by Liz Crowe
“Joan.” Fingers curled around her left wrist and she was pulled into the shadows. Her friend Denny Olsen gazed down at her, concern on his freckled face.
Joan wasn’t alarmed. Her former academy mate worried about everything.
“I’m being assigned to a cyborg.” She grinned at him.
“Tell the Commander that you withdraw your application before he formally offers you the position,” he urged. “It isn’t safe.”
“Life isn’t safe.” Having spent most of her life alone and unprotected, she knew that better than anyone else. “This is what I’ve been training for, Denny, since I was eleven solar cycles.” Since the agri lot her family unit worked was attacked and a cyborg stepped between her and certain death.
“You won’t see another solar cycle if you don’t withdraw.” Denny squeezed her wrist and pain shot up her arm.
“Let me go.” She wrenched her body away from him. Although he was male, she was stronger and smarter and had graduated near the top of her class.
“I can’t protect you, Joan.”
“I don’t need protecting.” She could protect herself. “I can do this.”
“You can’t do this alone.” Denny raked his fingers through his short red hair. “Commander Lewis won’t allow us to give you any support. He believes females don’t belong on a battle station, especially not in cybernetic engineering.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ll prove Commander Lewis wrong.”
“He won’t allow that.” Denny’s lips flattened. “He’ll ensure you fail. You’re intelligent…for a female. You should realize that.”
Joan knew Commander Lewis wouldn’t make it easy but nothing ever had been for her. She was willing to work hard for everything she received.
“Careful, Denny. You’re starting to sound like those female-haters you work with.” And that shocked her. He was her friend. She thought he was different.
“There’s a reason they act like that.”
“There’s no logical reason.” She wouldn’t back down, knowing in her heart she was meant to assist cyborgs. “I’m taking this position.”
He glared at her. She held his gaze.
Denny shook his head. “You won’t listen to me.”
“I won’t.” This was her destiny.
“Then go. Take it.” He dismissed her. “Get yourself killed.” Pivoting on his booted heels, he stalked in the opposite direction down the hallway. “Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
She watched his retreating back. Denny was genuinely concerned for her, but he had also spent the last solar cycle reporting to Commander Lewis, surrounded by that rectal wipe’s female-hating protégés. He’d clearly been indoctrinated into that fool’s school of thought.
Joan knew she was qualified. She could do this. Walking to the transfer chamber, the spring in her step was gone.
She placed her palm on the sensor. The door slid open.
Commander Lewis stood with his back facing her, his hands clenched behind him. Monitoring devices edged the walls. A concealing cloth covered a long horizontal support. There was no one else occupying the space.
Which was strange. She tilted her head, perplexed. At transfers, the former engineer was always present, passing his duties to his successor, relaying the insights he’d gathered over the solar cycles.
Unless there was no former engineer. Her hands quivered. Was she to be paired with a brand new cyborg? More experienced engineers had been waiting their entire lifespans for such an opportunity.
That must have been the reason Denny urged her to decline. He knew the others would be jealous, take out their disappointment on her.
“You’ve kept me waiting, Cadet Tull.” Commander Lewis didn’t turn around, didn’t look at her.
“Commander Lewis, sir.” Joan saluted him. “I was assigned to the waste processing chambers.” Shit patrol, as transfers called it, was the worst placement an engineer could be given, and, until her arrival, it had been unheard of for a highly trained cybernetic engineer to monitor the processing vats. “Those chambers are at the far end of the station.”
“This is my station. I’m aware of where the waste processing chambers are, Cadet.” The Commander’s voice cracked like a laser whip over her. “You’ve been reassigned to C899321.”
Joan sucked in her breath. She’d heard there was a C model cyborg on board. That was why she’d requested this station. But she never dreamed she’d be his engineer. “Thank you, sir.”
Commander Lewis turned, studied her for a moment, his pale countenance creased with wrinkles. “Are you being insubordinate, Cadet?”
“No, sir.” She straightened. “I haven’t seen a C model in ten solar cycles.” Since she was saved by one during the attack on the agri lot.
“C899321 is one of the last of its kind, its primitive design ideal for fighting the Mantidae.” Commander Lewis spoke of the cyborg as though it was a machine, ignoring its human side, and that irritated Joan. She’d seen how human they could be. “C899321 is more valuable than you are, Cadet.”
“I understand, sir.” Joan understood that she was now responsible for the maintenance and well being of that valuable cyborg.
“You have no family unit. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.” Her mother and father, plus two siblings, had been killed in the agri lot attack. She’d been a ward of the Humanoid Alliance since that fateful day.
“Good.” The Commander nods. “Indicate acceptance here.” He held out a personal viewscreen. “It states that if C899321 kills, hurts or violates you, my battle station will not be held responsible.”
That was the standard release and, in Joan’s opinion, unnecessary. Cyborgs followed orders, and rarely became aggressive toward their humanoid masters.
But this was war and no one’s safety was guaranteed. She pressed her palm against the screen. “Will I have an opportunity to speak with my predecessor, sir?”
“You have that opportunity now.” He waved one of his hands over the horizontal support.
