“I’m not an android.”
She stopped moving, staring at him. “You’re a cyborg. Sorry. Do you differentiate yourself from them? I heard you were programmed with some mimicked emotions. I didn’t mean to insult you. Don’t get your circuits overloaded. I’m just having a shit day and I’m ready for it to be over. My father is dead and so is my crew. It’s also irritating that something that looks like you is standing in my bedroom under these dire circumstances. Talk about irony.”
“Explain.”
“I’m naked and restrained, you’re like sex on legs, though you don’t have the right equipment or the programming to touch me. Plus, the whole big boom if you climb on the bed to reach me. See where this is heading? I’m fucked but not in the fun way.”
His temper flared more. She’d buy him to have sex with her and she didn’t believe he was a sentient being. It proved his point that all Earthers were the same. He watched her struggle in the restraints, her hair shifting to reveal her nipples. She did have a beautiful body. The blood marring her skin didn’t appear to be hers.
“Do you need orders to go?” She looked at him. “Go. Take the cargo if you can use it somehow. You can’t save me, if you have some program that tells you to try. Disregard it. Get off the ship and blow it to hell.”
He suddenly didn’t want her to die. He wanted to keep her alive. He stared at the bed. “How did they rig the bomb?”
“What?”
“How did they rig it? You said you saw them do it.”
“They pulled the covers off the top and cut into the mattress. It’s too complicated for you. You’re an old model. Just go. That’s an order.”
He approached the bed and pulled back the covers, making certain they remained on top of the mattress. He saw where they’d opened the mattress, the devise exposed to his view.
“Listen,” she demanded. “Back away from the bed. You’re going to blow us both up and those dickhead skin android things are going to get the cargo. Fuck that. They killed me and my crew. I’m already toast. Get off the ship and blow it!”
He leaned forward, studying the device. It was complicated. He removed his com and contacted Veller. “Return to the captain’s quarters now.”
“Hey, gorgeous face?”
He looked up at her, infuriated. “My name is Stag.”
“Abort your rescue mission. It’s doomed to fail. Do you understand? I’m giving you a direct order. I know they discontinued your models because there was some kind of problem with you guys taking orders, but you have to be smart. You escaped Earth before they shut all your models down. Leave this ship before the bed blows. Do you understand?”
He glared at her.
She glared back. “Abort. Stop. What word triggers you to do what you’re told?”
“Say ‘please’.”
That response seemed to surprise her but she recovered fast. “Please take orders. Get off this ship and blow it up.”
He gave her a cold stare. “I’m not a robot or an android.”
“I don’t care what the hell you are. You want reasoning and logic? I know my androids appreciate that. There’s no way to get me off these posts without blowing a big hole into the side of the ship. It will decompress this entire section and suck everything into space. Those fucked-up flesh bot things will return and take my cargo. They win! I don’t want that. I want them to return to find out they did all this for nothing! Do you get that?”
“I do. I fully plan to make certain they return to nothing.”
“Good. Go.”
Veller entered the room. “What is it?”
He stepped out of the way. “Look at this. Can you disarm it?”
Veller came forward, bent, careful not to touch the bed. “I know this.”
“Good. Can you disarm it?”
“No, but Hellion can.”
“Are you certain?”
“It’s fully contained. There’s no way to open the casing without triggering it to explode. I should have thought of this. It requires a signal hack to shut it down. It’s the perfect device for a Markus Model to use.”
Stag connected with his ship. “Send Hellion now.”
It took a few minutes. The burly cyborg entered and came to a dead stop, openly gawking at the woman. “Dreams really do come true. I am definitely up for this mission.”
“Shut up,” Stag snapped, imagining where the male’s thoughts had gone. “The bed is rigged with an explosive device.”
“It’s a reguletta 643AB9,” Veller informed him. “You have much better hacking skills than I do with devices like these. Can you shut it off?”
Hellion kept staring at the woman.
“Do it,” Stag growled. “Stop staring at her.”
“I’m working and appreciating the view,” Hellion muttered. “I can multitask.” A slight hum sounded. Hellion grinned. “It’s off. Can I cut her down?”
Stag holstered his weapon and grabbed the blade strapped to his outer thigh. He gripped the post and lifted his leg, stepping up onto the bed. He got right in front of the woman, looking down at her. “What’s your name?”
“Captain Nala Vestria.”
He bent, slashing at the binds at her ankles. Her legs immediately dropped together. He threw her over his shoulder. She didn’t weigh much. He turned, holding her in place as he jumped off the bed. She gasped.
He snagged the bedding off the mattress and tossed it over the top of her. Veller and Hellion stared at him.
Stag pointed to the door. “Finish transferring what cargo you can onto our ship. I’ve got her.”
“I’d be more than happy to carry her.” Hellion held out his arms. “I know you don’t like Earthers.”
“Put me down!” the woman demanded. She wiggled against his shoulder. “I can walk.”
He reached up and placed a hand on her lower back, pinning her to his shoulder, hooking his other arm tighter around her legs. The blanket covered her lower body. “You weren’t here when she said she’d buy me if I’d been in an ad for sex bots.”
