by Cynthia Sax
She advised that he discard Windy, simply because she was damaged? “There’s no replacing Windy. She’s unique.”
“Physically, she’s not unique.”
“That might be true.” Although Zip had never seen another plant exactly like her, not in all of the databases he’d searched. And, during their escape from the Humanoid Alliance, Windy had survived a short venture into open space, a feat he understood was near impossible. “But emotionally, she’s irreplaceable to me,” Green shared. “She saved me.”
“She’s a poppy. She has very few natural defenses. How could she save you, a big strong warrior?” His Shelby narrowed her eyes, her disbelief tangible.
Green hesitated. If he shared the truth, revealing his weakness and his shame, he could lose his female, lose her respect, her love and any opportunity to breed with her.
But if he didn’t risk this, she’d never appreciate Windy’s importance to him or understand what he’d been through. His female wouldn’t truly know him.
He had to tell her all of it, the good and the bad.
“She saved me by existing, by surviving. I had reached the point many cyborgs do—when the fighting and the pain becomes too much and we consider ending our long lifespans. I saw no end to the torture and to the death, harbored no hope in my soul.” He touched his chest. He had been a hollow shell of a warrior, devoid of anything other than agony and grief. “We cannot kill ourselves. That’s written in our programming. But there are other ways to accomplish this feat. The planet rotation I met Windy, I had decided to rebel, to force my human tormenters to kill me.”
He had been weak, prepared to give up, to be defeated by his circumstances. Could a female love a male like that? Green dropped his gaze, shame clouding his eyes.
“I trudged through a field of ash, intent on rebelling,” he continued, his voice gruff. “Everywhere was gray and dead and desolate.” Like he had felt inside. “Then I saw Windy, bright and defiant on the battlefield, bending with the breeze, not allowing it to break her. She was the sole splash of color, of hope, on that cursed planet, and I knew she was there for me, to encourage me to go on.”
He paused, waiting for her reaction to his story. Some of the younger cyborgs had laughed when they had heard it, mocking him for his weakness, ridiculing his affection for Windy, his belief that she saved him. They didn’t understand.
Would his Shelby?
Silence stretched.
“Windy gave you a reason to live, to continue,” his Shelby murmured, her voice barely audible. “I know what it’s like to lose all hope and then be given a sliver of it back.”
Green’s shoulders lowered. She understood. “Do you?”
“Yes, for me, it was my mother’s ancient Earth rosebushes.” She stared to the right, her gaze unfocused. “They’d been in my family for generations and, when my parents accepted the Humanoid Alliance’s relocation offer, my mother brought them with her to the new planet, planted them outside our domicile.” Shelby breathed deeply. “They smelled so good.”
He wished he could have smelled those roses.
“The nearest agri lot was owned by friends of ours.” She twirled one of her long curls around her finger, twisting it around and around, the action making her appear endearingly young. “The two families had big plans for the future. My parents had one daughter—me. Their friends had one son--Court. He was handsome, intelligent, nice. Every being liked him and I was no exception. I considered Court to be my best friend.”
Green couldn’t suppress his growl. She was his. No other male would have her.
Shelby didn’t notice his reaction, appearing lost in her memories. “We were to marry, merge the two agri lots and create the next generation. My mother convinced me to attend the Academy for agri lot science before taking this step, telling me my knowledge would increase our crops.”
Green searched his processors for her credentials. No, he hadn’t been mistaken. She’d studied botany, not agri lot science.
“While I was off planet, at the Academy, the Mantidae attacked.” Her beautiful face hardened. “Do you know of them?”
“We fought the Mantidae, losing many skilled warriors and good friends in those battles.” The large insect-like beings were the final opponents Green faced before escaping the Humanoid Alliance. “They’re very difficult to kill.”
“My parents, Court, Court’s family, weren’t warriors. By the time I was told of the attack and arranged transport to the planet, my family, my family was…” The pain in her eyes stripped him to his frame.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He wanted to know about her past but he didn’t want to hurt her.
“I have to tell you. You were brave, sharing your story with me. I should do the same.” Shelby sucked in her breath, held it for a couple of heartbeats and released it. “By the time I returned, my family, Court, my friends, every being I knew on the planet, were dead. Our domiciles had been flattened. Our crops were destroyed, our livestock eaten. I went from having a bright future to having no future at all. My parents’ grand plans for me were wiped out in one attack, one planet rotation.”
She’d had nothing as he’d once had nothing. “My Shelby.”
“I thought the Mantidae had obliterated everything, everything I loved, everything I lived for. What was the point of continuing? If I had stayed on the planet, where I belonged, I would have perished with my loved ones. Why should I be spared?”
She’d been spared because she was meant for him. He was her destiny.
“That was when I saw it—a white rose blooming between the debris. I don’t know why my mother’s rosebushes survived. They might have been too alien for the Mantidae to eat. For whatever reason, they remained, their scent perfuming the air.”
“They were your poppy in a field of ash, your reason for living.” Green gazed at her, awed. His female was the only being he’d ever met who truly comprehended his despair and his subsequent hope.
