by Cynthia Sax
She must care for him a little.
“Mine.” He grasped her arms, needing to touch her. If the mission went wrong, it would be for the last time.
“Yours.” She didn’t pull away from him. “I’ll join you once the soft docking is completed.”
“No.” He released her. “Stay here.” He didn’t want her to put herself in danger.
She opened her mouth.
“No.” He scowled at her.
She looked back at him. Her jaw jutted.
His female was a stubborn being.
“Stay,” Ghost told her one last time, hoping she’d listen to him. He stalked away from her, intent on completing his mission quickly.
“Wear a flight suit,” she called after him.
They might be walking into a trap, a situation that might kill both of them, and she was worried about his bare ass.
He ran through the corridors, passed a storage chamber. Frag. He backed up, entered the small space, donned a flight suit, brown like his female’s eyes. It pulled tight across his shoulders and didn’t cover his wrists or ankles, even the largest human smaller than him.
He originally had a set of custom-made body armor but that had been blasted to bits in a battle solar cycles ago and the Humanoid Alliance had never replaced it.
If the armor still existed, he would have strapped it to his female, adding a layer of protection. That would have ensured she stayed in her seat also. He doubted she’d have the strength to lift it.
He exited the storage chamber, leaving his feet bare. His toes shouldn’t offend any beings and he liked having them free, having that connection with the floor.
Ghost’s next stop was a weapons chamber. He selected two long guns, loaded them, slung one over each shoulder. Smaller guns were stuffed into his pockets. Daggers were slid into his boots. The tension in his spine eased. He was fully armed, ready to face any attackers.
Ghost jogged toward the docking connector doors, his tread silent.
The warship had multiple docking connectors. His female had wisely chosen the one that was the farthest away from the bridge. It also wasn’t near the engines or any other vital systems.
As Ghost moved, he activated all the firewalls except the one in the corridor through which he entered the space. If something happened, the impact should be minimized.
His female should survive.
The warship jerked as it bumped against the other vessel.
He waited by the interior doors. The docking connectors locked, sealing. The space between the two ships pressurized.
There was no other activity. No one blasted through the merchant ship’s doors to attack him. Nothing set off the alarms or compromised the warship’s integrity.
Ghost placed his hands on a control panel. “Docked.” He communicated that to his female. “Opening interior doors.”
She didn’t respond.
The doors opened. He moved toward the merchant ship. An old vessel, it had no control panel on the exterior but it had an input slot.
He braced himself for possible damage, pushed his finger into the opening. Nothing happened. He connected with the merchant ship’s systems. They were low on power, barely functional. He detected no triggers, no traps left for rescuers.
A delectable scent teased his nostrils. He breathed deeply, taking his female’s musk into his body. “Told you stay.” She’d disobeyed him, following him.
“You’re wearing a flight suit.” His female didn’t address his comment.
Ghost grunted an affirmative. He had listened to her advice.
She smiled at him, her beauty hitting him like a missile to his gut. “You’re the lead on this mission. What do you want me to do?”
“Go back,” he ordered. She was to return to the bridge.
“No.” She withdrew a gun from her pocket. “Like you said, this could be a trap. I’m not sending you into possible danger alone.”
She was concerned about him. In the past, no one had cared whether he lived or died. He was a weapon to be utilized, a disposable machine.
“Cyborg.” Emotion softened his voice. “No worry.”
“Of course, I have to worry about you.” She snapped. “I’m your captain.”
He frowned at her. She was more than his captain. “Mine.”
“I won’t be yours if you get yourself killed.”
Ghost’s heart lightened. A being who didn’t care wouldn’t have said that with the vehemence she did, the gun shaking in her hands.
“And I am supposed to be controlling you.” She avoided her gaze. “You’re my machine, remember?”
“Gave orders.” He waved his hands in the direction of the bridge. She could control him remotely as the Humanoid Alliance had. They assigned him a task and assumed he’d complete it.
Her lips parted.
“Go back,” he roared, trying a different tactic.
Her eyes widened but she didn’t move. His female was fearless.
Ghost contemplated the situation for a moment. He was situated between her and the merchant ship. There were no signs of any incendiary devices.
“Back to wall.” He amended his instructions. “Far.” He wanted her as far away as possible from the merchant ship.
“But—”
“Gun.” Ghost pointed at the weapon in her hand. “See.” He tapped his chest. “Protect.” His little human could protect him from there.
She cast him a dark glance but did as he requested.
He returned his attention to his mission. The mechanism for the merchant ship hatch was as primitive as he was. It recognized two directions—open and close.
“Open.” He flipped the digital switch.
The hatch creaked as it slowly pushed outward.
There were no explosions, no gunfire, no damage of any kind.
“They’re here,” a cheery voice rang out. It belonged to the youngest sister. The sound of her tread grew louder as she approached.
“Stop,” he yelled.
One of the sisters gasped.
“Drop everything you’re holding and raise your arms above your head,” his female added. “Don’t make any sudden movements. Allow my cyborg to survey the situation.”
