Authors: Liz Crowe
Rage wasn’t concerned. His fight-avoiding friend wouldn’t
shoot him. “Whatever happens, I have no regrets.” He strode in the direction of
Intrepid’s ship. That cyborg would help him. “She’s worth the risk.”
“You are too.”
A burst of energy smacked Rage in the back of the skull. It
would have pushed him forward, except his feet were stuck to the ground. He
couldn’t move his legs, arms, mouth. He was frozen in place.
His blasted friend had shot him.
Joan darted across the brightly lit hallways, moving from
alcove to alcove. The cyborgs remaining on the battle station should now be
able to communicate. She had destroyed the blocking mechanisms, sacrificing
five of Rage’s daggers. He wouldn’t need them. Her heart was heavy. He wouldn’t
be returning.
She’d also planted mini bombs in the service tunnels at the
far side of the station, setting the timers to a planet rotation from now.
Those would create a diversion to ease the cyborgs’ escape.
Her next project was to hack into the access panel to their
chambers, allowing them to leave. That required her personal viewscreen, which
she’d left in Rage’s chambers. Retrieving it was risky. The males planning to
attack her could be waiting in the vicinity.
But she had to attempt it.
Hearing voices, she waited in the shadows. A group of three
engineers passed, laughing and weaving a little. They must have started the
repositioning celebrations early. Their cyborgs must have already been cleaned
and repaired, needing no more servicing for the next couple of planet
rotations.
She’d never clean Rage again. Joan pushed back her sorrow
and sprinted to the next alcove. Back and forth, back and forth, she went,
until she reached the door to their chambers.
The hallway was empty. The door didn’t appear to have been
tampered with. She looked to the right and to the left, ran across the public
space and smacked the access panel with her right palm.
The door slid open. She stepped inside and froze in place.
Some being had been there. Her heart pounded. The thick
inner door had been pried open and was now held in place by twisted pieces of
metal. Lights flashed off and on. The corners of the chambers were shrouded in
darkness. Panels hung off the walls. Pieces of mechanics were scattered over
the floor.
Joan peered into the chambers. She didn’t spot any beings,
didn’t hear anything other than the sizzle and pop of the broken lights. The
vandals could have trashed the space and then left or they could be hidden
inside, waiting for her.
She took one step closer to the inner door. Her viewscreen
was on the floor. She leaned into the space. It looked to be undamaged. The
intruders wouldn’t have been able to access the information on it. Only her
palm print would unlock that data.
She could dash into the chambers, grab the device and leave.
Joan nibbled on her bottom lip. Her body wasn’t built for speed but she might
be successful.
She bent her knees, coiling her muscles more and more. She
could do this. She could. She sprang forward, ran as fast as she could across
the chamber, reached for the viewscreen, turned and—
“Going somewhere, Tits?” Plank stepped out of the darkness,
his form filling the doorway, blocking her escape.
One male she could handle. Joan looked around her for a
weapon. She grasped the barrel of a long gun Rage had been fixing. But Plank
never went anywhere without backup. “Let me pass.”
“Is that what you said to the experts at the Academy?” Dumb
and Dumber revealed themselves. “We wondered how you graduated.”
It would be three against one. None of them appeared armed,
their hands free. They thought they could overpower her.
And they might be able to. Joan waved the long metal barrel,
keeping them at a distance. If they synchronized their attacks, she wouldn’t
survive.
“I’ve been waiting for this, Tits.” Boyd surfaced from his
hiding place and Joan’s odds worsened substantially. Plank, Dumb and Dumber
were engineers, more academic than muscular. Boyd was a guard, trained for
combat. “It’s payback time.” He touched his nose, the nose she broke.
“Not yet.” Plank glanced to his left. “Olsen, do you have a
gift for Tits?”
“I do.” Her former friend limped into the light, his face
hard and his eyes cold. He held an injector gun loaded with a tube of prolonger
in his right hand.
Fear skittered down Joan’s spine. The rectal wipes planned
to torture her, to keep her conscious while they violated her, while they took
her apart piece by piece. She’d feel everything, every humiliation, every
wound, unable to escape it.
