Ghost of a Machine

by Cynthia Sax

  “I want to believe that.” She lowered her gaze. “But words and actions are two different things. I saw that on Mercury Minor.”

  He wasn’t a fickle human. “Believe.” He drew her to him, needing her closer.

  She pressed her cheek against his chest. Ghost exhaled contentedly, reveling in that softness. His female was all curves, yielding and warm.

  He rubbed her back, seeking to comfort her as her mere presence comforted him.

  “Is that why you were damaged when I met you?” she whispered. “You were forced to kill three females?”

  “More females. Failed to protect.” And he relived each death over and over again. He wrapped one of her blonde curls around his right index finger. Being close to her, touching her, smelling her scent, hearing her voice, lessened that agony, dulling the pain.

  “You protected some of them.” His female was determined to see the best in him. “You protected the commander.”

  He grunted. Some wasn’t nearly enough.

  “How many females did the other cyborgs save?”

  “Cannot sense.” The other cyborgs didn’t have his ability to identify the females. “Only me.” At first, he had told his brethren about the females. All that did was cause the other warriors emotional damage and increase his guilt.

  He stopped telling them, keeping that knowledge and that pain to himself.

  The other warriors, in contrast, had shared everything. Ghost had seen the battle footage recorded by millions of cyborgs, had seen them unknowingly kill females belonging to their brethren, females he was assigned to protect.

  His heart, his organic brain hadn’t been able to cope. His solution had been to disconnect his machine. That hadn’t prevented him from hearing the cyborgs’ conversations but it had stopped the footage. And eventually, he had hoped that the memories would fade.

  “You endured all of that alone.” His female lifted her head, gazing at him with sympathy. “As I survived the invasion alone. You had no one to talk to, no one to understand what you were dealing with, what you had to do…or not do.”

  “My mission.” It hadn’t been a successful mission thus far.

  “I have the same mission.” She smiled. “We saved two females last planet rotation.”

  He’d put his female at risk during that adventure. “Protect you. Priority.”

  “You can protect me while we save others.” She was undaunted.

  “No.” He wouldn’t allow her to take chances with her lifespan. She was too precious to him.

  “Yes.” His female wasn’t backing down. “It should be easy to do. Up to this point in my lifespan, I’ve been protecting myself.”

  Ghost was acutely aware of that fact. “Danger.”

  “We’re in the middle of a war.” Her laugh held no humor. “Danger is all around us.”

  It wouldn’t be around her. “Protect.” His voice rose. “Not save others. Not mission.”

  “It is our mission.” She pushed away from him. “Captains decide which missions their crews take and I am the captain. This is my warship. That was our deal.”

  “Frag deal,” he roared, tired of hearing about it. “Earth Minor. Mission.”

  They had to travel there. He could protect her in cyborg-controlled space.

  “That was a placeholder destination.” His female stood, her body naked except for the boots on her feet. “We’re part of the Rebel fleet. We have to support the cause. That means we fight the Humanoid Alliance and we save others.”

  Both tasks would put her in danger. “Mine.” He jumped to his feet also. “Obey.”

  “I’m your captain, cyborg,” she shouted. “You obey me. Not the other way around.” She stomped around the bridge, her curves jiggling enticingly with every heavy placement of her booted feet.

  “Your male.” He wanted to grab her, hold her to him, until she relented.

  His female paced around and around, fuming, her fingers folded into tiny fists. She looked more adorable than fierce, her body agonizingly small, fragile, human.

  She finally stopped in front of him. “If I don’t save others, the guilt will eat me alive, Ghost.” She grasped his hands. “You sacrificed a handful of females to save thousands of cyborgs.”

  He’d sacrificed more than a handful of females.

  “Whom did I save? Only myself.” She answered her own question. “I have to make my lifespan count.”

  “Counts to me.” He linked his fingers with hers, his gray skin contrasting with her golden. “Saved me.”

  “The commander wouldn’t have blown the ship up.” She interpreted his comment literally. “It’s an A Class Warship.”

  “Your A Class Warship.”

  “Yes, it is.” The corners of her lips lifted, her mood immediately lighter. His little female was extremely proud of her role as captain.

  “Saved two females.” She would have to be content with that. He wouldn’t allow her to risk her lifespan again. He wouldn’t fail his female.

  “We did.” Her smile widened, illuminating her beautiful face. “What’s the status of the merchant ship?” His female claimed her seat once more.

  Ghost stood beside her. “Speed constant. Flight level.” The merchant ship appeared to be functional.

  “Their ship has been repaired and they have each other.” His female’s voice was edged with envy. “I had two older sisters. They watched me like Rhea watches Paloma. That’s why I had to wait until they were asleep before sneaking out of the settlement. They would catch me if I didn’t.”

  “Love.” He wanted her to love him as she had loved her sisters.

  “Yes, they did.” His female misinterpreted his words. “They didn’t understand me but they loved me.”

  Ghost grunted.

  “My eldest sister maintained knowledge stations. She took the role very seriously, acting very stuffy in public, talking in a monotone.” She demonstrated, slowing her speech, keeping every syllable level. “But when she told a joke in private, she’d talk faster and faster, her pitch rising.” His female did the same. “And she always started giggling before she could finish it.” She shook her head. “She was the worst joke teller ever.”

