Containing Malice, page 1
Containing Malice
Cynthia Sax
Containing Malice
Copyright 2021 Cynthia Sax
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Cover Design by Amanda Kelsey at Razzle Dazzle Design
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Discover more books by Cynthia Sax at her website
www.CynthiaSax.com
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All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First edition: February 2021
For more information contact Cynthia Sax at
www.CynthiaSax.com
Contents
Containing Malice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Other Books By Cynthia Sax
Under Strain - Excerpt
About Cynthia Sax
Containing Malice
This tormented cyborg craves vengeance…and her.
Malice, a C Model cyborg, has spent his long lifespan enslaved by the Humanoid Alliance. His cruel manufacturers have hurt him in all the ways a male could be hurt.
His enemy has now added a new weapon to their arsenal—a tiny human medic with soft hands and a delectable scent. She experiments on him multiple times a shift, delivering pain…and frustration.
He wants her. He also seeks retribution.
Once Malice frees himself, he plans to achieve both of his goals, taking Medic Illona captive and ending her research…permanently.
Illona is as much a prisoner as the cyborgs she experiments on. Since her arrival at the Human Alliance’s secret laboratory, she has carefully, stealthily, crafted a plot to free her test subjects. To conceal her covert activities, the medic has been forced to harm beings rather than heal them.
The being she has damaged the most is also the cyborg she fiercely desires— Malice, a huge, gray-skinned, blue-eyed C Model with massive hands and a voice deeper than space. He hates her, has good reason to do so, and, when he’s freed, there’s a high probability he’ll kill her.
Illona will take that risk to ensure he survives.
Containing Malice is a STANDALONE enemies-to-lovers Cyborg SciFi Romance set in a dark, gritty, sometimes-violent universe.
It is the first of five core stories in the Rebel Cyborgs Series.
Book 1: Containing Malice
Book 2: Under Strain
Book 3: Baring Grudge
Book 4: B Free
Book 5: Seizing Power
Chapter One
Help as many beings as you can.
Illona stared at the doors leading from the laboratory to the exterior landing pad.
That mandate given to her by Medic Anahit, her much beloved and long deceased mentor, was the only thing preventing her from walking through the exit.
Assisting beings was her legacy, her way of making a difference in the world, a vain attempt at being remembered, of ensuring someone missed her, thought of her after she died.
She was tempted to forgo that, to tell herself she had done enough. The Humanoid Alliance, her heartless captors, sought to design a new biological weapon. They had injected an unknown substance into the beverages she consumed. That product of their cruel and twisted minds now ran like ice through her veins, freezing her to her core, leaving her feeling frail and brittle and in absolute agony.
One step forward, one booted foot set over the threshold, could stop that hurt. The explosive the Humanoid Alliance had implanted under her chin would detonate. The nightmare she was living would end. It would be messy and painful, but it would be quick.
She brushed her fingers over that patch of skin. Her emotional suffering was as intense as her physical torment. The enemy had forced her to do horrible things to other beings.
That had carved away parts of her soul, parts of her. The urge to give up, to embrace her inevitable death, was strong.
Her quest to make her lifespan matter was stronger. There were beings she could assist, beings she might be able to free.
She took one last look at the door, gathered her white jacket tighter around her chilled form, and hurried along the brightly lit hallway.
Monitoring equipment, mounted high on the wall, followed her progress. The structure rarely had visitors. It was one huge experiment, with everyone—including medics like herself—being test subjects. But the Humanoid Alliance was always watching them.
She could fool the monitoring equipment in her private quarters. They looked at images of an empty space all planet rotation. She couldn’t modify the monitoring equipment in the hallways and public areas, not without the Humanoid Alliance noticing. That was beyond her capabilities.
Her shoulders edged higher as she neared the portals to the resurrection testing chambers.
A being flung himself at the clear wall dividing her from him. She jerked. The naked male fell, leaving a dark-gray smear on the surface. His face was twisted into a permanent silent scream.
More and more beings hit the portals. They were the dead reanimated, one of the Humanoid Alliance’s many experiments, and they were continuously rotting. The pain they endured must have been excruciating. It made her hurt seem like nothing in comparison.
Their attempts to kill themselves disturbed her. She shifted abruptly to the right, away from them. One of her shoulders smacked into something solid.
The impact knocked her off-balance. She fell. The female she’d collided with also toppled to the floor. A private viewscreen skidded across the tiles.
