by Cynthia Sax
No one else would do that.
Her beloved parent had been the one to demonstrate that fact of life also. After a lifespan of working in the mines, enduring great personal hardship and risking death every single planet rotation he was underground, the Humanoid Alliance-owned company he had been serving had gotten rid of him. He had then discovered their promises of later years spent in comfort were merely that—promises.
Her proud dad had been left with nothing…almost nothing. Her chin lifted. He had a daughter who would do anything for him, a daughter who would defend him, keep him safe as he had defended her and kept her safe in the past.
She scanned the devices in front of her. The monitoring systems indicated Keeper had moved the containment ship out of range. She would return when Bettina not-so-accidentally bumped against the button on the wall. That action signaled their target had arrived…alone, the procedure limiting the risk to the Dracheon female and the rest of the team should something unexpected happen.
Only Bettina would be in peril.
Nothing would go wrong. Nerves caused her stomach to gurgle. This was her last procurement. It would be a smooth one.
Seeking to calm herself, she extracted a small stone and a piece of thin gold-colored wire from her left front pocket. Her role was lucrative but it required endless waiting, waiting for beings to initially contact her and then to rendezvous with the modified shuttle craft. She filled that time with her true calling—creating decorations for other females and a few sparkle-loving males.
After this procurement, crafting pieces would be her main focus. She held the stone up to the light. It was an enthrallingly translucent dark green. When she saw it during a restocking stop, displayed in a merchant’s stall on Carinae E, she knew it would be perfect for a pendant.
Some fortunate female, perhaps one with green eyes, would love the decoration. Bettina wrapped the wire around the stone, crafting an intricate design, allowing much of the stone to be showcased.
She lost herself to the creative process. Serenity settled over her. Her body relaxed. Her only thoughts were of the pendant.
The beep of the incoming communication many moments later caused her to jump.
Ship is within range. Smarts preferred to contact her by text. Lifeform scan completed. One being on board. Vessel is advanced. Still too risky but might be worth it…IF being is human/humanoid…and IF you don’t kill us all, Bait.
She wouldn’t kill them all. Bettina rolled her eyes as she returned the pendant and her supplies to her pocket. And Chuckles would be human or humanoid. She was certain of that.
Other lifeform scanners could distinguish between types of beings. Smarts hadn’t invested in one of those because they were supposed to obtain a visual of their target before they accepted his or her help.
Chuckles’ ship appeared on her private viewscreen, the monitoring systems tracking its progress. The vessel was moving quickly, in a direct line toward her stationary shuttle craft.
Her heart pounded. She normally felt trepidation before each procurement, but this was different. Chuckles was a being she was interested in seeing.
Her screen flashed, indicating a transmission. She ran her hands over her hair. All of her curls remained restrained high on her head by a fluffy pink fastener. She dabbed more blue pigment on her lips, sprinkled some glitter on her breasts. Most of her so-called rescuers had been fascinated with that part of her anatomy.
She squeezed her curves together, leaned slightly forward, and opened the transmission. “Hi. Hello. Is that you, Chuckles?” She played the helpless female.
“It is Chuckles.” His deep voice reached down inside her and caressed her pussy. The private viewscreen remained black.
Still no visual. Smarts’ message appeared on the device. Abandon this, Bait.
She couldn’t do that. Bettina gazed at the blank viewscreen. It might result in her death but she had to see him. She’d never been this aroused by any being.
And she had only heard his voice.
Though that might be why she was turned on by him. She couldn’t see him ogle her like the rest of the beings had.
“I’ll soon see all of you.” She partially lowered her eyelids and puckered her lips. “I bet you have thick brown hair.” She probed for more details.
There was a pause. “My hair is black.”
He had hair. That increased the likelihood he was human or humanoid. “Ohhh… black hair.” She stroked the tops of her breasts. “I like that.”
That was the truth. She might enjoy changing the pigment of her hair to vivid colors but she preferred her males to be less flashy.
“I want to thread my fingers through your thick black hair, curve my fingers over your scalp and hold your face against my chest.” Did that fantasy make him as hot as it had made her? She wiggled, her pussy dripping for her mystery warrior. “Would you like that too?”
“Yes.” A rumble wrapped around that one-word answer. “Where should I dock?”
“Oh, baby.” She purred that endearment. “You can dock anywhere you want.” Bettina licked her bottom lip, emphasizing her innuendo. “But, since you’re such a big male”—she liked that also—“let’s start slow. Align with my front docking connectors this first time.” She pushed her hips toward the private viewscreen. “Be gentle with me, Chuckles.”
“I won’t damage your shuttle craft.” His serious tone made her smile. “I’m skilled at docking.”
“I bet you are.” She batted her eyelashes, ignoring Smarts’ stream of increasingly heated warning messages scrolling across the bottom of her screen.
“Prepare for me.” Chuckles warned her.
“I’m ready for you, sweetheart.” She pulled on the lapels of her flight suit, parting the fabric, treating him to a fuller view of her breasts. Her nipples were taut against the garment, her desire for him escalating. “Contact me if you have any issues. I understand some males need help docking.”
