by Cynthia Sax
All they required were medic packs and private viewscreens, and those could be found in the Humanoid Alliance ships.
She entered the first warship. The medic pack was where it always was, in a wall compartment by the bridge. She slung it over her right shoulder. Medic Neidan would use that to either treat her patients or trade for other supplies.
Taelyn searched the chambers. She removed the tracking devices from the private viewscreens and handhelds before slipping them into the empty pack. The small devices would be resold for credits, allowing her former guardian to obtain whatever else she needed.
Some funds would be set aside for the kid. Taelyn’s role was dangerous. She wouldn’t be able to care for the little shit forever.
She moved from ship to ship, raiding them of supplies. The enhanced mechanical arm she donned for these missions allowed her to carry more than an average human could handle. When she’d taken all she could heft, she returned to the freighter and relayed the medic packs, exchanging the filled pack for an empty one.
They worked without talking, stuffing the cargo chamber with goods. Taelyn’s arousal didn’t dim. Every so often, she felt like someone was watching her. Awareness shimmered over her skin. She would turn her head and see no one.
She hefted packs into the freighter.
“It’s full.” The kid dragged another pack toward the opening.
That pack was crammed with explosives. In the past, they would be ready to be detonated, would be one slap away from fucking shit up.
The kid’s booted foot slipped, connected with the side of the pack.
Taelyn winced. That was why she hadn’t connected that last critical wire. She would do that as she set the bombs.
“Close it up.” She slapped the side of the freighter. “And get your ass back to the bridge. I’m leaving once I return, so be there or…” She shrugged.
Or she would hunt the kid down. But the implication was she would leave without her.
She would never do that.
The kid didn’t know that, however. The cargo chamber doors slammed shut and the sound of small boot heels tapping against the freighter’s metal floor originated from the interior space.
Taelyn grinned and moved as quickly as the kid, navigating between the ships, exiting the docking bay, venturing deep inside the space station. The layout of it was the same as it had been for the others. Creativity wasn’t one of the Humanoid Alliance’s strengths.
The hallways were devoid of robots. That was strange. Usually landing a ship in the docking bay activated them.
When that happened, she swallowed her fear and battled them, subduing one of the mechanical guards, using the second memory chip Mulls had designed for her.
But that wasn’t necessary on this mission, much to her relief. The breach must have messed with those systems also.
Which was good because she wasn’t as focused as she should be. The scent of virile male had grown stronger, and her desire had intensified. Her inner thighs were slick with wetness. The brush of her garments against her skin, her nipples, her pussy, spiraled her need upward.
Fuck. If she wasn’t undertaking a dangerous mission, she would pull down her leather leg and hip coverings and finger herself to orgasm right in the middle of the hallway.
That was how wild the scent was making her.
Taelyn reached the far end of the space station, crouched, and pulled an explosive out of the pack. She placed the little bomb by a door and carefully armed it. Then she ran to the next spot, did the same.
As she bent over during the fifth placement, a strange sensation swept across her lower back. It resembled the press of fingertips against her leather-clad skin.
She straightened abruptly, turned.
There was no one and nothing there. The gleaming white, brightly lit hallway was empty.
Yet the impression of being touched, the strong wanting it invoked inside her remained.
“I really need to get laid.” Her voice was loud in the space.
When she returned to Antares II and the kid was safe, she would shake her tenacious shadow, find the first willing male with a functional dick, and ride him until they were both delirious with pleasure. That would be her gift to herself for saving the fuckin’ universe.
And for enduring the next placement of the bombs.
She paused by the robot storage chamber. Tension stretched across her form.
It had to be done. Taelyn inhaled deeply, counted to ten, released her breath, and entered the space.
Thousands of eerie dark eyes gazed unseeingly back at her. The battle robots were lined up in the chamber, ready to be activated. There were units missing. Those must have been the ones sucked out of the space station during the mysterious breach.
There were too many of the robots left in the space for her comfort. Their forms were still. Their shiny white mechanical faces were devoid of expression, of mercy.
They followed instructions. There was no reasoning with them, no pleading for leniency. If they were ordered to cut off a stupid little girl’s arm, that was what they did.
The robots didn’t care if that girl was sorry, if she had made a dumb mistake, if losing a limb would mess up her future and change her lifespan forever.
They severed that arm.
And then, when she thought the situation couldn’t become worse, they took everything else from her, everything she cared for, everyone she loved, every constant in her lifespan.
Taelyn’s stomach twisted into tight painful knots. She loathed the battle robots with all the ferocity in her tortured soul, had dedicated herself to eradicating them from the universe, to ensuring no other little girl would experience her loss, her agony, her grief.
She also feared them. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
It was an irrational terror. She was a skilled warrior now, not an inept reckless kid. But the past echoed in the space, and she couldn’t avoid those heart-wrenching ripples.
Her trepidation wouldn’t stop her from fulfilling her mission.
