by Cynthia Sax
“I’ll relay that.” Crash handled the communications with the other cyborgs.
“Do you think they’ll have females like yours in the Homeland?” Gap tossed a severed Mantidae claw over his shoulder.
Reaching the cyborg Homeland, a planet seized by their brethren, was their goal. There would be no more pain, no more orders to obey, no more humans to torture them. They would have total control.
“There are no humans in the Homeland.” And Rage had met no other female like his.
“Oh.” Gap’s shoulders slumped.
“There are cyborg females.” Crash turned his attention toward their ship, rerouting the critical systems so they didn’t flow through the tracking beacons. “But I hear not all of them are accommodating.”
“Very few of them are accommodating,” Rage grumbled. Their nanocybotics were hostile to those of any intruder, especially a dominant male’s.
“Maybe they’ll be accommodating to me.” Hope lit Gap’s unmarked face. “I don’t scare others as you do, Rage.”
He didn’t scare his little human. Rage took apart damaged weapons and pieced them back together, creating functional units.
They worked, Crash and Gap chattering as much as his female, talking about their plans for the future. Rage listened, commented only when needed.
The Mantidae slowly approached until they couldn’t be ignored any longer. “We’ll perform one last sweep of our territory.” He stood, heaving his biggest gun over his right shoulder. “This will be one of our bloodier deployments.”
Crash set his tools aside, his reluctance obvious. The cyborg didn’t enjoy fighting as Rage did. “Your human told you to be careful.”
“When she sees me, we’ll know if her concern is genuine.” Rage doubted that it was. He stalked toward the enemy, determined to vent some of his frustration on their green skulls.
Chapter Three
Joan wasn’t dumb. She knew the other engineers wanted her dead. She heard the whispered rumblings of their discontent, their crude comments and dire predictions.
Attacking Boyd didn’t help her situation but he had left her with no choice. The guard had disrespected her cyborg, threatened to harm him. She had to take action, had to show all of them that she’d protect C899321.
Knowing she’d be targeted, Joan took precautions. She left the docking bay in the company of others, gambling that they wouldn’t want an audience to witness their assaults. When she stocked the chamber with supplies and extra flight suits—red to reflect her new position, she asked an extremely enthusiastic medic cadet to help her carry and arrange the items. Now, she waited at the intersection between the busy main hallway and the less-traveled route to the cyborg’s chambers.
A group of cybernetic engineers turned down the cyborg hallway. One of those engineers was her friend, Denny.
She joined them, falling in step beside him. “Thank you for trying to warn me,” she murmured.
Although he didn’t say anything, staring straight ahead, he heard her, his body stiffening. Joan matched him stride for stride, feeling a little less alone, almost part of their group.
“I heard that cyborg fucked that fat ass of yours, Tits.” Plank, the meanest cadet in their graduating class, called from behind her. “Did you moo like one of those bovines you love?”
His two henchmen, cadets she nicknamed Dumb and Dumber, sniggered.
Joan ignored him. He’d been spreading rumors about her for solar cycles, had been responsible for her unfortunate nickname.
“The cyborg had to take you from behind.” Plank closed the gap between them. “Not even a machine could maintain a hard-on while looking at your face.” He shoved her against the wall, knocking the air out of her lungs.
She staggered backward, hurt but not worried. There were bystanders, witnesses. One of them included her friend. They’d stop Plank and his buddies.
“Don’t move, cyborg slut.” Dumb and Dumber pinned her shoulders, grinding her into the panel. “We don’t want to see your face either.”
No one stepped forward. No one said anything.
There were three of them. Only one of her.
“Denny,” she called for her friend. He’d help her.
“You know Tits, Olsen?” Plank asked.
“No.” He continued walking, not looking back.
She stared at him, some of the fight oozing out of her. Her friend had deserted her.