Hellion’s arms dropped and his mouth parted, shock slackening his features. Veller arched both eyebrows but masked his reaction otherwise.
“I saved her life, so she owes me. My price is, she’s going to know what it feels like to be treated like an android. I won’t harm her—but I will teach her a lesson. Follow my orders.” He strode forward, carrying the woman out of the room.
“I technically saved her,” Hellion called out. “I want to be her sex bot.”
“Over my dead body.” Stag kept going.
Chapter Two
Nala struggled but the big bastard was strong and fast. It didn’t help that her skin was slick from the cleansing unit he’d shoved her into. He blocked her route to the door, grabbed the clothes he’d slung over his shoulder and offered them to her.
She identified each piece. He must have ordered one of his men to collect some of her things from her ship. She took the pants and shirt, quickly putting them on.
“You’re confined to quarters. I’ve blocked your ability to control anything inside the room.” He crossed his arms over his chest and backed away. “You’ll find clean bedding in the storage drawer in the wall, next to the end of the bunk. I expect the sheets to be changed when I get back, and for you to have also picked up the room.” He pointed out the laundry chute, the panel where he kept some cleaning supplies stored, and then smiled. “I’ll think up other tasks for you later today. Right now, I have things to do.”
She just gaped at him, stunned.
“I always wanted a cleaning android. Now I have one.”
“Have you gone crazy?”
“I’m angry. I’m tired of you Earthers thinking cyborgs are animated robots with gray flesh. I’m as sentient as you are. It’s irritating to be treated otherwise. You’ll learn. Get to work, droid.”
“I won’t.”
“You have to earn your food. That should motivate you to do as you’re told.” He spun, touched the panel by the door, and i
t opened. He left fast, the door sealing her inside.
Nala stood there, reeling. He meant it.
She glanced around his quarters. They were already clean. Some of her crew were messy, but Stag definitely wasn’t. “Son of a bitch.”
The door opened and she spun, expecting him to have returned, maybe tell her he’d been joking.
A new cyborg came in, carrying a medical scanner and a case.
“I’m a medic. Take a seat, Nala.”
She moved to the only place to sit and rested her behind on the edge of the bed. The cyborg turned on his scanner, running it over her head, then lower.
“Do you have a name or number to call you?”
“Maze. Are you experiencing any pain? Headache? Ringing in your ears? Metallic taste in your mouth?”
“I have a little bit of a headache but I was knocked out twice.”
“That’s what I heard. They seemed to have managed not to bruise your face with the strikes but I see a little redness.” He crouched, running the scanner over her arms, then her middle section, and down both of her legs. He twisted, set down the scanner, and opened the case to withdraw a small box.
She immediately tensed when he withdrew an injector and tapped the control pad on the end of it. “What are you going to do?”
“You have no internal bleeding, no fractures, no concussion or broken bones. I also checked for any implants the Markus Models might have tagged you with.” He looked at her then. “They didn’t chip you for tracking.”
That was a horrible thought she hadn’t considered. “Good.”
“I’m giving you a mild dosage for pain to alleviate the headache and I’m taking a blood sample to run. I can get a better scope of your medical history that way. Have you been fully inoculated for space travel?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Wrist, please.”
She lifted one, exposing the bruising there.
He paused, touched the control pad, and sighed.
“What?”
“I didn’t notice the bruising. It’s severe. I’ve adjusted the medication I’m giving you to include something that will help you heal faster.”
He pressed the injector against her skin and she winced a little when it went off, a soft noise. It didn’t hurt but she felt a slight tap. The blood draw would leave a pin prick but very tiny. He returned the injector to the case, put it back inside the bag, and rose. “Have a good day.”
She jumped up before he left. “Wait!”
He hesitated and peered back at her. “I’m not supposed to talk to you outside of medical issues.”
“Why?”
“You’re Stag’s prisoner. You angered him.”
“What about my rights? I demand to talk to an authority.”
The cyborg faced her. “Stag is the authority on this vessel. He’s in charge.”
“My freighter was attacked, so how does that make me some kind of criminal? Are you saying I’m under arrest? For what? I’m registered.”
“Stag has taken possession of you.”
“I’m a person.”
“You’re an android. You have no rights.”
Her mouth fell open again. “You just ran a scan on me. You know I’m one hundred percent human.”
“I’m aware, but those are his orders. You’re to be treated as an android.”
“This is crazy.”
“Agreed.”
“So you know it’s wrong. Do something. Please.”
He gave her a pity look. “He won’t harm you. He gave the crew his word, and he would never lie.”
“He is if he’s saying I’m an android!”
“He wants to teach you a lesson, and to be frank, Stag isn’t one you want to anger. He has a temper. No one on this crew will go against his orders unless they feel he’s crossed a line into cruelty. He wouldn’t do that. I strongly suggest you apologize to him after he has time to reevaluate this situation.” He spun around and tapped the panel. The door opened and he was gone before she could stop him again.
“Damn it!” She wanted to stomp her foot. Were all cyborgs crazy? They must be. She crossed the room and tried to open the door but it wouldn’t respond.