There was no movement under the concealing cloth, no tug and pull of breath. Dread twisted Joan’s stomach as she drew the white fabric back.
The scent of blood hit her before her eyes registered what she was seeing. Laid out on the surface were two severed feet, one arm minus its hand, an eyeball with a brown iris staring up at her, pieces of gray matter she suspected was brain.
She’d seen animals killed by predators on the agri lot. She’d lived through an attack, saw her parents slaughtered before her. She’d never seen this level of carnage.
“Who was responsible for this?” She was too shaken to add the expected sir.
“C899321.” A slow smile spread across the Commander’s face. That scared her more than the engineer’s remains. “Your predecessor managed to ping for help but, by the time the guards arrived, it was too late.”
It would be. Cyborgs were inhumanly fast.
“You claim you’re capable of working with cyborgs, a task suited for males, Cadet.” The Commander sounded smug. “You now have the opportunity to prove yourself right.”
Joan gazed up at him and saw the truth in his eyes. He believed she’d fail, that she wouldn’t survive her pairing with C899321.
He was sending her into the cyborg’s chambers to die. This is what Denny was warning her about. The position was a suicide mission, not a career opportunity.
The alternative—turning down the pairing—would also end in her death. Commander Lewis would send her to the front lines. She’d be given no weapon, no armor, because they expected her to be slaughtered and sucked dry by the Mantidae before her feet touched the planet. The insect-like aliens were that fast.
She’d take her chances with C899321. “I will be successful, sir.”
Commander Lewis gave her a curt nod. “C899321 is positioned in its chambers . You have been granted access. Clean and repair the unit, preparing it for deployment.”
An engineer had been killed and they weren’t s
kipping a deployment.
Why? Joan could think of only one reason. The war must not be progressing as well as the Humanoid Alliance propaganda indicated. “Yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed, Cadet.”
“Thank you, sir.” Joan saluted, then marched into the hallway, turning toward the chambers, her mind spinning. Her predecessor’s death made no sense. Cyborgs didn’t kill their engineers. They followed orders.
Though C345925 hadn’t followed orders when he saved her. His mission had been to battle the Mantidae, not protect scared eleven-solar cycle-old girls.
The massive male had delivered her to safety, holding her with one hand, clasping a gun in the other. He had shot the enemy as he moved, turning his body to take the brunt of the return fire, absorbing projectiles that would have shredded her small form.
He’d risked everything for her. She would risk everything for this cyborg. She’d fix C899321’s malfunction so he wouldn’t kill another human. The Humanoid Alliance would have no additional reason to take action against him.
She pressed her hands against the exterior wall panel of his chambers. The thick metal door slid open. She stepped into the firewall square. The door behind her closed and she authorized the interior door to open.
A buzz swept over her. No, not simply over her. Into her. She gasped, her inhalation of air drawing more of this unknown presence inside her.
It was too much, almost suffocating. Joan swayed, lightheaded. “Do not faint. Do not faint,” she repeated to herself, closing her eyes.
The rolling under her feet gradually stopped. She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. Crimson spray covered everywhere she looked. Gore was splattered into the farthest corners, hanging from the ceiling. Cleaner bots scrubbed the walls and floor.
This was why she felt dizzy, she reasoned. She smelled and sensed this butchery.
C899321, the being she had been told was responsible, stood in his uploading dock, a cable inserted into his nape, his towering form naked, covered with blood, his long black hair dripping with it.
He turned his head, locked his gaze with hers and she sucked in her breath. There were worlds of agony, of rage, in those bright blue eyes. This was no rational, logic-driven cyborg. This was a man, an animal, crazed by bloodlust and pain.
“They thought to pacify me with the use of a human female?” he thundered, his deep gravelly voice clawing across her skin, awakening parts in her she didn’t realize slept. “I’d kill you before I allowed you to touch me.”
This insult didn’t hurt her the way he’d intended. Joan knew she wasn’t the slim tiny female males desired. She was solidly built, good breeding stock, as her mother had once said.
She discarded his words and focused on the torment in his tones. He hurt. Horrifically. Her fingers twitched, the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, tremendous. Judging by the flex of his powerful biceps and thigh muscles, by the anger radiating from him, he wouldn’t appreciate that response.
He also wouldn’t listen to any command she issued. A reprimand, verbal or physical, would add to his hostility. Some being had already tried to restrain him and failed. The reportedly unbreakable wrist and ankle cuffs attached to the frame of the uploading dock had been shattered, rendered useless.
Joan discarded four solar cycles’ worth of theory on how to handle malfunctioning cyborgs, realizing now that the academy experts knew nothing.
Her late father, however, had taught her how to deal with wild beasts.
“I would never touch you without your permission.” She lowered her gaze, showing submission, recognizing C899321 as the dominant male he was. He’d seek to harm any aggressor, to protect himself and his territory. If she wasn’t female, she suspected she’d already be dead.
“I also would never hurt you.” Joan stuffed a couple of cleaning cloths into her pockets and dropped to her knees, into a puddle of red. The moisture soaked through her flight suit. “I’m here to serve you, to clean you.”
