Breathing Vapor (11 page)

Mira stared at him for a heartbeat more and then smiled, her relief dazzling him. “Thank you.” She returned to his side, curling up against him. “That means a lot to me.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you shared your plans.” He threaded his fingers through her curls, separating the tendrils.

“I can’t. There are too many lifespans at risk. I won’t fail them as I failed my mom.”

“You were a
child
.” He wanted to kill some being.

“And I made a childish mistake.” She gazed up at him. “I shared information I didn’t need to share. Cyborgs don’t chatter, do they?”

“Not to humans,” Thrasher joined the conversation. “We chatter constantly to each other. It’s one of our greatest strengths. Information is relayed. Insights are pooled. Experiences are shared.”

“I didn’t know that.” Mira rested her cheek against Vapor’s chest. “Talking can be a strength?” She paused, the lines on her forehead telling him she pondered that possibility. “That’s hard to believe. If they betray you--”

“They won’t. They’re cyborgs.” Vapor squeezed her shoulder. “We have honor, remember?”

“I would never forget that.”

Silence stretched. His stubborn female didn’t share her plans with them.

“Tell me one truth, Mira.” He needed something, anything to convince himself and the other cyborgs that she didn’t have to be killed.

“The last time we played this game, beings died.” She shivered.

“Some things are worth dying for,” Vapor echoed her earlier words.

Her body stiffened. “You’d die for truth?”

“Truth from you, I would.”

She said nothing. The lines on her forehead deepened.

“One truth,” he coaxed, wanting this.

“Okay.” Mira sighed. “One truth.”

There was another lengthy pause.

“I wouldn’t hurt your friends. Ever,” she whispered.

Part of him already knew that but it was a relief hearing the words.

She didn’t consider selling his friends hurting them. Why? He mulled over that seemingly contradictory statement.

“Are the cyborgs you’re selling slated for decommissioning?” he guessed.

She stiffened. “This is why telling the truth isn’t a good idea. It leads to more questions and I’m forced to either lie or betray the beings I’m trying to save.”

She’s trying to save beings
, Thrasher pointed out.

Vapor had picked up on that inadvertent confession also. His female
wasn’t
good at telling the truth.

We know her intentions. The other cyborgs don’t.
And they couldn’t tell the others because they had been sworn to secrecy. That frustrated Vapor.

I’ll defend her
, his friend assured him.

Would Thrasher’s support be enough? Vapor folded Mira into his body, seeking to safeguard her from her many enemies, both human and cyborg.

“We’re entering the compound.” She sounded sad to be home.

Because she’d soon be alone, Vapor realized. He was returning to thousands of his brethren. She would be surrounded by beings who didn’t care about her.

“You won’t leave the compound without me,” he reminded her. She was safe in the compound. No humans would dare hurt the Designer’s daughter. Vapor would protect her from his fellow cyborgs.

“I won’t leave the compound without you.” She donned that cold mask he now understood was necessary, her body straightening.

The ship stopped. Mira opened the door and stepped into the sun. They followed her. The compound appeared unchanged. The insurgents must not have breached its walls.

Her father would have been notified of the attacks yet no beings greeted them. He hadn’t even sent a guard to check on his only offspring. She was on her own, had been for solar cycles, perhaps since her mom died.

That she had survived this long was a testament to her strength.

Mira strolled toward the final stage holding structure, her gorgeous ass swaying back and forth, back and forth, her head held high.

She was magnificent, a female worthy of their respect. Vapor trailed her. Thrasher sauntered behind him. They couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t risk being overheard.

Hun stood with two lower level trainers. He left the humans when he spotted Mira, lowering his gaze to her breasts. Vapor wanted to draw his daggers and cut the leer off the male’s face. She was his and his alone.

“The Designer was surprised to find K000156 and K000158 missing this planet rotation,” Hun spoke to Mira’s chest.

“My father can’t be expected to keep track of the comings and goings of each unit.” Ice dripped from her lips. “He has more important concerns to contemplate.”

