Nine
His little human was sleeping again. Ghost gathered her things, carried her to the bridge, claimed the captain’s chair, her chair, and set her carefully across his legs.
He relaxed. Her naked body against his felt right, the contact reassuring him.
He folded her uniform into a neat square, plunked the garment and her boots on the console beside them. His female’s fingers twitched. Ghost placed her dagger in her hands and the movement stopped. She sighed, the sound echoing his contentment, and she snuggled against his chest, breathing deeply, warm and soft and still.
Peace was a rarity in his lifespan. He monitored their surroundings, watching for danger, certain that the stillness wouldn’t last.
Their warship followed the merchant ship. The other vessel appeared to be operating as optimally as it could. It was old. Its circuits and systems had been a mess.
It had pleased his female when he repaired them. And that had pleased him. He kissed the top of her head. Her blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, a cascade of gold, touchable, his. Her scent clung to the strands, calming him.
She was safe. She was undamaged. He would protect her.
Ghost, Ace, the K Model cyborg, transmitted.
What? Ghost tensed. Was his female in danger?
The C Model talks, Thrasher, the other K Model, teased.
He must have repaired himself.
Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to you previously, ass.
I hacked into his processors, genius. He was too damaged to transmit.
Communicate, Ghost bellowed through the transmission lines, the discussion irritating him. There could be a threat to his female and the two K models were wasting time with their foolishness.
C Models have no patience. Thrasher clucked his tongue.
C Model with warship. He reminded them. Communicate.
We have a battle station, Ace countered. And our Commander worries about your female. It is causing her emotional damage. Tell your female to communicate with her.
And tell your female to breed with you more. Thrasher laughed. It might repair your emotional damage.
They ended the transmission.
Ghost looked down at his sleeping female. He wasn’t waking her for that trivial request.
Moments passed. All was quiet. He scanned the cyborg transmissions. The council had ordered that every free warrior immediately return to cyborg-controlled space.
Earth Minor was in cyborg-controlled space. Once his female determined the merchant ship was fully operational, they would travel to that tiny planet.
His brethren protected the planet, ensuring his female would never experience another invasion as she had on Mercury Minor. He’d protect his female from any dangers on the ground.
“No,” his female mumbled, the fear in her voice pulling at Ghost’s heart. “No.” She squirmed. “No.” She jerked awake, her eyes opening, her dagger swooping upward as though to attack an imaginary foe.
“Safe,” he murmured, holding her tightly, wishing he could take away her past damage.
“Safe.” She blinked, her eyes focusing. “I’m safe.”
“Always.” Ghost nuzzled against her neck. He’d ensure that.
“I’m naked.” Her body stiffened. “Where are my boots? I need them.”
He grabbed them, placed them in her lap.
“Thank the stars.” She put them on her feet.
Why did she need them? “Invasion? Boots?” Had her feet been bare when the Humanoid Alliance invaded. Had she been forced to steal boots off a corpse? Some humans were sensitive about the dead, about touching them.
“I had boots but they didn’t have these.” She draped her feet over the armrest, fiddled with the heel of one of her boots. It slid open, revealing a small compartment.
Ghost grunted. That was a clever addition.
She showed him the contents. They were flat packets. “These contain drinkable liquid. It isn’t a lot but it would give me a few more planet rotations of living.” She closed the compartment.
His female carried a larger container of liquid in her pack. There was another container placed semi-permanently on the console. One of the systems she checked often was beverage filtration.
Cyborgs didn’t require much beverage. They were a closed system, didn’t sweat, all fluids recycled. Humans needed to drink.
And his little human had known thirst. “Safe.”
“I believed I was safe on Mercury Minor also.” She shrugged. “I complained that nothing exciting ever happened. And that changed in a heartbeat.”
He would protect her. Ghost scanned open space, looking for ships, possible danger.
“It was like I called them.” Guilt edged his female’s voice. “I caused them to invade, caused the death of my family, my friends.”
