed at the group in front of her. A widening gap would put her in danger. But the last time Denny spoke to her, he passed along a warning. She was alone, except for Rage. She needed any help she could get.
She slowed her pace, allowing him to catch up to her. They walked in silence. What did he want?
“They’re going to kill your cyborg.” She was the first to speak. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“They’re machines and they’re no longer needed.” He sighed. “You’ve always had a romantic view of them. That’s not reality.” Beings passed them. “Tell me it isn’t true what they saying about you. You didn’t have sex with your cyborg.”
“I care for him.” She wouldn’t lie to her friend.
“It’s not alive.” Denny didn’t hide his disgust. “It won’t ever care for you.”
Rage cared. She was certain of that. “He’s a living being, half human.” Why did no one remember that? “Haven’t you watched the footage, seen how the cyborgs interact when they’re not following our orders?”
“No one watches the footage, just as no one reads our field reports.” Denny grasped her wrist, pulled her closer to the wall. “Do you know what you’ve done, Joan, by taking this pairing?” More beings walked by them. “You’re the first female in the department and they want you to be the last.”
He maneuvered her into a shadowed alcove. Fingers of fear crept up her spine. She pushed the emotion away. This was Denny, her friend. He wouldn’t hurt her.
“They’ll make an example of you so no other female joins.” His freckled face was flushed, his green eyes slightly unfocused.
“As they tried to make an example of me at the Academy?” Joan lifted her chin. She’d been terrorized there too and she’d survived.
“This isn’t the Academy.” Denny’s forehead furrowed with concern. “There’s no governing body, formed of males and females. No one will launch an investigation if you go missing.”
No one would have launched an investigation at the Academy either. Joan had always been alone, a number easily erased from the Humanoid Alliance’s databases. “They don’t plan to abscond with me. They plan to kill me, Denny, and I’m not frightened of dying.” She knew her time was running out.
“You always were fearless.” His words were weighted with sadness. “In the past, I admired that about you. You came to my defense more than once.”
“Only when the odds were against you.” Joan smiled. “When it was one-on-one, I let you fight your own battles ‘cause I knew you could win.”
“You believed in me.”
“Yes.” She saw glimpses of the boy she once knew in his countenance. “And I believe in you now. You’ll do the right thing.”
They gazed at each other. Joan didn’t speak, allowing him the quiet he needed to come to the morally correct decision, to agree to help her save the cyborgs.
“There are worst things than dying.” He clasped both of her wrists.
“There are.” She nodded. “Like getting dissected while you remain conscious. That will be our cyborgs’ fates if we don’t stop it.”
Denny blew out his breath. “They have no consciousness, Joan. They’re not alive.”
“You say that but you know it isn’t true. They feel pain. They care for each other. They--”
“They got you killed.” Her friend’s grip on her wrists intensified. “You’re dead, Joan. You simply don’t know it yet.” He pushed her, smacking her back against the metal wall panel.
She realized then that the hallway was empty. “Denny--”
“You told me to do the right thing.” He stepped closer to her. “They plan to torture you in all of the ways males can torture a female and they’ll force me to join in.” He slid his hands up her arms, around her shoulders. “You won’t be allowed to die until there’s nothing left of you.”
They’d violate her, hurt her as they hurt Rage. “You won’t stand back and let that happen. I’m your friend.”
“You are my friend.” Denny circled her neck with his fingers. “Which is why I’m doing this.”
That sounded ominous but there was no reason to worry, Joan told herself. This wasn’t Plank. This was her former academy mate, a man who would never harm her. Fear licked at her, threatening to overcome these rational thoughts.
“This is a kindness, Joan.” Denny tightened his grip and she opened her mouth, unable to breathe. “You’ll die quickly, painlessly.”
That was his solution—to kill her? Fuck that. Dying now wasn’t an option. Others depended on her. She had to break his grip, help Rage.
Joan clawed at Denny’s hands. He was crushing her, strangling her. She writhed, trapped against the wall, unable to gain the leverage she needed.
Her former friend turned his head away, the rectal wipe unable to watch his actions.
Think, Joan. Think.
The dagger. She fought her natural instinct to protect herself, forced herself to let go of his hands, reached into her pocket, and extracted the weapon. A black funnel circled her field of vision, narrowing, narrowing.
“Yes, accept this.” Denny leaned into her. “Go quietly.”
If he believed she’d go quietly, he didn’t know her. Joan raised the dagger. Using all of the strength in her sturdy build, she drove the blade into his right thigh.
“Fuck.” He shrieked louder than any female, bent over and grabbed his leg.
Released, Joan gulped mouthfuls of precious air. The black funnel receded.
She pelted down the hallway, not looking back. Only one thought filled her mind—to escape. She pumped her arms, her lungs and muscles straining.
Was she being followed? She didn’t know. Her head spun from lack of oxygen.
Joan headed straight to Rage’s chambers, smacked the control panel with her sweaty palms, sprinted inside the first door, smacked the second control panel, ran to the far side of her cyborg’s sanctuary, searching for more weapons.