“I don’t require assistance.” Her unknown warrior ended the transmission. The image on the private viewscreen reverted to the monitoring of his approaching ship.
Fuck. She was turned on. Her fingers twitched, the urge to touch herself, to take the edge off her need intense.
There was no time for that, and she had an audience. Smarts and other members of the team monitored the interior of the shuttle craft.
Her leader was already pissed at her, as Keeper would say. Bettina didn’t want to anger her any more than that.
Because the female might have been right about this procurement being dangerous. Chuckles’ voice scrambled her logic. She thought with her pussy when she talked to him. If that happened when she faced him, she could make an error, get herself killed.
Her death would be a disaster, not only for herself, but also for the beings she cared for. She was responsible for her dad and for her dad’s friend Duggar. Her risk-taking could put them in peril.
Her fingers flew over the private viewscreen. She found her gone-to-shit file, the file with all of the information a being would need to know to access the credits she’d stockpiled.
It was saved in off-ship virtual storage. Because every vessel could be stolen. She’d witnessed that reality in her role.
A message to her dad was attached to the file. She reread her words. Its tone was upbeat and positive, conveying her love for him, her gratitude for all he’d given her.
He was a good male, a great parent. Some planet rotation, she hoped to find a being like him, loyal and gruff and kind…if one of those males still remained in the universe.
Solar cycles of dealing with predators made her question their existence.
She scheduled the file to be automatically sent to Duggar, her dad’s friend and unofficial caregiver, in twenty planet rotations. If the procurement went as planned, she would cancel that action. If something went wrong, it would be delivered to her dad’s friend.
The two beings she loved would be financially provided for.
H
er stomach gurgled louder as Chuckles’ ship neared her location. Had she made a mistake? Would the male end her lifespan?
The vessel slowed and turned. It completed a wide circle around the shuttle craft. Her mystery male was approaching their rendezvous with extreme caution.
She had to do the same. Her hands flitted over the weapon in her right front pocket. The flare of her flight suit hid what would otherwise be an unsightly bulge. She fiddled with her sleeve, ensuring the second gun was accessible also.
Chuckles would arrive. She’d take a good look at him, satisfying her curiosity.
If she was fortunate, he’d be dirty and unkempt, repulsive to gaze at, and her pussy would immediately deem him not fuck-worthy. Or maybe he’d leer at her or try to grab her breasts or squeeze her ass as so many of his predecessors had done before him.
All of her fascination with him would evaporate.
Keeper would stun him. He’d be transported far away from her. Smarts would sell his ship, they’d share the proceeds, and Bettina would walk away…from all of this.
Her dad and Duggar would have the credits and care they needed for the rest of their lifespans. No longer fearing they’d be homeless and hungry, she could focus on crafting decorations for beings, earning the meager credits she needed to live on from that activity.
She’d find a good, honest male, someone who truly would rescue a female in distress, not caring how many solar cycles she had or what she looked like. He’d do that because he was a nice being.
Her life would be perfect.
All she had to do was successfully complete this procurement and not become distracted by her mystery male’s deep voice.
Chapter Three
His female planned to trap him. Chuckles maneuvered his small ship around her shuttle craft. There were multiple docking connectors, and judging by the wear on the metal, several had been used recently.
He was 99.9999 percent certain she lacked honor. What he had not yet determined was the level of her treachery.
Did she end the lifespans of the well-meaning fools she captured?
His female wouldn’t be successful with him, if that was her goal. He swept his hands over the guns and blades strapped to his body armor, ensuring every holster, every sheath, was filled. She was human, would have a human’s slowness and ineptitude. He might be damaged, but he remained a cyborg and would subdue her.
That thought excited him. His circuits surged. His cock hardened.
My female has to communicate with you, Captain transmitted.
An image of Captain’s female’s face filled Chuckles’ processors. Can he hear me? Her gaze shifted to the left and to the right.
You are communicating with me. A device read his transmission out loud to the Captain’s human female, the voice simulated and extremely irritating.
Good. It’s working. She smiled. I did some digging and uncovered more information on our female Bettina.
Bettina wasn’t their female. Chuckles pressed his lips together. She was his.
That’s her real name. Captain’s female shook her head. That wasn’t very intelligent of her to share it with you. It made her easier to track.
She was human and humans made many mistakes. He didn’t say anything.
The last official documentation of her existence occurred eight solar cycles ago. Images of that documentation—three role applications—were sent to him. All were marked with the same last planet rotation of work. Then she disappears.
She couldn’t fulfill three roles at the same duration. Most beings fulfilled only one. How did she deceive the entities?
Either she was very clever or she was legitimately fulfilling all three roles. Detailed records were transmitted. The solar cycle durations overlap. The shifts do not.
The shifts occupied by her roles left little time for sleep, a requirement for humans. There are not enough rest cycles.
That’s reflected in the images of her. Captain’s female relayed that information also.
