Science Fiction Romance: Biomechanical Hearts (Space Sci-Fi Love Triangle) (New Adult Paranormal Fantasy)

by Olivia Myers

  Jessa nodded to them both in return and crossed to Martinez.

  “Mack says Oubliette is nearly here. We all set?”

  “You know it. Tessie and I got this.”

  She caught the female cy shooting Martinez a narrow-eyed look at the use of the name, her irises almost as black as her short cropped hair. Jessa tapped her fist against his shoulder.

  “Yeah you do. Central’s just jumpy since that last run to Polaris got hit. Mack and I will just stand back and watch in awe while you two —”

  A red light strobed across the room and the proximity claxon buzzed. 938’s eyes snapped toward the loading bay doors.

  “They shouldn’t be that close yet.”

  Martinez frowned, pink lips folding into his dark goatee.

  “Oubliette, this is Lyra Station Officer MZ-313. Do you copy?”

  They all heard the garbled crackle over their comms. Jessa’s gaze slid to Mack. She jerked her chin toward to control room. He nodded, lashes doing to stutter-flutter thing they did when he accessed his neuralnet with his eyes open.

  Jessa hoofed it up the short staircase that led to the loading bay control room. “Central, this is Officer JS-824 in Loading Bay 6. We’ve got a possible situation. Officers MCK-397, TSE-938, and MZ-313 on premises.”

  Central Command, Lyra Station’s security hub, crackled in her ear. They had no other reports of activity and no readings showing anything but the supply trawler Oubliette approaching.

  “Let’s hope we’ve just got a faulty sensor then,” she replied as she straight-armed the control room door opened. The single harried-looking Bay Operator raised wild eyes to her and jammed a shaking hand into his curly brown hair.

  “It’s not showing up on anything! I don’t understand.”

  Down below in the bay, Martinez was having no luck raising a response from the Oubliette. Jessa crossed the long, narrow control room in three great strides.

  “What isn’t showing up? Talk to me.” She glanced at the name on his uniform shirt. “Talk to me, Greg.”

  He blinked at her and then turned to point at the screen in front of him.

  “I can see it right there. It’s a Bug. I know that’s what’s tripping the proximity sensor on the loading bay door. But it’s not showing up anywhere else! It’s like it’s invisible!”

  Ice filled Jessa’s veins at the sight of the small but vicious looking pirate vessel clinging to the side of the station, spidery-like pincer legs digging into the hull.

  She relayed what she was seeing to Mack and the others, trying to tamp down on the questions swirling through her frantic brain. Adrenaline flooded through her, metallic on the back of her tongue. It made her stomach churn.

  As soon as she finished speaking, Mack’s rumbling bass was in her ear.

  “They likely only sent one ship for a station this small, so we should be fine. I’ve already alerted Central to send down more Officers for back-up.”

  “Why —”

  “The hull is slightly thinner on the loading bay doors than elsewhere. That’s why the sensors are extra sensitive. God programmed them,” Mack replied.

  Jessa allowed a faint smile to tip up the curve of her lips, pleased with how in tune she and her partner were. That had been exactly what she was wondering.

  “They’re just waiting there.” The Bay Operator tapped his screen as if he could knock the ship off that way. His voice shook. Jessa patted his shoulder.

  “Most likely they’ve already boarded the Oubliette and were waiting for entry that way. Then they could take the supplies, plus anything they could scavenge here. That’s what they tried on Polaris.”

  He made a little choked gasping noise in the back of his throat, but Jessa grinned.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ve got this.”

  In her ear, she heard 938’s firm, sweet voice.

  “313 has the Oubliette. It seems they experienced some ‘technical difficulties,’ but are now ready to dock.”

  Jessa was surprised by the wry note in the female cy’s voice, but she nodded at the Bay Operator.

  “Open the doors like normal.”

  His eyes were round, but he began working his console with shaking hands.

  “I —” Martinez began, but 938 cut him off.

  “I’m going out.”

