Being Green
Page 1
Being Green
Cynthia Sax
Can a stubborn scientist and a sexy cyborg make love grow?
* * *
Green, a cyborg warrior, cares for one being—his plant Windy. When Windy becomes sick, he’ll do anything to heal her, even venture across the universe to visit a worlds-renowned plant doctor.
He doesn’t expect to find love.
Doctor Shelby Cooper is the sole resident of a tiny planet. She prefers to be alone rather than risk caring for another being and then losing him. The curvaceous scientist is determined to resist Green’s patient caresses, his thought-burning kisses, his slow seduction.
She has underestimated the power of a cyborg’s passion.
Being Green
Published by Cynthia Sax at Smashwords
Copyright 2015 Cynthia Sax
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Discover more books by Cynthia Sax at her website
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First edition: December 2015
For more information contact Cynthia Sax at
www.CynthiaSax.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About The Author
Chapter One
Green wanted Doctor Shelby Cooper.
It was an irrational desire, especially for a normally logical cyborg such as himself. He’d never seen the botanist. He’d never spoken with her, never heard her voice. They had only communicated through written messages.
But her words had intrigued him. She shared her knowledge of plants fearlessly, not caring if she was judged harshly for her unique stances. Her quirky observations often made him smile.
That, in itself, was a miracle. He’d suffered a lifespan of abuse from his sadistically cruel human masters before he had escaped. Interacting with other beings had given Green little pleasure.
The exceptions being Zip and Barrel, his friends, and Windy, his beloved plant, and now, his Shelby, as he’d grown to think of the human female.
Enthralled by her messages, he had investigated her and these findings had increased his fascination. She lived alone on a planet, cut off from the rest of the universe, enjoying a lifestyle he’d often dreamed of yet hadn’t thought possible.
He had to talk with her, had to see her.
Not only for his sake. Windy remained damaged, unhappy with her new surroundings. He had to repair her.
Zip and Barrel didn’t agree with his strategy. They thought him reckless and had organized one last intervention on the bridge of their ship, trying to talk him out of it.
It wasn’t working.
“We’re hailing her,” Green declared, jutting his jaw.
“Hailing her isn’t without risk.” Barrel met his gaze. The cyborg sat in the middle of the bridge, in the captain’s chair, in front of the giant viewscreen. He was the leader of their group by default. No one else wanted that role. “Your little botanist is human. She could report our existence to the Humanoid Alliance. They’d then know we’re alive and free and come after us.” He glanced at Zip. “After all of us, every cyborg.”
“That is a risk,” Green admitted. “But the risk is limited.” He’d investigated his Shelby thoroughly and wasn’t concerned. “She’s isolated from the other humans in some unknown location, by choice, it appears, and if she did report us, this isolation has made the Humanoid Alliance skeptical of her insights.”
“They think she’s crazier than a Palavian strung out on Mox-X.” Zip, the technical specialist and mood lightener in the group, grinned.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting some peace and quiet.” Green wanted that for himself. He was tired of fighting, tired of pain, of conflict, of seeing beings die. His gaze drifted to Windy, his plant. Her head was bowed, her leaves limp and brown around the edges. “We have to save Windy.”
“We do.” Barrel sighed. His friend knew how much his plant meant to him, how she’d once been the only being keeping him sane. “But is this the best way to accomplish that goal?”
Green knew it was, but he allowed the others time to think. They gazed at the viewscreen, their processors whirling.
Stars sparkled against a sheet of endless black. Green was weary of that vista also. Due to the risk of contagion, Windy wasn’t allowed on the cyborg home planet. It had been half a solar cycle since he’d stood on soil, had breathed anything other than recirculated air.
For a cyborg valuing solitude, life on a small ship was an ordeal. Zip and Barrel tried to accommodate him, tried to give him space, but it often wasn’t possible.
“Her assistance is necessary.” He broke the silence. “My Shelby is an expert in ancient Earth plants.”
“Your Shelby,” Barrel repeated.
Green ignored him. “Zip has determined that Windy is an ancient Earth plant.”
His friend nodded. “There are some variances but there are too many similarities not to reach that conclusion.”
“We need this botanist’s insights,” Green stressed. “It’s the logical approach.” That was the truth but it felt like a lie. There was nothing logical about his turbulent emotions, about his intense need to contact his Shelby.
Barrel glanced at Zip. The younger cyborg nodded and his friend sighed. “Then we take the logical approach. Cover our transmission trail, Zip, and hail this plant doctor.”
Zip tapped on the console. “Green requesting that Doctor Shelby Cooper open hailing frequencies.”
There was no response.
“Green requesting that Doctor Shelby Cooper open hailing frequencies,” he repeated.
