by Cynthia Sax
There was a 99.9999 percent probability the arrogant ass was Power, Cadet’s nemesis. If he or those loyal to him perceived they were bringing warships into a sector they believed they controlled, there would be hostilities.
Rancor’s eyes lit up. “We could—”
“We are not stacking our brethren inside the ships to transport them back here.” Cadet barked that bizarre statement.
“I understand.” The D Model’s expression reverted to cyborg blankness.
Grudge’s lips twitched. His friend must have previously suggested stacking the chosen pilots to fit more of them in the modified freighter and the two other ships.
“We have the projected positions of the ships guarding the sector.” Cadet relayed information they already processed. They always tracked the locations of the cyborg council vessels. “Rancor, craft optimal routes for this second relay. There will be 1,125 warships and 3 transport ships. Assume the same departure time. Use the space station control chamber viewscreens. I’ll split the pilots into groups, and we’ll assign their routes there.”
Rancor’s head dipped and he strode in the direction of the control chamber.
Grudge moved with him.
“We have to talk, warrior.” Cadet stopped him.
He waited for her to speak.
“There are reasons for not immediately claiming one’s Ours…like he’s an arrogant ass and won’t listen to a word you relay.” His leader mumbled that last part. “There is a risk associated with that delay, however. You want to blow up the space station. I process that. And you’re loyal to the team. I value that. But there will be other space stations, other missions. There won’t be another female for you. If you claim her now—”
“I’m claiming her as soon as you authorize it.” Blowing up the space station had been a priority for him…before he met his female. The safety of his enhanced human was now his focus. He wouldn’t delay her retrieval longer than he had to do. “You’ll be one more pilot short.”
He was letting down the team and that niggled at him.
“Bah.” Cadet waved her hands. “We’ll manage.”
“And you’ll be one warship short.” He required a means of getting to Antares II.
“I projected you’d need transport.” Their leader studied him. “I can’t delay the destruction of the space station for you.”
“There will be other space stations.” He utilized her words. “There’s a 74.1256 percent probability my female has the coordinates of some of those space stations.”
She hadn’t stolen all the medic packs, all the devices, which implied she processed she’d have access to more of them.
“Those space stations might hold more warships.” Cadet’s eyes gleamed.
There was a pause.
Grudge shifted his weight from his fully functional leg to his mechanical leg. He received the impression his leader had more to convey to him.
“Non-cyborgs can lie, and thieves aren’t noted for their honor.” The C Model’s voice softened. “Be cautious, warrior. And if you require assistance, contact me or Rancor.” She held up her right index finger. “Relay the communications through multiple sites. Keep the message short.” She repeated the rules. “Don’t use names or refer to locations. We’ll do what we can to help you.”
“I can handle my own female.” It bothered him that Cadet projected he couldn’t do that.
“I’m not questioning your worth, warrior.” She barked that response and he stiffened. “You’re one of our best. That’s why you’re part of the cyborg retrieval team. But even the best warriors need assistance sometimes. We operate as a team, not as individuals.”
He was worthy of the team, would prove himself worthy of being his female’s warrior. Grudge lifted his chin. “I understand.”
“Go. Help Rancor.” Cadet shook her head. “He will want to chatter with you before you leave.” She paused. “And don’t jettison any more robots. Warriors will seek to blow them up, and we don’t have time to waste on that.”
He had already jettisoned enough robots to provide them with sufficient entertainment. Grudge walked in the direction his friend had headed.
Rancor was waiting for him in the hallway outside the docking bay. “We’re forming more cyborg retrieval teams.” He slapped Grudge’s nape hard, conveying everything he saw or heard or sensed during their separation. “The brethren we haven’t yet retrieved are in danger.”
“They are in danger.” Grudge slapped his friend’s nape harder, sharing his details. Cyborgs exchanged information. Normally, they did that through their transmission lines, but that was currently forbidden to them.
Cadet feared Power, her nemesis, was monitoring those communications. There was a high probability she was correct. The leader of the cyborg council was a controlling ass, would seek to uncover their activities.
“Your female’s ship damages my processors.” Rancor made a face. “How it flies, I can’t project.”
“I don’t want her for her means of transport.” Grudge laughed. His female’s freighter was a piece of refuse. It wasn’t worthy of her.
“You’re a stronger warrior than I am.” Rancor matched his stride. “If I found my female, I doubt I would allow her out of my sight lines.”
“When you find your female.” Grudge amended his friend’s statement. If he, a fraction of a warrior, could find his female, Rancor could find his. “And my choices were to temporarily let her go or to restrain her.”
“Then you had to let her go.” The D Model’s head dipped.
Rancor had been restrained when Cadet had located him. The loss of one leg and one arm had been a form of bondage for Grudge. He hadn’t been capable of moving far of his own volition.
They couldn’t inflict that torment on another being.
“Your female will try to kill you when you next see her.” Rancor bumped against his shoulder. “You’re a lucky bag of bolts.”