  Jessa said a momentary prayer of thanks to Apollo that she and her cy got along well, and then the bay doors began to open.

  Things happened quickly then, as they always did in combat. Most of her job was endless boredom waiting for a few frantic, scrambling minutes of crazy intensity. The pirate attack was no different.

  938 slipped silently out the bay doors as it opened. Mack and Martinez arranged themselves at casual attention as if nothing was wrong. She took position behind the control room door, angling her body so she could aim down at the bay below, and unholstered the weapon at her thigh.

  The Oubliette’s dingy brown hull loomed into view, drifting easily and smoothly into the locking ports.

  The trawler’s cargo door sprang open and bodies poured out. They were shouting something she couldn’t understand and rushing toward Mack and Martinez. Her heart thumped quickly, but both men had their weapons up and had begun to fire.

  One of the pirates rushed for the stairs, sweat gleaming on his dirty face as he barreled toward her.

  Jessa picked him off with a single shot. Behind her, the Bay Operator whimpered.

  Another pirate made a break for the corridor, but Jessa took him down as well. She kept half an eye on the group near the trawler, but Mack and Martinez seemed to have them under control.

  A bulky looking man with a bald head was shooting wildly at the two officers. He kept glancing over his shoulder, toward the still open bay doors, as if expecting back-up. None came.

  Jessa didn’t bother to hold back the smile that split her lips. 938 had obviously taken care of that situation.

  “How are you doing, 938?”

  Her comm buzzed for a second and then she heard a grunt. “Just peachy,” the female cy answered.

  Jessa snorted. “Need any help out here? Looks like the boys have this — Fuck.”

  She pushed herself out of her crouch and leapt down the stairs in two strides as Martinez went down, crimson blood pouring from his head. From her angle, she couldn’t tell how bad it was. She prayed it was just a graze.

  “Mack!”

  His pale grey eyes flicked to her, took in her position, and then swung back to the remaining dozen or so attackers. He spun, putting himself between her and them. Jessa didn’t argue or hesitate.

  She dropped to her knees and slid, catching herself against Mack’s braced legs with her left hand. He didn’t so much as sway at the impact, bless him.

  Sitting back on her heels, Jessa used him like a blind, sighting through and around his legs to pick off the pirates one-by-one while their attention was on the massive, intimidating hulk of her partner.

  Shouts of pain and anger filled the air, along with the screech of metal, the mineral smell of blood and the stench of burning flesh. Sweat slicked Jessa’s entire body underneath her body armor and plastered stray wisps of hair to her face.

  “Ammo,” barked Mack.

  “Here!”

  She ripped one of the spare magazines from his side clip and thrust her hand up just as he swung his arm down. The movement was perfect, as if they were one well-oiled machine. The magazine she held slid into place in his weapon with a satisfying click.

  Mack raised it again, firing off three more shots in quick succession. Then, there was silence.

  Panting, Jessa pushed to her feet and glanced around. 938 was on her knees beside Martinez, a wad of gauze pressed to his temple. Mack waded into the mound of bodies, checking pulses.

  Once again, 938 surprised her, fingers stroking Martinez’s dark hair back from his forehead. His eyes were closed.

  Jessa swallowed, her throat sore as if she’d been the one yelling. “How is he?”


  The cy woman gave a short nod. “He’ll be fine. It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “They’re all dead,” Mack said, returning to her side. “I had hoped to be able to question one of them.”

  Jessa rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember that next time I’m saving my friend’s life.”

  He frowned at her, but it was 938 who spoke.

  “I left one alive on the ship. She is bound. You may question her, 397. I will help.”

  Mack nodded. The sound of tromping boots echoed down the corridor.

  Jessa blew out a breath. “Back-up’s here.”

  She gave Mack a wide smile.

  ***

  Mack stepped into the living quarters he shared with Jessa, making sure to reset the security system behind himself. The common area his partner referred to as the ‘living room’ was empty, as was the kitchen and their bunks.

  He could hear the soft shushing sound of the shower running in the bathroom, and surmised that Jessa was bathing.