Only when the inner door closed did she relax. Fuck. She folded in two, every breath of air a gift. She’d almost died, killed by a male she’d thought was her friend. Joan rubbed her neck. Rage’s nanocybotics bubbled against her skin, soothing the burn.
She yearned to curl up on a horizontal support and rest. If she slept, she wouldn’t think about the betrayal, the lingering pain.
She didn’t have that luxury.
Time was running out for her and for her cyborg. Denny warned of an upcoming attack on her, a violent assault led by a mysterious they, a number of beings wishing her dead. She wouldn’t survive that.
When she died, Rage would be paired with another engineer, someone less sympathetic to his situation. He wouldn’t get the help he needed, wouldn’t be relayed the information that might make the difference in his run for freedom. That could cost him his life.
Rage had to escape during the upcoming repositioning. The Humanoid Alliance planned to decommission him in twenty planet rotations. He might not have another opportunity.
She could assist him…if he listened to her.
Would he?
Her cyborg had doubted the intelligence she’d given him about the tracking devices. When she tried to share more insights, he wouldn’t listen, telling her to end her chatter.
Rage might not give her the opportunity to speak, might discard any knowledge she gave him. Joan chewed on her bottom lip. There had to be a solution. He couldn’t sever the Humanoid Alliance’s control on his own.
He wasn’t on his own though, was he? His friends, Crash and Gap, were escaping with him. She retrieved an old recording device loaded with a memory chip. Crash wasn’t the primitive C Model she’d been paired with. He wa
s a more modern, rational E Model and appeared to be more open to suggestions. He might investigate her insights before discarding them.
Or he might not. But any effort was better than none.
She started the recording, her voice hoarse. “Crash, sir, I’m Cadet Joan Tull, Rage’s cybernetic engineer. You don’t know me and I don’t expect you to blindly accept what I’m about to tell you but I hope you will, at the very least, listen to what I have to say.”
She took a deep breath. “Because I care for your friend. Very much.” That sounded inadequate for the depth of her feelings but she couldn’t, wouldn’t admit to more. “I want Rage to be safe, free, happy. If that’s possible for him.” She smiled. “He can be very grim at times.”
She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I’ll relay to you everything I know to be true, the knowledge I’ve gained at the academy and during my time on board the battle station. In return, I ask you for two things. One, you can use the information to help other cyborgs but not if this places Rage at risk. His security is my first concern. If he dies.” Her voice cracked. “My sacrifices will be for nothing, my life meaningless.”
She breathed in, breathed out, trying to calm down. Her throat no longer pained her. That was Rage’s gift to her. This information would be her present for him.
“Two, I have a message I’ll leave Rage at the end of this recording. Give that to him once he’s out of danger, not before then.” She didn’t want him to feel guilty, to try to return to her. “I’m trusting you, trusting in your honor as a cyborg and a warrior, to uphold your end of the bargain.”
Joan collected her personal viewscreen and transferred images onto the recording. “There are some modifications you’ll have to perform to your ship to ensure it survives a long trip. Forgive me if I tell you things you already know. I haven’t been briefed on your preparations.” Rage had told her nothing.
She’d tell him everything.
Chapter Eight
Rage was glad to be back on the battle station.
If a cyborg had told him a solar cycle ago that he’d feel that way, he would have told him to frag off. He had hated returning to his chambers then, dreaded seeing his human handler, knowing he’d have to contain his anger, meekly tolerate whatever torture the male had devised for him.
With Joan, there was no torture and no need to hide his emotions. She accepted him, sweetly served him. Simply the thought of seeing her again, of feeling her soft hands on his chest, made energy rush through his circuits.
He couldn’t show his eagerness. Aware of Boyd’s gun pushed into his back and the other human males watching him, Rage forced himself to slow his steps. If they knew how he felt about his female, they’d kill her, simply to torment him.
Humans. No, he amended his thought. Human males were sick beings.
“Tell Tits that she’s about to get what’s coming to her.” Boyd placed his palm on the chamber’s sensor, the exterior door slid open, and Rage stepped inside. “She’s going to wish she’d been a lot nicer to me.” The door closed.
His female waited for him, clad in her flight suit, her hands clenched before her. She tilted her head back. Their gazes met and held, her brown eyes wide with relief, with a caring he was growing to believe in.
“Rage.” She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re safe, sir.” Joan pressed her cheek against his body armor.
He hesitated for a moment, surprised by her enthusiastic reception. Then he returned her embrace, holding her to him. She was his. Rage breathed deeply, inhaling her scent, a combination of her musk and his nanocybotics.
Fraggin’ hole. He sniffed the air a second time. He detected the ugly aroma of a human male.
“You were attacked again.” Rage sank his fingers into her brown curls, releasing more of the scent. It belonged to Olsen, Intrepid’s handler. He added that male to his long list of beings to kill.
She said nothing, his normally talkative female’s silence unnerving him.
The attack must have been vicious this time. Rage brushed her hair to the side. Bruises colored the delicate skin around her neck. His vision system turned red, fury rising within him. “He tried to strangle you.”
The males attacked while he was on deployment, when he couldn’t protect her. They were cowards, weak, undeserving of life.