He was a lucky bag of bolts, and his female would try to kill him. “She planned to blow the space station up.” Grudge reached into one of his holsters, took out a pretty bomb she’d crafted, showed his friend that treasure. “I hope she leaves more of these for me.”
“She’ll blow you up, and Patch will have to reattach your limbs. Again.” Rancor laughed.
The J Model medic had done that for him numerous times in the past.
“Patch is on the ship.” Rancor lowered his voice. “We were trying to cram as many pilots as possible into the space, and he volunteered to remain on Mercury Minor, but Cadet told him he was critical part of the team. She expected him on board or he’d answer to her.” His lips lifted. “There’s an 84.1259 percent probability he’ll be disappointed when he discovers you’re fully functional.”
Grudge wasn’t fully functional. He curled his purely mechanical arm. But his friend didn’t perceive his damage when he looked at him.
His enhanced human was the same way. She viewed him as being whole.
“We wouldn’t want to disappoint Patch.” He grinned at Rancor.
His friend lifted his eyebrows. “What are you projecting?”
“Cadet told me we couldn’t jettison more of the robots.” Grudge relayed that restriction around their antics. “She said nothing about not battling them.”
His friend’s eyes gleamed with interest. “If we reactivate the robots, they could relay information to the Humanoid Alliance. Our leader won’t like that.”
It could put all of their kind in danger. Grudge had already processed that possibility. “We would have to modify the robots first.”
That would be a simple task for them. They were cyborgs, were half machine, skilled at altering programming.
“I can do that while you plot the flying routes.” He assigned himself that task.
Once they had completed their respective tasks, they would battle the robots together. It would be entertaining for both of them, would be training for future missions, for the commandeering of other Humanoid Alliance
space stations.
When that fun ended, Grudge would leave his friend and pursue another source of joy. He would chase his enhanced human across the universe. His next battle would be with her.
His cock twitched against his body armor, all of him approving of that plan.
“Program the robots to fight with daggers.” Rancor preferred that weapon, claimed blades increased his challenge level. “They won’t rival the Palavians we encountered on the ice planet, but it might be entertaining.”
His friend chattered about that memorable battle.
The handheld on Grudge’s hip hummed. He extracted it from its holster, put his female’s pretty little explosive back in its holder, looked at the device’s small screen.
My Female: Thank the fuck. You are finally leaving me the fuck alone.
Grudge grinned. She missed him, was prompting him to send her another message.
Your Warrior: I will never leave you the fuck alone.
Rancor continued to talk about battles.
Grudge contributed his insights to the conversation while he scanned the databases for breeding variations to send to his female.
Cyborgs had the ability to participate in multiple communications over the same duration. Millions of transmissions from his non-restricted brethren flowed through his processors.
He found a position his female might enjoy as much as he would, sent its specs to her. His take-charge enhanced human would ride him astride while she faced his feet.
Your Warrior: I’ll watch your lush ass jiggle as you come around my cock.
He added that statement to the information. It was designed to get a heated response from his female.
Her fire turned him on. Whenever he had the opportunity, he stoked her flames, provoked her.
Grudge opened the doors to the robot storage chamber, stepped into the space his courageous female had feared yet had forced herself to enter. He grabbed two of the mechanical warriors, hefted them over his shoulder, strapping them to his form with one of his arms. Then he rejoined Rancor in the hallway.
His handheld vibrated again.
My Female: You’re a freak, cyborg.
He smiled. That was a phrase she utilized when she was interested in a breeding position. He added the variation to the database of breeding experiences they would try.
Before they acted on that ever-expanding list, he had to redirect his female’s passion from killing him to their shared pleasure. That would be a challenge.
He looked forward to tackling it and claiming his Taelyn.
Chapter Eight
As soon as Taelyn woke, she reached for her handheld. That had become a habit after twenty-three planet rotations of constant erotic harassment by the cyborg. Her lips twisted.
If she didn’t reply to his messages in a timely basis, he threatened to retrieve her earlier than their agreed-upon date, and that couldn’t happen.
There was shit left to do.
She scanned his messages. They were random. Most of them were extremely stimulating. She fondled her curves with the blue cleaning cloth, reading his words as she completed her sunrise routine.
The male was a freak.
She liked that. Not that she would ever admit that to him. He was her enemy, planned to kill her. She shouldn’t be turned on by his fantasies about her.
But fuck her. She was aroused. And she blamed him for her frustrated state.
She vented her ire on him through the communication lines.
My Female: I’m going to kick your ass when I next see you.
His reply was lightning quick.
Your Warrior: What happened to your vow to surrender, to not resist your capture?
She would surrender but she wouldn’t make it easy for him.
Taelyn opened the wall compartment holding her arms. The kid had corresponding smaller limbs in her private chamber.
She selected the green arm. The extra power it provided would be needed this planet rotation.
And she responded to the damn cyborg.
My Female: I will kick your ass AFTER I peacefully surrender.
