Inrit shouldn’t have been standing so close. One moment he’d been explaining how he became what he was, the next she took a pace in front of him, hunched over, concern scrawled across her ruby face, big eyes even wider. He felt a processor stutter and his vision dimmed. An ocular upgrade had failed, and he was left to rely solely on his human vision while his system did what it could to repair the damage.

The glitch was bigger this time, and Max didn’t know what was working and what wasn’t. He stayed very still while Inrit studied him. She was worried, and if she realized just how bad things had become for him, he might not get off the space station or the ship alive.

Her fingers came forward slowly. He had enough time to pull away, to dodge. But it wasn’t his damage that kept him rooted in place. The denya bond still pulsed between them, unfulfilled and aching. Even with his broken systems, he still wanted her.

His mechanics were broken, not his cock.

She swept aside a bit of his hair, letting the tips of her fingers run through the short locks until they’d been completely cleared from his face. Max breathed deep, catching hints of lavender and lemon and something he couldn’t quite define. The combination of soap and Inrit intoxicated his senses and he wanted to drink it in, bask in every feeling until he glitched forever and was gone.

Those fingers traced the ridge of his eye and down his cheek. Her hand rested and he turned into it, unable to resist taking more contact, keeping her close. He wished he were merely a man, one that could take Inrit, satisfy her, and keep her close by his side. But if he’d been a normal man, they would have never met.

Cruel mistress, fate.

“You need a doctor,” she said.

Her voice was solid steel, and if he hadn’t seen the worry written plainly on her face, he would never have realized that she felt anything. He wanted to know who she was, why she could mask her voice of all emotion. What had life thrown at her? Why had she hardened?

But neither of them had time. He could fade completely at any minute, and she’d be snuffed out on her thirtieth birthday.

No.

Max couldn’t save himself, but he could save her. If it was the last thing he did, he would seal the bond between them and give her the opportunity to live her life. It wouldn’t even be a hardship. It had been a long time since he’d lain with a woman; many were scared away by his mechs and others chased after him like he was a prize to be captured and catalogued. Few wanted him just for himself. And though he knew Inrit might only want him for this bond, he’d give it to her.

“I’m not sick,” he responded. “No doctor can help me.” He’d tried approaching one a year ago, but all medical scanners read him as completely healthy.

She nodded and didn’t argue. “Then you need a mechanic specializing in cybernetics.” She was like a dog with a bone, throwing out hopes like he was worth saving.

Max was already a little in love with her. What a shame. The one woman to see him as a person would have to watch him die like a machine.

“Thank you for the concern,” he said and he meant it. “But I’ve examined my options. There is no one in the Consortium who could help me.” That I could afford. He didn’t add that last bit, but he suspected that someone might be able to fix him up. The only problem was, he’d need to pay for that fix with his life. And he would be no man’s slave.

“I ca—” The speaker embedded in the wall cut off whatever she was going to say.

“Prepare for launch in fifteen minutes,” said the computerized voice.

“I thought we weren’t launching until later this evening?” said Max. He’d consulted with the captain only a few hours before and the schedule had seemed clear enough.

Inrit straightened and put space between them. Suddenly Max felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “We must have been moved up the launch queue. It happens. I’ve got engine checks I need to do. Captain should have told me about this earlier.”

She stowed her bag in a hatch and secured her bunk back in its travel position, latched flush against the wall. “Have you been part of a ship’s crew before?” she asked.

Max shook his head; not like this, he hadn’t. “I’ve mostly been planet based.”

“I’d head up to the bridge if I were you. Morvellan might have something for you to do. It’s also going to have the best view.” With that, she left him alone, only pausing for a moment as she stood in the door. She glanced back at him for a second, but left. They had a million things to say to each other, even if they’d only met ten minutes before. But those things would have to wait.

Max secured his own belongings and stored his bed just as Inrit had. Just as on Nina Station, space was a precious commodity. With the beds turned down, he and Inrit would be flush up against each other each time they tried to move. With the beds stored, there was a bit of breathing room.

He left the room and followed the signs on the wall until he made it to the bridge. The ship was relatively small considering the size of the crew, and the journey only took a few minutes.

The bridge was in a flurry of movement. Captain Morvellan sat at the helm, a dozen screens and the control panel all lit up in front of him. The navigator was located beside the captain, and a gunner sat in a small chamber down a short ladder where she could see outside through view windows and screens. In truth, the bridge was located in the heart of the ship, where it could not be easily compromised by enemy fire.

All views to the outside were fed through heavily shielded outside sensors and cameras. Morvellan yelled out orders to the crew and everyone hustled to obey his commands. Max let the door close behind him and came to rest near a railing that blocked off the back of the bridge from the main portion.