“Don’t concern yourself with me, sir.” Joan turned, authorized the inner door to open. “Worry about yourself.” She pulled him into the chambers. “You have to escape during the next deployment. You--”
“I have to do this.” Rage scooped her into his arms and covered her ever-moving lips with his. She gasped, surprised by his attack, and he pushed his tongue between her tiny blunt teeth, invading her mouth, claiming the terrain as his own. His female tasted intoxicatingly sweet, her flavor making his head spin and his breath shorten.
She murmured a half-hearted protest, continuing to worry about him, a C Model cyborg, her fingers splaying over his chest plate. Rage ignored her concerns and explored the wet, hot caverns of her mouth, learning his little engineer, imprinting her on his processors.
Before going on deployment, she’d asked him to kiss her. Not wishing to show more weakness, confused by the feelings swirling within him, he’d refused.
He’d almost lost her. He would have never known this pleasure.
Rage pressed his lips firmer against hers. Joan moaned and sucked on his tongue, tugging at his flesh, drawing him deeper. Her gentle fingers framed his face, capturing him as though she was afraid he’d escape. He’d escape the battle station and the Humanoid Alliance but not her, never her.
Rage knew in that instance that he would never let her go. She’d be his hostage, his shipboard slave, his payment for solar cycles of killing. Above all, she was his. She belonged to him. He set her overdressed ass on a horizontal support, ripped her flight suit open, tearing fabric.
Her breath hitched, the sound swallowed by his throat, and her nipples tightened against his palms, small points of hardness in a overflowing bounty of smooth, supple curves. As he pulsed his tongue into her mouth, he kneaded her breasts, cupping, lifting, squeezing.
His little female wasn’t silent. She never was. She mewled and murmured against his lips, caressing the planes of his face, the bluntness of his chin. His lips curled upward. He would never again have a quiet planet rotation in his lifespan.
In his lifespan. Rage caught her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.
How could he keep her for that long? Humans weren’t allowed in the cyborg Homeland. He wouldn’t let her go, the thought of being without her unbearable. Killing her was no longer an option.
Rage had no answers. Pushing aside the dilemma, he concentrated on her, on now. He bent his head and licked the bruises around Joan’s neck, applying more healing nanocybotics to her wound.
“You kissed me.” She touched her lips. “Does this mean you care for me?”
“It’s the only way I can stop your chatter.” He tugged at her flight suit, not wishing his too observant female to see the truth in his eyes, to realize the control she now had over him. “Remove this.” He yanked on the fabric. “I wish to breed with you.”
“Yes, sir.” She unfastened her boots, stripped away the remains of her garment.
He discarded his leg and arm coverings, tossing them on the floor. “You will clean up this mess later.” That would keep her busy hands occupied.
“I could clean--” Her mouth dropped open as he removed his body armor. “Sir.” She hopped off the horizontal support, her bare feet smacking against the tile, her large breasts jiggling, distracting him. “What did you do to yourself?” She touched the sliver of new skin over his right pec.
“Get back on the horizontal support, female.” He stroked his hard cock, wanting to bury himself inside her, not chatter.
“Were you looking for the third tracking device?” She skimmed her fingertips over another one of Crash’s failed searches. “I’m sorry, s
ir.” Her head lowered. “I should have told you where it was. I--”
“Turn around.” Rage spun her until she faced away from him. “And stick that ass in the air.” He pushed on her upper back, forcing her to bend over.
She gripped the edge of the horizontal support. “Sir--”
“Spread your legs for your cyborg.” He placed his feet between hers, widening her stance. She tilted her ass upward, giving him a clear view of her pink pussy lips. Her juices glistened on her flesh. His curvaceous female wanted him, a cyborg. That never failed to excite him.
He pumped his cock as he gazed at her. Joan was pale skin, brown hair, not a sharp angle on her lush form. She waved her plump ass, her girth enough to satisfy even a C Model like himself.
“Rage, sir.” She gazed over her shoulder, the need in her eyes almost bringing him to his knees.
Rage drifted his fingers over her ass cheeks, around the dimples in her skin, relishing the feel, sight, smell of her. “I haven’t seen anything so beautiful in all of my solar cycles of existing.” He slid his hands in the valley between her curves. “What are you doing to me, Joan?”
“I’m serving you, sir.” Her voice grew husky.
He toyed with her puckered hole. “I’ve heard that some human females like a male’s cock in their asses.” He didn’t understand it. When the humans abused him there, the pain was excruciating. “Have you ever taken a cock here?”
“No, sir.” She trembled. “But if it would give you pleasure, I-I will try.” He heard the fear in her offer.
His brave little engineer trusted him, put her safety in his rough hands, and he wouldn’t abuse that trust. “It wouldn’t give me pleasure to hurt you, female.” He continued downward, dipping his fingertips into her wetness. “I’m a cyborg, not one of your cruel humans.”
Rage caressed her pussy, feathering her intimate folds, the delicateness of her humbling him. She was a being of contrasts, her spirit strong, her form yielding, and she fascinated him. He rubbed his chin against her shoulders as he played, branding her with more of his scent.