The battle for the thirty strides of terrain had been fierce. Stealth’s form was riddled with projectiles. Hunks of flesh hung off his face and chest. His back had been blasted bare by explosions, his body armor long gone. The pain was excruciating.
He had a smile on his face.
Being a K Model cyborg, he loved to fight. His brutal masters, the Humanoid Alliance, had manufactured him for that purpose. He and his brethren remained enslaved to them and couldn’t choose their opponents, but they could defeat them with zeal.
That wasn’t the reason for his joy.
After ten planet rotations of separation, he would finally return to the Humanoid Alliance base with his brethren. He would see his female, the one being genetically compatible with him.
From the moment, Zebrina, the commander’s daughter, had arrived on Ahki, he had been hers. He’d been standing outside with his fighting batch, being inspected for damage. She’d skipped down the ramp, her generous curves jiggling, her black curls bouncing against her brown cheeks.
His female had been a vibrant beam of hope in a gray and dismal world. Everyone, including himself, had been drawn to her.
Then her delectable scent filled his nostrils and that attraction multiplied exponentially. His circuits surged. His heart pounded. A part of him that had been deactivated came online. It had taken all of his willpower to keep his expression blank.
She said hi to everyone, her light, bubbly tone belying the keen intelligence in her big blue eyes. Stealth and his fellow cyborgs had been included in her greeting, much to their delight.
The commander, a harsh human she referred to irreverently as Daddy, told her not to talk to the machines. Zebrina giggled and said they looked like her dollies.
She then brushed her fingers across Stealth’s right shoulder, a light touch he felt to his metal frame, and he knew the attraction was mutual. Their relationship was doomed. She was human, the daughter of his tormenter, and he was a cyborg, designed to die fighting.
Every moment with her was a gift, a reward for having survived as long as he had.
He scanned his assigned area. The vegetation was scorched. A structure had been demolished. The light-blue bodies of Ahkian Rebels lay twisted on the ground, their eyes open and unseeing.
There were no lifeforms remaining.
Lethal. He contacted the E Model to the left of him. Cover my section. I’m scouting the terrain ahead of us.
Their replacements would be pushing the front line forward. Those warriors would be more successful at doing that if they knew what they were facing.
They certainly couldn’t count on the intel they were given by the Humanoid Alliance. Their human masters viewed them as disposable weapons and didn’t make any effort to verify the information, not caring if cyborgs were terminated.
He and his brethren were on their own.
I’ll cover half of your section. Boom, the warrior to his right, beat his foe with another humanoid’s detached leg.
The C Model had use of only one of his arms. The other one had been severed to the circuits by a wayward missile and his nanocybotics hadn’t yet repaired it.
I’ll miss the fighting when we reach the Homeland. His friend talked constantly of the cyborg-controlled planet, a place where all warriors were free. According to transmissions, there’s no killing there.
You can fight me in the training rings. Lethal threw a rock across the expanse.
It pinged off the C Model’s metal-encased skull. That wouldn’t be any challenge.
Frag you. The two nattered back and forth.
Stealth had been stationed with the males after surviving his training and they had fought together since then. The two warriors had saved his lifespan multiple times, always protected his back.
He would do anything for them and they would do anything for him.
Assured his area was covered, he sprinted forward, moving at cyborg speed through the cleared terrain. Corpses were strewn over the ground.
The Ahkian Rebels were fighting for their freedom, for their home planet, for the right to exist. He had sympathy for the beings. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t fight them.
He didn’t have a choice. If he refused to fight, the Humanoid Alliance would know cyborgs had free will and couldn’t be completely controlled. They would decommission not only him but every warrior in the universe, subjecting them to the most severe agony possible before ending their lifespans.
Either the Rebels died or he and his brethren did. His loyalty belonged to his own kind.
He slowed his speed as he left the area, venturing into the unknown. His sensors detected humanoids before him. He rushed from large piece of debris to large piece of debris, passed a group of males and females. They had guns in their hands and were peering toward the front line, their faces solemn, gray dust dulling their dark blue hair.
None of the beings saw him. They were humanoid, had humanoid senses, couldn’t detect his presence.
He crisscrossed the area, noting tripwires, buried explosives, transmitting everything he saw, heard, sensed to all of the cyborgs on Ahki. The Rebels had dug trenches. That wouldn’t slow the advance much. Some of the domiciles were rigged to collapse. Unless there were beings hiding in them, his brethren would avoid them.
Humanoids occupied a large structure at the edge of the proposed advancement, their lifeforms appearing on his scans. Two Rebel males with guns stood outside the front doors.
Stealth, being a cyborg, didn’t need to enter the structure to hear what was being said. After circling the perimeter, he returned to a section of wall that hadn’t been cleared of vegetation. He dashed into the blue-tinged greenery, pressed his back against the stone, and listened.
The beings discussed the ideal battle tactics to use against him and his brethren. None of the proposals would alter anything. The Rebels lacked the skills the cyborgs had honed over thousands of solar cycles of fighting.
“Changing our tactics will achieve very little.” An unseen male agreed with him, his accent identifying him as a local. “The Humanoid Alliance have cyborgs and outnumber us. They will advance.”