  She would be unclothed, water turning her gold hair dark. When she wore it loose, which was not often, it reached the middle of her back. The muscles of her back were long and lean, her spine a depression between them.

  Mack had only ever seen the woman in the storage compartment naked in the flesh, but after the very interesting and enlightening talk he’d had with God the other evening, he’d done much research.

  It turned out there was another reason for humans to engage in sexual contact after all.

  Pleasure.

  It felt good. Really, really good, according to the tech. “Better than anything you can even imagine in that box of bolts and synapses you call a brain, boy.”

  God had explained all about genitals and their role in sexual gratification. And when Mack had asked why cyborgs had no genitals, that’s when things had gotten really interesting.

  Mack shifted, still unaccustomed to the extra flesh between his legs.

  With Godfrey’s expertise, the procedure had been simple. He said he’d been wanting to try it anyway. All it took was scheduling Mack for some routine maintenance, and adding the upgrades.

  Not just software, though his BCI now possessed the knowledge of myriad sexual positions and techniques, but the hardware as well.

  His skin felt sensitive, the cotton of his undershorts rubbing against the soft sack of his testicles. The sensation was both odd and pleasant. Above his testicles, the length of his penis thickened slightly as blood rushed in that direction.

  Mack stripped out of his clothes, save for the blue cotton undershorts, and climbed onto his bunk, still running an internal assessment on his new equipment.

  Because of his talk with Godfrey and subsequent research, he understood what the purpose of this new flesh was, but he was finding the abstract and the reality quite different.

  Merely stroking his own hand over the covered bulge of his penis sent tingles of feeling throughout his body. His hands explored the contours of his chest, and when his calloused fingers brushed the small peaks of his nipples, a dart of sensation arrowed straight to his groin.

  He frowned. He knew there was no actual connection between the two, but somehow toying with the tiny bud sent more blood rushing to his penis. He pinched the two stiff buds between thumb and forefinger and gasped at the increased pleasure.

  The muscles in his thighs trembled, though he had not over-taxed them. It was nonsensical.

  He panted, his body craving more oxygen despite the fact that he lay supine on his bed. Internal diagnostics told him that both his core temperature and his heart rate were elevated as well.

  And it felt good. Like Godfrey had said, very, very good. Mack kept running his hands over his body, feeling the planes and valleys of the muscles of his chest and abdomen, the angle of his jaw.

  He dragged his fingertips over his own lips, surprised to find they were registering more sensation than usual as well. And all of it, every touch and caress, seemed linked straight to his penis.

  It had reached full tumescence, hard and throbbing. His testicles drew up tight to his body.

  Mack ran through everything he’d learned since the other night, trying to put facts to the feelings he was experiencing, but it was difficult. Mere words could not accurately describe them. Even the cool air of the apartment washing over that thin, sensitive skin made his whole body throb.

  Is this what the humans had felt in that storage compartment?

  The memory of that encounter made his penis twitch. Mack shoved his undershorts down to his thighs, freeing the trapped, aching flesh. It sprang up toward his belly, nestled in a patch of dark, curly hair. The bulbous head was smooth, flushed a deep red, and flared like a bell. Beneath that upturned ridge, the shaft was thick and traced with veins swollen with blood.

  As he looked at this new part of him, a drop of clear fluid welled at the narrow slit in the head, growing to a bead before dripping down onto the trail of dark hair just below his navel.

  He swiped a finger across the tip, scooping up that bit of moisture. The feel of his finger grazing that smooth flesh made him groan and bite his lip.

  The fluid — pre-cum, his BCI said — was slippery and viscous.

  Again, Mack pictured the scene on E deck, the man and woman. The lips of her bare genitals had been wet looking. With this fluid?

  His heart pounded.

  No, he remembered. Women made their own fluids as well.

  Jessa… did Jessa become slick like that?

  Mack slammed his eyes shut, not sure where that particular thought had come from. But it refused to leave, and though he knew it was wrong, he didn’t shut it down. Quite the opposite. He followed it further.

