relied upon her.
“This planet rotation, I am merely a female.” She was a princess in disguise. Marthe had dressed her in her black hooded cape, her black leather tunic, breeches, and boots.
“I.” Valentin noted the shift in her speech.
“Yes, I.” Her smile became genuine. “When the cyborg returns, we’ll arrange for the modifications to our ship. We’ll complete that part of the assignment.”
Nancy hadn’t forgotten their reason for landing on Altair Alpha. It wasn’t purely a pleasure visit.
“The rest of the planet rotation will belong to us.” She almost skipped with glee. “There’ll be no talk of duty, no adherence to protocol, no donning a royal façade. We’ll shop for trinkets, eat treats, see the sights and do whatever else we feel like doing.”
She would be free, would live merely for herself…for a planet rotation.
“There aren’t many sights to see.” Truth walked through the doors.
His hands were devoid of weapons. His body armor was intact. Her cyborg moved smoothly, appeared reassuringly healthy and unharmed.
“You’ve returned.” Nancy relaxed, her shoulders lowering.
“I’ve returned…triumphantly.” He winked at her. “I’ve already arranged for the modifications to the ship.” Her cyborg gripped her gloved hands, seemed to need that physical contact as much as she did. “They’ll be completed by sunset.”
“That task is done.” She grinned. They were now free to enjoy the planet rotation.
“The settlement is…unsettled at the moment, Princess.” Truth squeezed her hands. “During my previous visit here, I might have freed a few slaves.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he had freed more than a few of them. “They have overthrown their masters, and the locals are uneasy with that change. It will be safer for you if we remain together.”
“It’s safer if we remained on the ship,” Claude grumbled.
Nancy wasn’t staying inside the ship. She followed her cyborg through the doors, down the ramp. The scent of smoke and nourishment and engine fluid clung to the air. Bots were already detaching the gold detailing on their vessel. They rolled quickly around the group, beeping and clicking.
Truth beeped and clicked back at them.
They responded with more bot chatter.
He laughed. “I asked if they needed my help. They told me I would slow their progress.” He shared the conversation with her. “According to them, my design isn’t optimal.”
She smiled at him, charmed by the interchange. “I like your design.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Her cyborg lowered his voice suggestively. “I plan to show you more of my design when we return to our ship.”
They would fuck when they returned. Her toes curled in her boots.
They entered the settlement, passing through huge gates.
“Most of the settlements on Royaume are fortified also.” Those barriers had slowed but hadn’t stopped the Humanoid Alliance occupation. “Only the walls surrounding the palace are as high as these are.”
She gazed around her with interest.
Heads turned toward them. Nancy, accustomed to attention, instinctively tugged on her gloves, fixed a serene smile on her face.
That reaction was unnecessary. The locals’ gazes skimmed over her face, her form, landed solidly on the cyborg by her side. They watched him warily.
He was a warrior, a being to be feared.
She, in contrast, was no one to them. That was disconcerting, different, freeing. “I’m a normal female here.”
“You’re a normal female to them.” Truth rested his free hand on the hilt of a dagger, and the four-armed Palavian staring at him immediately dropped his gaze. “You’ll never be a normal female to me.”
“I have the best battle axes on Altair Alpha.” A fabricator held out a sample of his wares.
Her cyborg waved him off, bent his head to murmur in Nancy’s ear. “If anyone touches you, I’m removing their hands.”
She trembled, aroused by that threat. “I don’t want anyone else to touch me.”
A skimpily-clad human female distributed containers of what appeared to be fermented beverage to beings sitting in shaded chairs. Those beings wore fine fabrics, rich colors, sported jewels around their necks, arms, ankles. Heavily armed warriors stood by their sides.
She glanced up at Truth.
“High-credit beings are targets.” Her cyborg answered her question before she could ask it. “Their slaves are now free, and many of them weren’t treated well. They seek vengeance.”
A child brushed against her.
Truth caught his wrist, stopping the little boy. “Give it back.”
“I ain’t got noth—” The child looked at him and his protests ended. “Here.” He held out one of her daggers. “Didn’t mean to take it from the lady.”
The child’s feet were bare. His garments were dirty and ragged. And he was skinny, too skinny.
“Keep the