She couldn’t avoid death. Five to one were odds even she
couldn’t overcome. Suicide wasn’t an option. She’d discovered during the agri
lot attack that her sense of self-preservation wouldn’t allow her to take that
step.
She
could
evade the injector gun, could slip into
blackness once the pain became too much to handle. Joan turned, keeping track
of all five men while concentrating on her former friend. “You don’t want to do
this, Denny. Taking this step will change you, forever. Planet rotations from
now, you’ll continue to regret it.”
Indecision flickered in his eyes. “You caused this, Tits.”
The nickname sounded harsher on Denny’s lips. “You’re a stupid female trying to
fill a position that rightfully belongs to a male.”
“And you’re no male.” Plank’s gaze dropped to her breasts
and she stepped backward, away from him. “We’ll drive that point home soon.”
“We’ll drive more than the point home.” Dumb pushed his hips
forward. His flight suit was tented around his hard cock.
“You know you’ll like it.” Dumber, his sidekick, sniggered.
“Cyborg slut.”
Denny sidled closer to her, his expression grim. Joan
tightened her grip on the long gun barrel. Sweat trickled down her spine.
He lunged forward. She swung. He dodged the blow, bouncing
backward.
“Scared, Olsen?” Plank mocked him. “Do you need help
handling a female?”
The males laughed, their lack of respect for Denny palpable.
If he weren’t trying to hurt her, Joan would have felt sympathy for her former
friend. He always wanted to belong and he never would, not in this group. He
wasn’t as brutal and callous as the others were.
“Want me to hold her?” Boyd cracked his knuckles.
“Fuck you.” Denny jutted his jaw. “I’ve got this.”
His insistence on defeating her without help gave Joan a
chance. She faced him, twirling the gun barrel, watching his hands. He hadn’t
lived through alien attacks, hadn’t fought for his life, wasn’t as strong or as
cunning as she was. But he
was
as desperate and that made him dangerous.
She wouldn’t underestimate his abilities.
Joan crouched. Denny rushed forward. She aimed at the
injector gun. He twisted his body and she missed his hand, whacking his
shoulder instead.
Denny grabbed the barrel and yanked her toward him. She
wrenched her makeshift weapon away from him and jumped backward, maintaining
the gap. The males hooted and hollered, insulting both of them. Joan ignored
the noise, concentrating on her opponent, on her former friend.
Sweat covered his skin, wet his red hair. His hands shook.
They circled each other, looking for weaknesses. He limped, the wound she gave
him the previous planet rotation obviously still paining him. She could—
He attacked again, charging toward her, his body angled to
protect the injector gun. That left his thigh open. Grasping the long gun
barrel with both palms, using all of her strength, Joan struck him hard.
Metal smacked against cloth-covered skin. Denny shrieked,
instinctively bending over, reaching for his leg. Joan batted the injector gun
out of his hands. The tube shattered against a wall panel. Yellow prolonger
fluid splattered over the gray surface.
She didn’t wait for Denny to recover, striking him again,
the long gun barrel connecting with his thick skull. There was a crack and he
fell to the floor, twitching.
“You idiot.” Plank displayed no sympathy for the engineer,
his so-called friend. “You had one job to do and you fucked it up.” He kicked
Denny. Dumb and Dumber joined in.
Joan ran toward the exit.
“Not so fast, Tits.” Boyd stepped in front of the door. She
couldn’t, wouldn’t stop, frantic to leave. He drew one of his fists back and
punched her in the face.
Pain shot over her nose, across her cheekbones. She
staggered backward, barely keeping upright. Blood gushed from her nostrils.
“That’s payback for the cheap shot you took in the docking
bay.” He advanced. “You should have been nicer to me.”
“I should have hit you harder.” Joan retreated, clinging to
the long gun barrel, her only weapon. Rage’s nanocybotics bubbled over her
nose, hastily repairing the damage, easing some of the hurt. “C899321 deserves
your respect. He’s twice the male you’ll ever be.”
“I’m not a dimwitted machine. I’m all man.” Boyd’s eyes
glittered. “You’ll discover that when I fuck that fat ass of yours.”
“The Commander requested first rights to her ass.” Plank smirked
as he imparted that sickening news. “And he wants her to be conscious while he
fucks her. Find another tube of prolonger before you hit her again.”