“If you’re not needed, get out,” the captain said without glancing over his shoulder. Max looked from his left to his right, but there was no one else around. Clearly the command had been meant for him.

Without a word, he turned around and left. If the captain didn’t want him there, he would disappear. The automated speaker voice announced that take off would happen in five minutes and advised all passengers to secure themselves.

Max hustled down to the canteen and found other members of the crew and their passengers securing themselves to the chairs and the wall. Takeoff would only last for a few minutes, but it was one of the most dangerous times in any ship’s journey. Provided that those ships didn’t come under fire.

That wasn’t something to be concerned about so close to Nina Station. Max knew exactly how well Consortium space was guarded and he had no worries about a fire fight. Not here. But once they left the system, all bets were off. Pirates scoured empty space, trawling for victims who had no hope of calling for help.

The door to the passenger bay opened and two men walked in. They were aliens with teal skin and it only took a moment for Max to identify them as Detyens. It shouldn’t have taken that long, but his processor lagged. He needed to try to sleep. That might allow his systems to reboot and fix some of the problems he was having.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than a couple of hours.

The two men slid into seats beside Max and one offered him a smile. They looked similar enough to be brothers, and Max was fairly certain that wasn’t just because they were the same color. There was something to the bone structure of their faces and the clan markings he could see dotting their bare arms.

He’d seen more Detyens in the past fifteen minutes than he had in the past five years. Was there a convention? And did Inrit know that they were on the ship?

“Are you looking at something?” the one closest to him asked, scowling.

“Back off, Kayleb,” the other one said.

“Not going to happen,” sneered Kayleb. He kept staring at Max as if he expected him to jump out of his restraints and attack him.

Max looked around Kayleb to the other Detyen. “I’m Max, it’s nice to meet you.” Ignoring Kayleb only seemed to make his anger simmer. He was practically vibrating in his seat.

“Krayter.” He nodded at Max. “My brother Kayleb was never properly housetrained. Don’t mind him. He doesn’t usually bite.”

That startled a laugh out of Max.

“I can take the bite, I promise. I’m made of sterner stuff,” Max replied. He liked Krayter immediately, despite the frothing rage of his brother. “Are you members of the crew?” He hadn’t yet met everyone he’d be working with, but it would happen soon enough.

Kayleb relaxed as Max failed to rise to his challenge. Both of the brothers shook their heads. “We’re catching a ride to Honora Station. Our cousin wants us to meet his den… his wife,” Krayter told him, catching himself on the last word.

“I wish him well on his mating,” said Max. Even if the force of the bond hadn’t snapped through him less than an hour ago, he would have given the same response. “He is truly blessed.”

Between one second and the next, the fight went out of Kayleb, and he smiled at Max as if he hadn’t been ready to rip his throat out. “You’re familiar with the denya bond?” he asked.

Max couldn’t help the nervous laugh that tore out of his throat. He’d thought he was familiar with the concept before, now it had sunk hooks into his chest and he didn’t know what the outcome would be. But unless Inrit knew these men, unless she chose to speak to them, and unless something happened between Max and her, he was not about to reveal that to strangers.

Instead he said, “I have a friend who was mated less than a year ago. She used to live on Tarni.”

The ship started to hum and the final warning went out: departure was imminent. Max rocked in his seat as they took off, his ears popping from the sheer speed of the vessel. They hurtled through Consortium space at top speed, out of Tarni’s orbit, past Beothea, past Thanatos, and beyond to where the gate that would jump them to the wider universe sat open and waiting for them. Everything compressed for a frozen moment and Max found himself plastered in place, the pressure so immense even he did not have the strength to overcome it.

Almost as quickly as it started, it was done. They were through the gate and jumped into faster than light travel, their destination more than a hundred light years away and getting ever closer.

***

One point to the captain, he kept the Kella in proper order. Morvellan had warned Inrit that they’d had problems with one of the compressors and a few other odds and ends and that had kept them docked at Nina Station for longer than anyone would wish to stay there. But overall, the engine ran well and the most important parts were all upgraded.

Despite this, the control room was a great deal hotter than the rest of the ship. Since she was alone, Inrit stripped off her top, leaving her in just a utilitarian bra and her cargo pants.

She ran through the basic system checks that needed to be done while they were engaged in FTL and confirmed everything was in working order. Once that was seen to, she sat back in the engine chair and tried to close her mind off and drift.

Of course, that was an abject failure. As soon as she stopped moving, an image of Max, his face a mask of confusion and sorrow, gazed up at her. She shook her head to dislodge the thought, but it was no good. He was rooting himself into her mind, digging into her bones and deeper places where he didn’t belong.