She slowly crawled forward through the liquefied remains of the previous engineer. Having lived on an agri lot and spending the last solar cycle in the waste processing chambers, guck no longer fazed her.
“You don’t want to be dirty.” Joan kept her head bowed, her voice calm and soft. “That would interfere with your mechanics.”
She filled the silence with a flow of reassuring words, telling him she meant him no harm, that she was there to help him. Joan kept her gaze lowered, concentrating on his feet. He stood with them braced apart, preparing for an attack, ready to defend himself. His feet appeared human except much, much larger, his metal frame concealed with skin. When not covered with blood, that skin would be gray.
The current J models could pass for human, designed not to frighten the general population. The C models were clearly cyborg, from their giant stature to their unnatural skin tone. Some engineers found them to be scary and primitive. Joan didn’t. She associated C models with safety, with caring, with C345925’s unexpected act of kindness.
Joan knelt in front of C899321. Her heart pounded so loudly, she suspected with his superior senses, he could hear her.
Moments passed. She remained motionless, allowing him to look at her, to smell her, to become accustomed to the sound of her voice.
He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, signaling his readiness and she spoke. “I have a cleaning cloth in my pocket.” She held up her hands, showing him her empty palms. “Can I remove it?”
She waited and waited and waited. He said nothing.
“I told you I wouldn’t take action without your consent.” She wasn’t foolish. Touching a wild thing without permission resulted in death.
“Yes.” His voice was impossibly deep.
“Thank you.” Joan slipped her fingers into her pocket, slowly as to not spook him, and extracted a blue cleaning cloth. “I value your trust.” She opened the enhanced fabric, stretching it tight, allowing him to examine it. “May I clean your feet?”
There was another long pause.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” No male should have a voice like that, like an endless night filled with decadence and sin. She resisted the urge to wiggle her ass, her pussy moistening, her nipples tightening, and focused on her task, cleaning his ankles, heels, every toe, talking as she did so. The cyborg lifted first one foot and then the other, allowing her to swipe the cloth over his soles.
The fabric sucked up the blood, rearranging the molecules into air. His skin was soft, warm, surprisingly scarred. Joan frowned. “Your nanocybotics must have been suppressed when you were damaged. There should be no marks.”
She traced a long slash on his right foot. It was an old wound. “The enemy found a way to do this.” That alarmed her. This flaw in his defenses put her cyborg at risk. “Why wasn’t this development covered in any of the information bulletins I’ve viewed?” Engineers should be working on a countermeasure.
“Are you mentally deficient?” His tone was harsh. “You must be if you volunteered to breed with a C model cyborg.”
Joan gritted her teeth at his assumption about her role. “I’m your engineer, not a breeding female.”
“You lie.” He snorted softly. “Your uniform is gray, not blood-red, and if you were truly my engineer, as you claim, you’d know my damage was inflicted by my previous handlers.”
“I was positioned in the waste processing chambers. That’s why I wear a gray uniform.” Signaling to everyone her lowly status. “And why would a handler hurt you? Our job is to ensure you operate at optimal efficiency.”
“Why would they hurt me? Because they’re cruel humans and I’m a disposable cyborg. Because I operated outside specifications. Because they wished to duplicate my kill rates. Do you need more reasons?”
They’d experimented on him. She gazed at his toes, absorbing this knowledge. Blood had dripped down his legs, coating them with crimson once more. “May I clean your legs?”
He sighed, his muscles flexing an
d releasing. “You clearly need to be told everything. I must be cleaned from the top down.”
She knew that. “You’d agree to me cleaning your face?”
“Do I have a choice?” His words were bitter.
“Yes.” Joan looked upward, meeting his gaze. “You know how best to maximize your kill rates. Within these chambers, I serve you.”
His eyes flashed with blue currents of energy. “Stop with your lies. I won’t believe them.”
“You’re bigger, stronger, think you’re more intelligent.” She lifted her chin. “Why would I lie to you?”
“I’ll test you, little engineer, and if you fail, you’ll die.”
“I expect nothing less.” She’d been tested her entire lifespan. She and death were old friends.
His eyes narrowed. “Stand.”
Joan scrambled to her feet, her legs aching. Up close, he appeared even taller, broader. For the first time in her life, she felt small.
She liked the feeling. A bit too much.
“Undress,” was his next command. “If you serve me, you should be as naked as I am.”
Joan wished she could argue with that logic but she couldn’t. A subordinate would never wear more clothing than her superior.
She lowered her gaze and slowly undressed, aware of the deficiencies in her form. Her skin was pale. She hadn’t basked in a sun’s rays for solar cycles. Her breasts were too generous, her stomach rounded, her hips wide and her thighs thick.
“Your boots also.”
She unfastened them, the floor cool against her feet, and she stood in front of the cyborg, completely naked.
“Look at me, female.”
Joan met C899321’s gaze, the heat in his eyes tightening her nipples. He wanted her, his cock hardening, his breathing growing ragged.
“Raise your arms and widen your stance.”
She did as he ordered. The position lifted her breasts, as though she offered them to him. It also gave him easy access to her pussy.
Joan was acutely aware of his size, his strength, his arousal. He could take her, easily overcoming any feeble resistance she made.