“Not logical.” He kissed her neck. She had been a female offspring with fourteen solar cycles. Her words had nothing to do with the Humanoid Alliance’s attack.
“I know it’s not logical.” Her laugh was shaky. “But neither is me living while they all died.”
“Strong. Survivor.” He was honored that she belonged to him.
“I did terrible things to survive.”
He didn’t like the thought of other males touching his female but that had prolonged her lifespan, allowing him to meet her, to claim her. “Not terrible.”
“You don’t know everything I did.” Her tone was bitter. “That container of liquid I traded my body for? Children begged me for a drop, a mere drop, and I didn’t share it. That seat on the ship? It could have been given to a mother and her baby. I saw her looking at me, judging me.”
She trembled.
“Not terrible,” Ghost repeated. He had done worse.
To lessen his female’s emotional damage, he would show her. He placed one of his hands on the control panel.
The footage he chose was the encounter that caused him to disconnect his machine from his organics. He and his brethren faced a crowd of females and offspring. The beings were unarmed, non-violent, had surrendered to the Humanoid Alliance.
“Ours.” He circled one female’s face. “Ours.” A female offspring with less than one solar cycle was circled. “Ours.” He circled a crying female.
He and his brethren raised their guns.
“Fire,” the Humanoid Alliance Officer yelled.
Ghost ended the footage.
It had hurt him what the humans had done to their own kind but it had devastated him what they had done to the females belonging to his brethren. He had lost a piece of himself with each death.
His female didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him.
Because he was a bad being, unworthy of her caring. “Failed to protect.” The guilt weighed on him.
“Would the Humanoid Alliance have killed you if you refused to obey them?”
“Kill all cyborgs.” If it had been only his lifespan he risked, he would have tried to save the females.
“Oh, Ghost.” His female covered his hands with hers. “That was an awful choice you had to make.”
“Ours.” He didn’t understand how she could forgive his actions. “Failed to protect.”
She swiveled in his lap, straddled his waist, captured his face between her palms. “You protected your brethren. How many were there?”
“One thousand, thirty-eight.” Why was the number of cyborgs important to her?
“You sacrificed three humans belonging to you to protect one thousand and thirty-eight cyborgs.” She held his gaze.
“Females.” They were precious. He grasped her hips. She was precious.
“Three females versus one thousand and thirty-eight males.”
She didn’t understand. “Must protect.” He placed one of her hands over his heart. “Must.” That was one of his missions, one of his duties in the universe.
“And me?” She splayed her fingers over his skin.
“Refuse to shoot. Protect Mine.” She was his. He would do anything to safeguard her.
“You would have risked the lifespans of over a thousand cyborgs to save one female.” She stared at him, her brown eyes wide. “That’s not logical.”
“Not one female. Mine.” He covered her hand, the hand he’d placed over his heart. She was a critical part of him. He couldn’t live without her.
“I want to believe that.” She lowered her gaze. “But words and actions are two different things. I saw that on Mercury Minor.”
He wasn’t a fickle human. “Believe.” He drew her to him, needing her closer.
She pressed her cheek against his chest. Ghost exhaled contentedly, reveling in that softness. His female was all curves, yielding and warm.
He rubbed her back, seeking to comfort her as her mere presence comforted him.
“Is that why you were damaged when I met you?” she whispered. “You were forced to kill three females?”
“More females. Failed to protect.” And he relived each death over and over again. He wrapped one of her blonde curls around his right index finger. Being close to her, touching her, smelling her scent, hearing her voice, lessened that agony, dulling the pain.
“You protected some of them.” His female was determined to see the best in him. “You protected the commander.”
He grunted. Some wasn’t nearly enough.
“How many females did the other cyborgs save?”
“Cannot sense.” The other cyborgs didn’t have his ability to identify the females. “Only me.” At first, he had told his brethren about the females. All that did was cause the other warriors emotional damage and increase his guilt.