Ghost grunted and swept into the small space, guns in both of his hands. It smelled like females, the wrong females. His nose twitched.
The sisters stood with their hands in the air, their faces pale, their eyes round. The youngest sister shook. The eldest sister watched him.
“You’re scaring them.” His female, knowing no caution, pushed past him.
“No.” He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back behind him. “Not safe.”
The sisters didn’t belong to him or to his brethren. Tension rose within Ghost. They were strangers. He didn’t know them, didn’t trust them. And he wasn’t familiar with the terrain. He didn’t sense any other beings but there could be traps set for them.
The images of the females Ghost had failed rotated through his processors, torturing him, reminding him. Darkness circled his vision system. He lifted his guns, the urge to kill, to remove all threats to his female pulling at him.
“Easy, Ghost.” His female rubbed his back, her hands moving in soothing circles over his flexed muscles. “They’re following our orders. They aren’t armed. They’re friends, not the enemy.”
His female didn’t know that they were friends. Not for certain.
Ghost grunted and glowered at the sisters. He wasn’t taking any risks.
“We are friends.” The youngest sister smiled.
He growled. Her voice irritated him.
“Shhh…” His female pressed her body against his. “Focus on me.”
He breathed deeply, taking her delectable scent into his lungs. That calmed him.
“We’re moving toward the console.” His female shifted in that direction. “Once we complete the repairs, we’ll leave.”
“Safe.” He shifted with her, ensuring his larger form was between her and the others.
>
“Yes, we’ll be safe.”
He’d repair the ship’s damage quickly, while monitoring the other beings’ movements. Then he’d take her back to their vessel, where she’d be safe.
He kept his gaze on the sisters.
If they moved, they were dead.
Chapter Eight
Half a shift later, Lethe sat on the console beside Ghost, one of her hands set on his shoulder, and she listened as Paloma, the youngest member of the merchant ship’s two-being crew, shared everything that flowed through her mind.
“Someone spread a nasty rumor about us being Rebels. I bet it was our horrible neighbor. He’s a grumpy old male, always complaining about me walking through his lot of land. The Humanoid Alliance warriors believed that rumor and knocked on our domicile’s door in the middle of the rest cycle. Rhea and I ran out through the back door, escaping, but Father and Mother were caught, arrested, and imprisoned.”
If the Humanoid Alliance had believed the parents were Rebels, they would have killed the sisters’ father and mother, not imprisoned them.
Ghost’s soft snort communicated that he also questioned the truth of the story.
Lethe said nothing because, although Paloma was a couple of solar cycles older than she’d been when she’d escaped Mercury Minor, the girl had been sheltered by her older sister. She was agonizingly innocent, might not be cognizant of the real situation.
“Paloma, we talked about this.” Rhea’s head bowed over the handheld she was repairing. The older sister was slowly lowering her guard around them, trusting them more and more. “Starting over means not discussing our past with our new friends.”
“I know. I know. We should be focusing on the future.” The girl rolled our eyes. “We’re now fugitives.” She said that as though it were a great thing to be. “And where do fugitives go? To Carinae E.” She answered her own question. “That’s to be our new home. We’ll wait for Father and Mother there.”
Rhea’s bottom lip quivered.
“Carinae E is a primitive planet but I love primitive.” The girl, unaware of her sister’s distress, ogled Ghost’s bulging biceps. His muscles strained the fabric of his flight suit. “Anything could happen. Rhea doesn’t believe I can handle it.”
“You can’t, not alone.” The eldest sister commented quietly.
“But I can.” Paloma’s eyes glowed. “Oh, I can.”
The girl was stunningly beautiful and a bit besotted with Ghost. Neither of the sisters hid their fascination with him. Rhea peeked at him through lowered lashes when she thought no one was watching her. Paloma openly gazed at the cyborg as though he was her savior.
The sisters didn’t have the emotional baggage Lethe had. They accepted their assistance as though it was natural, didn’t once offer them anything in return.
Ghost must have noticed all of that.
He glanced up from the circuit he was fusing together. Or maybe he was too concerned about the ship’s repairs to notice the females.
There were stress lines around his grimly set lips. Lethe swallowed her sigh. Cyborgs might not need breaks physically but her damaged warrior needed one emotionally.
She patted her legs.
He set the circuit aside and placed his head in her lap. Lethe welcomed the weight, threaded her fingers through his thick black hair, massaged his scalp. A low rumble of happiness came from his chest.
“I know how to use a gun.” Paloma continued to talk. “Rhea taught me how and I’m not bad at it.” Rhea’s lifted eyebrows said otherwise. “I hit the target.”
“Once in a thousand shots,” her sister murmured.
“With practice, I’ll improve. A warrior won’t have to worry about protecting me. I can protect myself.”
Lethe gazed down at Ghost. The girl thought she could protect herself but she had never been on her own. She hadn’t lived through an invasion. Guns were useless against a ship’s missiles.
Ghost burrowed his face between her legs, pressing against her fabric-covered mons. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, his breath warming her.
Lethe’s cheeks heated. She wanted him. She never stopped wanting him. And he was smelling her arousal.
