by Cynthia Sax
Instead, Ghost stood beside her, placing his hands on the embedded control panel. “Systems good. Manual navigation. Authorized?”
“Authorized.”
They ran through the usual checks, reviewed the sector around them. There was no unusual activity, no issues with the warship, no signs of any threats.
“We should hail the merchant ship.” She didn’t look at him. “They might offer you a role on their vessel.” She would do that if she was that ship’s captain. Ghost had skills no humans could equal. “My commander didn’t stop me from accepting my current role. I won’t stop you from accepting any role they extend to you.”
But he’d take a piece of her with him if he left her.
“Mine.” He covered her hand with his. “Always.”
Lethe found it difficult to believe in always. She’d watched normally loving beings fight for drops of liquid.
But she did understand about bartering, about having something another being wanted. “You’re staying with me because I smell right.”
And the other females smelled wrong. He could only touch her, fuck her, come with her.
“Smell like Mine.” He nodded.
“If you change your mind—”
“Processors, organic brain not change. Programming set.” Her cyborg took her words literally. “My female.”
She wished she had his certainty. “Hail the merchant ship.”
Ghost grunted.
The females’ faces were displayed on the main viewscreen. Ghost stepped closer to Lethe, his body lowering as though he prepared for an attack. He clearly considered them to be a threat.
Lethe squeezed his hand. The decision not to hire a crew had been the right one.
“Are there any issues with your ship, Captain Rhea?” she asked the eldest sister.
“It’s operating better than it has in solar cycles, Captain Lethe, thanks to Officer Ghost.” The female gave Ghost an honorary title Lethe suspected few cyborgs had.
“We want to speak with him privately,” Paloma, the youngest sister, blurted.
“Paloma.” Rhea looked at the girl. “We should talk to Captain Lethe about this first.”
“Why?” Paloma’s eyes flashed. “We know what she’ll say— ‘no.’ He’s a cyborg. Why would she give him up? And we can’t ask him in front of her. He’ll feel like he has to turn us down.” Lethe had been correct. They did plan to ask him to join their crew. “We have to get rid of her.”
Ghost growled at the girl.
Lethe recognized that sound. It was a warning. “Relax, cyborg. No one is getting rid of me.”
“We have to.” Paloma wouldn’t be quiet. “We can’t have the conversation with you here.”
Ghost raised the warship’s shields.
“What are you doing?” Lethe grew alarmed.
“Threat.”
Paloma opened her mouth. “I—”
“I’m putting you on mute.” Lethe silenced the girl before she provoked Ghost more. “There is no threat, cyborg. We discussed this. The sisters want you to join their crew. They prefer to make that offer in private.”
“Get rid of. Threat.” His jaw jutted.
“They want me to leave the room, not die.”
“Not leave.” He lifted her out of the captain’s chair, sat down, taking her place, and plunked her on his lap. “Stay in vision system. Always.”
He wrapped his arms around her.
“I won’t leave.” If she left, she doubted the merchant ship would remain whole for long. “I’ll stay in your vision system.”
Ghost didn’t say anything.
That was normal for her primitive cyborg. He didn’t talk unless he had something to say. She read his moods, his agreement or disagreement by his body language.
He gradually relaxed, his grip on her easing.
“Lower our shields,” she murmured. “I’ll speak with the girl.”
Ghost grunted and complied with her request.
Lethe unmuted the conversation. “Don’t say anything.”
The girl’s lips parted.
“I mean it.” Lethe held her gaze. “If you say the wrong thing, Ghost will blow up your ship. You saw that we raised our shields.”
Their systems should have indicated that.
Rhea nodded. Paloma stuck out her bottom lip.
“That wasn’t a warning. Cyborgs don’t give any of those before they act.” Lethe had learned that about her male. “I suspect you want to ask Ghost to join your crew. Is that correct?”
Paloma’s mouth dropped open. Rhea dipped her head again.
“This situation is my fault.” Lethe assumed full responsibility. That was what a leader did. “I wasn’t clear about our relationship. Ghost doesn’t protect me because I programmed him to do that. He protects me because he considers me to be his.”
“Mine.” Ghost rumbled, rubbing his cheek against hers.
“Rhea said something like that,” Paloma muttered, looking disgruntled. “But—”
“But you wanted to ask anyway.” Lethe thought it prudent for her to convey any explanations her cyborg might object to. “I would have asked for Ghost also.” She squeezed his fingers. “He’d be an asset to any ship’s crew.”
Ghost grunted.
“Thank you for understanding, Captain Lethe.” Rhea’s smile held genuine warmth. “Thank you for the repairs to our ship. And thank you for sharing about your family.”
Paloma’s belligerent stance softened.
“I suspect your family knew you loved them.” Rhea hugged the girl. “Paloma and I might argue. Noisily.” Her lips twitched. “But I never doubt she loves me. It doesn’t have to be spoken to be felt.”
Ghost mouthed over Lethe’s neck.
He didn’t say a word but she felt the caring in the action.
