Containing Malice, page 7
I witnessed the confrontation through your visual system. Valor’s tone was dry. I saw the way Bonin looked at her.
A growl rose in Malice’s throat. The guard shouldn’t have looked at her at all. She was his.
She’s small for a human female and all of her kind break easily. The E Model had little admiration for their oppressors. Would you have rather she had blocked the blows for you?
The prospect of her standing in the way of the guard’s reprimand stick made Malice’s gaze turn red. She would be crushed, her fragile bones broken. The medic is clever. She could have devised a diversion. She—
The deluge of transmissions stopped. The silence was devastating.
Nooo… Valor howled.
Fraggin’ hole. Malice pressed his fingertips into his palms, seeking to contain his aggravation. Their access to information had been severed with the transmissions.
Had they retrieved enough data? Did they have the inputs they needed to escape?
He looked at the wall panel by the door. Illona claimed the memory chip contained more intelligence. He couldn’t access it now. The monitoring equipment had been re-activated.
The guards usually deactivated the recordings during their torture sessions. He recovered from being stunned quicker than he had recovered in the past.
After they beat him, he could retrieve it.
There could be a virus on the memory chip. He unfolded his fingers, gazed at the light-blue strip of fabric, the remnants of his medic’s flight suit. He would take that risk, would trust her once more.
Malice lifted the fabric to his nose, breathed in her scent.
Valor was right. Illona hadn’t lied about the transmissions, about his brethren being free.
She could be telling the truth about the intelligence.
He couldn’t process her actions, why she was helping them, if she was helping him, what her goals were. His organic brain was clouded from wanting her. He had never experienced such bliss as when he was inside her.
She had been hot and wet and snug around him, had felt perfect, right, like she was manufactured for him. Her soft skin had pressed against his hard muscle. Everything he did to her—and he had treated her brutally—she’d taken.
The pain of her fingernails biting into his shoulders had amplified his pleasure. Her voice in his ear, demanding more, more, more, had pushed him over the edge again and again.
He missed her, missed her chatter, her touch, her scent, and he would believe anything if it meant he could enjoy the ecstasy of breeding with her again.
My processors don’t fully function around the medic. He made that galling confession. This could all be an elaborate trap.
Or it could be our best chance at freeing ourselves. Valor predictably offered a more positive possibility. My processors don’t fully function when I’m alone…which is my reality for 96.2369 percent of the planet rotation. There was a pause. I can’t endure the inactivity, the silence for much longer, Malice. The opening of the transmission lines showed me that.
Malice’s lips flattened. Had that been her goal—to show them what they were missing? Was that a new type of torture she’d devised?
We escape in two planet rotations. He reminded his friend of that timeline. Endure for that duration at minimum. He would risk accessing the memory chip, would negotiate for Illona’s assistance if that was required to free them. We’ll sync our databases now.
They compared the data they’d retrieved, crafted escape plans, chattered about revelations. Malice wasn’t as communicative as Valor was, but he tried to give the E Model the processor stimulation he craved.
He moved toward the door, leaned against it. That was to increase his scanning range, track more movements around him, outside his chamber.
It wasn’t to be closer to her, to his gorgeous little deceiver. He wrapped the strip of cloth around his right index finger. His systems weren’t that damaged.
She would have to be dealt with. He didn’t have to kill her. There were other options.
He could lock her in a chamber similar to the one he currently occupied, keep her to himself, visit with her to breed, to torture her by pounding her into the sleeping support, covering her with his bite marks, making her scream with rapture until her voice was hoarse.
His cock twitched, his body approving of that plan. Trust wasn’t necessary for release, for physical satisfaction. They’d proven that during the previous rest cycle.
In the future, he would control his lying female as she controlled him now. She wouldn’t be allowed to damage him or Valor. His gullible friend would be protected from her manipulations. She would harm no one.
Including himself.
She had a grip on his cock. The mere scent of her aroused him. Part of his processors were dedicated to his need for her.
The rest of him would always recall who, what she was. Cyborgs had faultless memories. They never forgot anything.
Her betrayals, her cruelty, her lack of honor would remain with him until the end of his lifespan.
He would use her, but he would never forgive her.
Chapter Seven
Illona returned to her private chambers, moving as quickly as she could without rousing suspicion. She had been careful. Medic Febris had shouldered most of the risk. But she could have made a mistake, and she was acutely aware the explosive planted in her jaw could be remotely detonated by the Humanoid Alliance at any moment.
Time was limited for her, and she had much to do. She ran a cleaning cloth over her white jacket, her flight suit, and her boots, tidying them, took a drink of beverage, a few bites of a nourishment bar. That steadied her shaking hands.
She entered her working chamber, sat at a horizontal support, crafted another dose of the nanocybotics booster. As Illona worked, she shielded the ingredients and the measurements from view. The monitoring equipment had been disabled in the space, but she didn’t trust it hadn’t been reactivated. She randomly disposed of inputs, ensuring the Humanoid Alliance couldn’t determine the formula by the amounts remaining in containers. Every couple of moments, she rearranged everything on the surface before her.
