Her cyborg was angry…again, his fury building with each orbit of the chamber. When that rage boiled over, he would likely end her lifespan.
She should care about that, should try to save herself, but she couldn’t summon that energy.
Her pain was gone. That wasn’t the cause of her apathy. Her nosebleeds had stopped. She suspected the nanocybotics he’d relayed to her during their fucks were responsible for her healing, for her recovery. They bubbled and fizzed inside her.
It was her weariness of the solitude, the emotional and physical isolation that wore away at her. Medic Febris, her friend, would soon be dead. Malice hated her. She was tired, so fuckin’ tired of battling the Humanoid Alliance and the evilness of the universe alone.
Dying now wasn’t ideal. She wanted to down the transmission blocker before her lifespan ended, give her cyborg and his friend a better chance of escaping. That was one more thing she could do, one more way to help others.
But the timing of her demise wasn’t in her control.
Malice, the male with that responsibility, skidded to a stop. She braced herself for the end, for her death.
Her cyborg didn’t advance toward her. He tilted his head to the side, stepped closer to the door.
“Two humans are approaching the chamber.” He rushed across the space, moving faster than her eyes could follow, scooped her white jacket off the floor. “Wear this.” He tossed the garment to her.
She caught it, held the fabric against her form, stared at him. “You’re letting me go?”
“If you don’t return, I will hunt you down and kill you.” Her cyborg’s voice was devoid of emotion. “You’ll hurt before you die, Medic. Badly.”
He was releasing her. She would see Medic Febris, her friend, one more time, have another opportunity to help others, to help her cyborg and his friend, before her lifespan ended.
“Liquefy my brain.” She donned the jacket, was grateful Picton, that creep, wouldn’t see her completely naked. “Don’t allow them to bring me back from the dead.”
That was her worst fear—that she would become a participant in that Humanoid Alliance experiment, spend countless moments in excruciating pain, be forced to do their bidding, killing and harming others.
Malice looked at her. His forehead furrowed with thought lines. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
The door opened. Bonin, the youngest guard, stood on the threshold and gawked at them.
A second guard, Nelson was positioned in the hallway, behind the male.
Picton must have believed having another being find what was left of her body would shield him from any reprimand from the Humanoid Alliance.
He would seek to kill her once he found out she survived the rest cycle.
“Medic Illona, I didn’t expect to see you here this early.” Bonin’s gaze lowered to her bare legs and his disbelieving gape turned into a lecherous leer.
She held back a shudder.
Malice rumbled. That sound was thrillingly ominous.
The guard’s gaze snapped to the cyborg. He placed one of his palms on his reprimand stick. He glanced at the monitoring device. It remained deactivated. His gaze returned to her.
Her possible contagious state stopped Picton from touching her. It didn’t appear to deter the young male.
Fuck. She had to get away from him before he acted on that bulge in his uniform.
And before Malice killed him. His growling grew louder.
She not-so-casually brushed against her cyborg as she hurried toward the exit.
He shuddered. His rumbling stopped.
She quashed the smile lifting her lips, hiding her smug satisfaction behind a serene facade. Her cyborg might hate her, might be planning to kill her, but he also wanted her.
As badly as she wanted him. They might have another fuck if she survived her next mission.
And if she could leave the chamber.
Bonin stood in her way, blocking the exit. “You—”
“I handled the situation.” She glared at the guard, feigning indignation. “You’re welcome. Now step aside. I have to log this shift’s developments with the Humanoid Alliance before they open an inquiry. We do not want that to happen.”
“No, we don’t want that to happen.” The male moved to the left. “But—”
She rushed along the hallways, not wanting to hear what he had to say. Bonin would likely take out his frustration with her on Malice. That guilt jabbed at her. But deactivating the transmission blocker was her first priority and the cyborgs’ best chance at escaping.
The Resurrected flung themselves against the portals as she passed their chamber. That shook her. Their pain was palpable, unnerving. She pushed away those unsettled feelings and walked faster.
Despite Malice’s hard usage of her, she felt good. The chill inside her had been banished. Her head was clear. Her thoughts weren’t muddled.
She’d need a functioning brain if she and Medic Febris were to successfully accomplish their mission. One mistake would kill them both and make their efforts meaningless.
Illona entered her private chambers, tidied her form and her medic jacket, then donned a new flight suit and her jacket. Remnants of the rest cycle remained with her. She tingled all over with Malice’s nanocybotics. They hadn’t faded.
That must have been a side effect of the formula she’d injected into him.
She gathered all the tools and devices she might need, stuffed those in her pockets. Then she grabbed a handheld and accessed the monitoring equipment in the chamber and hallways she had to enter. She used Picton’s authorization codes.
His beatings of test subjects weren’t publicly sanctioned by the Humanoid Alliance, but they were tolerated…as long as he disabled the monitoring equipment first. He did that so often they might not investigate the additional disruptions for a couple planet rotations.
They might not do that. The Humanoid Alliance could uncover her deeds immediately.
She could die during her self-appointed assignment. Illona touched her lips. They were plumped from Malice’s kisses. He was a male without equal, had endured too many solar cycles of torment. If there was any possibility she could free him, she had to take it.
The hallways were sparsely occupied as she navigated them. The few beings she saw paid no attention to her and they didn’t notice the deactivated monitoring equipment. They were too wrapped up in their own problems, their own agony.
Medic Febris waited for her outside an unmarked door. Her friend leaned against the wall. Her too-thin form trembled. Bits of a cleaning cloth were stuffed into her nostrils.
Illona’s heart squeezed. Her friend must be in tremendous pain.
The female looked at the monitoring equipment fixed to the ceiling above the door. “You came.”
“I said I’d be here.” She didn’t share how a certain cyborg could have prevented that from happening. Her friend had enough trials of her own. “You don’t have to do this.” Illona gently grasped one of Medic Febris’ shoulders. “There might be a cure.”
Malice’s enhanced nanocybotics had healed her. They might heal her friend also.
“That cure won’t give me absolution. It won’t undo the damage I’ve done.” Medic Febris pressed her shoulder against Illona’s palm. They were all starved for touch, for caring. “If I’m cured, I’ll be forced to hurt more beings. I want this to end, Medic Illona. I want my last act to be healing someone.” Her smile held a universe of sadness in it. “That isn’t possible, unfortunately. The Humanoid Alliance isn’t interested in healing others. But I can do this. I can make this one sacrifice for another being.”