Breathing Vapor (5 page)

She drifted her fingertips over his body, exploring the indent under his hipbones, walked around him, touching his clenched ass cheeks, the small of his back. He shook, the best warrior on the planet turned to mush by a small female.

“Hmmm…” That sound would haunt him for solar cycles to come. “I’ll take this one and I’ll need another, one for each arm.”

She didn’t need any other cyborg. Vapor glared at her. He was enough for her.

She turned her attention to Ace and Thrasher, and he stiffened, not liking the thought of her touching them. She fondled their biceps, pinched their chins, slapped their asses, drawing grumbles from the cyborgs through their private transmission lines. There was no stroking of cocks or cupping of balls.

“It’s difficult to choose.” Mira grasped Thrasher’s wrist, repositioning him beside Vapor. “They’re both prime specimens.” She stood back, crossed her arms under her ample breasts and gazed at them.

Do I want to be chosen?
Thrasher asked.

No, you don’t. I can’t process what she has planned.
Her face told Vapor nothing.
But I’m certain it involves humiliation
. As she was humiliating him now, taking away all of his power, all of his control.

I’m certain also,
Ace agreed
. She talks of making Vapor beg and tells Hun this will benefit the Humanoid Alliance. Anything that helps them harms us.

Humans aren’t like cyborgs,
Thrasher defended the female.
They can lie.

His female lied about everything.
Either she’s lying and can’t be trusted or she’s helping the Humanoid Alliance and can’t be trusted. The conclusion is the same.
She can’t be trusted.

Thrasher couldn’t argue against that logic. The three of them fell silent. There was nothing they could do. They were at Mira’s mercy.

She continued to gaze at them. Vapor didn’t know why. Ace had the higher kill rate, second only to himself. He should be the warrior chosen.

“It’s said that cyborgs are closest to the models next to them in number.” She looked at Vapor, intelligence in her direct gaze. “K000156.” She tapped his right pec and he felt the contact down to his balls. “Would prefer to have K000157 by its side.” She placed one of her palms on Ace’s chest.

Vapor would prefer to have Ace by his side because, of the two males, he was the more logical being. At least one cyborg should use his processors while facing Mira.

That cyborg wasn’t Vapor. His need for the lush human female compounded with each passing moment. His circuits hummed in her presence.

“I don’t care about K000156’s preferences.” A cold smile spread across Mira’s face. “It’s a machine. I’ll choose K000158. It has those stunning blue eyes.”

Hun threw back his head and laughed.

Blue eyes were a disadvantage. Vapor pressed his lips together. They were more visible in the dark.

Mira, being the Designer’s daughter, knew that. She’d made her decision merely to irritate him. He fought the urge to take her over his knee and smack her ass.

That crazy course of action would get him decommissioned.

If done in public.

Once they were in private, he’d strip off that ridiculous fabric she swathed herself in, rendering her as naked as he was now.

She’d be humiliated, as she had been last planet rotation. Humans were prudish about their bodies. And she’d be at
his
mercy. He’d swat her generous curves until her skin was pink and warm to the touch. She’d shriek and squirm and beg
him
to stop.

Frag. Pre-cum formed on his slit. He wanted her more than he ever wanted any other being. Judging by her scent, the desire was mutual.

“I’ll send clothes for them.” She avoided his gaze, her face as emotionless as always. “Ensure they’re clean and dressed by sundown.”

“They’ll be ready.” Hun dipped his head.

“They had better be.” Mira strode away from them, her shoulders thrust back and her hips swaying. She was a force to reckoned with, powerful, relentless, as beautiful and deadly as a newly crafted sword. One misstep and she’d slice him in two.

But if he handled her with skill, with finesse, she’d sing, cutting through the air with unrivalled splendor. Vapor watched her lush ass move. She’d be his weapon and he’d use her well.

Then, if the cyborgs chose her as their target, he’d destroy her.

Chapter Four

A quarter of a planet rotation later, Mira faced rebellion.

No being was happy with her outfit selection.

Vapor and Thrasher had worn black for their entire lifespans. Although their faces were expressionless and they were silent, Mira knew they would consider any other color, including white, to be unsuitable for warriors.

Aumakua, the garment fabricator, was a Tau Cetian. Tau Cetians believed that white was the color of death. They had been horrified when the white-wearing Humanoid Alliance females had descended upon their planet, viewing it as a bad omen.

Even Pepe, Aumakua’s three solar cycle old daughter, disapproved. The adorable chubby-faced child sat before Vapor, her swaddled ass parked on the toe of his big black boot, her plump legs straddling his right ankle and she smacked his shin, repeating “No. No. No.” in her birth language.

They’d have to suck up their displeasure. The white garments were necessary.

“I said I wanted the fabric tight.” She plucked at the cloth draped over Vapor’s rock hard ass. A ‘V’ was crafted into the design, the tip of the letter nestled between his clenched ass cheeks. “Are you incompetent?”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Aumakua rushed to fix her mistake, her green and brown striped face creased with concern. Although the female appeared much healthier than she had been a solar cycle ago, when she had first started working for Mira, she was still heart-wrenchingly thin and needed the credits.

