Ghost of a Machine

by Cynthia Sax

  Because he hadn’t thought of her needs. He hadn’t thought of her at all.

  Moments passed.

  Lethe paced back and forth in the small space, growing more concerned with each step.

  Humans, after the invasion of Mercury Minor, had thought only of themselves, fighting, stealing, killing to stay alive. Ghost was a primitive C Model cyborg, had been damaged.

  Would he remember her, return for her?

  Her father’s friend hadn’t. Dazed, confused, shocked by the settlement’s demolition, Lethe had been relieved to see Uncle Daewon in the chaos. The male had always been friendly to her, to her siblings, insisting they view him as their uncle, as part of the family.

  The Humanoid Alliance had continued to pummel the area around them with missiles, some strikes dangerously close, the sound deafening. Uncle Daewon pried her off his left arm and told her to stay close to the piece of wall remaining behind them. He would find a safe place to wait out the bombardment, would return to lead her to that spot.

  She trustingly gave him her handheld, the only possession she had. It could be utilized as a light, would make finding shelter easier.

  He smiled at her, walked away, and had never returned.

  Ghost might not return either.

  Lethe wedged her dagger’s blade under the control panel, tried to pry it off the wall panel. If she did that, she could access the circuits directly, might be able to trigger the doors to open.

  Her palms ached. Her arm muscles strained. She lacked the strength to remove it.

  She glanced at the doors. They were sturdier than the control panel and the seal was tight. She wouldn’t be able to jimmy them open.

  The tension across her shoulders intensified. She was stuck inside an otherwise empty chamber, unable to leave.

  But she had liquid. She opened the compartments specially built into the heels of her boots. The packets of liquid remained hidden there, her emergency rations.

  And she had other supplies. Lethe looked in her pack. There were three nourishment bars and one small container of beverage in there.

  It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but she’d make it last.

  She gathered her shredded flight suit into a pile and used it as a seat. The thirst would hit her first. Lethe swallowed, remembering the dryness of her mouth, the desperation in her soul.

  The bombings during the Humanoid Alliance attacks had set fires. The smoke in the air had been thick with ash, aggravating her thirst, turning any uncovered liquid acidic, undrinkable.

  After two planet rotations of waiting, she was forced to move away from the wall. She rummaged through the debris, seeking containers of beverage, searching beverage outlets, domiciles, eventually dead bodies. The stronger survivors stole from the weaker beings.

  The weak with nothing to offer the strong died.

  She had survived.

  And she would survive this. Lethe wiggled, trying to get comfortable. She would remain still, preserve her energy.

  Try not to die.

  She closed her mouth, protecting the precious moisture within her, breathed through her nose, concentrating on that action. Calm. She must be calm.

  Panic killed. Lethe had seen beings rush toward falling missiles, not away from them.

  She wouldn’t be one of those beings.

  She would live to see the next planet rotation and the planet rotation after that and…

  The doors opened, blowing Lethe’s serenity to bits. Ghost rushed into the storage chamber, his expression frantic, a capsule in his right hand.

  He’d returned to her.

  Lethe jumped to her booted feet and ran toward him. He skidded to a stop, his bare feet squeaking on the tile. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest, relief overwhelming all sense of caution, all remnants of her pride.

  “You came back,” she murmured into his warm skin. None of the others had ever returned.

  “Safe.” He hugged her to him. The capsule pushed against her back. “Safe.”

  “Safe?” Lethe tilted her head back, glaring up at him. “You locked me in this storage chamber. I couldn’t leave. If you had forgotten about me, I would have died from dehydration.”

  The cyborg frowned. “Mine.”

  “There would have been little I could have done to stop that death.” She shoved against his chest. The male didn’t move, wouldn’t allow her to move. “I was stuck here, as I was stuck on that blasted planet,” she grumbled, aware that he likely couldn’t understand her. He had been too severely damaged.

  “Look.” Ghost handed her the capsule.

