Defying Death (2 page)

Death grunted a thank you and moved through the
freighter’s docking bay, entered the hallways, accelerating, the
space empty. He acted as a conduit between Crash and the J models.
They wouldn’t relay information without his presence.

The holding chamber was crowded with J and K model
cyborgs. The warriors shifted to the side as he entered, allowing
him to take his place at the far wall with Crash and his human
female, Safyre. The images of two K model cyborgs Death hadn’t yet
met were projected onto a side wall.

What was the cause of your delay?
Crash
inquired through their transmission lines, excluding his female
from the conversation.
Did you sense a threat?

The E model’s grip on his lush female was tight.
Concern reflected in his flat black eyes.

I sense no threats.
Death chose not to answer
the first question.

“What the fuck is going on, Crash?” Safyre gazed up
at her warrior’s gray face, worry lines etched around her mouth.
“And don’t tell me nothing ‘cause I feel the tension in you.” The
female had orange hair, the color suiting her volatile
temperament.

Death preferred the more subtle streaks of red in
Tifara’s long brown tendrils. His fingertips twitched. He wanted to
sink his hands into those unruly curls.

Desire rose within him once more.

Crash narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t know what
the fuck is going on.”

Fraggin’ hole. The warrior sensed his arousal.

Death mentally inventoried his weapons, counting the
daggers and guns strapped to his body, distracting his human-like
brain and his machine-like processors from thoughts of his
female.

There’s no threat?
Crash asked again.

There’s no threat.
Death held his gaze.

The warrior hesitated for a moment and then nodded,
his shoulders lowering. “It is nothing, my female.” Crash hugged
his Safyre to him.

Death would never put a precious female at risk with
such an open display of affection. Touching should be done in the
privacy of personal chambers.

“I’m seeing threats where there are none.” Crash
kissed her forehead.

Safyre’s eyes softened. “It’s best to be
careful.”

Crash nodded. “Let’s relay this information.” He
turned toward the crowd, the fingers of his left hand linked with
the fingers of his female’s right hand.

Death stood at their side.

Alone.

“We’ve escaped the Humanoid Alliance.” Crash’s voice
boomed. “We are now free.”

Warriors cheered. Death remained silent. They’d
thought themselves free in the past, only to discover another chain
to their creators, entrapping them once more.

“We can find and retrieve our females,” Mayhem
yelled.

Another round of cheers swept across the
chamber.

Crash exchanged a glance with his female. “Before
you retrieve your females, we must voyage to the Homeland, join our
brethren there.”

“And leave our females in danger?” another warrior
asked.

“Is that what Gap would do?” a newly manufactured
cyborg asked.

The warriors shook their heads, murmuring their
discontentment.

Gap, a G model cyborg, had ended his existence on
Tau Ceti. He had rushed into a tunnel, a place no logical warrior
would ever venture, to try to protect his human female and they
never exited. The cyborg and his female had been burned alive by
the enemy.

Before Gap had died, he’d experienced one perfect
moment of happiness with his Nymphia. The female had clung to him,
looked at him with softness and love.

Death wouldn’t have hesitated to trade places with
Gap. He would have happily sacrificed his lifespan for that one
moment.

The other warriors envied the G model also. Many
looked at him as a hero.

“Gap returned to the Homeland after escaping the
Humanoid Alliance.” Crash’s voice was edged with sadness. The E
model had been Gap’s best friend. He had taken the warrior’s death
hard.

“If he hadn’t returned to the Homeland, he might
have reached his female sooner,” a warrior argued.

“They’d be alive.” Another warrior pointed out.

The males around him nodded.

They weren’t concerned for themselves. Cyborgs were
manufactured to fight and eventually to die in battle. They’d long
resigned themselves to that fate.

But to leave their females unprotected was
unthinkable.

Death’s fingers curled, his fingertips pressing into
his palms. His female wasn’t in danger, wasn’t positioned near any
fighting.

“Our orders are to return to the Homeland.” Crash’s
voice rang with authority.