The Humanoid Alliance was treating the Tau Cetians as they had treated the Erinomeans and countless other populations before them—slowly starving the beings to the point of death. Eventually, the Tau Cetians would be forced to rebel, to fight back. The Alliance would squash that violence and confiscate the locals’ land and resources. None of the other species in the universe would offer an objection. It would be seen as a rational response.

While they waited for the locals to act, the high-ranking officials in the Humanoid Alliance felt no deprivation. They ate as though food was in surplus for every being and threw parties as though they had no knowledge of the upcoming war.

This planet rotation, Mira and her two cyborgs would attend one of those parties. She dreaded the event but their appearance was required for her plans to work.

“I’m so sorry,” Aumakua apologized again, working quickly, her fingers flying over the garment. She was a nice being.

Mira couldn’t show her the kindness she deserved. “Sorry is a meaningless word used by meaningless beings,” she quoted her father.

Aumakua made a hurting sound.

Hun sniggered at her humiliation.

Mira narrowed her eyes at the trainer. “You should have sympathy for the creature, soldier, being equally incompetent yourself.”

Hun’s face hardened.

She detested him, had almost lost her temper when he boasted about trying to break Vapor. Her cyborg was more of a male than Hun would ever be. He had honor and strength and rigid self-control.

A weight pressed against Mira’s shins. She glanced downward.

Pepe grinned up at her, her baby face beaming. “Ho'aloha. Ho'aloha.”

The complicated word was mangled but Mira knew what the child was trying to say. She was calling her ‘friend’.

Mira had been granted that special status the first moment Pepe met her. It didn’t matter how cruel or nasty she was to the child, Pepe saw her as a friend. During fittings, the toddler would follow her around, grabbing onto her with her cute little hands, babbling to her about her dollies.

“Ho'aloha.” Pepe waved her arms, expecting Mira to pick her up.

Mira yearned to. Fuck. She wanted to scoop Pepe into her arms, tickle her rounded tummy, and make the child squeal with happiness.

But she had an image to maintain and two cyborgs to save. “It’s touching me.”

“I’m sorry, miss.” Aumakua pulled the child away from Mira.

Pepe cried, reaching out to her, her response tearing at Mira’s heart. If it had been only her life she was risking, she would have relented, played with the child.

But she had to protect Vapor’s friends. Mira forced herself to remain still, ignoring Pepe’s pleas.

Aumakua tucked Ulu, a doll made from scrap material, into the child’s hands, distracting her. “My male normally looks after her but he was busy this planet rotation.” She avoided Mira’s gaze. “Work busy. Not anything else busy. He wouldn’t—”

“I don’t care about your problems.” Mira cut off Aumakua’s lies before she incriminated her small family. She suspected the garment fabricator’s male was involved in the upcoming rebellion. “Keep your brat away from me.”

Pepe giggled at her, holding out her dolly for Mira to admire.

She couldn’t acknowledge the child. Instead, she circled Vapor. He pressed his lips into a grim white line. His form was stiff. His fingers were curled into tight fists.

He hated her. She saw that in his eyes, in his physique, in his stance. He might want her. He was a cyborg, designed to desire any fertile female. But he detested her and everything he thought she stood for.

Good. If he believed the act, others would also.

Mira eyed the cyborgs. She was garbed in a white fabric wrap. The sun stones her father had given her on every anniversary of her mom’s death sparkled in her hair.

The males’ outfits were crafted of the same white fabric with glittery yet less expensive stones added to the chest coverings. She’d had the matching garments designed in advance. The fitting was required to adapt them to the cyborgs’ bodies, to give them a custom look.

For this mission to be successful, every aspect of the cyborgs had to appeal to the Humanoid Alliance wives. They favored pale colors, youth, hard bodies.

Hard bodies. Shit. Her cyborgs would hate this next order. “K000156 and K000158, unfasten your chest coverings to your waistband.”

Vapor raised his hands to comply. Needing to touch him, to care for him, Mira batted his fingers away and completed the task herself, spreading the fabric open, admiring his tanned skin, defined chest. She wanted to stroke his abs, trace his flat male nipples, lick the indent under his collarbone.

He’d react to her seduction. Physically. She was female and he was designed to breed with any possible mate. He also wouldn’t be able to say no, not without fear of reprimand.

But she wouldn’t fuck a male who loathed her. She had more self-respect than that. And her reaction to him was dangerous. She spoke the truth around the cyborg.

Mira pulled her hands away from his body.

“Are you done yet?” she snapped at Aumakua.

“Yes, miss.” The garment fabricator stepped back.

Mira examined her work. The cloth cupped Vapor’s ass as she wished her hands could. The seams were small and straight, barely noticeable. A nice being would offer compliments.

That nice being wasn’t trying to protect others. “It will have to do. Cyborgs, enter the ship.”

Aumakua opened her mouth. Payment was normally made upon the delivery of the garments.

Mira couldn’t settle her bill now. Hun watched them. The guard would expect her to shortchange Aumakua, not to offer the extra credits the garment fabricator would need to move herself and her family off planet, far away from the upcoming war.