Ghost had asked to be treated like a machine. He was either oblivious of what he was doing or he’d realized his reaction to the sisters had scuttled that plan.
He’d viewed them as a threat, had been one wrong word away from shooting them.
And now, he snuggled against her, his expression blissful.
Lethe stroked his hair. He was no unfeeling weapon of war.
“I would make a good mate for a warrior.” Paloma chattered. “Any type of warrior. Human. Humanoid. Cyborg.”
Ghost lifted his head. “Not ours.” He frowned at the girl.
She frowned back at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
Everyone, including Lethe, looked at him.
Her cyborg didn’t offer an explanation. He returned to his assigned task, repairing the ship’s systems.
Lethe gritted her teeth, frustrated by his lack of answer, missing his touch.
He reached out, grasped her wrist and placed her palm on his shoulder. Her heart lightened. He must miss her touch also.
“I could be yours.” Paloma huffed. “You don’t know that.”
“Paloma,” Rhea cautioned, glancing pointedly at Lethe.
Ghost didn’t deny the girl’s claim and Lethe’s lifting spirits sank once again. Paloma was a better female for him, for any male. She knew that.
“I might not know a lot about cyborgs but I learn quickly.” Paloma stuck her nose in the air. “I’ve already learned how to find drinkable sources of liquid on an arid planet.”
“Because I told you how,” Rhea contributed, her voice barely audible.
“You think you know everything but you don’t.” Paloma sniffed. “I know things too.”
She listed all of the things she knew. Almost everything on that list was learned from databases, not experience.
Lethe had studied survival training yet she’d barely lived through the Humanoid Alliance invasion. Theory and the real universe were often two different things.
She hoped the girl would never find that out.
Ghost worked on the systems. One by one, they went back online, the air in the ship cooling, the lights brightening.
Pride bloomed in Lethe’s chest. She’d never met any being who could match his skills with systems.
“Repaired.” He straightened.
The sisters voiced their gratitude. Ghost looked at Lethe.
“You did well.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
He stood a bit taller. “Leave now.” He lifted her off the console, lowered her until her booted feet touched the floor.
“You can stay longer.” Paloma stepped forward. “We can thank you properly.”
Ghost pushed Lethe behind him, removing that barrier between him and the girl. Lethe gazed at his back, hurt and confused by his treatment.
Did he want to be thanked properly, whatever that meant?
“Rhea can talk to Captain Lethe and I can talk to you.” The girl worshipped Ghost with her eyes. “In private. Without anyone listening, offering their unwanted opinions.” She wrinkled her nose at her sister.
Rhea pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
“We can be free.” Paloma’s small breasts were almost free of her flight suit, the garment unfastened to mid-torso.
That near-nudity had been justified when they entered the ship. The temperature had been sickeningly hot. But now that the systems were working, cool air blasted them.
The girl’s nipples were taut, pressing against the fabric.
Lethe curled her fingers into tight fists, sucking back her jealousy. The girl was young, innocent, more intent on escaping her sister’s watchful gaze than seducing Ghost. She likely didn’t realize her state of undress.
“We can do what we want.” The girl walked toward the cyborg. “There will be no older sisters or humans thi
nking they’re our owners controlling us.”
Ghost’s hands blurred. One moment, his guns were in his pockets. The next moment, the weapons were pointed at the girl’s head.
“Blast it, Ghost.” Lethe rushed around his big body. “Put the guns down.” She tugged on his arms. “You’re not shooting anyone.”
His grunt said he disagreed.
“You’re making him act like this.” The girl had no idea how close she was to being killed. “You’re controlling him like Rhea controls me.”
No one controlled Ghost. “Paloma, back away from him, slowly.”
“It isn’t fair.” The girl didn’t move. “He’s a being, not a robot.”
“Paloma, for once in your lifespan, be quiet.” Rhea pulled her backward.
“Of course you would take her side.” The girl’s bottom lip curled. “You treat me the same way. You don’t own me, Rhea, and, Ghost might have come with the warship but Captain Lethe doesn’t own him either.”
Ghost growled, his eyes blazing with emotion.
“Easy.” Lethe petted his neck, trying to calm him. “You’re right, Paloma. I don’t own Ghost.” She dropped the last semblance of that act. “And I understand your struggle with your sister.”
“You can’t,” she muttered.
“I said similar things to my father, my mother, my siblings, their mates, many solar cycles ago.” Lethe touched Ghost as she talked. “I told them I was a grown female. They couldn’t make decisions for me, couldn’t tell me what to do.”
Her big cyborg became still. He was listening to her.
“I was meant for different things, better things. My father yelled. My mother looked at me with disappointment. My siblings argued. I yelled that they didn’t understand and I left.”
“And now you’re a captain of a huge ship,” Paloma said smugly. “You showed them.”
“No, I didn’t show them.” She gazed up at Ghost, not hiding the pain she felt. “Because the Humanoid Alliance invaded that rest cycle. My father, my mother, my siblings, everyone I loved was dead before the sun rose. I never spoke—” Her voice broke.