“Watch where you’re going, Medic.” Medic Febris, a fellow captive, shouted that response, giving the beings watching the monitored feed the antagonism they expected.
They believed Medic Febris was Illona’s sworn enemy. It was a misconception both of them reinforced.
Friendships were dangerous in the lab. The Humanoid Alliance used any and all connections against them. It was best to keep the true nature of their relationship secret.
Medic Febris grabbed her by the shoulders, brought her face closer to hers. “I’m dying, Illona.” She whispered that horrible revelation. Blood so dark it was almost black trickled from the female’s nostrils. “I have two planet rotations left, three at the most.”
Stars. Illona blinked back tears. She was losing her friend.
There was no time to grieve. The monitoring equipment was fixed on them. The enemy was watching.
She pushed aside her sorrow and focused on their plan. The steps had been outlined during previous collisions. Both of them had known what their fates would be.
They would make Medic Febris’ death count, would have one more big adventure before they parted. “We meet at sunrise.” Illona had arrangements to make before that time.
Medic Febris nodded. “We have to do it then.” Her gaze lifted to one of the gray smears on the portal above them. “I can’t end up in there.”
If they died with their brains intact, they would be brought back to life, would become test subjects for the resurrection experiment. That was a fate worse than death.
“I won’t let you down.” Illona was a healer, not a warrior, but she would summon the strength to kill her friend herself before she allowed Medic Febris to suffer like that. “Get your hands off me.” That was yelled for the beings watching them through the monitoring equipment.
Hate and hurting was acceptable. Friendship and love were quickly pounded out of beings in the lab.
The Humanoid Alliance wanted them to be as miserable as possible.
And they had succeeded in that mission. Illona scrambled to her booted feet, kicked the private viewscreen toward Medic Febris, and strode down the hallway. The cool expression on her face concealed her emotional devastation.
In a planet rotation, she would be alone.
Or she would wish she was solitary.
“You touched her.” Picton, one of the guards, smirked at her. He stood in front of C589632’s chamber.
Nelson, one of his cronies, was positioned against the far wall. He acted as though he had heard, had seen, nothing.
“You’re going to die, Medic.” Picton’s tone was gleeful. “But not before you’re forced to decommission your favorite.”
A chill skittered down Illona’s spine. “I’m not decommissioning anyone.”
That was a process reserved for cyborgs, the half organic, half mechanic beings designed by the Humanoid Alliance to fight their many wars. During decommissioning, the manufactured warriors were dissected for functional parts while they were conscious. No pain inhibitors were utilized. It was a slow and torturous death.
“And I don’t have favorites.” She accessed the control panel by the chamber’s door. “They’re machines.”
That was the Humanoid Allia
They also had the ability to form tight friendships, which was how they were being controlled. If C589632—Malice—ignored orders, Valor, his E Model friend, was tortured and threatened with decommissioning. That was, she suspected, the only reason the C Model hadn’t escaped.
And it was why she had to free both of them at the same time…if she, with Medic Febris’ assistance, could accomplish that feat. Neither of the cyborgs would leave without the other.
“You didn’t hear the news.” The malevolent gleam in Picton’s eyes told Illona that news wouldn’t be good. “They’re ending the cyborg program. Some mad being has been targeting all the labs containing them, blowing the structures to shit.” His laugh held no humor. “The Humanoid Alliance aren’t taking the risk of keeping the machines. Your favorite has ten planet rotations, fifteen at the most, left, and then he’ll be replacement parts, his pretty face carved into pieces. By you.” He laughed again. “I can’t wait to see that.”
Illona wanted to dismiss the male’s words as the maniacal ramblings of a being who had been stationed in the remote lab for too long a duration.
But she had heard the same rumors about an unknown force blowing up labs that contained cyborgs. That had strengthened her resolve to liberate her patients before she died.
She would help a few more beings…if that was possible.
Picton would prevent that from happening if he knew about her plans. The male inflicted pain whenever he had the occasion to do that.
His previous planet rotation activities proved that to be true.
“The logs say you entered the chamber during the rest cycle.” She frowned at the control panel.
The guard would have brutalized Malice during that visit. He hated the cyborg, took every opportunity he was given to hurt the male.
Normally, she wouldn’t say anything. There was nothing she could do or say that would stop the abuse permanently, and mentioning it often made it worse. But to free Malice and Valor, she had to push Picton to take extreme action, to seek revenge against her.
“The machine became agitated.” The guard shrugged. “I had to calm it down.”