He stopped telling them, keeping that knowledge and that pain to himself.
The other warriors, in contrast, had shared everything. Ghost had seen the battle footage recorded by millions of cyborgs, had seen them unknowingly kill females belonging to their brethren, females he was assigned to protect.
His heart, his organic brain hadn’t been able to cope. His solution had been to disconnect his machine. That hadn’t prevented him from hearing the cyborgs’ conversations but it had stopped the footage. And eventually, he had hoped that the memories would fade.
“You endured all of that alone.” His female lifted her head, gazing at him with sympathy. “As I survived the invasion alone. You had no one to talk to, no one to understand what you were dealing with, what you had to do…or not do.”
“My mission.” It hadn’t been a successful mission thus far.
“I have the same mission.” She smiled. “We saved two females last planet rotation.”
He’d put his female at risk during that adventure. “Protect you. Priority.”
“You can protect me while we save others.” She was undaunted.
“No.” He wouldn’t allow her to take chances with her lifespan. She was too precious to him.
“Yes.” His female wasn’t backing down. “It should be easy to do. Up to this point in my lifespan, I’ve been protecting myself.”
Ghost was acutely aware of that fact. “Danger.”
“We’re in the middle of a war.” Her laugh held no humor. “Danger is all around us.”
It wouldn’t be around her. “Protect.” His voice rose. “Not save others. Not mission.”
“It is our mission.” She pushed away from him. “Captains decide which missions their crews take and I am the captain. This is my warship. That was our deal.”
“Frag deal,” he roared, tired of hearing about it. “Earth Minor. Mission.”
They had to travel there. He could protect her in cyborg-controlled space.
“That was a placeholder destination.” His female stood, her body naked except for the boots on her feet. “We’re part of the Rebel fleet. We have to support the cause. That means we fight the Humanoid Alliance and we save others.”
Both tasks would put her in danger. “Mine.” He jumped to his feet also. “Obey.”
“I’m your captain, cyborg,” she shouted. “You obey me. Not the other way around.” She stomped around the bridge, her curves jiggling enticingly with every heavy placement of her booted feet.
“Your male.” He wanted to grab her, hold her to him, until she relented.
His female paced around and around, fuming, her fingers folded into tiny fists. She looked more adorable than fierce, her body agonizingly small, fragile, human.
She finally stopped in front of him. “If I don’t save others, the guilt will eat me alive, Ghost.” She grasped his hands. “You sacrificed a handful of females to save thousands of cyborgs.”
He’d sacrificed more than a handful of females.
“Whom did I save? Only myself.” She answered her own question. “I have to make my lifespan count.”
“Counts to me.” He linked his fingers with hers, his gray skin contrasting with her golden. “Saved me.”
“The commander wouldn’t have blown the ship up.” She interpreted his comment literally. “It’s an A Class Warship.”
“Your A Class Warship.”
“Yes, it is.” The corners of her lips lifted, her mood immediately lighter. His little female was extremely proud of her role as captain.
“Saved two females.” She would have to be content with that. He wouldn’t allow her to risk her lifespan again. He wouldn’t fail his female.
“We did.” Her smile widened, illuminating her beautiful face. “What’s the status of the merchant ship?” His female claimed her seat once more.
Ghost stood beside her. “Speed constant. Flight level.” The merchant ship appeared to be functional.
“Their ship has been repaired and they have each other.” His female’s voice was edged with envy. “I had two older sisters. They watched me like Rhea watches Paloma. That’s why I had to wait until they were asleep before sneaking out of the settlement. They would catch me if I didn’t.”
“Love.” He wanted her to love him as she had loved her sisters.
“Yes, they did.” His female misinterpreted his words. “They didn’t understand me but they loved me.”
Ghost grunted.
“My eldest sister maintained knowledge stations. She took the role very seriously, acting very stuffy in public, talking in a monotone.” She demonstrated, slowing her speech, keeping every syllable level. “But when she told a joke in private, she’d talk faster and faster, her pitch rising.” His female did the same. “And she always started giggling before she could finish it.” She shook her head. “She was the worst joke teller ever.”