Mira glanced at Pepe. The child sat on the ground, playing with her dolly, a smile on her green and brown face. Protectiveness swelled inside her. She wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to that sweet being.

That meant being cruel now.

“What?” She looked at Aumakua with feigned disgust, feeling like the wickedest being in the universe. “You can’t be wanting payment right at this moment. Your ineptitude has made me late.”

“Ho'aloha.” Pepe punctuated the word with an adorable laugh.

“Hush, Pepe.” The garment fabricator picked up her daughter and cuddled her close. The child’s curl-covered head pressed against Aumakua’s breast.

Envy filled Mira. She wanted that—a child in her arms, a being to love.

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow.” Mira turned her attention to Hun. “What are you looking at? You have machines to train.”

“Training that you interrupted.” Hun scowled at her. “Irrational female.” He walked back to the final stage holding structure.

She waited. Hun didn’t turn around, didn’t return to torment Aumakua and Pepe. They were safe. Mira entered the self-driving ship, sitting across from the two cyborgs.

They glowered at her. If they could have comfortably stood against the far wall, farther away from her, she suspected they would have, but the vessel had been designed for her slighter height. Sitting was the only viable option for the males.

Even while seated, Vapor and Thrasher could take action against her. Daggers and guns were hidden in their garments. They could end her lifespan easily. And, as Vapor had pointed out during their previous exchange, no being would miss her.

That saddened Mira but it didn’t scare her. She had lived with the risk of betrayal and death for solar cycles.

“Ship, has any being, other than myself, accessed your controls?” she asked.

“No, miss,” the robotic voice recited.

No being had tampered with her ship. Mira inputted the first stop into the control panel at the side of the vessel and the ship started to move.

“K000156, are you recording this?” She met Vapor’s gaze. “Have you been instructed to relay this planet rotation’s activities to any entity?”

His forehead furrowed with thought lines. “No, and no.”

She repeated the question to Thrasher.

“No to both questions, miss.” His friend was more polite but appeared as confused.

“You will not relay any of this planet rotation’s activities.” She looked at Thrasher and then at Vapor. “This command cannot be overwritten. Signal compliance.”

“We comply,” they said in unison.

She leaned back in the seat, relaxing. “Good.” She had privacy…of sorts.

“Good?” Vapor snorted. “I could kill you and no being would ever know.”

Thrasher sucked in his breath. He expected her to reprimand his friend. He didn’t know Vapor had threatened to kill her last planet rotation and she’d done nothing.

“You could kill me.” Mira nodded. “And then you could escape.” The cyborgs’ eyes didn’t flicker.
Was
that their plan? “But that would have consequences. My father would deem your entire batch to be defective and decommission them.”

Over four hundred cyborgs would die and she wouldn’t be able to save them.

“Cyborgs are designed to follow commands.” Vapor’s answer told her nothing.

Cyborgs
were
designed to do that but they were also half human and humans rarely followed any set program. They had the ability to make their own decisions, follow their own path, find joy. The Humanoid Alliance, even her father, forgot that.

“You’ll be deployed in three planet rotations.” She’d uncovered that rather depressing tidbit of information at sunrise, when she was scanning the Humanoid Alliance’s database, looking for any indication her baby cyborg had been spotted. “Cyborgs often go missing while on deployment.” Rumors of entire battle stations filled with cyborgs vanishing had been in some of the communiqués.

“Battle is dangerous.” Vapor’s face was blank, revealing none of his thoughts.

Did he plan to escape? She hoped he would. The alternative was human lifespans of abuse from his human masters and planet rotations filled with killing the enemy. If he made a mistake or faced an opponent he couldn’t defeat, he’d die on the battlefield, alone and unloved. If he survived war, he’d eventually be replaced by a new model and decommissioned.

Her future wasn’t much brighter. She’d help others, rebelling quietly against the Humanoid Alliance, until some being betrayed her and she was caught, executed on sight, as her mom had been.

They traveled in silence. Their surroundings grew poorer, dirtier, darker. A layer of grime coated the domiciles. Fires burned in metal containers.

Vapor and Thrasher not-so-subtly placed their hands on their guns. Her honorable warriors might hate her but they’d protect her.

The ship slowed and stopped at the designated meeting spot. “Scan our surroundings for beings,” she instructed.

Vapor turned his head, his expression serious. “There are twenty thousand, seven hundred and thirty-one humanoids within scanning distance. Twenty thousand, seven hundred and twenty-nine humanoids are positioned inside structures and appear non-threatening. Two humanoids are positioned outside structures. Both are male and heavily armed. I do not advise exiting the ship.”

Her cyborg worried about her. She can’t remember the last time any being cared for her well-being. “I’ll be safe.” She extracted a folded piece of cloth she’d hidden under her seat. “Stay here.”

She opened the door. A wave of smoke and urine-scented air swept inside the ship, heavy, poignant, telling. Mira placed the cloth on the street’s cracked surface and stepped onto it, feeling vulnerable in her glaring white garment. One of the gems in her hair was worth more than the residents would earn in their lifespans.