Or maybe he did.

She didn’t want to parse it too hard. He was a human, a cyborg, and he was closer to full mechanical meltdown than she was to death. Somehow the universe had decided to screw her over one last time. She really hoped this was the last time. It occurred to her that there were still years until her death. Plenty of horrors could still be visited upon her with time to spare.

She needed to work on her optimism.

Was this what humans felt when they learned about the Detyens’ limited lifespan? This yawning helplessness and rage that someone special could be yanked away before they ever got to flourish? Was it because of the denya bond? It was too difficult to think of him as her denya, but the fact of the bond itself was undeniable.

Her. Inrit, the orphaned, reformed pirate. And a mate. A human mate who just might be the strongest and hardest person she ever met who was actually worth meeting. Someone who could hold his own in a fight.

Someone who could protect her.

Seriously? She scowled at herself and let out a disgusted sound. She didn’t need protection. The galaxy needed protection from her.

The door to the engine control room opened and Captain Morvellan stepped through. Inrit sprung to her feet and yanked her shirt back over her head with lightning fast reflexes. She wasn’t modest, but she’d rather the captain only see her when she was fully clothed.

Morvellan stood very still in the doorway, eyes averted. His cheeks were flushed almost as red as her skin, but he didn’t say anything. She cleared her throat and he looked back up. They didn’t say anything about it. Ships were strange places and a person got used to dealing with awkward situations.

“Are you settling in?” he asked. “Everything in working order?”

“Yes, thank you.” She barely bit off a little warning would be nice. He was the captain, this was his ship, and she needed to stay on top of that. She didn’t have her own crew anymore. “And the engine is top of the line, sir. I don’t foresee any issues.” She’d been a little less than honest in her interview with the captain. Yes, Inrit had done an apprenticeship in ship mechanics. But it had been cut short due to piratical interference. Still, she knew what she was doing and he didn’t need to know anything else.

“Good. Good.” He looked around, examining one of the walls which was covered in flashing lights and switches. A woman could take full control of the ship from here. She owned the engines, and if she chose to, she could turn anything off. It was a good thing that Inrit had decided to be good.

No hijacking for her, not anymore.

When Morvellan reached out a hand to touch one of the bright blue buttons, Inrit jerked forward. “That starts the restart sequence. Please don’t touch it.”

The captain jerked his hand back. “Perhaps I’ll leave the button pressing to you.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t tell him that she could prevent any catastrophe that he started in the control room before it escalated out of hand. This was her domain and he needed to respect it.

“I wanted to have a private word with you. Do you have the time?” he asked. He flipped down a seat that attached to the wall and sat.

Given that action, Inrit knew she didn’t have a choice about this talk. She took her own seat and spun around to face him. “I have a few minutes.”

He nodded. “Good. I’m sorry for springing the bot on you earlier. You didn’t note any rooming exceptions when we hired you on, so I didn’t think to warn you.”

If she had a milliliter less discipline, she would have clenched her jaw. Only years of training kept her face flat, expressionless. “I don’t have any issues with Max. Why do you think otherwise?” She knew Max wouldn’t have spoken about the bond, and she doubted he had put in for a room request. He seemed like the kind of man who faced his issues head on.

“Eh…” The captain shrugged, “Some crew want to room with people. You had a look when you saw him, maybe that you weren’t quite comfortable with it. Didn’t want to put you in a spot.” He sat relaxed, as if he hadn’t just called Max a non-person and insulted her ability to look out for herself.

This was going to be a long contract.

“Max is a cyborg,” Inrit bit out. She knew her eyes were flaring red and she didn’t quite care. “He is just as much a man as you are, enhancements or not.” More of a man, actually, but she didn’t say that. “I would appreciate if you did not call him a robo or a bot.”

“He ain’t here to hear it.” The captain’s voice took on a challenging edge, as if he expected her to back down, or even worse, as if he expected her to agree with him.

As this trip progressed, he’d get to know her and learn better. “He may not be here, but I am. And I would like you to not hurl insults at him when you’re speaking to me.” There were captains that Inrit would have never taken this stand with, men who ruled by their fists and by fear. Morvellan had his prejudice, but she didn’t fear him.

He got to his feet and shook his head. “I guess an alien just isn’t going to understand. It’s a bit… complex.”

Inrit took a deep breath. He was still the captain, which meant she needed to keep civil. So, she turned around to let him know she was done with him. “We’re all aliens out here, sir.”

The door slid open and shut without him giving her a response. Good. She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to deal with him for any longer. She only hoped he kept away from Max. Her mate had enough to worry about.