“I had to save the roses. They were all that was left of my mother, of my parents. I placed them in containers, brought them back with me to the Academy, changed my course study to ancient Earth botany.”
She cared for them as he cared for his Windy, his plant. “Where are the roses now?”
Shelby smiled and he blinked, her beauty stunning him. “I planted them in front of my domicile here on this planet.”
“Reminding you of your parents.”
“Yes.”
A comforting silence fell between them. Words weren’t necessary. He understood her. She understood him.
His Shelby stroked the broad shiny leaf of the plant positioned to her right, her fingers brushing back and forth, back and forth.
Green imagined that gentle touch on his cock and he shifted in his seat, hard as a dagger. Would she caress him until he found release or would she take him into her mouth, fasten those pink lips around his shaft, and suck?
He’d shoot his nanocybotic-infused cum down her throat. When his essence hit her stomach, she’d come, screaming around him, filling the air with her musk. Her fingers would roll his balls, coaxing every last drop from him.
And he’d give it to her, binding his female to him, solidifying the connection he felt even now. She’d heal the hurting part of him, repair his plant’s mysterious malfunction, and he’d protect her, love her, give her the sense of family she missed.
She’s your female, Green, Barrel conceded softly through their private lines. After hearing about her past, I’m as certain as you are that you were meant to be together.
Green glanced at his friends. He’d forgotten he had company in the bridge. The two cyborgs gazed at his female with fascination but not lust. They didn’t want her as he did.
“Green, about your plant.” His Shelby returned his attention to their problem.
“You saved your mother’s roses and you’ll cure my Windy.” He tapped his plant’s container. “I have no doubt about your abilities.”
“I’ll do my best.” Her
voice held concern. “It’ll be trial and error. I’ll send you a list of treatments to attempt. Try one at a time. Doing them all at once will cause your plant too much stress.”
The treatments could possibly damage Windy, especially if he administered them alone. “We’ll try your list together.” Her expertise would reduce the risk. “Give me your coordinates and I’ll travel to your planet.”
Shelby’s eyes widened. “No,” she squeaked. “No traveling to my planet. I don’t see any beings, ever.”
“You’ll see me.” He was her destined male.
“No, I won’t.” She shook her head, her brown curls bouncing against her cheeks. “I’ll transmit the list. That’s it. That’s all I’m doing.”
“My Shelby—”
“It’s Doctor Shelby Cooper, and be thankful I’m doing this much.” She ended the transmission.
The main viewscreen returned to depicting the surrounding stars. That image wasn’t as captivating as his female’s beautiful face.
He didn’t know why she refused to meet with him, but he wasn’t dissuaded. Green turned to Zip. “What were the transmission’s coordinates?”
“It originated two sectors away, on a small planet named, appropriately for our little scientist, Earth Minor.”
“My little scientist,” he corrected. “I’ll borrow a transport ship from Vector and travel to Earth Minor immediately.”
Barrel frowned. “She said she didn’t want to see you.”
“I’ll change her mind during the voyage.” Green was confident that she’d eventually want to meet with him face-to-face. She was his. She must have felt their connection. “Rage hesitated to claim his female and he regretted it.” Rage’s female had barely survived the delay. “I won’t make that same mistake.”
“None of us will.” Zip nodded. “I agree that you should go to her but not alone.” He glanced at Barrel and back at Green. “I’ll join you on your transport ship.”
“We’ll both join you.” Barrel rolled his eyes. “And we’ll use our ship, not one of Vector’s. Windy isn’t allowed on any of his vessels.”
The cyborg wouldn’t allow Windy on board his ships due to possible contagion. Vector’s fear might not be as irrational as they had first thought. Based upon the conversation with Shelby, his poppy was an aggressive breeder.
Green hoped to also be an aggressive breeder…with his little human. “The two of you will wait on board the ship while I venture to the planet’s surface and meet with my female.”
“Agreed.” His friends dipped their heads.
“Bond with your female and then bring her back to the ship,” Barrel instructed. “Once you’ve retrieved her, we’ll return to cyborg-controlled space.”
Cyborg-controlled space would be the safest location for Shelby but Green doubted his soil-loving botanist would agree to living permanently off planet.
He’d make that decision in the future. He’d focus now on securing his female and saving his plant. “File our flight plan with the cyborg council and set a course for Earth Minor.”
Chapter Two
Twenty-two planet rotations later, Shelby thumped a stubborn clump of soil with her hoe, breaking it into pieces. Earth Minor’s solitary sun shone brightly, the rays heating her bare shoulders. Her muscles ached. Her clothing, a flower-image-covered sundress patterned after the garments worn by her ancestors, was moist with perspiration and covered with dirt.
She was a mess, but the ancient Earth plants, bees and butterflies, were unable to comment and there were no other beings on the planet to see her. Solar cycles ago, when she first arrived, she had shared the space with the founder, an eccentric elderly botanist determined to replicate the ecosystem of his favorite place and era. Once he had transferred his duties to her, he had voyaged into the forest and had never returned. She suspected he was dead.
There were moments when she craved company. Recently, those instances followed her verbal exchanges with a certain stubborn cyborg.