In all three images, one for each role, his female’s hair was vivid purple. Her lips and eyelids were the same hue. But her cheeks were sunken as though she hadn’t eaten sufficient nourishment, there were dark circles under her eyes, and those eyes lacked sparkle. They were flat.
For some illogical reason, that angered Chuckles. She damaged herself.
His fingers twitched. He would smack her lush ass for having done that.
Her roles were low credit but they should have paid for her private chambers, nourishment, beverage, other necessary supplies. Captain’s female was intrigued by Bettina. He heard that in her transmitted tone. I’ll investigate more.
That wasn’t necessary. He would pry the truth out of his lying female. But he remained silent because uncovering details made Captain’s female happy.
Be cautious. Captain advised him. The transmission ended.
There was no need for that guidance. Chuckles rubbed his damaged knee. Past betrayals had taught him not to trust unknown beings or situations.
He could handle his female.
Aligning his ship’s docking connectors with those of her shuttle craft was a simple procedure. He guided his vessel into position. It jerked as it bumped against the shuttle craft. The docking connectors locked, sealing the connection.
He shut down the engines. As a precaution, he wiped all non-essential-for-basic-operations information from his ship’s databases, including routes, previous destinations, communications. Those details were stored in the databases inside him. When he had successfully retrieved his female and returned to the ship, he’d reload the information.
Satisfied he’d left nothing that would endanger Captain, Captain’s female, or their brethren, he moved toward the interior doors. The space between the two vessels had pressurized.
He scanned his surroundings. Only one lifeform appeared in the shuttle craft. It was human, was positioned at the far side of the vessel.
His female was waiting for him to approach her. He approved of that logic. She would be in control of her environment, have the advantage.
He opened the interior doors, rushed through the space between the two vessels, moving at cyborg speed. His left foot dragged because of his damaged knee. His gaze traveled over the space.
The recording device was easy to spot. He disabled it, ripping it off its mount, smashing it on the retractable floor.
The control panel for the shuttle craft door had been removed. His female must have desired to be in control of which beings accessed her vessel.
That wouldn’t stop him. He peeled off a sloppy metal patch, retrieved the hidden wires, once utilized for the control panel, stuck them in one of his wrist sockets.
That gave him access to everything, every system, every snippet of information that had ever flowed through the shuttle craft. His jaw clenched. His female had been a bad, bad being.
But he was now aware of her plans and wouldn’t allow himself to become distracted while he was around her. He would disarm his deceitful human and do the same to the associate designated to stun him. They would both become his captives.
He took away his female’s ability to communicate with her team of dishonorable beings and then he opened the door. A wave of delectably scented air hit his nostrils. Arousal surged through him.
His cock bobbed. He breathed deeply, smelling hot, needy female and… His forehead furrowed as he searched the cyborg databases, looking for a match. …Qershi blooms?
Qershi grew naturally only on one planet and that planet was situated several sectors away from their present location. No vegetation had appeared on his scans.
That illogical input increased his determination to restrain his female and return them quickly to a known environment. He ran at top speed through the shuttle craft, disabling recording devices and ceiling-mounted guns as he moved toward his target.
She didn’t notice him approaching. Her fingers tapped frantically on a private viewscreen. “Smarts, why aren’t you answering my que
stions?” Her round little chin jutted. “What do you mean you can’t see him?”
“I destroyed the recording devices.” He rested his hands on his guns. “That’s why Smarts can’t see me.”
“What the—?” She jumped, the action almost freeing her lush breasts from her flight suit. Her gaze met his, her eyes wide and vividly blue. “You’re here.” She squeaked, taking a step backward. “But-but I didn’t open the doors for you.”
He entered the chamber, navigated through it as quickly as he could, destroying devices, ensuring no one could hear their conversation.
There were no private items in the space, nothing to tell him more about his female…other than that she was careful and cunning.
Unable to resist touching her, he brushed his fingers over the nape of her neck as he passed her. Her skin was decadently soft.
She quivered and the scent of her arousal intensified, taunting him. “Where did you go?” She turned, her inferior human vision system unable to lock on him. “Why won’t you answer me?”
“Others were listening.” His dismantling of her fail-safes complete, he stopped directly in front of her. “They aren’t listening now.”
Her gaze lifted to his face. She swallowed. Hard. “Your skin is grey. Your eyes are brilliant blue and they snap with a sort of energy. You have a letter followed by numbers inked on your cheek.” She paused.
He waited for her conclusion, for her terror. His kind had been manufactured for one primary purpose—to kill. Many humans believed them to be unfeeling machines.
His female was a clever being, despite her charade. She had to be that way. Trapping beings required intelligence.
She would fear him. That was the only logical response.
“You’re a cyborg.” Her voice grew husky.
He dipped his head, watching her warily. Why wasn’t she scared?
They looked at each other for a long moment, their gazes locking, holding.
She didn’t retreat, didn’t show any signs of trepidation. Her reaction was just the opposite. That he was a cyborg seemed to please his perverse female.
Her lips lifted into a small smile. Her eyelids partially lowered, as did her gaze. She surveyed him slowly, thoroughly, as though savoring the experience.