  She was naked now, just on the other side of the bathroom door. He could still hear the water running. Another long shower. They’d been growing more frequent since the storage room incident.

  The image of Jessa’s face as she had stared up at him that night filled his mind and finally, finally, Mack had a word for it.

  Aroused. Jessa had looked ‘turned on.’

  Elevated respiration, temperature, and heart rate… just like he was experiencing now. His research on the neuralnet had provided the other signs of female arousal, including lubrication of the vagina. Mack even knew all the slang terms. He quite enjoyed some of them.

  Jessa was wet.

  He groaned again, brushing his fingers up the length of his aching erection. Mack pressed his head back into the pillow and let his mind wander. It was not something he was accustomed to doing, but he was capable of it.

  Adept even, it turned out, as his BCI provided images of what Jessa might look like in the shower, hair wet down her back, water cascaded over the generous mounds of her breasts and the taut plane of her belly.

  His fingers wrapped around his throbbing flesh, squeezing and tugging as he imagined her small but capable hands coasting over her own slippery body.

  Blood thundered in Mack’s ears and pounded in his temples and groin and he slid his fist up and down his erect cock, twisting his wrist to rub his palm over the slick head before stroking down again.

  Behind his closed eyelids, Jessa’s pink lips parted, her blue eyes sparkled. She spread her long, toned legs to show him her sex — her pussy. It wasn’t completely bare, there was a triangle of blonde curls above, but below the lips were smooth and soft.

  Mack tried to imagine what she would feel like there, those delicate looking folds sliding against his oh-so-sensitive cock head, but he had no frame of reference beside his own hand.

  He could imagine, though, and he did.

  Thinking about it drew a tortured groan from his lips, loud enough that it almost drowned out the startled, “Fuck!” that rang through the room.

  Mack’s eyes snapped open.

  He had been so caught up in his new experiences that he’d failed to note the shower shutting off, or Jessa coming into the bunk.

  She stood in the doorway, wet hair combed back from her face, wearing her customary tan
k top and shorts, her mouth hanging open. Her wide blue eyes stared directly at where his hand was wrapped around his still rock hard erection.

  Mack blinked rapidly, his BCI slow to process the situation. When it did, all he could think about was the last thing she’d said. He licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, studying her.

  “Do you want to?”

  ***

  Jessa tried to pinch herself, but her arms refused to work. She was frozen, standing in the bedroom doorway, unable to tear her eyes away from…

  From Mack’s gigantic cock, her mind screamed!

  One small, still-rational brain cell was wondering how exactly he came to have such a thing, given that she knew cys weren’t made that way, but the entire rest of her higher function had become drooling mush.

  Clothed, Mack had been temptation enough to have her taking extra long showers. But Mack in nothing but a pair of boxers bunched around his muscled thighs, the rest of his toned, sculpted, perfect body on display?

  Jessa was on fire.

  She’d been chilly after getting out the shower, her damp hair heavy and cool on the back of her neck. But no longer. Flames licked at every inch of her skin as her gaze roamed the gorgeous man sprawled in front of her.

  He had a smattering of dark hair on his chest, she saw, whorling around two small, copper nipples. A faint happy trail began just below the dip of his belly button as well, running down between the ridges of his abdomen to disappear into the thatch just above the thick, long, drooling cock currently rearing out of the top of Mack’s large fist.

  She licked her lips and shivered as a strand of pre-cum stretched down to join a small pool on his belly.

  Saliva flooded her mouth.

  “Fuck,” she said. It came out a croak, her throat was so dry.

  Jessa’s legs trembled, almost spilling her to the floor. Her hand shot out instinctively, catching the edge of the small table beside her bunk. The metal was cold against her heated palm. She sucked in a breath and was bombarded by the scent of male lust, an earthy musk that made the blood pulse under her skin.

  Mack’s hand paused in its stroking and she wanted to cry, beg him to keep going, but he was speaking. Jessa tried to process the words.