louder.
The door opened. Bonin stood on the chamber’s threshold. “Picton, sir, did you get the communication?”
“What the fuck is it now?” The male glared at his fellow guard.
Bonin’s gaze lowered. “There was a message, sir.” He gulped air. “From the Humanoid Alliance. Didn’t you get it, sir?”
“If you got it, I must have got it.” Picton rammed the bloodied reprimand stick into its holder. “I have seniority.” He grabbed his handheld, looked down at the small screen. “We’re to meet in the working chambers. The Humanoid Alliance will communicate via the viewscreen there, give us our instructions.” His gaze shifted to Bonin’s face. “What the fuck did you two dumbasses do now? If you messed with my file, I’ll—”
“I didn’t mess with your file.” Bonin lifted his hands, feigning surrender. “I swear, Picton, sir, I would never betray you, not like that.”
Picton frowned at him.
“Or in any way.” The male hastily added that clarification. “I’m completely loyal to you, sir.”
“Then what is this about?” Picton waved the handheld in the air.
“I don’t know, Picton, sir.” Bonin shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. The male remained half in, half out of the chamber, blocking the door from closing.
Picton made an exasperated sound. “You have a reprieve, machine.” He exchanged the handheld for his gun, stunned Malice one more time before deactivating the sleeping support. The guard’s attention then returned to Bonin. “We’ll go, get our instructions.”
The two males left the chamber.
Malice tracked them through his lifeform scans. They moved away from the cyborg section of the structure. It’s safe for the medic to return. He transmitted that information to Valor.
She’s removing the tracking device in my back. There was tightness in the E Model’s transmission. He must be in pain. Then she has to remove the tracking devices on my detached arms.
Accomplish that quickly. He wouldn’t relax until Illona had returned to his side.
Moments passed.
His little medic didn’t enter his chamber. Valor, what the frag are the two of you—
A boom sounded. One of the wall panels flew across the chamber.
The explosive he’d extracted from Illona’s chin had been hidden in that space. A chill swept over Malice. Tell her to return. Now. He attempted to lift his arms. They remained immobilized. My female is in danger. The Humanoid Alliance is seeking to eliminate her.
Your female. Valor noted that term of address.
He didn’t care what that had relayed about him, about his feelings, his attachment to the little medic. She was their enemy’s target, and he had to safeguard her from them.
He strained against his invisible bonds, couldn’t free himself.
Three lifeforms appeared on his scans. Dread gripped Malice.
All the lifeforms were human. All three of them moved past his chamber, heading toward Valor’s quarters, toward Illona.
They’re coming for her. Malice frantically pushed upward, was unable to move. Can you protect her for me, warrior?
How can I protect her? Valor’s voice was edged with a panic he shared. I can’t protect myself. My arms and legs are detached.
I can’t help her either. I remain stunned. They were cyborgs, two of the most-skilled warriors in the universe, and they couldn’t defend a being they cared about from three paltry humans. Warn her of the approaching danger.
His female was clever. She could avoid damage for a few moments, use that quick wit and ever moving lips of hers to delay an attack.
That was all he needed her to do—delay it.
In thirty, thirty-five heartbeats, he would free himself.
And then the beings threatening her would die. Painfully.
Chapter Eleven
Illona adored her cyborg’s friend. Valor had been confined to a sleeping support for solar cycles, long before she had met him. His arms and legs had been detached.
Yet he had maintained a sense of humor and was one of the biggest flirts she’d ever encountered.
“Ahhhh…that feels nice.” He grinned at her as she extracted the tracking device from one of his arms.
“You can’t feel anything.” She smiled back at him. He was no longer feeling the pain of being shocked. She’d deactivated the sleeping support. “Your arms haven’t yet been reattached.”
The tracking device in his back had been removed. The explosive had also been taken out of his chin.
She’d set it by the door, as far away from them as possible. Her gaze shifted to that spot in the chamber. She didn’t trust it not to detonate.
“My limbs have been detached for six solar cycles, seventy-two planet rotations, and one shift.” He had noted the exact time he’d lost use of his arms and