The warriors fell silent. They’d been trained to
obey and all of them were aware that, if it hadn’t been for Crash,
they would still be under the control of the Humanoid Alliance.
They owed him some loyalty.

“While we voyage to our planet, a planet where all
cyborgs are
free
.” Crash emphasized that word. “My female’s
friend, Tifara, must be retrieved. She knows too much about us to
remain amongst the humans.”

Death’s circuits buzzed with excitement, with lust,
with wanting.

Tifara, his female, was to be retrieved. He wouldn’t
have to wait to see her, touch her, breed with her.

“I volunteer for the mission.” He stepped forward,
his eagerness concealed under a blank expression.

Seven cyborgs also stepped forward, echoing his
words.

Rage roared through Death. She was his. His. The
primitive human part of him wanted to lunge toward them, fists
swinging, to physically stake his claim, pounding his rivals into
the tiled floor, ensuring they never touched his Tifara.

It took everything he had to stand motionless, to
show none of his feelings.

Crash looked at Safyre. Safyre dipped her head.
“There’s no need for that sacrifice, warriors. Ace and Thrasher
have already agreed to retrieve Tifara.” She waved her hands at the
two K model cyborgs, their images projected onto the wall.

They grinned, smug with the honor bestowed upon
them.

These two warriors would touch his female. Death’s
anger escalated. They’d be responsible for retrieving her, for
protecting her.

They were more open with their emotion, more human.
She might form an attachment to them. They could steal his
happiness, his future from him.

He wouldn’t allow that.

“No.” Death lifted his chin. “
I
will retrieve
her.”

Crash frowned.

The other cyborgs shuffled backward.

Death stood his ground. Tifara was more important to
him than his honor, than any perceived debt or allegiance to
Crash.

“Why do you want to retrieve her?” Safyre asked. “Is
she your female?”

Death’s jaw jutted. She was, but admitting that
would put Tifara at risk.

Cyborgs couldn’t lie. If any of them were captured
by the Humanoid Alliance and questioned, they would tell the humans
about Tifara, about his weakness for her. The Humanoid Alliance
would use her as bait. Once they apprehended him, they’d kill
her.

Death chose to remain silent. He’d earn the right to
retrieve Tifara based on his worth. He’d helped orchestrate the
escape from the Humanoid Alliance. He’d protected Safyre when Crash
couldn’t. He deserved the mission.

“Of course, she isn’t your female.” Safyre shook her
head, the tuft of orange hair on top of her head bobbing. “What am
I thinking? If she was, you would have stolen the fuckin’ scarf she
gave me. You’d be talking my ear off about how good she smells and
the names you’ll give your offspring and other shit like that.”

Death gazed at her. He didn’t chatter unnecessarily.
Ever.

“Or maybe you wouldn’t.” Safyre grinned, reaching
that same conclusion. “You’re as grim as fuck.” The cyborgs around
them laughed. “You’re a worthy male, Death, and I do love you, but
I can’t think of a warrior any less suited for my soft-hearted,
always-laughing friend than you. She would try to heal all of the
beings you killed and—”

“Female.” Crash stopped her chattering.
Death,
the J models look to you for leadership,
he transmitted on a
private line.
I depend on you to communicate with them.

Mayhem will take over that role.
Death had
thought of that already.
He’ll communicate with the J
models.

Why is that transfer of responsibility required? Why
do you want this mission?

He wanted Tifara. She might, as Crash’s female
stated, find his personality too grim, his manner too violent, but
she was his and he would have her.
Does it matter why I want
this mission? I’m free, as you often state. I can do what I wish
and I wish to be the warrior to retrieve her. I have earned that
right.

Crash’s face hardened.
You can’t do what you wish
with Tifara. I don’t know what you’re planning but it won’t involve
my female’s friend. She’s not yours, Death. You can’t force a link
where there is none.

There
was
a link. Death felt the connection.
Give me this mission. Have I not proved my worth over and over
again?

You have. That’s why I chose other warriors for this
mission. You’re too valuable to utilize.