She returned to the bed and sat down, then twisted and stretched out.
It had been a horrible day. Tears filled her eyes. She’d lost her crew, her ship, and her father. Now she was the prisoner of a malfunctioning cyborg. There were a lot of them, and they all seemed unaware of how many laws they were breaking by keeping her locked up. It wasn’t a mystery anymore why Earth had decommissioned their models, if her interaction with them so far had been any example of their behavior. They flat-out refused to take orders or be logical.
Grief set in and she cried for all she’d lost. She’d worry about her future later.
* * * * *
Stag glanced at the small monitor in front of him and grimaced. The Earther was curled into a ball on his bed, sobbing. Guilt surfaced. He’d forgotten in his anger that her father had died, and she had to have cared about her murdered crew. It was tempting to return to his quarters to talk to her but the Markus Models were close. Priorities were clear.
He turned off the security feed and addressed his crew.
“Prepare to detonate that ship.”
Hellion nodded. “Ready.”
The coms beeped and Stag reached out, turning them on. “Report.”
“I’ve checked over every crate transferred over. They haven’t been tampered with. The Markus Models either didn’t have time to attempt to reprogram them or were waiting until they picked them up later to do it. Not all of them would fit inside our hold. It’s probably why the Markus Models couldn’t transfer them into their shuttle.”
“How many units were left behind?”
“Twelve, and I removed their theft-tracking systems. We managed to store eight. I rigged the remaining crates with small explosives and am awaiting your order to detonate. They will be damaged too severely to be salvaged and the blasts will be contained inside the cargo hold.”
He trusted Veller’s competence. He would have made certain the remaining bots couldn’t be useful to the Markus Models. “Do that now. We’re clear. Thank you.” He cut coms.
“What are we going to do with the bots we brought aboard?” Kelis glanced at him.
Stag considered it. “Take them back home. I’m sure we’ll find a use for them.”
Hellion turned in his seat and grinned.
Stag shook his head. “I can’t see the council opening up a brothel on Garden. I was thinking they could be reprogrammed for agricultural use.”
Parqel chuckled. “Like Rune. Maybe she can teach the other sex bots to water plants naked as well. I know I’ve visited that section just for the view.”
Hellion grunted. “Great.” He swiveled his seat back. “Not all of us are in family units and have access to females.”
Stag made a mental note to plan a trip to a sector with a brothel soon for his single men. He didn’t voice that though. “Detonate the ship.”
They watched on the main viewer as the transport self-destructed on command. It decompressed in sections, lights flashing, then began to break apart.
“Move us out of the debris field, then deploy our trackers and get us out of here. We can’t fight off two shuttles. It would be pointless to try.”
Hellion touched his console, doing as he’d been ordered. Minutes passed. “Five trackers launched.” He paused. “I hope they work.”
“I do too. They are out of the debris path, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We put a lot of time and effort went into shielding them. They should attach to any ship that comes within range, once activated. With luck, we’ll tag one of the models’ ships. Let’s go. Hellion, monitor us and turn them on once we’re at a safe distance.”
“You really think the Markus Models will return here once they read that transport has blown?”
“I do, Kelis.” Stag had considered i
t at length. “They’ll probably believe the woman activated the bomb and the cargo section possibly survived, or that some of crates managed to avoid destruction. They have an interest in the bots. I just wish we could have taken all of them. Any use they have for those models wouldn’t bode well for anyone.”
“They’d probably turn them into assassins. They seem to love to kill anything alive,” Hellion muttered.
Stag agreed.
“I just picked something up on the sensors,” Veller stated. “Either it’s someone else who picked up the distress signal or the Markus Models are on their way back.” He paused. “I’m picking up two ships now.” His voice deepened. “Shit. They are reading as Genesis Four shuttles. It’s the Markus Models.”
“They likely found their brothers and are traveling at their top speed.” Stag ground his teeth together. “Full burn now, and forget about trying to stay off their sensors by moving slow enough to be mistaken as space debris. They must suspect a ship is here. We can’t win a battle with two S-class shuttles. They’re faster and maneuver better than the Varnish. Take us out of range, change course, and find cover.”
“On it,” Hellion rasped. “I don’t like running from them. Every instinct says to fight.”
Stag hated it too. “We’re outnumbered, and our mission was to locate the Markus Models and set out trackers. It’s going to take more than just the Varnish to destroy their shuttles. Patience will win this war.”
Tension filled the control room as they all watched the sensors. They made it out of range of tracking, which meant the Markus Models couldn’t be seen either. Veller spoke first.
“I found cover.”
“Where?” Stag leaned forward in his chair.
“A cluster of four moons.” He tapped in the coordinates and displayed them for everyone.
Stag gazed at the map. “Too obvious. That’s where I’d look first.”
“There’s not much this way except a dead zone.”
Stag jerked his chin up and stared at Veller. “Dark space?”
“Affirmative. Some warning markers are up and transmitting. It’s vast.” Veller tapped his pad, reading something on it. “Four ships are reported lost in it. No charts are showing anything on the other side.”