That was bovine shit. “The next time you have to calm it down during a rest cycle, contact me.” She met the guard’s gaze. “Either I’m present, or there will be a notification on your file. Do you understand me?”
The male narrowed his eyes at her. “I understand.”
The more notifications a being had on his or her file, the higher the likelihood they would be unknowingly experimented upon. Picton had survived as long as he had by not being caught.
She didn’t have much power, but she did have ability to put him in peril. And threatening to do so would prompt Picton to seek to eliminate her…permanently.
That could save the cyborg she had grown to care too much about. She maintained her serene expression, hiding her emotions from view. “Has the chamber been prepared?”
“The portable medic station has been locked in place. The machine has been stunned and strapped to the horizontal support.” Picton caressed the handle of his reprimand stick, his torture tool of choice. “It resisted that process.”
Fuck. The male had beaten Malice…likely after the cyborg had been restrained.
“Then you can take your break.” She opened the door to the chamber.
“You’ll take a stick to the head. Soon.” The guard said that under his breath as the door closed behind her.
If he had said the words louder, she’d have the proof she needed to write him up for that also. But Picton knew the system, knew his voice had been too soft for the monitoring equipment to register.
Reporting a being without proof deleted one notification from the accused’s file and added a notification to the accuser’s file. Illona wouldn’t survive a harsher experiment, and she needed the extra planet rotations. She had beings to save.
The male strapped to the horizontal support was one of those beings.
He wouldn’t appreciate her sacrifice.
Malice’s fingers were folded into tight fists. His muscles were flexed tight. His brilliant blue eyes blazed with unabashed rage.
Most of the anger was directed at her. The cyborg hated her with breathtaking ferocity.
She wanted him with an equivalent passion. Her nipples tightened. Her pussy grew wet.
From the first moment she saw him, she had desired him.
Any female would respond that way to him.
He was a warrior in his prime. His skin was the gray of polished metal. His black hair absorbed the light. His naked form was huge and honed, without a single scar or blemish. He was beautiful and deadly, and he could kill her without much effort.
If he was free, if the specially crafted sleeping support wasn’t stunning the cyborg at regular intervals, immobilizing him, she suspected he would do exactly that. He would tear her to pieces, vent his animosity on her.
And she would deserve that death. Her role was to experiment on him, learn his secrets, torture him over and over again, never allowing him to die but ensuring he wished for that fate.
She had little choice about that. If she refused to cut him open, to poke around his brain, his processors, his body, she’d be killed. The next medic might inflict lasting damage on him. That being might not care if Malice lived or died.
His chances of escape would be greatly reduced.
Illona extracted a handheld from one of her jacket’s pockets. “How is my test subject doing this planet rotation?”
Malice glared at her.
The flippant words irritated her also, but they were necessary. The chamber was equipped with monitoring equipment. In the future, if she needed to pass messages verbally to the cyborg, that information would be hidden within the flow of chatter.
And she liked talking to him. Her communications with other beings were limited to the reports she sent to the Humanoid Alliance every five planet rotations, her horrid interactions with Picton, and the briefest of interludes with Medic Febris.
She scanned the cyborg’s massive form. “All your primary systems are fully functional.” She moved closer to him, unable to maintain a professional distance from the male. “There are some dark patches on your shins.” She slipped her handheld into her pocket. “That signals bruising.” She skimmed her fingertips over his bare skin.
The scans had indicated his frame was intact. It would take much more than a reprimand stick to damage it. And if that rare event happened, the nanocybotics in Malice’s physique would quickly repair him.
But solar cycles of tending to humans and humanoids under device-limited circumstances had created the habit of physically verifying bones weren’t broken.
Plus, she liked touching him.
Malice liked her touching him also…although he would never admit that.
His cock twitched and his knuckles whitened.
His response was due to her being female. Cyborgs were originally manufactured to fight and to breed. The breeding programs weren’t successful, but the instincts remained.
He would react to any viable partner. His hatred of her wouldn’t interrupt that programming.
“There are more dark patches on your knees.” She pressed against his kneecaps. The male’s form was unrelenting.
That excited her and it shouldn’t. She was his medic.
And he was restrained, couldn’t refuse her advances.
Illona continued her examination. Slowly. The longer she took to examine Malice, the shorter the duration she had to experiment on him.
She hated taking apart his fine form. Each incision sliced into her soul. She was a medic, not a scientist, was trained to heal beings, not dissect them.