“Like the rebellion?”

“Rebellion, bah.” Mira waved her right hand, dismissing the battles waging around them. “Those are humanoids. K000158 killed thirty-two of them and didn’t even break a sweat. Human warriors can take care of the rest. It’ll be good training for them.”

“How many did K000156 kill?” Hun’s gaze slanted to Vapor.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll require that unit later. It was…capable this planet rotation,” Mira said this as though she begrudged him that meager compliment. “It will accompany me when I leave the compound.”

His female was honoring her vow to him. Vapor kept his face expressionless, hiding his satisfaction.

“These
are
dangerous times.” Hun studied him. “The insurgents have retained control of four districts and—”

“You’re boring me,” Mira interrupted. “Ensure it’s ready whenever I need it.” She flicked her fingers in Vapor’s direction before walking away.

He watched his female out of the corner of his eyes, yearning to follow her. Whatever she was planning was certain to be dangerous and she was attempting it alone.

Vapor slipped his hands into his pockets and curled his fingers around the hilts of his daggers. If anything happened to her, beings would die.

Chapter Ten

Vapor hadn’t betrayed her.

She had made a mistake and he could have used that error against her. He could have relayed the information she shared, helping his friends and hurting her. But he hadn’t.

Because he was a cyborg. Cyborgs had honor and integrity.

Mira restored her appearance, reluctantly washing Vapor’s scent from her body. She donned one of her favorite fabric wraps, the white cloth clinging to her curves.

Her ass was no longer sore from the spanking. Vapor’s nanocybotics continued to bubble within her, healing that damage, a reminder of her warrior male.

She cared for him, would do anything to save his friends. That included facing her disapproving parent.

Mira marched to her father’s working chambers and placed her hand on the access panel. “It’s me, sir.”

“I asked you not to interrupt me while I’m working.” Her father’s voice was curt.

That request sounded reasonable except he was always working. If she waited for a free expanse of time, she’d never speak with him. “It will only take a moment.”

He sighed. “Enter.”

The door slid open. Mira stepped into the chamber. Her father was seated behind a horizontal support built from primitive gears and other mechanics. His gray head was bent over a private viewscreen, his eyebrows knitted. He didn’t look up as she approached.

She sat before him in one of the guest ass supports and waited. On the walls, footage of major steps in cyborg evolution played soundlessly on viewscreens. Specs about kill rates and repair capabilities scrolled across the bottom of the recording.

There were no images of her mom and no images of Mira. She wasn’t secondary to his projects. She wasn’t a consideration at all. If it was possible, he ignored her.

As he was doing now. Mira shifted in her seat. “Sir.”

He held up his index finger and continued studying the private viewscreen. She pressed her lips together. Trying to speak with her father could take half a planet rotation.

At least she hadn’t been blocked from his chambers. When she was young, after her mom died, she’d interrupted her father once too often and he’d banned her from this section of the domicile, locking the doors to her.

She knew why. She’d been too needy. His cyborgs didn’t have that failing.

Time passed. Mira stared at her father, trying to push thoughts into his brain.

His heavy sigh echoed in the chamber. “I can’t concentrate with you staring at me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” That was a lie. She wasn’t sorry at all.

“Now, I’ve lost the flow of logic.” He shook his head. “This is why I don’t like being interrupted.” He set the private viewscreen on the horizontal support. “What is it that’s so important, that’s more critical than the future of our species?”

“I attended the Listmann party last planet rotation. The insurgents attacked the building, planting a bomb near an exterior wall.”

Her father looked at her, his face blank, not one inkling of concern reflecting in his eyes.

“I’m okay.” Mira’s tone was dry.

“I assumed you were or you wouldn’t be here.” Not that he’d worry if she didn’t return. He had the power to save his wife’s life but hadn’t bothered to expend the energy or effort to do so, caring only of his beloved experiments. Mira doubted he’d be upset if his daughter disappeared. “This bombing news involves me—how?”

“I took K000156 and K000158 to the event.”