Lethe swallowed hard. “We will be changing course.” Unable to cope with more emotion, she abruptly changed the subject. “If you require assistance, contact us on this channel. It is secured.”
Ghost had ensured they could speak without fearing the Humanoid Alliance would overhear them. He constantly improved the warship’s systems.
“We will.” Rhea smiled. “Thank you, Captain Lethe, Officer Ghost.”
Rhea ended the communications. The sisters’ images disappeared, replaced by the blackness of space.
Lethe gazed at the distant stars, wondering why she had spent half her lifespan worrying about that last argument with her family.
Because Rhea was right. Lethe had never once questioned her family’s love for her. Why would they have questioned her love?
“They knew I loved them.” She wrapped Ghost’s arms tighter around her, wearing him like a comfortable garment. “My last words to them might have harsh.” She winced at that memory. “But they knew they were in my heart.”
Ghost grunted.
Her cyborg agreed. A lightness filled Lethe, the emotional burden she’d been carrying for far too long dissipating into nothing.
“Thank you for not blowing up the merchant ship.” She teased her protective male.
He huffed, his breath wafting against her skin. The fabric around his arms was pulled tight. That couldn’t be comfortable.
“You can remove the flight suit now.”
His reaction was instant, as though he’d been waiting for her command. He set her on the console and stripped the offensive garment off his big body. The fabric had left red lines on his gray skin, her cyborg having suffered that irritation in silence.
To make her happy.
Lethe removed her uniform also, placed the garment on the surface beside her. The cool air swept over her skin. The freedom increased her joy.
Ghost watched her, his muscles flexed, his cock hard. There was an exciting gleam in his eyes. He desired her again, still.
“Do you want to breed?” She used his word.
“Hold you.” Ghost sank back into the captain’s chair. The seat creaked under his weight, a sound of protest. Her cyborg was
n’t a small male.
He pulled her onto his lap. Her skin touched his, relief rushed through Lethe, and they both exhaled noisily, their reaction in sync.
She smiled. “I want to be held.”
He cupped her face and pressed it against his chest. His warmth, his strength surrounded her, a sanctuary made of muscle and metal.
“We’re alone once more.” That felt natural, right.
“Safe.” Ghost said the other word she was thinking. When they were alone, there were no secrets to be kept, no enemies to battle, no judgments to fear.
She knew his past and he knew hers and they accepted each other.
It wasn’t love. She vaguely remembered the looks of devotion her father and mother had exchanged when they thought no one was watching.
But this peace, this serenity, this ease was something she’d never experienced with another being. Lethe spread her fingers over Ghost’s skin, trying to touch more of him.
She would treasure this for as long as it lasted.
Chapter Eleven
Ghost was content.
His female sat in his lap, her bare skin against his, her scent surrounding him. They had entered the next sector, their warship operating at optimal levels. The merchant ship was headed in a different direction.
No human handlers poked at him with daggers. No cleaning bots crawled over him. His gaze shifted to the container set on the console. His female had plenty of beverage.
Ghost unwrapped a nourishment bar and handed it to her.
“The benefit of having no crew”—she bit into the bar, chewed, swallowed—“is we don’t have to worry about supplies, not until we reach Mercury Minor.”
“Earth Minor,” he corrected.
“Right.” Her cheeks heated. “Earth Minor.”
His female missed Mercury Minor, her home planet. If it were under cyborg control, he’d claim it for her. The air was breathable. The vegetation had likely returned. It would be empty of other life. That appealed to him.
Other beings couldn’t be trusted around his female.
But he couldn’t guard an entire planet and all of the surrounding space by himself. Earth Minor was the safer destination.
“That will take time to reach.” She tapped on the control panel, displaying their course on the main viewscreen. “The Rebels are fighting the Humanoid Alliance on Deneb 9.” She circled that multi-mooned planet. “And Betelgeuse Alpha.” She did the same with that larger one. “We could add our warship to their fleets.”
“No.” He wasn’t allowing his female to enter a battle he couldn’t control.
Fighting one ship in open space was acceptable. Fighting many ships, facing ground fire, possibly being trapped between enemy forces was not.
“I’m a Rebel.” His female frowned. “I should be joining them.”
“No.” He wouldn’t move on that decision.
“Ghost—”
The main viewscreen flashed red. Their far perimeter sensors had been activated.
“What is it?”
“Ship.” It had entered their space and was moving toward them. Ghost raised the warship’s shields and cut the engines.
“Display the ship,” his female commanded.
He put the image on the screen and she inhaled sharply. Her concern was warranted. It wasn’t merely any ship. It was a Humanoid Alliance battle station, top of the line, bigger and more heavily armed than their warship.
Threat. He placed one of his arms around her. The need to protect his female coursed through his circuits, lighting his processors.
“Have they seen us?” She lowered her voice as though she was worried the enemy might overhear their conversation.
“Shields down. Speed constant.” That suggested the enemy hadn’t seen them. “Course.”
He drew a straight line from the battle station on the main viewscreen, projecting its path, illustrating that it hadn’t changed. The battle station would pass to the right of their warship.