She rushed to the back of the chamber, passing the robots’ immobile forms. Explosives were set at the far wall, then midway in the space, and then again by the doors.
The size of the chamber didn’t warrant that number of bombs. It was overkill, but she wanted the robots decimated, would apply the extra power to accomplish that.
That effort was not without its price. When Taelyn exited the space, her breathing was ragged. Fright had coiled around her chest, was squeezing down, down on her lungs.
She leaned against the wall, rested her forehead on the cool surface, breathed in and out, in and out. The scent of a male in his prime floated in the recirculated air. That hadn’t dissipated. The fragrance teased her nostrils, distracted her from her trauma, was almost…soothing.
As she started to relax, ghostly fingertips skimmed across the breadth of her shoulders. The warmth permeated her leather garment.
“Who’s there?” She quickly turned. “I know you’re following me. Show yourself.”
No one responded to her demand.
The hallway was, once again, empty.
“There’s no one there. Shit.” She wiped one of her hands over her face. “I’m losing my fuckin’ mind.”
“You aren’t losing your fuckin’ mind, my female.” A voice, low and deep and masculine, rolled over her, caressing her from the top of her head to her boot-clad toes.
She trembled.
With need. The unknown male had to be the enemy. Anyone situated in a Humanoid Alliance space station was a threat to her. And she wanted him.
She was losing her mind.
“Who…what are you?” She lowered the pack of explosives to the floor and drew her guns.
“I’m your warrior.” A form stepped out of an alcove.
Her head tilted back, back, back. He was a huge fucker.
His broad shoulders, narrow hips, thick thighs were clad in muscle-hugging black body armor. One of his arms was shiny and
silver in color. His other arm matched the rest of him.
Her gaze lifted higher. His hair was the same color as his protective garment. His skin was gray. His eyes were a brilliant blue.
There was a letter followed by numbers inked on one of his cheeks.
A bone-deep chill engulfed her.
The male was a cyborg. He was half human, half machine, had been designed by the Humanoid Alliance to fight their battles.
Rumors said the warriors had rebelled against their human manufacturers.
Those rumors must not have been fuckin’ true because he was standing in front of her now, guarding the space station for the Humanoid Alliance—a formidable, some would say unbeatable, foe.
She’d heard cyborgs were fast. If his size was any indication, he would be strong also.
His garments were decorated with an impressive array of weapons, and he would know how to use them. Cyborgs were some of the best warriors in the universe.
She was a warrior also. Her heart pounded hard.
If she was alone, she’d welcome the confrontation.
Death would come for her eventually. The missions she undertook were dangerous. This planet rotation was as good a time to die as any other.
But she wasn’t alone. Blast it.
Her lips flattened.
Jasny was waiting in the freighter, expecting her to return.
If she died, the fate of the kid would be decided by the enemy. The Humanoid Alliance didn’t show mercy to anyone. The girl would die also, and that death was unlikely to be quick or painless.
Taelyn had seen what the Humanoid Alliance did to their foes. She wouldn’t allow that to happen to the kid.
She had to win this upcoming battle. Bracing her booted feet apart, she aimed her guns at her opponent and prepared for the fight of her lifespan.
Failure wasn’t an option for her.
She had to defeat the cyborg.
Chapter Three
Grudge had found his female, his genetic match.
Seeking to battle the dreaded boredom, he had given himself twenty-two projects during his solitary assignment on board the Humanoid Alliance space. One of those had been improving all its systems.
He’d immediately detected the freighter posed nearby, had considered blowing it up. That would have been entertaining.
When the ship landed in the docking bay, its doors opened, and the delectable scent of female flooded his senses. He thanked fate he hadn’t taken that action.
The being inside the vessel was his. He processed that with 100.0000 percent certainty. His circuits surged with awareness. His cock hardened, pressing against the confines of his body armor. He felt vividly alive, achingly whole.
Then she exited the ship and he almost came in his garments. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever encountered. Her hair and skin were as dark as her skintight black leather garments. Her big brown eyes flashed with fierce emotion.
She was a being of thrilling contrasts. Her form consisted of lean muscles, a straight spine, a tantalizingly curvy ass and full, firm breasts. Her lush lips were set in an unforgivingly hard line. She appeared to be human, yet energy coursed over one of her arms, an arm that didn’t read as organic on any of his lifeform scans.
Her tiny green-skinned, green-haired accomplice sported a similar arm. His female scowled and barked instructions at that companion. But the softness in her eyes relayed caring. And the smaller female gazed back at her with open hero worship.
There was love between the two females. Damage to the green being would damage his female, and he would never allow his female to be damaged.
Grudge silently placed the companion under his protection also.
He then tracked his genetic match, remaining out of sight, observing, as she pilfered the warships, stripping them of their medic packs and private viewscreens. She worked quickly, her efficiency communicating this wasn’t the first Humanoid Alliance space station she’d targeted.
Cadet, their leader, was correct. His head dipped. There must be many identical fake moons situated around the universe, structures their enemy planned to utilize to damage and kill others, seeking to expand their control.