Dumb and Dumber rummaged through the wall panels. They
wouldn’t find any tubes stored there. Joan had discarded all of them, seeing no
use for a prolonger on a battle station, not wanting her successor to use them
on Rage.
She had to escape before Plank, the group’s leader, realized
there were no replacements. Joan glanced at Boyd. He was the only barrier between
her and freedom. He’d been instructed not to hit her and he arrogantly wasn’t
wearing his body armor.
She might be able to defeat him.
“No one is fucking my ass.” She leveled fast, hard blows
down on him, not allowing him an opportunity to grasp the long gun barrel.
“If I can’t retaliate.” Boyd raised his arms, protecting his
face, as she beat him. “At least get the cursed female off me.”
“Do that yourself.” Plank made no attempt to help him. “What
kind of guard can’t defend himself?”
“I can defend myself.” Boyd tried to grab the long gun
barrel.
Joan moved out of his reach. If he removed her weapon, she
was dead. She couldn’t defeat him in hand-to-hand combat. He was stronger. His
arms were longer.
“Come here, you bitch.” Boyd lurched forward. She smacked
his hand. Bones crunched and he howled.
Hope lifted Joan’s spirits and revived her tired muscles.
All she had to do was break his other hand and she’d be free. She’d live for
another planet rotation, perhaps longer. More cyborgs could escape, join Rage.
Shit. She’d missed him.
She swiped the blood away from her lips and surveyed Boyd.
He held his broken hand. The pain might make him lightheaded, stupid.
Joan swung the long gun barrel. Her aim was off. The metal
connected with his biceps, bounced off his muscle.
Boyd’s eyes grew wild. “Fuck not hitting her.” He lurched
toward her and slammed his fists against her shoulders, knocking her right arm
out of its socket and her onto her ass.
She gasped, the agony excruciating. The long gun barrel
clattered to the floor. She couldn’t grip it, her arm unusable, her fingers not
functioning. Joan rolled. Before she could grasp the long gun barrel with her
left hand, Boyd kicked her in the stomach.
Joan wheezed, spitting blood, its metallic taste filling her
mouth. She tried again, reaching for the piece of metal. Boyd stomped on her
hand, crushing her bones under the heel of his boot.
She screamed, unable to silently take the torture. The sound
reverberated in the chambers and drew the attention of the others.
“Boyd, you idiot.” Plank shoved at the much larger guard’s
chest. Boyd didn’t move, his crazed gaze locked on Joan. “The Commander said--”
“She’s conscious.” Boyd spat. Hot wet saliva splashed
against her cheek. “The prolonger will still work.” He kicked her again, the
bones in her left shin cracking under the assault. “What does it matter if we
rough her up before or after she’s injected?”
“Do what you want, but you’re taking full responsibility if
she loses consciousness.” Plank backed away from them. “You’ll be reprimanded,
not me.”
The words echoed as if spoken at a distance. Blackness
narrowed Joan’s field of vision. Boyd was right. As long as she remained at all
conscious, the prolonger would do its job, prevent her from slipping into the
soothing darkness.
All hopes of escape vanished the moment he broke her leg.
She’d die. That was a certainty. The only choice left to her was how her death
would occur.
Rage was safe. She’d given the other cyborgs a better chance
at escaping. There was nothing left for her. She had no family, no career, no
big, strong, angry cyborg to care for, to love.
And she did love him. She realized that now. Her lips curled
into a small smile. For several planet rotations, she’d known true happiness.
That had been worth all of the struggle, the grief, the pain right now sweeping
in heavy waves over her form.
She was glad he wouldn’t see her like this, broken and
defeated, that her possessive cyborg wouldn’t return to find her body violated.
Any caring he might have had for her would have vanished, because no male could
love a being who had been used that way.
No female should have to live through that experience. She
was ready to die.
“Are you reporting to Plank now?” Her taunt was slurred.
“Are you too dumb to think for yourself?”
“Fuck you.” Boyd slammed his boot into her stomach again and
again. “I’m not the one lying on the floor, about to take it up the ass.”
“Heard you have.” She’d reached her pain threshold, couldn’t
feel more of it, her entire body throbbing with agony. “Heard you bend over for
the engineers all the time.”