Indulgence (105 page)

The human still thought them mindless machines. Rage
wouldn’t correct that misconception. “Your dagger.” He tossed the weapon to
him.

The human caught it with his one remaining hand. “Go back to
their nest. When we track you down, we’ll destroy it
and
you.”

Rage grunted and circled him, daggers in both hands. Where
to hurt him first? He recalled Joan’s battered face. The Commander raised his
dagger. Rage rushed forward, nicked the delicate skin under the human’s eyes
and retreated before his opponent reacted.

The Commander yipped like a new cyborg, swiped his fingers
over the blood streaming down his face. “You missed my eyes.”

“I wasn’t aiming for your eyes.”

The other cyborgs yelled suggestions for next nicks through
the private lines. Rage had his own agenda, breaking the human’s nose with his
dagger handles.

The Commander howled. “You weren’t designed for this. You
kill quickly.”

“I torture slowly.” Rage bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Humans taught me that.” He sliced the male’s forehead, easily avoiding the
clumsy counterattack.

The Commander struggled to deal with the new wounds. Rage
looked over his shoulder. His female nodded at him, a ghost of a smile on her
face. He returned his attention to his opponent, not wishing for the male to
see Joan, to taunt her, cause her more pain.

Rage took shallow gouges out of the Commander’s cheeks, his
neck, shoulders, chest, pausing after each strike, allowing the human’s pain to
crest and level.

“Tell the Mantidae we’ll negotiate.” The Commander’s pitch
rose. He was breaking, already. Rage’s disgust of him increased. “We’ll concede
the planet.”

The humans
would
concede the planet. They didn’t have
cyborgs to defend it.

He decorated the Commander’s protruding belly with nicks and
slices, added a few to his back and shoulders, returned to his front, lowering
to his hips.

One cut landed close to the male’s cock.

The Commander whimpered. “I’m influential with the Humanoid
Alliance. Whatever the Mantidae want, I’ll arrange that they get it. We could
clear their migration paths, give them more planets, anything.”

Rage was taking what he wanted—justice for Joan, for
himself, for the cyborgs cheering around him. He slid his daggers up the male’s
thighs, danced around him, did the same to his flabby ass.

He was tempted to shove a dagger into the human’s puckered
hole. The other cyborgs urged him to do exactly that. But, even surrounded by a
haze of heart-pounding violence, he was aware of his female watching him, of
his need to protect her. He didn’t want Joan to be reminded of what the fiend
did to her.

“I’ll tell them anything they want to know,” that fiend now
pleaded. “Make it stop.” He dropped to his knees. “Please.”

It wouldn’t stop, not until the human was dead. Rage stabbed
him three times in controlled bursts of violence, avoiding all vital organs and
arteries. The Commander wheezed, blood bubbling between his lips.

He wouldn’t last much longer, even with the prolonger. Rage
looked at Joan. What did she want to do?

She rose to her booted feet. His crazy female wished to
confront her attacker.

Rage eyed the dagger still clenched in the Commander’s fingers.
That had to go. He sliced through skin and bone, removing the male’s hand. The
weapon clattered against the floor tile.

“Finish me,” the Commander begged. “I can’t take any more.”

“Yet you were willing to subject my cyborg to much more pain
than you’re currently experiencing.” Joan stood beside Rage, her shoulders
back, her boots braced apart. She looked more adorable than fierce and he
wanted to lick her all over, starting with the creases between her dainty
eyebrows.

“You.” The male coughed. “Almost…dead.”

“Almost isn’t dead.” She tucked her hand in Rage’s. “You
should realize that now.”

Her skin was cold. Rage sheathed one of his daggers and
linked their fingers, attempting to transfer some of his heat to her.

The Commander’s gaze dropped to their joined hands.
“M-machine.”

“He’s more human than you are.” She lifted her rounded chin.
“You and the yes-males you selected to staff the battle station aren’t fit to
represent our species. If I had the energy, I’d kill you myself.” She gazed at
Rage.

She looked to him to be her hands, to do what she hadn’t the
strength to accomplish. Satisfaction filled Rage. “Now?”