His little thief processed where some of those space stations were.
He would have projected it wasn’t possible but, once his female’s stealing was completed, his interest in her spiraled even higher. She placed bombs around the space station. His jaw dropped as she extracted one from her pack. The explosives were small and pretty, and they smelled of her.
Grudge lost the battle within himself. He touched her. Multiple times. Fleeting caresses over her shoulders, the small of her back.
When his female confronted him, brimming with fight and fire and pent-up passion, it was all he could do to remain standing, to not fall to his knees and worship the tiled floor she stood on. She was perfect, and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone or anything.
He looked down the barrels of her guns, yearning to draw her into his arms, to kiss the fury off her face. Instead, he attempted humor, hoping to ease her anger.
“You left this in an alcove.” He held one of the bombs out to her.
It had been deactivated…as had the others she’d set. He regretfully couldn’t allow her to blow up the space station. Not until Cadet and his brethren had moved the warships from its docking bay.
“Fuck you, machine.” The sparks in his female’s eyes multiplied.
He projected those smaller detonations were building to a big boom.
Frag. He was in danger.
Grudge dropped the defused bomb.
His female tapped the triggers of her guns.
He veered to the right, moving at cyborg speed. A projectile carved through his cheek, leaving a trail of pain on his skin…and a surplus of admiration in his heart.
His female was clever. She realized if he was gripping the bomb with both of his hands, he couldn’t grasp a weapon, was vulnerable, easier to kill.
There was no time to explain he wasn’t a threat to her, would never damage a hair on her gorgeous head.
She had shifted her weapons, was tracking him.
Grudge dashed forward, not wanting a projectile in the skull.
His female shot at him. He circled her, sprinting faster than her human visual system could track. She peppered the walls around them with projectiles. The gunfire echoed in the narrow space. As he accelerated, he climbed the panels until his form was horizontal.
His intelligent female corrected her aim, pointing her guns where she projected he’d be. A projectile whizzed by his forehead. He altered his speed and his patterns, zigzagging, becoming more erratic, less predictable.
Predictability killed warriors. Solar cycles of battle had taught him that.
“I’m going to hit you, you fuckin’ machine.” Determination edged his female’s voice.
“I’m not a machine.” Many humans and humanoids held that faulty perception about his kind. “And there’s only a 4.1245 percent probability you’ll hit me.”
He brushed his fingertips across his female’s nape as he passed her. Her skin was decadently soft. Awareness surged up his arms.
She must have been affected by the contact also. His female quivered. The scent of her arousal intensified, teasing his nostrils.
Her rage escalated with her passion. “4.1245 percent isn’t zero, fucker.” She shot faster.
“It isn’t zero.” He laughed as projectiles pinged all around him. This was the most fun he’d had in planet rotations. “Who taught you to fabricate bombs?”
“You’re not getting any fuckin’ information out of me.” She scowled at the place where he’d been…three strides ago. “And you won’t distract me.”
His female perceived him as the enemy. He wanted to tell her he would never damage her, would protect her with his lifespan.
But then his little enhanced human would ask him why he was on the Humanoid Alliance space station.
He hadn’
t been authorized to relay that data. Cadet was strict about not conveying information to others without her permission. And cyborgs couldn’t lie.
It was best to remain silent for now, to allow his female to believe he was her foe.
“Is that a challenge, my female?” Grudge skimmed his hands over her energy-infused arm.
She sucked in her breath. Her shooting faltered. “That is a warning, not a challenge.”
As he ran, he asked her questions about her bomb fabrication, about the green female in the freighter, about her need for medic packs and private viewscreens. And he touched her. He also touched the handheld strapped to her waistband, giving himself access to that communications device.
His female shot at him and cursed and refused to answer any of his queries.
She wasn’t a cyborg, didn’t have his energy supplies. His enhanced human eventually grew tired.
The bombardment of projectiles slowed. Yet she didn’t give up, shaking her fingers as they cramped.
She was damaging herself with their game and he couldn’t tolerate that. Grudge abruptly changed direction, darted toward her, batted the guns out of her hands.
His female, being relentless, reached for her daggers.
“Stop that.” He clasped her wrists, drew her snug against his form. “You’re too slow to damage me.”
“Fuck you.” She spat as she wiggled. Her dark skin was lit with the flush of her fury.
He didn’t release her, holding her tight against him.
They fit as though they were manufactured for each other…which they had been. Her curves folded into his muscles. Her leather-clad mons pressed against his body armor-covered cock.
The contact with her was so good, so intense, it almost shorted his systems.
That malfunction would be dangerous.
His female wasn’t ready to capitulate. She vibrated with intention.
He braced his boot feet apart, projecting she would draw away from him.
His female, instead, lunged forward, knocking her body against his. He didn’t go down, as there was a 74.1278 percent probability she had expected him to do. His enhanced human didn’t have the strength to move a C Model cyborg.