“We’d kill you.” Plank pushed her face against a seam in the panels. “But the machine will do that job for us.” Metal scraped against her cheek, leaving a trail of pain. “Last shift, it had already vented its rage on your predecessor. This planet rotation, it will turn on you. You’ll die slowly, painfully, Tits.”
Rage was the right word for Plank to associate with her cyborg. Joan had watched the footage. Most of it. A malfunction had erased several particles of time. The other males called him Rage.
“I’d rather him kill me than you,” she muttered against the wall. The cyborg killed quickly. Plank would torture her for an entire shift before completing the deed.
“You’ll get that wish.” The engineer knocked her head against the panel. Explosions of pain and brightness exploded in her brain.
“On your own time, cadets,” a stern voice cut through the buzzing in her ears. “Your deployments are returning.”
The three engineers released her. “Yes, sir.” They snapped into a salute and walked away, leaving her slumped against the wall.
“Thank you, sir.” Joan turned, managed a sloppy salute.
“I stopped it because no one interferes with the ship’s timetable, Cadet.” There was no kindness on Commander Lewis’ face. “Not because I care about your welfare.”
“I understand, sir.” She understood she was on her own. She also understood that no one would attack her close to deployment start or completion time.
The Commander nodded and strode off, a smirk on his face.
No one expected her to survive the pairing with her cyborg, with Rage. They thought he was a killing machine.
And in the footage, while he was in battle, he had been, slaughtering the Mantidae swiftly, efficiently, his biceps bulging, his huge body almost graceful.
But when he spoke with the other cyborgs, Crash and Gap, he’d shown his human side. He’d been surly, yes, and often impatient, but he’d also been tolerant, allowing the others to tease and taunt him.
She hurried toward his chambers, wishing to be there when he entered them. If she earned his respect, as the cyborgs had, he might also become as tolerant of her, allowing her to serve him. Then all she had to do was avoid everyone else on the station and she’d live.
She accessed the chambers and waited between the two sets of doors for her cyborg to return.
* * *
Rage walked through the door, covered in dried blood, a piece of metal lodged underneath his right eye, his armor battered and torn, and Joan felt faint, the floor unsteady under her feet.
“I told you to be careful.” Her voice rose to a screech. According to the footage, he’d returned to the battle station clean after the previous deployments. What had happened during this planet rotation?
Her cyborg gazed at her, his eyes blazing with fury. His fingers folded into massive fists.
Was he preparing to use them on her?
She gulped air. “Sir.”
Boyd, that rectal wipe, sniggered, his nose bruised and swollen. “Your rough day is about to get rougher, Cadet Tits.” The door closed in front of him.
“Did he do this?” Rage touched the scratch on her cheek and she winced. “No one harms what is mine.”
Although she knew it was the primitive C Model in him speaking, his possessive tone still curled her toes. “It wasn’t Boyd, sir, and I’m more concerned about you.” She led him through the inner door, toward her hoard of medic supplies. “I’ll spray your wounds first, then I’ll remove the shrapnel so they can heal.”
“Before tending to me, you’
ll treat own wounds.” He remained angry on her behalf and that warmed her insides.
“They don’t hurt much, sir.” She wouldn’t lie to him, wouldn’t tell him they didn’t hurt her. Joan searched through her stash, located a pain inhibitor. “And I don’t have metal sticking out of my face.”
He grumbled.
“Close your eyes, sir,” she instructed.
He gazed at her warily.
He doesn’t trust me. Joan sighed. “Here.” She sprayed her wrist, numbing it. “It won’t hurt you. See? And you have other senses. Use them.”
He closed his eyes.
She misted his face wound with the pain inhibitor, the moisture leaving trails on his blood-smeared cheeks. “You can open them again.” She doused every wound she could find, wishing to ease his torment.
“What did you do to me, female?” he roared, touching his cheek. “I can’t feel my face.”
“That’s how pain inhibitors work, sir.” Why was he being so irrational? Unless… She paused, gazed upward at him. “Didn’t your previous engineers use them before they treated your wounds?”