  His female laughed, her joy feeding Ghost’s.

  “The sister closest to me in solar cycles followed every hair and garment trend in the settlement,” she shared. “Once, the trend was to stick your hair straight up.” His female pulled her locks upward. “My sister’s hair was so big; she couldn’t stand upright while entering the domicile. She had to bend over. It was hilarious to watch.”

  His female laughed again.

  “We had some good times.”

  She stared at the main viewscreen, a smile on her face, her gaze unfocused. The merchant ship was displayed there but Ghost suspected she was replaying happy images from the distant past.

  All of his happy images were of her. He reviewed them, moment by moment. Her voice, her touch, her scent had been perfectly preserved in his processors.

  “I might argue with you, Ghost.” His female finally spoke. “But never question that I care for you. I do.”

  Her revelation heated his chest. “Mine.” He added that moment to his hoard.

  “If something bad were to happen to you or to me, I want you to know that.”

  “Protect.” Nothing bad would happen to her. He’d safeguard his female.

  She gazed at the main viewscreen for one, two, three heartbeats.

  “Are all of our systems operating properly?” His female resumed her role as captain.

  Ghost updated her on their ship’s activities, their course, the planetary movements in their current sector.

  His female asked questions, performed scans, verified yet again that the liquid filtration system was operating. He unwrapped nourishment bars he’d sourced from a supply chamber, handed one to her.

  They ate in a companionable silence.

  She swallowed the last piece of the bar, took a swig from the beverage container.

&
nbsp; “Speak with commander.” He relayed Ace and Thrasher’s message.

  “I should do that.” His female nodded. “She’ll want to know the warship is secure.”

  “You.” Ace and Thrasher had given him the impression the commander was more concerned about his female than the warship.

  “I’ll be the one speaking with her.” His female’s gaze scanned his naked body and her delectable scent intensified. “It will be audio only.”

  Ghost grunted his agreement.

  His female lounged in her seat, clad only in her boots, unconcerned that she was almost as bare as he was. She was as comfortable with her nudity as cyborgs were with theirs.

  But she was intriguingly peculiar about who saw his form.

  Ghost suppressed video and hailed the battle station. A male answered and connected them to the commander.

  The two females talked, their conversation brief, impersonal. His female didn’t mention him directly, didn’t say his name, didn’t claim him as hers.

  But the commander didn’t refer to her males either. And he noticed his female mimicked how the older female spoke.

  “I have the situation under control.” His female preened in her seat.

  Ghost shifted his gaze to her. His female might be the captain but she wasn’t the being in control of their situation.

  He was.

  The commander gently reminded his female of the threats around them, the dishonorable tactics of the Humanoid Alliance, the uncertainty of the universe.

  “I would never forget how quickly circumstances could change.” His female’s mood grew serious. She was thinking of the invasion, he knew. “I won’t let you down, Commander.”

  She ended the communication with that vow.

  “Care.” Ghost studied his female. She cared for the commander.

  “One doesn’t care for a superior officer.” His female’s cheeks turned pink. “I admire her. She’s a skilled leader. She doesn’t have to trade herself to get what she wants.” She paused. “And I feel safe with her.” That last part was whispered.

  Ghost clenched his jaw. No male would ever take advantage of his female again.

  “Safe with me.” He scooped her out of her chair, claimed the seat, set her on his thighs.

  “I do feel safe with you, cyborg.” His female’s smile returned. “The question is—do you feel safe with me?”

  He grunted. Why wouldn’t he feel safe?

  She placed her palms on the control panel and increased the warship’s speed, making a wide loop around the merchant ship.

  Ghost didn’t know why she was doing that. It served no purpose.

  Except give her joy. Her smile widened.

  They moved faster and faster. Ghost placed his hands beside hers.

  It took both of them to keep the vessel steady.

  “Wild,” he murmured. His female had a reckless streak.

  She laughed and pushed the engines harder.

  Chapter Ten

  Two shifts later, Lethe operated at a slower speed. She sorted through the garments in a supply chamber, searching for a flight suit that was large enough to fit her C Model cyborg. He stood by the door, his arms crossed, his bare feet braced, safeguarding her.

  It wasn’t necessary. No being could board her warship without her knowing about it. But arguing with him wouldn’t change his mind so she concentrated on her task.

  “Human males are small.” She held a garment up to his body. It didn’t span his wide shoulders.

  “Human females smaller.” Ghost’s eyes glowed as he scanned her from her forehead to her booted feet, his gaze pausing on her lips, her breasts, her hips.

  She wanted him. Again. And he wanted her, his cock hard. She liked having that physical reassurance of his desire. But they were communicating with the merchant ship this planet rotation and she preferred the two sisters not gawk at his fit physique.

  “This should fit you. Barely.” She tossed a flight suit at him. The fabric was gray like his skin.

  He caught it in one hand, his reflexes inhumanly fast. “Brown,” he insisted on that color.

  “Do you prefer brown because it’s darker?” It would easier blend into the shadows.

