made that not-so-subtle reminder. That prickly male would be more difficult to befriend.
“You have the controls.” Truth relayed that responsibility to Valentin and wrapped both of his arms around his unbending female. “What is our destination, my princess?”
“One says ‘Princess’, not ‘my princess.’” She corrected him as she tapped on the embedded viewscreen with her cloth-covered fingers. “We are to free a being from this prison ship.”
The image appeared on the main viewscreen.
Truth whistled. “That’s a high-security Humanoid Alliance prison ship. According to the databases, no one has ever escaped from one of those.”
“According to the databases, cyborgs are unfeeling killing machines and Royaume embraced Humanoid Alliance rule.” His female’s tone was cool. “One is wise not to believe everything one finds in databases.”
“That’s true.” He grinned. “And no cyborg has ever been involved in freeing a being from one of their prisons.” The mission would challenge his skills. He liked that. “If we’re using this ship to do this, we have to modify it.”
“Few ships are faster.” Valentin defended his vessel.
Many ships were faster but that wasn’t the issue. “The Humanoid Alliance will process it is a Royaume ship as soon as we enter visual range. There’s an 89.5698 percent probability they’ll fire upon us and a 0.2671 percent probability they’ll allow us to dock.”
“A new ship can be purchased.” His female frowned. “One has the credits.”
Humans had a fixation with credits. “A new ship isn’t necessary. We can modify this one.” Truth entered the coordinates for Altair Alpha.
Dissent’s female originated from that merchant planet. They had already explored the terrain and logged the locals’ genetic data. That familiarity would speed the process.
“This planet is en route.” Truth replotted their course. “The beings on its surface have ship-modification capabilities and they’re discreet. No one else will process what was done.”
He and Dissent had encountered Rebel cyborgs on Altair Alpha. Those warriors didn’t report to the Cyborg Council, didn’t associate with the rest of their brethren, were engaging in highly suspicious activities. If they trusted the beings, the beings must have the ability to keep secrets.
“Valentin.” Truth’s female addressed the male. “State your insights.”
“The ship is readily identifiable as being Royaume, Princess.” Valentin’s tone was reluctant as though he begrudged conceding that point. “It should be modified.”
She leaned over, looking around Truth. “Claude, do you foresee any issues?”
“We can protect you, Princess.” The male was focused on that one portion of his duties, a task Truth considered to be his responsibility.
“Marthe.” His female sought input from her entire team. Truth respected that. “What are your concerns?”
“I have too many concerns to state, Princess.” The older female sighed. “But the cyborg—Truth—has a valid point. We do need to modify the ship.”
Truth’s female nodded. “Set course for Altair Alpha.”
That had already been done.
“Yes, Princess.” The hard glance Valentin leveled on Truth relayed the male processed that. Yet he didn’t say anything.
Quiet fell on the bridge.
Marthe unfastened her harness. “I must prepare a private chamber for our guest.” She stood.
“I’ll assist you.” Claude clambered to his booted feet also. There was a gleam in his eyes.
“I will set out the princess’ garments first.” Marthe gazed expectantly at Truth’s female. “There is no need to dress like a mercenary on board your ship.” Her gaze shifted to Truth. “I meant no offense.”
He grinned at the painfully polite female. “It is impossible to offend me, Marthe.”
“Impossible is the correct word to describe you.” His princess slid out of his arms, took a step toward the other female.
Truth caught one of her wrists, stopped her departure.
She froze in place, didn’t look at him, didn’t try to free herself.
He caressed the soft fabric covering her hand, her arm, brushing his fingers back and forth over that captured part of her. Her chest rose and fell, the slight movement causing the black garment she wore to ripple. Her cheeks turned pink. Her lush lips parted.
The moment suspended in time and he savored every aspect of it, saving the smallest details in his organic brain and his databases, noting the tilt of her head, the sound of her breathing, the flutter of her eyelashes.
She was stunning, beautiful, graceful, his.
“This isn’t done.” She whispered those words, pulled her wrist out of his grasp.
And he let her go because his princess had tasks to complete, and there were too many gazes on them to continue his seduction. His strong female would never allow herself to lose control in front of an audience.
She lifted her chin. “Valentin, you have the bridge.”
His female