That got a reaction. Her father frowned. “One of the trainers mentioned you had. I thought he was mistaken. You know better than to interfere with my programs.”

“If the units hadn’t accompanied me, I’d be dead.” She searched his countenance for proof he cared. She found nothing except outrage over his precious cyborgs. “When the other society females saw how K000156 and K000158 saved my life, they asked about purchasing cyborgs of their own.”

“No.” Her father held up his hands, his palms facing toward her. “Concealing the sale of the newly manufactured units might be possible. No being is tracking them and their mechanics are worth very little. Final stage units are highly visible. The Humanoid Alliance expects them to be deployed to the front lines. Beings will notice if they disappear.”

Mira knew she couldn’t stop cyborgs from being deployed, from being sent to fight the endless wars. “Two final stage units are slated for decommissioning. The Humanoid Alliance doesn’t expect them to be deployed.”

“Their mechanics are needed.”

Shit.

She quickly formulated another plan. “We could delay those buyers for thirty planet rotations. During that time, we could lend the units to a prominent family, earning extra credits that you can use for your experiments and gaining support for the cyborg program.”

Her father opened his mouth, hesitated, shut it again.

He was thinking about it.

“The Listmanns requested two units.” She pushed for his agreement. “He’s a member of the council and could be a formidable ally. You might get that approval you need to expand the manufacturing facility.”

Mira paused, allowing her father to think the proposal over.

“The Humanoid Alliance did request that I assist with squashing the rebellion,” he conceded. “I told them that a puny upraising of locals could be handled by less skilled warriors.”

She hid her wince. That must have gone over well with the council.

“Giving them two of the suboptimal units would appease them.” He tapped his lips with his index fingers. “Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll delay the decommissioning for six planet rotations.”

“For twenty planet rotations,” she countered.

“For ten,” her father relented.

Mira said nothing. Ten planet rotations should give the cyborgs enough time to escape.

“I’ll inform the Humanoid Alliance.” He assumed she agreed to his terms. “You can handle the rest.”

She always did. “I also require use of K000156 when I leave the compound. The insurgents haven’t yet been subdued. The planet is too dangerous to navigate alone.”

Her father’s eyebrows lowered. “K000156 has training to complete.”

What he meant was K000156 had more prisoners to kill. “The program will suffer a blow if the Designer’s daughter is killed in an attack. The council will question how you can protect the Alliance when you couldn’t safeguard your own offspring.”

There was another lengthy pause as her father absorbed this.

“They
would
question my credentials if you died.” He didn’t sound pleased that his success was linked to her survival. “Take it with you. But don’t leave the compound this planet rotation. They’re purifying the districts.”

Purifying. They couldn’t be doing that. Mira’s mouth dried. The Humanoid Alliance wasn’t supposed to act that quickly. X wouldn’t have had the opportunity to transport the children off planet. She hadn’t given Aumakua the credits she needed to move her family.

“I have a garment fitting in District 2,” she lied.

“They’ve purified that district already. Whomever you’re planning to meet is dead.”

Dead. Aumakua, her husband, sweet little Pepe, all of their neighbors, all of their friends, lined up outside their domiciles and executed. Bile clawed up Mira’s throat, burning her flesh. She couldn’t think about that.

Because they could be alive.

She was talking to her father. Mira gazed at him. He might be the most intelligent human in the universe but he could also be absent-minded, his big brain focused on his experiments.

He could have mixed up the dates.

That was it.

Her father had done that in the past. The purifying could be planned for a future planet rotation. He had received the notification, hadn’t checked the date, and had assumed it was occurring now. “You can’t be certain that she’s dead.”

“I’m absolutely certain.” Her father chuckled, not at all upset that millions of beings could be dead or dying. “The Humanoid Alliance is nothing but thorough. Of course, if they had cyborgs, instead of human warriors, the purification would have been completed in a quarter of the time, but using cyborgs for such a task is beneath their capabilities.”

If it weren’t for her father’s elitist view about cyborgs, Vapor could have been one of the warriors tasked with killing mothers, children, babies. He wouldn’t have been able to refuse those orders, not if he wished to live.