The beings she was forced to serve shouldn’t be able to duplicate the mixture. Not easily.
The Humanoid Alliance’s intentions for the booster were evil. That was all they knew—how to destroy, to hurt, to kill. She would slow their plans as much as she could for as long as she could.
Which could be planet rotations or mere moments, depending on her lifespan.
The nanocybotics booster might help Malice escape the lab. That was the only reason she was manufacturing another container of them. The first injection had worked. He’d peeled off the well-fastened wall panel with no visible effort.
And he’d fucked her without stopping, for almost the entire rest cycle. Her toes curled in her boots. His stamina, his passion, had been…impressive.
If she was gifted with another shift of that, she would die a very happy female. A smile lifted her lips as she loaded her injector gun with the formula. She placed that tool in a pocket on her jacket.
Malice’s nanocybotics continued to bubble inside her. She didn’t hurt. That was a miracle in itself. She was stronger, had more energy.
That enhancement was greatly needed this planet rotation. She picked up the remote access chip she’d spent the past twenty-three planet rotations modifying and inserted it into her handheld. It read the hardware correctly, but it didn’t connect to the lab’s systems.
Ugh. She swallowed her aggravation and made another adjustment to it. That didn’t work either. She tinkered with it, struggling with the process for as long as she could.
Technology wasn’t her forte. She’d learned quite a bit about it during her confinement in the lab, but clearly she hadn’t learned enough to make the remote access chip function.
Malice, being a cyborg, might be able to use it to connect with the Humanoid Alliance’s system. He was half machine. Programming was one of his many skills, was a part of him.
Or the remote access chip could be useless. Her time and effort could have been wasted. But she would give it to him and allow him to decide that.
She transferred the passwords and any other details she thought might help him onto the remote access chip, slipped both the handheld and the remote access chip into her pocket. Medical tape, another laser scalpel, grippers, a mini medic pack, other items joined them.
Her gut told her she might not return to her chambers. She wandered around the space. There weren’t many private items within it. She’d lost all of those when the Humanoid Alliance captured her. Images of now-dead friends and deceased family members were stored only in her brain. They would cease to exist when she died.
She wouldn’t be forgotten. Cyborgs remembered everything. She would live in Malice’s processors. Her final moments and his willingness to see the truth would decide whether she was portrayed as a purely evil being or a female who had tried her best in a horrible situation.
Illona took one final look around her and exited her chambers.
Part of her had expected chaos and pandemonium over the deactivation of the transmission blocker. She thought there would be guards rushing along the hallways with their reprimand sticks drawn. Perhaps two or three of the males would be waiting outside her door.
The hallways were quiet, devoid of most life. Had the transmission blocker been disabled? Had they succeeded in that mission? Or was there no commotion because they’d failed to do anything, failed to help the cyborgs?
Needing to uncover the answers to those questions, she hurried in the direction of Malice’s chamber, anxious to see him, hoping she could detect the truth in the warrior’s blue eyes.
She spotted Medic Febris as soon as she entered the Resurrected’s stretch of hallway.
The knots in the pit of Illona’s stomach loosened slightly. Her friend was still alive.
Medic Febris leaned against one of the resurrection project’s portals, with her forehead pressed against the clear wall. Her form shuddered as her test subjects flung themselves against the barrier again and again. Blood dripped down her face. Her lips moved.
What was her friend doing?
Illona lowered her head and frowned at the tiled floor, feigning concentration on an imaginary problem. As she walked, she drifted toward the other medic.
“Goodbye.” Medic Febris’ voice became audible. “Goodbye.” Her tone was cheery. “I wish I could take you with me.” Her words were slurred. “But I can’t do that. Goodbye.”
Stars. Illona sucked back the emotion rising within her and angled her body toward her friend’s.
Their shoulders smacked together.
“Sorry.” She grasped the female in a fervent hug, acting as though she was steadying her.
“Illona.” Medic Febris grinned her much-adored grin at her. Her friend’s gaze was unfocused. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m going outside for a moment.”
“Don’t do that.” Illona whispered that plea into the female’s right ear, holding her tight. She couldn’t leave the lab. That would trigger the implant in her chin, cause it to explode. “Please don’t do that.”
“I have to do this, silly.” Her friend’s laugh held a hint of hysteria in it. “I thought they would detonate it, but they didn’t, and I can’t endure this any longer.” Despair, sadness, fear shadowed her face for one fleeting heartbeat. “And I don’t have to do that.” The darkness dispersed, her smile returning. “It is a great planet rotation for a walk.”
It was a great planet rotation to die.
Illona understood how her friend felt. Fuck, how she understood. The waiting for the end was another form of torture, one any rational being would try to escape.
And there was only one way for her, for Medic Febris, to accomplish that feat.
“Then take a walk.” She forced herself to let go of her friend.
“Yes, I’ll take a walk.” Medic Febris nodded a little too vigorously. “I need to get some fresh air.” Her expression was back to its former brilliance. “Do you want to come with me?”
Did she want to die with her friend?
It was tempting. She wouldn’t be alone at the end. They could walk into the unknown together.