  She opened it, gazed inside it. “These are tracking devices.”

  “Bad.” He slipped his hand into her pocket, removed her dagger.

  “Hey, wait.” She reached for her weapon. He turned, protecting his prize. “That’s mine.”

  He howled. Lethe circled him. Blood gushed from his wrists.

  “What are you doing?” She snatched the dagger away from him. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  She’d considered doing that when the thirst had become too much, but she hadn’t been able to take that step. Her survival instincts were too strong.

  “It hurts now.” Softening her voice, she put the dagger back into her pocket. “I know it does. But it gets better, bearable.”

  He wouldn’t ever be completely healed. As she would never be completely healed. Lethe stroked his right arm, trying to comfort him. But he could add value to the universe.

  Save lives as she planned to do.

  Ghost probed one of the wounds with his fingers. Crimson coated his ash-colored skin. She gulped, having seen that combination in her nightmares every rest cycle.

  “Safe.” He held up another tracking device.

  Lethe took it from him. “You’re not trying to kill yourself.”

  “Cyborg.” He extracted a tracking device from his other wrist.

  She placed both blood-soaked bits of metal and circuits in the capsule with the others. “Cyborgs can’t kill themselves?”

  He shook his head.

  “I couldn’t kill myself either.” They were alike in that way also.

  Ghost took the capsule from her. He shifted, positioning himself with his back facing her. “You.” He gestured over his shoulder.

  “What do you want me to do?” Lethe was confused.

  “Cut.”

  “I’m not hurting you.” She’d hurt enough beings in her lifespan.

  Ghost held up one finger and pointed to his left wrist. He held up two fingers and pointed to his right wrist. Then he held up three fingers and tried to touch his back.

  “You have another tracking device on your back?” Was he asking her to remove it?

  He nodded. “Back.” He tapped his neck, flashed ten with his fingers and another two, motioned downward.

  She placed her fingers where he’d indicated, felt simulated bone. “It’s over the twelfth bone in your back?”

  His head dipped again.

  She counted down. “Here?”

  “Here,” he repeated.

  Lethe raised the dagger. Her hands shook. Flaked blood clung to his gray skin. That wasn’t sanitary, could lead to an infection. Some of the survivors had died from infections. “Wait. I have to clean you first.”

  She grasped a cleaning cloth, ran the square of fabric over his back. There wasn’t any excess flesh on his frame. He was solid muscle. She flicked the cloth, turning the dried blood into oxygen, renewing it, and she cleaned more of his skin.

  Ghost rumbled softly as she touched him, the animalistic sounds of pleasure arising from deep in his chest arousing her, reassuring her. He enjoyed her hands on him. He had come back for her.

  She wasn’t foolish. If the choice had been his survival or hers, he would have chosen his. Every being would make that decision. But he seemed to enjoy her company.

  She couldn’t hurt him. Lethe found the small medical pack she always carried in her larger pack. �
�I’m giving you a pain inhibitor.” She sprayed his back.

  “Cyborg.”

  “Yes, I know you’re a big, tough warrior.” She pinched his skin. “Can you feel this?”

  He shook his head.

  Lethe cleaned her hands, dread in her heart. The tracking device had to be removed or it would draw the enemy to them.

  She positioned the dagger over his twelfth vertebra, took a deep breath, counted to three, exhaled, and sliced. Blood spurted and her stomach rolled. Bracing herself, she pushed her fingers between the cut flesh.

  It took one, two heartbeats but she found the tracking device. She tugged. Ghost grunted. It didn’t move.

  She tried again. It didn’t budge. “It’s stuck to the bone.”

  Ghost held up his right hand. The wound on his wrist had already closed, the new skin a paler shade of gray. He tapped his index finger against his thumb.

  Was there a release mechanism? Feeling along the tiny device, she found a button on one end of it. She pressed it and the mechanism released.

  “Got it.” She showed the tracking device to him.

  He grunted and held out the capsule.