“Now, sir.” She looked around the chambers at the other
cyborgs. “We’ve wasted enough of our energy on him. We’re free, able to do
anything we wish. It’s time to start our new lives.”

The cyborgs cheered.

Rage shook his head. So much for their vows to hate all
humans.

A vow he once shared.

“Stand back, female.” He wouldn’t have her polluted by the
male’s blood. Joan obeyed him. Rage raised his dagger. “If you hadn’t touched
her, you and your kind would have had a quick death.”

The Commander’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake.
“M-machine.”

“I’m a cyborg and this is for my female.” Rage slit his
foe’s throat. The human fell face first, twitching on the floor.

Joan moved closer to Rage as he sheathed his dagger. “Thank
you.” She leaned against him, pressing her curves against his armor. “I needed
that closure.”

Was closure another word for killing? Rage didn’t know.
“There will be more of that in our future.” He swung his drooping female into
his arms. “It’s in my design.”

“So is breeding, sir.” She smiled shyly.

It was. Fraggin’ hole. He was a lucky bag of bolts.

“I can walk, sir.” Joan patted Rage’s chest.

He grunted, didn’t put her down, striding through the
hallways, and she was glad. She hadn’t yet fully recovered from her wounds and
felt lightheaded.

Watching her cyborg punish the male responsible for her pain
had been a surreal experience, one she hadn’t fully absorbed. She’d been alone
since she was eleven solar cycles. Could it be true that she now had a being
protecting her, seeking justice on her behalf?

She stroked the scar on his chin, his gray skin not even
damp from his exertion. He was a finely honed weapon and he had killed for her
this planet rotation. She wiggled in his arms, aroused by that thought.

“Control yourself, female.” His voice deepened. “The
explosives have been set and other humans might have been notified. This isn’t
the time for breeding.”

They also weren’t alone. Cyborgs watched them as they
passed. She distracted herself by studying the warriors. The experts at the
Academy led her to believe the beings within the same model run would be
identical. That wasn’t true. Every male was different, as unique as humans
were.

Their mechanics would be the same. The engineer in her was
giddy with the possibilities. “I have upgrades for all of them. The latest
bulletins held some exciting breakthroughs.”

Rage grunted.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I guess I won’t be receiving
any more of those.”

“I downloaded the information from the databases.” Crash
fell into line behind them, a gun in his hands. Gap followed him, gazing over
his friend’s shoulder.

“That’ll hold us for a while.” She’d find a way to hack into
the systems from wherever her cyborg was taking her. “Did you make the upgrades
I suggested to the ship?”

“Yes.” Crash grimaced. “The work is sloppy.”

“That you got any of it done impresses me.” She gave him the
flattery he seemed to need. “We can make repairs during the voyage.” She’d
help, show Rage how useful she could be. “I have more ideas.”

Her cyborg snorted and stomped up the ramp to the ship. They
took their seats. Rage’s chair was well back from the controls. He set her
sideways on his lap while Gap and Crash went through the pre-flight routine,
closing doors, checking fuel levels, starting the engine.

“You don’t fly the ship, do you?” she whispered.

Rage’s thick eyebrows lowered. “I can fly it.”

“He just can’t land it.” Crash grinned.

Gap laughed. “Or successfully lift off.”

“He’s more of an open space sort of pilot.” The two were
like a comedy duo, their chatter, as Rage would call it, filling in the quiet.
“He’s really good at blowing things up.”

“Including our own ship.” Gap gazed forward, guiding the
ship out of the docking bay. “No one fights like Rage. Females like skilled
fighters.”

Not all did but she supposed any female attracted to a
cyborg would. “How many females have you met?” Had he been in a breeding
program too?

Neither cyborg said anything, their silence suspicious.

“Rage?” She looked to her male for the truth.

“You’re their first.” His expression was smug.

She was the first female they’d ever seen. Joan realized
then how imprisoned they’d been, how cut off they’d been from everything other
than fighting, subjected to engineers, guards, a Commander who abused them, not
knowing tenderness or affection.

“I’m honored.” And terrified. She was representing all of
her sex. “Your females will be two lucky beings.”