Mira’s stomach churned. That duty would have destroyed her honorable cyborg. She would have failed Vapor as she’d failed…

No, she wouldn’t say it. Pepe and Aumakua were alive. Her father was confused. She still had time to save them, to transport them off the planet.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Y-yes.” She couldn’t hide her concern. All she could think about was Pepe, that adorable, kind, trusting child.

Fortunately, her sole remaining parent’s attention had returned to his personal viewscreen. He didn’t notice her reaction. “Then go. I have work to complete.”

When didn’t he have work to complete?

“Thank you.” She was speaking to no one. Her father was lost in his research, not looking up as she walked out of the chambers.

Mira returned to her own quarters and contacted Lydna. While she negotiated with her mom’s former friend, charging her outrageous sums for ten planet rotations of protection, she ignored the communiqués popping up on her private viewscreen.

Or tried to. The damn headings were impossible to disregard.

District Six Purification Completed.

District Seven Purification Completed.

District Eight Purification Completed.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Her father could have been telling the truth. But that would mean…

She couldn’t think about what that meant. Her father forwarded the authorization from the Humanoid Alliance. Mira finalized the loan of the cyborgs. She’d deliver the two males to Lydna next planet rotation.

She couldn’t think of anything other than Pepe and Aumakua right now. Mira scanned the headings.

District Nine Purification Completed.

District Ten Purification Completed.

Stay Inside Your Domiciles.

That communiqué had been sent because the Humanoid Alliance expected more violence. Some insurgents always survived the purifying. They would seek revenge.

Pepe could be one of those survivors. The Tau Cetians could have found some way of fooling the lifeform scanners. The little girl and her parents could be hiding, waiting to be rescued.

Ho'aloha, the child had called her. Friend.

A true friend would save her, protect her.

Mira gathered up her personal viewscreen and all of the credit-containing chips she’d accumulated and stuffed them into a stylish white pack. She exited her chambers, quashing the urge to run to the final stage fighting ring and collect Vapor.

That would attract unwanted attention and jeopardize the entire operation. She had to appear normal, giving away none of her intentions.

When she saw who was in the ring, her composure almost slipped.

Because, despite her request that Vapor be ready at any time, her cyborg was fighting, dealing out death to a bunch of rough, ragged-looking criminals.

Fuckin’ Hun. Mira didn’t wait in the viewing area. She descended to the ring, standing on the edge of the red dirt. Hun’s gaze flicked to her and then away. The trainer knew he was in deep shit.

Vapor shifted until his body was between her and his opponents. Her cyborg was magnificent, clad in black skintight body armor and boots. His outfit was covered with blood and his skin glistened with sweat.

Mira didn’t have time to admire him. “Finish this quickly,” she whispered. Lives were in jeopardy.

Vapor obeyed her instructions. He burst into a whirling vortex of killing, his arms and legs blurring. Her cyborg wielded the primitive pike in his hands like it was an extension of his arms, thrusting, jabbing, dispatching his opponents with well-placed blows.

The more intelligent criminals ran from him. They were chased by Ace and Thrasher. While the cyborgs competed for the kills, they fervently grappled each other’s muscular forms, skimming their hands over armor-clad backs, arms, asses.

The two males were a couple. The three of them were a team, aligned in their mission, trusting each other completely. They were closer than many families, certainly closer than hers.

Not closer than Pepe’s. Her mother and her father loved her. Before Mira had met and hired Aumakua, Pepe’s parents had gone without food to ensure their child ate.

They couldn’t be dead. The universe couldn’t be that cruel.

A small voice inside Mira whispered that it was. She ignored it, focusing on the battle before her.

The last humanoid in the fighting ring fell, twitching and jerking on the red ground. Vapor flexed his muscles, his face and form coated with crimson.

Hun stepped forward. “K000156, K000157 and K000158, tidy yourselves.” He tossed cleaning clothes to them. “Swiftly.”