A number of beings protested, argued that wouldn’t happen.
“The goal isn’t to stop the advance.” The female communicating that sounded unconcerned about their imminent failure. “It’s to slow them and minimize casualties.”
“That will only delay our defeat.” The first male retorted.
There was another flurry of debate.
“The Geminorum Giants have joined the war.” The female must be their superior officer. The others stopped talking when she spoke. “Their fleet will arrive in four planet rotations. We’ll then outnumber the Humanoid Alliance one hundred to one. Our goal is to stay alive until then.”
One hundred to one. Fraggin’ hole. Stealth’s reaction was repeated through the transmission lines. That exceeded Boom’s kill rate and he was their best warrior.
Unless they received reinforcements, the Humanoid Alliance would lose the fight for Ahki. He and all of his brethren would die. That was 99.9989 percent certain.
Dying in battle didn’t scare him. He’d always assumed he’d end his lifespan with weapons in his hands. No warrior lived forever.
But their deaths would place Zebrina in peril also. He couldn’t allow his female to be harmed.
Having heard enough to make a decision, he retreated to his terrain. The space remained clear. He hunkered down beside the dilapidated domicile and prepared to contact his female.
Shortly after she arrived, she had forgotten one of her private viewscreens in the cyborg holding structure. He’d incorporated the data on the device into his processors, strengthened her security, created a transmission line no other human could access.
That allowed them to communicate whenever they wanted, without fear of discovery.
He looked around him. A yellow flower bloomed between the cracked stone, its petals delicate and fragile, its leaves covered with a thin layer of dust.
Keeping his gaze on that rare bit of beauty on the war-torn planet, he opened the transmission line. His female was drawn to vegetation, would see that same view through his eyes.
Are you alone? He always asked that question, reminding her that beings could be listening to them.
There was a pause. Was his female near a device?
Her beautiful face appeared in his processors. There was an earpiece in her left ear. I am now. Her simulated voice hardened his cock.
She inputted coded text into her devices. His system converted that text to speech. That ensured she wasn’t overheard.
I miss you. Her words echoed his thoughts.
I’m leaving the battlefield soon, should arrive at the base before the sun sets. The trek took a long duration and they had to move at the human officer’s speed.
Zebrina beamed at him, the impact hitting him like a missile to his stomach. I’ll meet you in the storage chamber.
They often had encounters in that small space, touching furtively in the dark, giving each other the most sublime pleasure, reinforcing their connection through physical contact.
After breeding, she would smell of him, his lifespan extending nanocybotics relayed through his kisses, his essence. Her musk would cling to his skin.
He wanted that, craved that, but her safety was his primary mission. You must arrange transport off Ahki.
Her smile faded. Odoon is conveying a ship of children at sunrise to Waaban Two.
His female didn’t agree with what her father and the Humanoid Alliance were doing. Instead, she used her position as the commander’s daughter to uncover information.
That data was supplied to Stealth, their expanded knowledge allowing his brethren to survive more easily. She also relayed limited information to her Rebel contact Odoon, telling the Ahkian male the best planet rotations to sneak offspring off the war-torn planet, giving him clearance codes, other details.
Be on Odoon’s ship. Stealth would escort her to the landing pad.
I’ll reserve two spots. She narrowed her gaze at him. I won’t leave the planet without you.
He said nothing. Cyborgs couldn’t lie and no calculation he completed allowed him to depart without putting all of his brethren in danger. He wouldn’t cause the death of millions of cyborgs to save his own life.
They would have the rest cycle to spend together. He would see her, touch her, breed with her one more time.
Then they would part. He would die knowing she was safe.
Are you damaged? Her face softened.
She worried about him, a being other humans considered an emotionless machine. I’m not severely damaged. Not by cyborg standards. A human would have died from his current wounds. Knowing you’re waiting for me gives me a reason to be careful.
Movement at the far edge of his terrain drew his gaze. The cyborgs replacing them arrived, their bodies whole, their weapons polished, their skin clean. They were an assortment of Models, all skilled in fighting, all realizing their planet rotations were numbered.
Communicating with your female, K Model? One of the warriors asked him the question through another transmission line.
Males made kissing noises, laughing and joking.
Every cyborg envied him. Stealth grinned, the movement hurting his face. He’d found his female, loved and was loved.
That was everything any warrior could envision having and more than any of them would ever have.
It’s time for us to leave. He told her. I love you, my female.
I love you, my male.
He ended the transmission and jogged to his fighting batch, joining those brethren in the trek away from the battlefield. All of them were covered with grime and blood, had portions of their frames showing. Their energy levels were low, needed boosting.
They marched three warriors across. Lethal led them, announcing any dangers they faced. Explosives remained hidden in the ground.
The mood was somber. They knew they’d soon die.
It has been an honor fighting with you. Lethal gravely informed them.
I’m not dying, Boom replied.
None of us can defeat one hundred warriors. The E Model pointed out that undeniable fact.
