She was wedged between his big form and the boulder, should be protected from any projectiles.
“Move out of the way.” His female pushed on his back. “There could be numerous beings on the ship. If there’s a battle, you’ll need my help.”
Who is she helping—the other beings? Valor laughed through the transmission line.
Malice grunted and stayed where he was.
The pebbles around his booted feet gyrated as the ship landed. The doors opened.
He ran a lifeform scan and relaxed. “They’re cyborgs.”
He didn’t lower his guns, wouldn’t completely let down his guard until he confirmed they weren’t a threat. The Humanoid Alliance had used him and his brethren to kill in the past.
A D Model rushed down the ramp. He shot the guns out of Malice’s hands while moving at cyborg speed toward them.
A C Model with one organic and one purely mechanical arm followed the male. He shot the guns out of Valor’s hands.
A B Model, a model type Malice believed was extinct, exited the ship at a slower pace. His mechanics creaked.
Fraggin’ hole. Malice’s lips flattened. The three cyborgs sped toward him, toward Valor, toward his delicate female, and they all held weapons.
But they had disarmed him, not killed him. And they had stopped shooting.
He reached for two more guns.
“Don’t draw them.” The C Model aimed at his hands. “Step to the right and we won’t damage you.”
They wanted his female.
“No.” Malice widened his stance. “She’s mine.” He would die before giving her up.
“What’s happening?” Illona whispered that question. “I can’t see anything.” The blasted female ducked under his arm. “I—”
“Human.” The D Model leaped at her.
“Mine.” Malice grabbed him by the neck, snatching the big male out of the air.
The D Model punched and kicked. Malice absorbed that pain and, with a roar, threw the male. His muscles strained with the effort.
His opponent went flying, bellowing with outrage and surprise. He slammed against the side of the freighter, leaving a large dent in the panel, and slid to the ground.
“Fraggin’ hole, he’s strong.” The C Model lowered his body and jumped.
Malice widened his stance, bracing for impact. Their big forms collided, the force of it shaking both of them. Malice ignored the hurt, clasped the male’s shoulders and threw him also.
The C Model was heavier than his brethren. He landed a stride short of the ship, smacking hard against the rock.
“It’s my turn, little C Model.” The B Model cracked his oversized knuckles.
“Stop.” A female voice rang out.
The enemy cyborgs froze in place.
“We prefer not to fight our own kind.” A female C Model with no model number inked on her cheek exited the ship. She was trailed by another D Model male.
Malice had never seen a female cyborg, but he would fight her too…if he had to do that.
“Step aside.” She repeated that ridiculous order. “And allow us to liberate you from the human’s control.”
“You won’t touch her.” Malice had folded his fingers into tight fists. “She’s mine.”
The female tilted her head upward and sniffed the air. “Ours.” She nodded, acting as though that one word was relevant to their confrontation.
Her reply didn’t relay any usable insights to Malice. It was nonsensical.
“She is yours.” The cyborg female acknowledged his claim on Illona. “We’ll merely subdue her, won’t damage her…much.”
“Human.” The D Model growled.
“Strain.” The female’s voice snapped over them. “Enter the ship. That’s an order.”
The D Model bared his teeth at Malice and then obeyed, stomping up the ramp.
“B, accompany him.” The female shook her head. “Ensure he doesn’t leave the ship.”
The B Model snapped to attention and complied with her command.
The female was their leader, had earned their loyalty. Malice narrowed his eyes at her. That wouldn’t stop him from killing her if that was necessary.
“You won’t damage the human.” He wouldn’t allow that. “She’s my captive.”
The female cyborg lifted her eyebrows. “Your captive has a gun pointed at your back.”
Fraggin’ hole. “Illona.” Malice rumbled at his female.
“I was trying to point it at them.” His little medic sounded as exasperated as he felt. “But you insisted on standing in the way.”
She must have lowered the weapon. The cyborgs around them visibly relaxed.
“You must be Malice.” The female cyborg studied him. “I’m Cadet.” She verified her identity. “This is Rancor.” She indicated the remaining D Model. “And Grudge.”
The C Model with the mismatched arms nodded at him.
“My human is Medic Illona.” Malice continued the introductions. “The E Model is Valor, my friend.”
“You mentioned the E Model.” The female cyborg wrinkled her nose at Valor. “And yourself.” Her gaze returned to him. “But you didn’t request a transport for a human.”
Many of their kind didn’t like humans. He had been in that group mere planet rotations ago.
“She’s coming with us.” That was non-negotiable for him.
“I make the decisions.” The female cyborg frowned at him. “Not you.”
“If she isn’t coming with us, I’m staying here.” He wasn’t leaving her. Ever.
“I’m staying also.” Valor wrongly projected Malice would allow that to happen.
He would toss the E Model into the ship himself if the male insisted on staying with them. One of them should be free, and his friend deserved some happiness.
“A Humanoid Alliance ship is en route to this planet.” The female cyborg ignored Valor. Her focus remained on Malice. “You’d allow yourself to be recaptured, give up your freedom for a human female?”
“I would give up my lifespan for my human female.” Malice scowled at Cadet. “She—”
“No.” His little medic pushed her fragile form forward yet again. “Go with them, Malice. Leave me here.”
“I am not leaving you.” He glared at her. “You’re mine.”
“That must be a C Model phrase.” The female cyborg muttered that bizarre comment, her tone bemused.
“Take him with you.” Illona shifted her attention to Cadet, appealing to her instead of to him. “Malice is too honorable to leave me here, but he has to do that. The Humanoid Alliance will decommission him if he’s recaptured.”
“Honor isn’t why I won’t leave you.” He yelled that truth at his infuriating human. “You’re mine.”
“I won’t ever use that phrase with a certain E Model.” Cadet continued her irrational side conversation with herself. “That tradition stops with me.”
“You will leave me.” Malice’s female raised her voice also. “Or-or-or…”
“Or what?” He stepped closer to her.
His little medic got that look in her eyes that she always did before she did something suicidal.