Anger rolled inside Death.
And Tifara isn’t
valuable?
She was everything to him yet merely a secondary
consideration to the E model.

You’re required elsewhere. Your brethren need
you. I need you.
Crash played upon his sense of
responsibility.

Death was tired of putting others first.
You
don’t need me.
Killing was his strength. There would be no
killing in the Homeland.

I do
, Crash insisted.
I need you to lead
the J Models, to represent them with the cyborg council. The J
Models trust you. Allow Ace and Thrasher to retrieve Tifara.
They’re capable warriors.

Capable isn’t skilled enough. I’m retrieving
Tifara
.

My friend—

Don’t call me that.
Death wouldn’t be
manipulated by emotion.
This is my mission. I’m taking it.
With or without Crash’s approval.

The E model gazed at him. Death gazed back,
determined to win the standoff.

You’re not taking this mission. You will
accompany us to the Homeland. That decision has been made.
Crash’s tone signaled that the discussion was closed.

Tension stretched across Death’s shoulders. So much
for being free.

“Ace and Thrasher will retrieve Tifara,” Crash
announced to the group. “The rest of us will voyage to the
Homeland.”

The cyborgs looked toward Death.

Death showed none of his rage, none of his
frustration. His disagreement was between Crash and himself. He
wouldn’t undermine the E model’s authority by making it public.

Mayhem’s eyes narrowed, the warrior not fooled by
Death’s lack of expression.

Crash ignored the discontented murmurings and talked
about administrative issues. Death drifted farther and farther into
the crowd, edging his way toward the doors. The E model tried to
include him in the decisions. He didn’t answer Crash’s queries.

A youngster asked about obtaining body armor. Death
slipped out of the chamber and accelerated, moving through the
hallways at cyborg speed, faster than any human male could.

His first stop was Safyre’s ship.

The small vessel was the female’s home. She had
formed an emotional attachment to it and he would never take it
from her, would never cause her that pain.

Safyre was a precious female, to be treasured,
protected.

But he
would
take Tifara’s scarf. Death
unwound the white fabric and stuffed it between his body armor and
his chest. A wave of scent wafted upward, hardening his cock.

He ignored his reaction and exited.

Fraggin’ hole. He stifled a groan.

Menace, that irritatingly observant cyborg, waited
in front of the ramp to the second ship, a vessel Death had
privately claimed for himself. “Crash has access to the auditory
system of the council. If you rebel against his orders, they could
block you from reaching the Homeland.”

When he rebelled, they would do more than that. The
council couldn’t risk cyborgs operating on their own, mixing
unmonitored with other species. The humans could realize cyborgs
weren’t as easily controlled as they believed. Humans would
decommission, kill, millions of his not-yet-freed brethren.

To prevent that from happening, the council would
send warriors after him. If caught, he’d be executed, his death
discouraging other warriors from rebelling.

One moment of happiness with Tifara was worth that
fate.

“Step aside, Menace.”

“I know why you’re doing this.” The warrior didn’t
move. “Crash doesn’t, and he also doesn’t have our history. He
doesn’t trust you as I do. He’ll assume your processors have gone
offline.”

That might be the truth. Desperation to reach Tifara
welled up inside Death.

“Let me speak to the E model.”

“It’s too late for that.” And he didn’t want another
warrior to plead his case. “Crash made the announcement.” Even E
model cyborgs had pride. Crash wouldn’t change his decision.

“Then I’ll go with you. Mayhem will distract Crash
and then catch up with us.” Menace moved to the side and grasped
his pack. It was ready, waiting. The warrior had obviously decided
on that action before Death arrived. “One warrior rebelling looks
like a processor malfunction. Two, eventually three, warriors
rebelling will have a logical cause.”

Menace and Mayhem would risk exile and death to
assist him.

Death couldn’t allow the males to make that
sacrifice. “You’re not coming with me.” He stomped up the ramp.

“I am.” Menace followed him closely, too closely for
the door to close between them. “We’ll retrieve her together.”