“You talk like we will have females.” Gap’s tone was glum.
“There are many males and not many females.”

“On the battle station.” The ship exited the structure and
entered the blackness of space. “I grew up on an agri lot and there were two
females for every male there.”

“Two females for every male,” he repeated, awe in his voice.

Joan swallowed her amusement. “One of my friends took a
birthing class at the Academy. There were one hundred females and
no
males.”

“Fraggin’ hole.” Those odds impressed Crash. “Were they all
soft like you?”

Soft? She gazed down at her curves, accustomed to being
overlooked because of her excess weight. Did the cyborgs value plumpness? “Many
were. They care for other beings’ offspring.”

The two cyborgs exchanged a glance. “They’ll need warriors
to protect them and might not wish offspring of their own.” Excitement buoyed
Gap’s words. “Where do we find these females?”

Joan blinked. Were they planning to hunt the entire birthing
class down?

“We lead the others to the Homeland first.” Rage saved her
from answering. “Set that as our course.”

The males grumbled yet obeyed. She gazed up at him with
admiration. Her cyborg might not fly the ship, but he was in charge, a dominant
male amongst dominant males.

“You could have your choice of females, sir.” Was he with
her because he cared for her or because she’d been the only female available to
him?

“You
are
my choice.” Rage frowned. “Am I yours? I
cannot give you offspring of your own.”

“I knew that when we met, sir.” She touched his chin.
“Offspring aren’t necessary.” Though she did adore them. “You are more than
enough for any female.”

The lines around his mouth eased. “Sleep. I plan to use you
hard once we’re away from danger.”

Her face heated. “The others will hear you, sir.”

“It’s a small ship.” His eyes sparkled. “They’ll soon hear
you
.
You’ll lose yourself in our breeding as you always do, screaming my name again
and again, telling the worlds who’s inside you.”

“Sir,” she squeaked, pressing her hot cheek against his body
armor. “I have to install some sort of sound suppression in our chambers.
That’s our first priority.”

“I’ll add that to our task list.” Crash laughed, unabashedly
eavesdropping on their private conversion.

Cursed cyborg hearing. She frowned.

“Cease your chatter, female.” Rage petted her hair, his
touch gentle, soothing her. “Save your strength.” He might be the fiercest of
all warriors yet he treated her with a heart-melting tenderness.

“What is the Homeland, sir?” Joan had heard the other
cyborgs whisper about it when they passed, eagerness and excitement lifting
their voices.

“It’s not for us.” He rested his chin on the top of her
head.

Why wasn’t it for them and why did he sound so sad? “But--”

“It’s time.” Crash tapped the controls. An image of the
battle station filled the viewscreen. She shifted so she could better see it.

“Are all cyborg ships a safe distance away?” Rage asked.

“They’re out of range.”

Joan slipped her palm into her cyborg’s. They waited and
waited and waited. She opened her mouth to ask for a countdown.

A series of explosions rocked the battle station, moving
from one end to the other, tearing through its frame. The flames were a
dazzling array of reds, yellows, and oranges. Metal and other debris splintered
from the structure, eating away at its integrity more and more.

Joan jumped as the viewscreen blazed with a white light.
When it faded, there was nothing left. The image was the blackness of space.

The battle station was gone.

“It’s over.” Part of her couldn’t believe it.

“It’s over.” Rage cuddled her closer to him, to his
tantalizing heat. “You’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

They couldn’t hurt him either. “You’re free.”

“We’re free.” He stroked her arm. “Now, sleep.”

They’d discuss the Homeland later, when she was rested. Joan
closed her eyes. Her thoughts dissipated as she drifted into sunlit dreamland.

*****

She bathed in the sunlight for seemingly endless moments,
the rays warming her bare skin. Her mind was fuzzy. A smile curled her lips.

Then the light, the heat faded and the darkness gripped her.
With the night came loneliness and fear. Bad things were about to happen. She
knew this in her heart, in her soul.

A pop echoed through the space and shards of agony branched
out from her shoulder. The crunch that followed was equally loud. Unbearable
pain shot up her arm. She screamed and writhed and fought, trying to escape it.