She didn’t answer. They waited and waited and waited.
Green grew alarmed. They normally communicated via written messages at this time each planet rotation. Where was she? “Force the hailing frequencies open.” They were cyborgs. They had that ability.
Zip’s eyes widened. “She’d view that as aggression, as an attack upon her systems, upon her.”
“I’ll deal with her reaction.” Her lack of response worried him more than breaking any hailing protocols. “She could be damaged, require fixing.”
“The humans refer to the process as healing, not fixing.”
“Her damage is none of our concern.” Barrel frowned.
“She’s a female and the sole being on her planet capable of communication.” Green straightened in his seat. “How can we not investigate? We’re cyborgs, not selfish humans. We have a sense of honor and a duty to protect others.”
Barrel’s jaw jutted. “Fraggin’ hole. How can I argue with that logic? Force the hailing frequencies open.”
“Consider them open.” Zip’s eyes gleamed with the challenge of hacking into a new system.
They watched him work.
“She’s not your Shelby, Green.” Barrel shifted in his seat. “I process that you want a female of your own. We all do. But you can’t claim the first un
attached female you contact.”
Green said nothing. His emotions toward his Shelby weren’t logical. He processed that yet couldn’t deny them.
“Rage bred with hundreds of human females before he met Joan. None of them were his female.” Barrel leaned forward. “You haven’t even seen this botanist. You might not be attracted to her.”
“I’m attracted to her thought processes.”
“You don’t have to stick your cock into her thought processes.” His friend shook his head. “Be cautious. Don’t form an attachment to her until you’re certain.”
Green heard his concern but he didn’t know how to follow Barrel’s advice, how to combat the conviction deep in his cyborg heart that Shelby Cooper belonged to him.
“Accessed.” Zip raised his arms in triumph. “And in record time. I am a deity, a cyborg without equal.” Humility wasn’t one of the young cyborg’s strengths.
Green gazed at the main viewscreen. Cyber static snapped and sizzled. Forms appeared and disappeared, distorted by the feed. Was his Shelby one of those forms?
Can our cyborg without equal clean the feed up? He asked through their private communications line, the need to see his female tremendous.
I am a deity. I can do anything. Zip drummed his fingertips against the controls, his actions cyborg fast. The feed is scrambled at the source.
His female must be tech inept. That pleased Green. He could share his knowledge of technology with her and she could share her knowledge of plants with him. They’d both grow as beings.
The image stabilized. Leaves framed a view of what appeared to be his Shelby’s sleeping chamber. Plants covered every free space. A covering sheet draped over a mound on the sleeping support. Graphs decorated the white walls.
Is she in the chamber? Barrel asked the question Green was thinking. The space was chaotic.
“Doctor Shelby Cooper,” Green called.
“What? Where?” The covering sheet was thrown back. A tanned leg appeared. It was attractively lush, tantalizingly full. “Stars.” A husky voice groaned and Green’s cock twitched to attention under his flight suit. “Now I’m dreaming of him, matching a sexy voice to his words.”
Was she referring to his words? “You’re not dreaming, my Shelby.” It heated his circuits that she would fantasize about him. “This is Green. I require your assistance.”
“Green, the sick plant guy, you’re here.” A face peeked out of the covering sheet and Green inhaled sharply, the sight of his female stirring his desire.
Fraggin’ hole, Barrel muttered though their private line. She’s beautiful. There will be no dissuading him now.
She was beautiful, her face round and tanned a warm golden hue, her lips as red as Windy’s petals, her hair as brown as his plant’s soil, and her eyes—
Her eyes are green. Zip’s transmission was edged with wonder. I didn’t know humans could have eyes that color.
They’re the shade of newly formed leaves. Green gazed at his female, enthralled, yearning to touch her, to determine if her cheeks were as soft as they appeared.
She gazed around the chamber. “You’re not physically here.” Lines appeared between her eyebrows. “But I hear your voice…I think.” Her laughter flowed into Green’s soul and settled deep in his core. “I could be hallucinating. I’ve been alone for so long.”
He heard the yearning for companionship in her voice. “The hailing frequencies are open.”
“Oh shit. Did I forget to turn them off?” She scrambled off the sleeping support. The thin, faded, sleeveless chest covering and skimpy ass covering she wore barely contained her jiggling curves.
Green didn’t know where to look, every view of her stirring his lust. His shaft pressed against the fabric of his flight suit. His balls ached. He wanted this female, more than he’d ever wanted any thing, any being.
She slapped her hands along storage compartments. Her fingers were intriguingly calloused and creased with tiny silver scars. “The communicator is around here somewhere. I know it is.”
Was she seeking to turn it off? “I require your assistance, my female. Windy, my plant, is damaged.” And he wanted to talk with his little botanist, to look at her some more.