“Range. Our sensors.” He waved at the entire image on the display. “Their sensors.” He drew another line in front of their warship.
He had expanded their warship’s monitoring range. The Humanoid Alliance would likely be using the manufacturer default range. That was smaller.
“Thank the stars.” His female blew out her breath. “Veer to the left.” She ordered. “Get us out of range of their sensors.”
Another sensor was triggered. “Two. Three.” Two more battle stations had entered their space. Ghost projected their course. They would pass to their left, boxing them in.
“Move quickly to the right.” His female changed her command. “Full speed. We’ll try to get out of their range.”
The sensors continued to chime. Three more battle stations appeared on the main viewscreen. They would pass to the warship’s far right.
“It’s an armada.” His female’s horror reflected his own. “We can’t fight them. They’ll blast us to pieces.”
He agreed. “Warships inside.” The battle stations would hold warships in their docking bays.
“As long as those warships stay inside the battle stations, we should be able to reverse direction, returning from where we came, and outrun them, staying out the range of their sensors.”
They could outrun them…for a while. Battle stations were huge and slow moving.
“Invasion fleet.” Ghost had been part of invasions, recognized the flight pattern. He drew a line from one of the battle stations, placed a circle at the end. “Target.” He marked a X between the two points. “Trapped.”
When the Humanoid Alliance reached the planet they planned to conquer, they would release their warships. The ship belonging to Ghost and his female would be trapped between the enemy’s battle stations and the planet targeted for takeover.
“We could edge toward the right, eventually be free of the armada,” his female suggested.
“Too big.” He indicated the width of the invasion fleet. What they could detect of it. There could be more battle stations. “Not fast enough.” He’d done the calculations. Their warship was faster than the battle stations but moving diagonally required covering more distance and his past experience told him the invasion fleet wasn’t travelling far. “Trigger sensors.”
“Fuck.” His female swept her hands over her beautiful face. “I’m all out of ideas.” She gazed at him. “Do you have any?”
Ghost focused on the main viewscreen. She expected him to have a solution. He was a cyborg. He should have one.
He didn’t.
Because he was damaged.
Your human handlers must be damaged also, C Model. A J model cyborg named Force transmitted. They’re headed in the wrong direction. The battle is the other way.
The transmission originated from one of the battle stations.
Free. Ghost no longer had a human handler.
You freed yourself, knowing that would put us all in danger? Force’s words were edged with anger. Have you no honor, warrior?
Chatter flooded the lines. The J models agreed with the warrior’s admonishment.
Ghost said nothing.
He hadn’t freed himself. Ace and Thrasher, the two K Models, had forced that decision upon him. But he wouldn’t condemn them for that.
It had given him planet rotations with his female.
Don’t answer the Humanoid Alliance hail. Force instructed. You’re not a J model. You can’t pass for human. Lock yourself in your holding chamber and they might allow you to live.
That wasn’t an option for him.
Female. The Humanoid Alliance wouldn’t allow her to live.
The transmission lines went silent.
Had he somehow severed communications? Force?
You are truly damaged. The J Model scoffed. You don’t have a female. They’re rare.
They were rare but he had one. Ghost didn’t have the time to convince the cynical warrior of that fact. Not with words. “Mine?”
She turned her head, gaz
ing at him with hope in her big brown eyes. “Did you think of an idea? Something that might save us?”
“Cyborgs.”
“There are cyborgs on board the battle stations?” His female straightened.
He grunted.
“Yes.” She raised her hands in triumph. “Then we’re saved. They’ll escape, as you did, kill everyone, and no one will be left to blow us up.”
“No escape.” One cyborg rebelling might be an isolated malfunction. An armada of cyborgs rebelling would cause the Humanoid Alliance to question the feasibility of every cyborg they’d ever manufactured. Every warrior remaining in the control of the humans would be decommissioned, killed in the most painful way possible, scrapped for parts.
“They can’t escape?” She frowned. “Then how can they help us?”
“Ask.” Ghost transmitted the entire exchange to Force.
The transmission lines exploded with voices.
He has a female.
They will manufacture offspring.
Her hair is the color of a yellow dwarf star.
If a damaged C model has a female, I must have one too.
Your female is real. Force’s transmission reflected his wonder.
Real. Ghost confirmed. Mine.
The noise on the transmission lines made him wince. Thousands of warriors yearned to find their own females.
He glanced at his female’s face. They all envied him, wanted what he had already found.
We could manipulate the humans’ systems, hide your ship from them. We’re J models. We have that ability. Force offered a viable solution. But that would put every cyborg in the invasion fleet in danger. We could all be decommissioned.
Ghost gritted his teeth. He couldn’t ask them to take that risk, make that sacrifice.
And he shouldn’t have to.
He was a cyborg. He should be able to protect his female himself. He shouldn’t need their assistance.
You’re a stubborn warrior, C Model. Force sighed. Communicate to your female that we will help her. He spoke for his J Model brethren. Next time, send a transmission if she’s in peril. Give all of us the opportunity to save her.
They considered that mission to be an honor, were risking all of their lives to save his female’s, knowing they might not be successful.