Surrendering was a one-time act. Anything could happen after she did that.
Your Warrior: You amuse me, my fragile enhanced human.
His view of her as delicate proved he was malfunctioning. She donned her leather garments, her boots. Her form had been finely honed from solar cycles of training. She was proud of her strength.
Though it did give her a secret thrill that he saw her as being dainty.
She would never tell him that either. Her fingers tapped against the small screen.
My Female: Fuck off.
That exchange should satisfy the fool for a while. Satisfied, she stuffed the handheld into one of her holsters, filled the rest with guns, the sheaths with blades.
The weapons shouldn’t be needed. No one messed with her on Antares II.
Mulls, the owner of the beverage outlet, and his warriors blew up anyone he believed was hostile.
But she preferred to always be prepared.
She opened the doors to her private chambers on board her freighter.
Jasny was sleeping on the floor. A covering cloth was twisted around her slight form. Worry lines creased her green face.
Those creases were due to Taelyn, due to the prospect of her leaving.
She stifled a sigh. Since she had told the kid about Kutta taking over her training, Jasny had stepped up her stalking, seeking to prevent them from parting ways.
She didn’t want to say goodbye any more than the girl did. But she had no choice. The cyborg would come for her, and she wouldn’t put Jasny in danger.
“Wear the green arm.” She stepped over the kid. “We’re working hard this planet rotation.”
“What? Who? What?” The girl stared up at her. Her eyes were bleary. The tuft of hair on top of her head defied gravity, sticking straight up.
“We’re transporting the medic packs.” Taelyn told her.
According to Mulls, Medic Neidan had trekked up north to treat Awo, an elderly multi-gender being. Her former guardian should have returned the previous sunset, should be found in the small medic bay that also served as her domicile and the mechanical-limbs-production facility.
“You know the deal.” Her voice was gruff. “Get the conveying support from Mulls and load it.”
The kid scrambled to her booted feet. “And what will you be doing?”
Taelyn glared at her. “I’ll be doing whatever the fff…fuselage I want to do. You’ve been chattering about new arms. Those fff…freakin’ things aren’t free. Do the labor and earn them.”
The kid had pride, wouldn’t accept charity, and Taelyn respected that. She assigned the kid tasks, giving Jasny the illusion she was earning her own way.
“Having silver arms like your mate sports would be badass.” The kid looked down at her mechanical fingers and then up at her. “But I can wait to get those.” Her jaw jutted. “I’m staying by your side this planet rotation.”
Fuck. The girl was a pain in the ass. She was so fuckin’ stubborn.
That earned her Taelyn’s begrudged admiration.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She eased the kid’s concerns. “Eighty percent of the proceeds from the medic packs go to me.” Those credits flowed right back to Medic Neidan, to cover the costs of supplying beings with mechanical limbs and to offset the kid’s future expenses. “I’m sticking around to ensure I receive my cut.”
“You’ll receive it.” The kid’s shoulders lowered, the tension easing out of her slight form. “I’ll load the conveying support.”
“Then ffff…freakin’ do that.” Taelyn stomped toward the exit, giving the girl some privacy to tidy herself and dress. “And eat some damn nourishment bars so you don’t pass out on me.”
Fuck. Watching her damn language around the kid wore her out.
Needing a break and some solitude, she opened the ship’s doors.
A wall of warm air hit her, and awareness s
himmered over her form. Her nipples tightened and her pussy grew wet.
There was only one being that had ever impacted her that way.
“Fuck.” She stomped down the ramp. “We had forty planet rotations, cyborg. That was the deal.”
She wasn’t ready for this, for him, needed more time to prepare. The plan had been to leave the planet a few planet rotations before the agreed-upon duration had elapsed.
Their confrontation was best situated far from the kid, away from her friends, away from the place she viewed as her home. She didn’t want to place them in peril.
All that plotting had gone to shit. He was here.
Her mind spun. She had to find another way to protect Jasny and the others.
“You agreed on the forty-planet-rotation separation.” The cyborg stepped out of the shadows. “I made no such agreement.”
Fuck. She stared up at him. Her memory hadn’t lied.
The male was huge and handsome and too appealing for her comfort. His brilliant-blue eyes glowed with a heat she felt to her core. His fit physique was clad in his skintight body armor. He carried an entire arsenal on his form.
The rays from Antares II’s one sun reflected off his mechanical arm, making the silver shine. Grudge’s big booted feet were braced apart as though he expected a fight.
He’d get one.
First, she would allow him to capture her…as they had agreed she’d do. “I surrender.” She held out her hands, assuming he’d want to bind them. “Do what you want with me, but don’t harm the kid or anyone else.”
“What I want to do with you, my female, is this.” He surged forward.
His body blurred, the cyborg moving faster than her eyes could track. Their bodies smacked together. There was no give in his form.
He strapped his arms around her waist, holding her in place, and covered her lips with his.
She met his aggression with her own, coiling her tongue tightly around his, sucking on him with a savagery that surprised her.