“My name is Doctor Shelby Cooper, not your female.” She moved a plant container, looked behind it. “And I have been helping you, haven’t I? I gave you general plant care tips. There’s no need to speak to me directly.”
There was every need to speak to her. “If you saw Windy, you might have additional insights.”
She paused. Her head tilted, her curls shifting on her shoulders, the tendrils long and tangled. “That’s true, I might, and you’ve already contacted me.” Her patting of storage compartments resumed. “But to see Windy, I first have to find the communicator.”
“It’s located one row up, three columns to your right,” he directed, trusting her to continue their conversation.
The female’s chambers are a mess. Barrel wasn’t as amused as Green was by her disorganization. Why does she require so many containers?
My female has no means of replacing them if she discards them. He understood her thought processes. His female had little access to external resources.
She isn’t your female.
She is. She’s mine. Green rumbled his claim.
You can’t be certain of that, not yet. Barrel pushed back.
I’m as certain about Shelby as Rage was about Joan. The C Model cyborg had met Joan and had immediately known that the human female belonged to him.
Green felt the same way about his botanist.
Shelby was his.
He had to impress her, but how? Rage had earned Joan’s love by killing for her. According to Shelby’s own reports in scientific journals, there were no other beings on the small, unknown planet she inhabited, no enemies for Green to battle.
“There you are.” She retrieved the communicator, setting it before her, at eye level. “You’re a…” Her lush lips rounded. “No, this must be a mistake. You can’t be Green. You’re a cyborg.”
“I am Green.” Did his female have an issue with cyborgs? Many humans did, viewing them as machines, not living beings capable of free thought and emotions.
“You’re contacting me about your plant.” She grabbed her personal viewscreen and scrolled through the data. “Yes, you want to repair her. Repair.” She blew out her breath. “That does sound like something a cyborg would say, but how does that make any sense?” She spoke to herself, not requiring a reply. “Cyborgs kill beings. They’re warriors, trampling fragile ecosystems under their big boots.”
Green gazed down at his big black boots. He’d done his share of trampling. “We also care for beings. We love them, with everything we have.” His attention returned to the female he was destined to love. “And we’d do anything for them.”
Including violate hailing protocols, Zip quipped.
“You’re a violent being and I don’t like violence.” Shelby’s fingers trembled. “Not at all.”
“I don’t like violence either.” Green processed that he was an abnormality. Cyborgs were designed to fight, the desire to kill programmed into many of them. “But before I escaped the Humanoid Alliance’s control, I had little choice. Either I killed or I was killed.”
His Shelby frowned, appearing adorably fierce. “That’s not right. No being should be forced to kill.”
“Many humans don’t consider cyborgs to be beings.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, her thoughts and emotions easy to read. His little female felt outrage on his behalf, then intrigue, then understanding of his predicament. “Some humans don’t value plants either.”
“I value my plant.” Windy meant the worlds to him. “I’m risking my existence to speak with you. If the Humanoid Alliance realizes a cyborg is free--”
“How would they realize that? I won’t tell them.” His Shelby stared at him.
Green held her gaze. What was she saying? Would she help him, help Windy?
Green grinned, his female’s prissiness amusing him. “This is Windy.” He set his plant on his lap. “Her previous models came from Earth.” That was Zip’s hypothesis.
“Hmmm…” Shelby leaned forward, her beautiful face filling the screen. “Can you turn the container for me?”
He complied.
The thought lines between her eyebrows captivated him. Cyborgs were taught to hide their feelings. His little human didn’t have that training, all of her emotions written on her countenance.
“It appears to be a species of poppy.”
“She,” he corrected.
“She.” Her gaze flicked to him, then back down at his plant. “Some beings consider poppies to be weeds. They spread with the early explorers to other planets, have completely taken over at least two that I know of, strangling the native vegetation.”
Green’s amusement faded. He loved Windy and wanted his Shelby to love her also. “Do you consider poppies to be weeds?”
“Of course not,” she replied indignantly. “Poppies are an important part of an ecosystem, and are beautiful, when healthy.” Her disapproving tone straightened his spine. “They are historically important. Poppies were once the symbol of war, of loss on the battlefield.” Her lips twisted. “It’s appropriate that you, as a warrior, would be drawn to it…to her.”
Green exchanged glances with Barrel and Zip. They didn’t have to transmit their insights. He knew what they were processing—Windy was destined to be his.
As Shelby was.
“But poppies are common.” She stacked three similarly shaped empty plant containers, one on top of the other, saving much needed space. “It kills me as a plant lover to say this, but it might be more efficient for you to discard your plant, to replace it, her, with a healthy version.”