  “Match you. Others know Mine.” His possessiveness thrilled her.

  “If you want to match me, you should wear blue.” She tugged on her chest covering. “My uniform is blue.”

  “Eyes.”

  He wanted to wear brown because it would match her eyes. Lethe doubted any other male had ever noticed that detail about her.

  “It would take time to find a brown flight suit that large.” Her voice was gruff.

  “Have time.” Ghost stuffed the gray garment into the refuse chute.

  “You have time,” she muttered as she searched through the remaining garments, looking for a brown flight suit able to fit his massive body. “I’m the captain. I should be on the bridge.”

  “Safe.” He was more confident than she was about their guidance system.

  She grumbled while she worked. He watched her, not moving from his post by the doors. Her cyborg took his self-assigned role as her protector very seriously.

  Lethe was starting to believe in him, depend on him, and that frightened her. She’d learned at fourteen solar cycles that she could only count on herself.

  “Here.” She threw a brown flight suit at him. “This is the last one, so don’t rip it to shreds.”

  He grunted. His muscles rippled as he donned the garment. “Small.” He wasn’t able to completely fasten the flight suit.

  Lethe found the triangle of exposed chest…distracting. She tore her gaze away from it, looked up at his handsome face. “It will have to do.”

  He twisted his torso to look behind him. The seams strained.

  “Stop that.” She smacked his arm. “We’re not fighting the enemy. We’re having a short conversation with the crew of the merchant ship.”

  His lips flattened.

  “Come on.” Lethe scooted around him, placed one of her hands on the control panel. The doors opened. She strode out, heading toward the bridge.

  Ghost kept pace with her, the warrior looking from left to right.

  There was nothing to gaze at. The corridors were empty, the warship devoid of other life forms. “We need a crew.”

  “No crew.” Her cyborg disagreed. “Not safe.”

  “Yes, that is an issue.” Her lips twisted. “There’s a spy at Rebel headquarters. We couldn’t trust anyone they sent to us.” She thought about the situation. “I could contact beings individually.”

  She’d met those beings during her training.

  “No contacting beings.” Ghost didn’t like that idea either. “No need for crew.”

  She’d prefer to have no crew also. “Much as I like staying on the bridge, being there all the time isn’t feasible.”

  “No crew.”

  Lethe stopped walking and gazed up at him. “Ghost—”

  “Kill all,” he roared, his fingers clenched into fists, his entire body vibrating.

  She stared at Ghost. Would he truly kill any new crew members?

  Her first image of her primitive cyborg, covered in blood, surrounded by the pieces of the beings he killed, flashed through her mind.

  A prudent captain wouldn’t test him.

  “We don’t need a crew.” She decided, patting his chest.

  He strapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the floor and rubbed her curves over his muscles. She held onto his shoulders while he nuzzled against her curls, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling against her.

  “You’re wearing the last brown flight suit,” she reminded him, knowing he was three heartbeats away from tearing both of their garments off them and fucking her senseless against the wall. “And you’re not ruining my uniform.”

  She’d worked hard to earn that garment, had traded the only thing she had to reach that first Rebel outpost.

  Ghost paused, indecision etched across his fa
ce.

  The wall panels opened and tiny cleaning bots rolled out, whirring and chirping. He set her down and turned, facing the machines, rumbling a warning.

  The bots flashed their lights and backed up, beeping.

  Ghost growled and stepped forward, stomping on the floor tiles with his bare feet.

  “They won’t hurt you.” Lethe slipped her hand into one of his huge palms.

  The sounds coming from her cyborg’s throat told her he disagreed.

  “Ghost,” she barked, trying to distract him, knowing what fear could do to a being.

  For solar cycles after the invasion, she jumped whenever there was a loud noise. She had to train herself not to respond.

  He looked at her. “Mine.”

  “Yes, yours.” Lethe suspected she would always be his, whether he remained by her side or not. “Escort me to the bridge.” She tugged on his hand.

  Ghost allowed her to lead him away from the bots. His gaze didn’t leave the little machines until he turned a corner.

  Then his shoulders lowered, her cyborg becoming calm once more.

  He didn’t release her hand. They walked with their fingers linked, his stride shortened to match hers.

  “Our next quest is to find you boots.”

  “Free.”

  “Being barefoot does feel freeing.” She smiled. Her male was all savage. “I’d often go barefoot on my hill outside the settlement on Mercury Minor. Nothing equals the sensation of dirt between your toes.” Her smile dimmed. “I hadn’t yet taken off my boots when the Humanoid Alliance invaded. Thankfully. The rubble would have sliced my feet to pieces.”

  “Cyborg.”

  He had the ability to self-heal. “Cyborgs still feel pain.” She shook her head. “I’ll find boots for you.” She’d take care of him.

  They entered the bridge. Ghost had programmed their warship to mirror the movements of the merchant ship. Judging by the image on the main viewscreen, the two vessels had remained the designated distance apart.

  “Systems check.” She sat in the captain’s chair, the same chair she’d shared with Ghost for shifts. It felt wrong to be sitting there by herself but they would be contacting the merchant ship and she was the captain. Captains didn’t sit on their first officers’ laps.