  She dropped the device inside. Metal tinkled against metal. “We’ll dispose of it when we move to the bridge.” He shifted. “Which is not now.” She retrieved the cleaning cloth, cleaned her blade, slipped the dagger into her pocket. “You have to heal.” She swept the fabric square over the trails of crimson on his back.

  “Fast.”

  “You do heal quickly.” The wound had sealed. She lowered her hands, brushing the cleaning cloth over his clenched ass cheeks. “We had a deal. I’m the captain of this warship. I want access to all areas on this ship, including this storage chamber. You won’t lock me inside it again.”

  He turned, cupped her chin with his one hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. Sympathy reflected in his blue eyes. “Safe.” He waved the capsule at the corner of the chamber. Circuits hung from the ceiling. He knocked the closed metal container against the slots in his wrists. “Mine.”

  The drab, dreary space wasn’t a storage chamber. Ghost had locked her inside his private chamber. It was his home in the warship, a place he knew well. Some of her irritation dissipated.

  Ghost had been the Humanoid Alliance’s slave, treated like a weapon, given no human kindness, no comfort, no freedom. It would be unlikely that he’d consider hers.

  “You won’t restrain my movements again,” she informed him, stroking his chest with the cleaning cloth, unable to stop touching him, caring for him, comforting him. “If there’s danger, tell me, allow me to decide how I’ll protect myself.”

  “Mine.” He frowned.

  “How you’ll protect me,” she amended, not believing those words. If a threat arose, she’d be on her own, as she had always been.

  Ghost nodded. “Pro-tect.”

  Lethe tidied him, polishing his gray skin until it shone, learning every dip, every swell of his body. He was more muscular than any male she’d ever seen.

  She was acutely aware of how large he was, how broad, how erect. His cock had been hard since he’d returned to her.

  Lethe wanted him too, her nipples taut and her pussy wet. But their deal was for him to use her, not the other way around, and he appeared content with the cleaning, rumbling happily.

  “You don’t have to talk when you’re with me.” She didn’t want him to feel self-conscious about that. “Often, in the midst of battle, when the missiles are falling, speech is impossible.”

  That sound was deafening. The ground shook. It felt as though the entire world was collapsing, caving in around her. It terrified her at first.

  Then she got used to it, which was even more frightening.

  “Boom.” Ghost moved his hands slowly apart.

  “Yes, boom.” She smiled. “I’ll understand you without the words.”

  “No boom.” He cupped her chin, lifting it. “Safe.”

  “We’re safe,” she agreed.

  Ghost studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Pro-tect.” He strode to the control panel, his ass cheeks clenching and releasing as he walked, and he placed his right palm on the surface. “Mine?” He gestured for her to do the same.

  She complied. Her hand looked tiny next to his. “You’re huge.”

  “C.” His eyes glowed, drawing her gaze to the model number inked in black on his cheek.

  He was a C Model. Recalling her training, that meant he was very old and very primitive.

  Lethe trembled. She liked that. Too much.

  The doors slid open and she tamped down her unseemly attraction to the cyborg. They had a capsule to dispose of, a warship to move.

  Lethe walked toward the bridge. Ghost followed her, matching her shorter stride. He dropped the capsule in the first exterior chute they passed. It would float in space, leading the Humanoid Alliance away from them.

  Ghost’s arm brushed against her. His knuckles skimmed over hers. His casual non-sexual touching, at first, confused her. He wasn’t pressuring her to fuck him. She glanced at the big warrior. He merely walked with her.

  But she gradually became accustomed to it, to him. The silence between them felt peaceful, comfortable. The corridors were clear of blood and gore, the cleaning bots having done their jobs. The air smelled fresh, devoid of that stench that always denoted death.

  Lethe slipped her free hand into the front pocket of her ass coverings, touched cool metal. The dagger remained hidden. She had a cyborg by her side, one of the fiercest warriors in the universe.