His female laughed, her joy feeding Ghost’s.
“The sister closest to me in solar cycles followed every hair and garment trend in the settlement,” she shared. “Once, the trend was to stick your hair straight up.” His female pulled her locks upward. “My sister’s hair was so big; she couldn’t stand upright while entering the domicile. She had to bend over. It was hilarious to watch.”
His female laughed again.
“We had some good times.”
She stared at the main viewscreen, a smile on her face, her gaze unfocused. The merchant ship was displayed there but Ghost suspected she was replaying happy images from the distant past.
All of his happy images were of her. He reviewed them, moment by moment. Her voice, her touch, her scent had been perfectly preserved in his processors.
“I might argue with you, Ghost.” His female finally spoke. “But never question that I care for you. I do.”
Her revelation heated his chest. “Mine.” He added that moment to his hoard.
“If something bad were to happen to you or to me, I want you to know that.”
“Protect.” Nothing bad would happen to her. He’d safeguard his female.
She gazed at the main viewscreen for one, two, three heartbeats.
“Are all of our systems operating properly?” His female resumed her role as captain.
Ghost updated her on their ship’s activities, their course, the planetary movements in their current sector.
His female asked questions, performed scans, verified yet again that the liquid filtration system was operating. He unwrapped nourishment bars he’d sourced from a supply chamber, handed one to her.
They ate in a companionable silence.
She swallowed the last piece of the bar, took a swig from the beverage container.
“Speak with commander.” He relayed Ace and Thrasher’s message.
“I should do that.” His female nodded. “She’ll want to know the warship is secure.”
“You.” Ace and Thrasher had given him the impression the commander was more concerned about his female than the warship.
“I’ll be the one speaking with her.” His female’s gaze scanned his naked body and her delectable scent intensified. “It will be audio only.”
Ghost grunted his agreement.
His female lounged in her seat, clad only in her boots, unconcerned that she was almost as bare as he was. She was as comfortable with her nudity as cyborgs were with theirs.
But she was intriguingly peculiar about who saw his form.
Ghost suppressed video and hailed the battle station. A male answered and connected them to the commander.
The two females talked, their conversation brief, impersonal. His female didn’t mention him directly, didn’t say his name, didn’t claim him as hers.
But the commander didn’t refer to her males either. And he noticed his female mimicked how the older female spoke.
“I have the situation under control.” His female preened in her seat.
Ghost shifted his gaze to her. His female might be the captain but she wasn’t the being in control of their situation.
He was.
The commander gently reminded his female of the threats around them, the dishonorable tactics of the Humanoid Alliance, the uncertainty of the universe.
“I would never forget how quickly circumstances could change.” His female’s mood grew serious. She was thinking of the invasion, he knew. “I won’t let you down, Commander.”
She ended the communication with that vow.
“Care.” Ghost studied his female. She cared for the commander.
“One doesn’t care for a superior officer.” His female’s cheeks turned pink. “I admire her. She’s a skilled leader. She doesn’t have to trade herself to get what she wants.” She paused. “And I feel safe with her.” That last part was whispered.
Ghost clenched his jaw. No male would ever take advantage of his female again.
“Safe with me.” He scooped her out of her chair, claimed the seat, set her on his thighs.
“I do feel safe with you, cyborg.” His female’s smile returned. “The question is—do you feel safe with me?”
He grunted. Why wouldn’t he feel safe?
She placed her palms on the control panel and increased the warship’s speed, making a wide loop around the merchant ship.
Ghost didn’t know why she was doing that. It served no purpose.
Except give her joy. Her smile widened.
They moved faster and faster. Ghost placed his hands beside hers.
It took both of them to keep the vessel steady.
“Wild,” he murmured. His female had a reckless streak.
She laughed and pushed the engines harder.