“And reduce the pain of a machine?” He glared at her. “What do you think?”
They plucked shrapnel from his body without giving him anything to dull the agony. The anger in Joan escalated. “They must have used them when they removed your ball.”
“They didn’t.” Rage’s lips twisted. “They used a prolonger. Do you know what that does, little engineer?”
She did. Joan felt faint.
“It kept me conscious but didn’t dull my pain. I felt everything.”
Shit. “It was designed to keep you alive on the battlefield, allowing you to return to base camp where medic supplies were available.”
The Humanoid Alliance had used it to torture him. Joan couldn’t think about that right now. She had to focus on her injured cyborg.
“I don’t understand some humans.” She picked up a pair of grippers and stepped on the elevation platform, rising to his level.
“I don’t understand any humans.” Rage watched her. “Especially not you.”
“Be still, sir.” Her hands trembled, the prospect of hurting him causing her stomach to twist. “I’ll try to be gentle.” She captured the piece of metal between the jaws of the grippers and pulled. It was stuck securely. She pulled harder.
The metal dislodged. Joan fell backward.
Rage strapped his arms around her, his reflexes inhumanly fast, his quick response preventing her from toppling off the elevation platform. “Careful, female.”
“Thank you, sir.” She avoided his gaze, acutely aware of the heat of his palms through the fabric of her flight suit. “Got it.” She held the piece of metal up, triumphant.
“You should be naked.” He didn’t release her, rubbing his fingers over her back, cleaning them on her flight suit. “That’s our agreement.”
“You said I should be naked when you are, sir.” She turned her attention to the wound on his shoulder. That piece of what looked like green shell was removed easier.
“You’ll be naked when we are alone.” He leaned forward, his nostrils flaring.
Is he smelling me? Joan removed an unknown material from his side.
“Female,” he barked and she jumped. “We’re alone.”
“Yes, sir, Rage, sir.” She liked saying his name. Joan balanced the grippers on one of the armor-covered shoulders, using him as a horizontal support, and she unfastened her flight suit. Undressing didn’t feel as awkward as it did yesterday.
That wasn’t a good thing. Her cheeks heated as she lowered the fabric, revealing her full breasts, taut nipples, wide hips. He’d smell her arousal. Again. She slipped her feet out of her boots.
“They damaged your breasts also.” The cyborg cupped her curves, lifting them, as though testing their weight. Joan bit her bottom lip, holding back a moan of approval, his hands big and rough yet agonizingly gentle. “Did the males touch them?” He fondled her breasts, swiping his thumbs back and forth across her nipples.
“No, sir.” Her voice was husky. “They smacked me against a wall panel.”
“Because they believed we were breeding.”
She should say yes. Rage would view that as a personal affront, might extend some protection to her.
But it would be a lie and she wouldn’t lie to her cyborg. “Because they wanted me dead, sir.”
“Why do they want you dead, little engineer?” He licked the red mark on her skin with the flat of his hot, wet tongue and she quivered, her pussy dripping with need. “You’re one of them.”
“I’m female, sir.” She panted as he sucked on her, his nanocybotics scattering her control, making her forget his wounds, her duty.
It was as though she was drugged. She couldn’t resist him, didn’t wish to stop him. Ever. She never wanted anything more than his mouth on her nipples. It wasn’t natural. Yet it was. It felt right, real.
“They don’t see me as an equal.” She forced herself to think, to continue their conversation.
“You’re stronger and cleverer than many of them.” Rage flicked her right nipple and she gasped, the bliss fantastical. “How could they not perceive that?” He drew the peak into his mouth, torturing her with pleasure.
“You’re stronger and cleverer than them, also, sir.” She clung to his shoulders, her passion rising too quickly to manage. “Do they see you as equal?”
He growled against her, the vibration of his lips pushing her closer to the edge. “Do you dare to compare your situation to mine?” He wedged one of his hands between her legs, laying claim to her pussy.