  And this state-of-the-art warship was hers. She entered the bridge. Every seat was empty. The main viewscreen displayed an image of the battle station she’d once served upon. The commander had pledged to protect the warship until Lethe was able to reposition it.

  That would be a challenge. She sat in the captain’s chair. The systems would be locked, accessible only by the now-dead crew.

  Ghost stood at her side, looming over her.

  “Choose any seat.” She tilted her head toward the first officer’s chair, the seat she’d select.

  “Pro-tect.” He didn’t move.

  Ace and Thrasher, the other cyborgs had positioned themselves close to the commander also. Was that a cyborg power tactic?

  Lethe shook her head. It wouldn’t be successful with her. She’d worked hard to earn authority over her own vessel. She wouldn’t relinquish it to anyone.

  Once she gained that authority. She hadn’t done that. Yet.

  She placed her hands on the control panel embedded into the console before her. The systems hummed to life. Lethe stared at the display. She had access. Her fingers flew over the surface. Every area of the warship was open to her.

  She gazed at the cyborg by her side. “Ghost?” She lifted one eyebrow.

  “All.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  He’d given her access to all areas of the ship, as she’d requested. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “Free.”

  She was finally free, had the ability to fly wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Lethe’s agreement with Ghost remained in place. She’d have to fuck him. Her gaze slid to his fit physique, his delineated abs. But that wasn’t a hardship.

  And he’d tire of her, as the others had. That thought dampened her joy.

  Lethe ran a systems report, focusing on the tasks that needed to be completed. The warship appeared to be fully operational. They could defend themselves if attacked.

  “We have to move the warship.” It was an A Class Warship, the best of its kind. She gazed at the bridge with pride. The Humanoid Alliance would want it back. “But where should we go?”

  Rebel Headquarters, according to the commander, had been infiltrated by a Humanoid Alliance spy. She couldn’t ask them for direction. The commander would expect her to plot her own course. She couldn’t consult with her.

  Ghost claimed the control panel beside her. It was a backup device, a dupli
cate in case her control panel failed. There was no seat behind it.

  An image of a small blue and white planet appeared on the main viewscreen. It was labelled Earth Minor.

  Minor. That had to be a coincidence.

  “Safe,” Ghost said.

  Was it safe? She looked at the coordinates and her stomach twisted. The name hadn’t been a coincidence. “It isn’t safe.”

  “Safe,” he insisted.

  “No, it isn’t.” Lethe tapped on the controls, brought up the image of Mercury Minor, her home planet. It was in the same sector. “This planet once resembled Earth Minor.” It had been lush and green. “It is a small planet. There weren’t many beings living there but they were happy. Most of them.” She had been restless, aching for something more, an exception frustrating her parents. “The planet had ore the Humanoid Alliance wanted. The Mercurians refused to leave. The Humanoid Alliance bombed it, killing any being unable to escape.”

  The warship’s database, sourced from the Humanoid Alliance archives, had an image folder. She opened it and sucked in her breath at the depictions of the planet’s surface.

  The terrain was mostly lifeless, only a few fragile green sprouts breaking the brown monotony. Giant holes were gouged out of hillsides. Rainbow-colored fuel slicks covered bodies of water. Ruins were left where bustling busy settlements filled with beings once stood.

  Lethe scanned through the images. If her planet-proud parents hadn’t died in the first wave of attacks, seeing this would have killed them. The stone drawings made by her ancestors, the knowledge stations lovingly maintained by her eldest sister, the agri-lots tended by one of her brothers, everything of value to her kind had been destroyed.

  “Earth Minor is close to Mercury Minor. We won’t be safe there.”

  The cyborg restored the image of Earth Minor to the main viewscreen. “Ours.”

  “Ours,” she repeated. “That’s how you described the commander.”

  “Ours.” He nodded.

  “And I am?” She was confused.

  “Mine.”

  The possessive note to his voice thrilled her. She was his. The commander was theirs. The planet was theirs. “Earth Minor belongs to the cyborgs?”

  His head dipped again. “Ours.”