But she had more to do, a remote access chip to relay to a cyborg, an injection to make. “I can’t come with you right now.” Illona pushed that reply past a lump of emotion in her throat. “My work here isn’t yet done.”
“Then hurry up, silly, and finish your work.” Medic Febris squeezed her hands. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
Illona should walk away. The monitoring equipment attached to the ceilings were active. The Humanoid Alliance was watching them.
But she couldn’t move. “You’re a great medic, Febris.” She wanted to tell her that one last time.
“I tried my best.” Her friend’s smile was blindingly bright. “That’s all we can do.”
She strolled toward the exterior door.
“Join me soon.” Medic Febris waved one of her hands, not looking back at her.
Her gait was loose. She hummed a happy tune, one Illona couldn’t place.
Illona watched her. She knew what her friend planned to do, didn’t want it to happen, but she didn’t stop her. It was Medic Febris’ choice, a final thing she could control in a life that was no longer her own.
The female stopped in front of the exit. “It will be good to feel the breeze on my face again.” She opened the door. Alarms sounded.
“Males, we have a runner.” Picton yelled that statement from behind Illona. “Get here if you want to see the show.” He sprinted past her, moving faster than she’d ever seen the guard move.
A sick smile was plastered across his countenance. His eyes shone with glee.
He gripped a handheld.
Medic Febris’ face tilted upward. “The suns are shining.” She stepped forward.
The explosion temporarily deafened Illona. Blood and gore splattered the far wall. Her stomach heaved as the rest of her went numb.
Her promise to her friend would be kept. The carnage confirmed that. Medic Febris wouldn’t be resurrected. There wasn’t enough of her left to warrant that effort.
“Shit.” Picton skidded to a stop, his boot heels leaving a trail in the crimson. “It was a good one and I wasn’t able to record it.”
It was a good one. Illona glared at the guard’s back. Her friend’s death was a source of entertainment for him.
While for her…for her, she couldn’t think about what it meant to her. Not now. Not where that cretin might witness her reaction, mock her grief.
Illona rushed along the hallway. Unshed tears blurred her vision. She could have returned to her private chambers. Instead, she blindly, instinctively, hurried toward Malice, the cyborg who hated her, the cyborg who planned to kill her.
She smacked her palm against the control panel. The door opened. She entered the chamber.
He was strapped to the sleeping support, his big body naked and still. His gaze shifted in her direction. Those brilliant blue eyes narrowed.
She recoiled as though she’d been struck, battered by his speculation, by his hostility.
It was too much for her. She didn’t want the cyborg to see her this way, didn’t want to answer his unspoken questions, to defend herself once more to a being who would never believe her. Her pain was raw, overwhelming, the sharpest blade slicing through the core of her.
She turned toward the door, pressed her face against the cool metal and cried, releasing everything she was holding inside her, letting it flow out of her in a series of form-shaking sobs.
Her friend was dead. Evil had triumphed. Once again. The cruel prospered and reveled in the horror they wrought, and good beings like Medic Febris were tortured and tormented and forced to choose death over lifespans of misery.
Illona wailed, freeing emotions she’d suppressed for the past solar cycle and a half. She’d hidden them under the serene countenance she showed the universe.
That universe was shit. It rewarded the horrid and punished the kind. Picton, a male who delivered pain with a maniacal joy, lived. Medic Febris couldn’t kill any being, not even the undead she tended, and her lifespan had ended.
Illona slapped the door hard as she wept, hitting the metal again and again. The hurt spreading over her palms could never equal the agony in her heart, in her soul. Her fellow medic was gone.
She would die friendless, without love. The only being she now cared for in this blasted structure believed the worst of her, thought she was one of them, part of the Humanoid Alliance, the brutes she reviled.
Because she had been forced to torture him, harm him. She laughed without humor. Healing was all she’d ever wanted to do, and her captors had taken that from her.
Fuck them. She swiped the back of her hands over her eyes. Fuck them all. She straightened. Delivering vengeance wasn’t possible for her. She hadn’t the skills or the temperament to kill.
But she knew a being who did have that combination.
She stomped over to the sleeping support. “I’ll help you as best as I can, but I want you to kill those Humanoid Alliance fuckers. Every last one of them.” That was said for her cyborg’s enhanced hearing only. “Kill me too. I don’t fuckin’ care anymore. Liquefy my brain. I don’t want to come back to this fuckin’ world. Ever. I’m done with it.”
His eyes widened. She’d shocked her cyborg.
Fuck him. “A great medic doesn’t inflict her emotions on her patients.” She quoted Medic Anahit, her mentor. “Patients have their own issues to focus on.” She snorted. “Fuck it. My friend, one of those human medics you delight in hating, died today. She sacrificed herself to help you. Not that you give a shit. She was the only being still alive in this fuckin’ horrible universe who cared about me, and now she’s dead, and I’m alone, and I am fuckin’ done with everything.”
Once she gave Malice the injection and she relayed the remote access chip to him, she was walking out the exterior door and she wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t give Picton an opportunity to watch her die. She—
