“He is a fool because, as he has been proclaiming over and over again, you’re his.” The female trailed them up the ramp. “A cyborg would rather rip out his or her own heart than kill the being genetically manufactured for him or her…even if that being is the most obstinate, arrogant male in the universe.”
Illona frowned. Malice was obstinate. And he could be arrogant at times. But she didn’t appreciate another being saying those things about him.
“Enter the last chamber, cyborg.” Cadet gestured along a hallway. “The first chamber contains newly freed cyborgs. They will tear your fragile human apart. The human and humanoids in the second chamber will be scared of you but they won’t try to kill you.”
Malice took two steps toward the chamber and stopped. “Valor?”
“Lead the way, C Model.” His friend’s voice originated from behind the cyborg female. “I’ll follow you into the last chamber.”
“Do whatever you want to do, E Model.” Cadet shrugged and moved in the other direction. “Your model usually adheres to that mandate.”
Valor gazed after her. “What do you have against E Models?”
“It’s best not to ask questions of Cadet.” Grudge, the C Model with one fully functional arm and one bared-to-the-mechanics arm, bumped the E Model forward. “She’ll relay information if she wants you to know it.”
“Ugh.” Valor’s lips twisted as he trailed them. “I’m free and my communications remain limited.”
“You can talk to me.” Illona smiled at the warrior. “It really touched my heart that you offered to stay on the planet with us.” She wouldn’t have allowed that, but she appreciated the sentiment. “You’re a good friend, Valor.”
Malice grunted his agreement.
“You would have stayed for me.” The E Model shrugged. “And my motive was partially selfish. I saw what your injections did for Malice. I would like that for myself.” He curled one of his purely mechanical arms. “I need something to compensate for this.” He smacked his metallic biceps. “My female, if I am fortunate to find her, deserves the best.”
“You are the best.” She sought to assure the warrior. He didn’t have to change to be loved. Any intelligent female would be proud to call him hers.
Malice’s rumble conveyed his unhappiness with her response.
“You’re the best for your female.” Illona hastily amended her statement. “As Malice is the best for me.”
That must have satisfied her possessive cyborg. He patted her ass and turned to the right. A door opened. They entered a small chamber.
Two females, both humanoids, huddled in a corner and sobbed. The space smelled of blood and fear. They had bruises and gashes on their arms, legs, faces. Some of the wounds were new. Some relayed a long duration of abuse.
“Fraggin’ hole.” A male voice redirected Illona’s attention. “Why isn’t she repairing?”
A human female writhed on the tiled floor. She moaned. The pain wrapped around that sound pulled at Illona’s soul. A huge medic pack had been set beside her.
A J Model cyborg pressed his human-like hands against a wound on the female’s chest. Blood flowed between his golden fingers.
“I can’t process what else to do.” Panic edged his voice.
Fuck. She had to help him.
“Malice?” Illona looked up at her warrior.
Malice met her gaze. His lips flattened. Thought lines furrowed on his forehead.
For two stomach-churning breaths, she worried he might reject her unspoken request. With him, she was a female first, a medic second, and they were situated in a strange ship with unknown beings. He’d want to protect her, keep her close to him, hold her. His protective nature would demand that.
But then her cyborg sighed, his great chest heaving, and she knew he understood the dire state of the human female, how their assistance could make the difference between the patient living or dying.
And she realized her warrior understood her. Warmth spread over her form. He truly knew her, her heart, her soul, the very essence of her. Malice comprehended that to deny her an opportunity to help would be to deny who she was. She was a medic. The urge to heal was part of her.
“Repair her.” Her cyborg lowered her until her booted feet touched the floor.
“Thank you, Malice.” She balanced on the tiptoes of her boots and planted a quick kiss on his chin. “I’ll do everything I can to heal her.”
“Don’t damage yourself.” His tone was brusque.
Illona said nothing because she couldn’t promise that.
She left her male, hurried to the human female, her new patient. “What have you tried?”
“Who are—” The medic cyborg glanced at her, at her white jacket. “Thank the stars. You’re a medic. During the escape, she was shot.”
The male gave her more details than needed, the words tumbling out of his mouth.
She listened, examined the wound. Having been a medic on battlefields, it took her a mere moment to reach a diagnosis.
“Arteries have been severed.” She kneeled on the floor, searched through the medic pack, found a sealing device and medical sealant. “This should be enough to reconnect the major arteries. That will give her better odds of survival.”
Illona sanitized as much of herself and the sealing device as she could with a cleaning cloth.
“What do we do?” Malice surprised her with that offer. Her big cyborg loomed over her.
Valor stood beside him.
They were both willing to help, and she was grateful for that. She required their assistance.
“Hold her still.” She assigned that task, harnessing their tremendous strength. “Ensure our patient doesn’t move during the operation.”
Malice grunted and repositioned himself above the female’s head. He pinned their patient’s shoulders to the floor.
Valor secured her feet.
“This will take a long duration.” Illona glanced at the medic cyborg. “I’ll take the first round of healing and talk you through it. If you feel comfortable, you can take the next round.”
Saving their patient would require the efforts of both of them. The process was slow, and the work was intricate.
“My skill level at repairing humans is low.” The male admitted his lack of experience.
“That’s okay.” She bent over the female. “My skill level is high.”
“My medic is vastly understating her skill level.” Malice’s voice was edged with a toe-curling possessiveness and a chest-heating pride. “It is greater than high. If she can’t repair the human female, no one can accomplish that feat.”
A small smile curled Illona’s lips. Her cyborg valued her role as a medic.
That meant the universe to her.
She rolled back her shoulders, applied herself to her task, and hoped her skills were enough to save the female.
Illona lost track of time. She worked on her patient until her back ached and her fingers felt numb. The female slipped from consciousness midway through the process.
Patch, her J Model medic trainee, learned quickly and alleviated some of the strain on her. But he was inexperienced and nervous, and she had to supervise him.