“No, sir.” She moved against him, brazenly rubbing her wetness over his fingers. “I serve you. You’re my cyborg.”
“I’m your master.” His eyes glowed with pride and passion. “You belong to me, are mine to do with as I will.”
“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t form a longer reply. Her breasts were alive with his touch, his nanocybotics working her like a thousand tiny tongues, concentrated where his mouth engulfed her skin. Her pussy warmed with the friction of his palm.
“Right now, I wish to repair your damage.” He laved her breasts with his tongue, covering her with his unique form of care, spreading his seduction across her entire chest, and she writhed against him, fighting her release, wishing to delay this delicious torture.
“I want my female in prime condition when I breed with her.” Rage pushed two of his large fingers inside her.
She whimpered, the fit tight, stretching her.
“You’ll take me, little engineer.” He spread his fingers, increasing the pressure. “Not today. You haven’t yet earned that reward.” He pumped her, his rhythm fast, hard, squeezing the breath from her chest. “But soon. I’ll fill your snug human pussy with my cyborg cum.”
“Yes, sir.” Joan wiggled, impaled on his fingers.
“I’ll breed with you whenever, wherever, however, I desire.” His lips moved against her as he thrust his fingers between her pussy lips, filling her again and again. “And you’ll deny me nothing because you serve me.”
“I serve you, sir.” Let me come, she wanted to beg yet didn’t dare. He was in control, would give her relief when, if he wished.
“When I tire of you, when you no longer satisfy my needs—”
She shook with want and need and an endless yearning. “You’ll kill me, sir.” Saying the words gave her some power and she wasn’t scared of death, only of not finding release.
“Yes.” He drove into her pussy with his fingers and nipped her breast with his lip-covered teeth.
She screamed, bearing down on his hand, taking him deeper inside her. Her inner walls constricted around him, as though trying to make their bond permanent.
His mouth tugged and pulled at her nipple, extending her orgasm until she had nothing left, sagging against him.
Rage drew her upward with one arm, this demonstration of his strength impressing her. “My female.” He licked the scratch on her fa
ce. His nanocybotics warmed her skin as they repaired her damage. His fingers remained inside her.
“I’ve never reacted this way to a male, sir,” she whispered, her loss of control scaring her. “Never. Is it the nanocybotics?”
“They didn’t arouse the other females.” He pulled his head back, viewed her once again with suspicion. “And you were wet before I touched you.” Rage removed his fingers from her pussy. She felt their loss immediately. “Are you certain you’re not on breeding drugs?” He sniffed his hand, then licked the glistening juices off his skin.
He’s tasting me. Joan pushed away her embarrassment, focusing on her issue. “Do you detect anything, sir?”
“Fertile female.”
“I’m not fertile, sir.” She shook her head. “I took a fertility inhibitor ten planet rotations ago. It’s viable for one solar cycle.”
“It doesn’t matter.” His tone told her he didn’t believe her. “You won’t create offspring with me.” He placed his weapons on a horizontal support.
“But—”
“Remove my armor and clean me.” He abruptly ended the conversation.
She bent over, unfastened his leg coverings, set them aside to be cleaned and repaired, did the same with his arm coverings.
All the time, she talked about the previous deployment’s battle, the footage she’d watched while he was fighting. There were areas where she could improve his speed, the motions of his mechanics. He grunted, saying little, frustratingly not adding to her knowledge base.
The body armor was a challenge. Joan struggled to lift it over his head.
After many humiliating moments, Rage finally relented and assisted her, covering her fingers with his. The warmth from his touch lingered long after he released her.
She inspected him for wounds, extracted more shrapnel, and then removed the blood and grime, swiping the cleaning cloth over his face, neck, shoulders, back, cock and lower. There wasn’t one patch of skin she didn’t touch.
She noticed the wounds on his wrists. She wasn’t an idiot. She realized that was where the designers had hidden two of the three tracking devices. But she said nothing, knowing he didn’t trust her enough to talk about his plans.