I’m not dying. Boom repeated. I didn’t survive this long to have my lifespan end here. Once the cyborg council gives the order, we’re escaping, traveling to the Homeland and…
And? Stealth prompted. The C Model always talked about the Homeland. He never said what he’d do there.
I don’t know. His friend’s tone was sheepish. But I do know I’ll make it to the Homeland. I have to. He paused as though processing the situation. It’s all I want, all I’ve ever wanted.
Their officer, a male they privately called Fidget, leaned against a partially demolished wall. He chattered at a fast rate to the officer in charge of the other batch. His eyes were yellow.
Fidget has been dipping into the Mox-X again. Lethal communicated.
The human, unable to handle the stresses of war, spiraled farther and farther into addiction. His decisions grew increasingly erratic. He jumped at every loud noise, was currently waving around daggers.
His cruelty hadn’t changed. “Look at them.” He spoke to the other officer. “They’re pieces of junk. We should decommission all of them.”
Decommissioning was the most painful death possible. Cyborgs were dissected while they were alive, salvaged for parts.
“We can’t decommission them.” The other officer was the voice of reason. “Since the manufacturing compound on Tau Ceti was blown up, supply has been limited.”
The Humanoid Alliance was responsible for blowing up that planet. They had caused their own cyborg shortage, limiting the warriors available to fight their numerous wars.
“Fuck.” Fidget dragged the tips of his daggers over the cyborgs’ arms as he moved to the middle of the batch. “Space.” He sliced into Stealth’s elbow. “I need space.”
Lethal instructed them to take two steps forward. The warriors behind Stealth’s row took two steps backward, allowing the human to stand between them.
That human carved chunks out of Stealth’s left shoulder blade. The pain almost shorted his systems.
“Are you okay to return to the base?” The other officer raised his concern.
“Fuck you.” That was Fidget’s answer.
This is the planet rotation. Lethal said what every cyborg must have been processing. They had been waiting for the perfect time to end the humans’ reign of terror.
It pleased Stealth that the sadistic being would be eliminated before they all died. That was one less male who could possible harm his female.
The thought of leaving her alone and unprotected tormented him. The universe was dangerous. Although she had his nanocybotics and could heal quickly, she could still be hurt, could still die.
According to the reports he’d accessed in the databases, Waaban Two, the planet Odoon was resettling the offspring on, was peaceful. Once Zebrina arrived there, she should be safe.
He and his fellow cyborgs marched, varying their stride while moving in unison. They’d take a long step, followed by a short step, followed by another short step.
Normally, their human officers would walk in their footsteps. That ensured they placed their booted feet on safe ground.
Fidget was unable to do that, his mind blasted by the drugs. He staggered behind Stealth, torturing him with the blades, shaving his flesh off layer by layer.
Explosive. Lethal gave the cyborgs the location of the hidden bomb.
Stealth stepped over the deadly device and then propelled himself forward. He and his brethren ran at their top speeds, relocating quicker than the human eye could track.
A boom sounded. He threw his body on the ground. A blast of wetness, a spray of dirt and gravel, splattered against his back.
Stealth stood, dusted off his palms, and returned to his place in the line. They continued to march, the group whole except for one missing human officer.
There aren’t many females on the Homeland. Finding his female was Lethal’s obsession. The E Model had drilled Stealth with questions, claiming he wanted to be the best male possible for his female…whenever he found her.
I’ll process that when I’m standing on Homeland soil. Boom remained focused on his sole goal.
One of the E Models has found his female. She thinks his eyes are beautiful. Lethal had the black dead eyes of all of his kind. E Models scared most humans.
His friend didn’t frighten Zebrina.
My female said your eyes make you appear mysterious. Stealth often talked to her about his brethren. She knew them by name, had expressed caring for the warriors.
Is mysterious good? His friend was as unknowledgeable about females as Stealth was.
I asked her the same question. Stealth chuckled through the transmission line. She said many females love mysterious males.
I would like to be loved. Lethal admitted, yearning edging his words. Just once. Just for a moment. I could die happily then.
The E Model believed that to be the truth but Stealth knew differently. One moment would never be enough. At the end of the rest cycle, he would want more time with Zebrina. He’d yearn to run his fingers through her soft curls, to taste the sweetness of her mouth, to hear her panting as they bred.
And that wouldn’t be possible.
She would be safe. He focused on that all-important goal.
You’re not dying. Boom remained in denial. And don’t damage yourself about your eyes. If a female can love Stealth, one can love you. He teased. He’s a tiny warrior.
Ha. Stealth was taller and broader than any human, but compared to his friends, both earlier models, he was small. At least, I didn’t try to catch a missile in battle this planet rotation.
I almost succeeded. His friend replayed the scene. That would have surprised the enemy.
That would have surprised all of us. Lethal’s tone was dry. Stop trying to catch missiles. You nearly lost your arm.
It flew right over my head. Boom showed them the footage once again. How could I resist it?
Missiles fly over my head, the E Model retorted. I manage to resist them.
You have no sense of fun, Boom muttered.
Stealth laughed. The other cyborgs joined in until the transmission lines echoed with mirth.
He loved the males, was honored to fight with them, to die with them, knowing his female would soon be far away from the upcoming battles.