Which meant she’d been experiencing them every sunrise since that first surprise hail. Green used any feeble excuse to contact her, hailing her at least once every planet rotation, and she answered, unable to resist those stolen opportunities to see his face, hear his voice.
It was torture, a pain she embraced so she wouldn’t ever forget. Her gaze settled on the rosebushes surrounding her domicile. Hope involved risk. She’d once planned for the future and lost everything, every being she loved.
She couldn’t do that again. The loss would kill her.
Living in the kinder, gentler past, a time when humans hadn’t heard of Mantidae, hadn’t ventured into far space, had thought themselves alone in the universe, was less perilous. None of those beings had lost their families or their friends to an alien attack.
And Shelby couldn’t rejoin the modern world, even if she wanted to. She had made a commitment to her predecessor. Some being needed to tend to the botanic time capsule, to ensure the ancient plants survived for future generations.
No being, especially not a cyborg like Green, would join her in her self-imposed isolation and that was okay. She was happier on her own. Shelby scowled as she dug into the ground.
Yes, she might finger herself after every conversation with him, stroking her pussy while visualizing his broad face, energy-infused blue eyes, clipped short black hair, gray skin, his model number inked under his right eye.
And, when she came, she might envision Green’s broad shoulders, narrow hips, bulging biceps, imagining all of the parts she hadn’t yet seen.
But that meant nothing. She moved a wiggling worm out of the path of her hoe. A female was entitled to her fantasies.
Shelby attacked the soil with more vigor, venting her sexual frustrations on the ground. Sweat dripped down her spine, between her ass cheeks. Her skirt fluttered around her legs.
A rumble filled her ears. She ignored it, concentrating on her task.
It grew louder and louder.
Shelby looked up in time to see a single being shuttlecraft fly past, its smooth silver underbelly skimming dangerously close to the top of the fir trees. Shit. It looked like it was going to land.
The drone of the engine slowed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. It was landing.
Her tiny planet was being invaded.
She ran toward her one story domicile. Her heart pounded. Her boots sank in the tilled ground. Dirt splattered against her bare calves.
Shelby knew how invasions worked. She’d researched the Mantidae attack on her home planet, learning the signs the settlement’s council had missed, the stages her loved ones had encountered.
This first being was a scout. If luck smiled on her, she might defeat him. When the scout didn’t report back, the aggressors would send a large heavily armed second wave.
She wouldn’t survive that. Shelby pushed through her domicile’s front door. But she might have time to send the rarest seeds and bulbs into underground storage.
She glanced around the crowded main chamber. Where had she left her gun? She hated the weapon, disliked having it in her domicile, a reminder that violence, loss, could breach her sanctuary.
The gun had been inherited from her predecessor. He’d boasted of spending multiple planet rotations increasing its capabilities, until, he claimed, it could blast a hole through the hull of a battle station.
The though of blasting anything or anyone made her shudder. But it might be necessary.
Shelby surveyed the space. She hadn’t positioned the weapon near the door, not wanting to arm the invaders, yet she’d left it close enough for her to easily reach. Shelby shifted containers of seedlings to the side, found the gun stuck in a larger container.
She wiped off the dirt. Could she use it on a living being? She’d have to or—
Metal rang against wood behind her.
She spun around.
“You’re even more beautiful—”
She pressed the trigger before the deep sexy voice registered. The kick kno
cked her backward, onto her ass. The projectile did the same to Green, slamming him against the far wall, pulling an animalistic sound of pain from his throat.
“Oh, fuck.” Shelby dropped the gun and jumped to her feet, paying no attention to her screaming muscles. “Green.” She ran to him.
“Frag.” He clutched his stomach. Blood streamed over his fingers, covering his gray skin. “Barrel was right. I should have let you know I was coming.” His smile was tight.
“This is no time for jokes.” She moved his hands and the floor shifted under her. There was a huge hole in his black battle armor. “Green.” She swayed. Blood gushed from the wound, the strong pulse of crimson scenting the air.
“Sit, female.” He pushed downward on her hips. “Before you collapse.”
She lowered with a thump, her ass smacking against his armor-clad thighs. “I shot you.” She stared at his stomach with horror. “I thought you were an invader. I never would have pressed the trigger if I’d known it was you.”
“That’s good to know.” The strain on his oh-so-masculine face belied his light tone. “Could you help me remove my body armor?”
“Yes, of course.” She fumbled with the task, her fingers clumsy with the shock.
Finally, with his help, she retracted the armor, pulled it over his head, tossed it to the side. “Oh, it’s bad.” Another wave of wooziness swept over her. “Really bad.” Medicine wasn’t her area of expertise but she knew no human could survive the damage she’d caused.
Green wasn’t human. After he first contacted her, she, for some inexplicable reason, had found herself spending every free moment researching cyborgs. They healed quickly, surviving wounds that would be fatal for her. “Can you recover from this?”
“I’ll live.” He grimaced.
“You’re in pain and I have no suppressors.” She’d run out two solar cycles ago. “Is there anything I can do?”
He lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes bright blue, sizzling with energy, with heat. “Rage, my friend, has a theory that the more nanocybotics a cyborg gives to his female, the more he produces.”
