Crash and Burn (Cyborg Sizzle #3)

  Crash And Burn

  Cynthia Sax

  Compelled By Hate. Bound By Love.

  * * *

  Crash was manufactured to be one of the best warriors in the universe. The cyborg has spent many human lifespans fighting the enemy. But, unlike his battle-loving brethren, he doesn’t enjoy killing. When he escapes the Humanoid Alliance, he vows to never end another life.

  Then he meets Safyre, an infuriating human female, and he considers breaking his vow.

  Safyre will do anything to save her friend, the being she loves like a sister. She’ll ravish a huge hunky cyborg, kiss his best friend, and invoke scorching hot desires the male never realized he could feel. Dark soulful eyes, a quick wit, and a tempestuous passion won’t divert her from her mission.

  Love, and a planet-destroying weapon, however, might stop her permanently.

  Crash And Burn

  Copyright 2015 Cynthia Sax

  Ebook design by Mark's Ebook Formatting

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  Discover more books by Cynthia Sax at her website

  www.CynthiaSax.com

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First edition: February 2016

  For more information contact Cynthia Sax at

  www.CynthiaSax.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Safyre stomped along the battle station’s narrow hallways, her boot heels ringing on the floor tiles. Fellow members of Beings For Peace nodded to her, calling out greetings, wanting her advice on rescue plans. She nodded back but didn’t stop.

  Her skull buzzed with pain. She’d had a headache for planet rotations, since her friend Tifara implanted the cyborg communications device in her brain.

  And she had her own mission to organize. Nymphia, sister of her heart, had sent another emergency signal from Tau Ceti at sunrise. Twenty planet rotations ago, the infant-loving teen had ignored Safyre’s advice and left to transport children off the war-torn planet. She was now caught between the Humanoid Alliance and the local forces, trapped in the tunnels under the surface.

  Safyre had to reach her. Soon. Before her rations ran out.

  She paused outside the medical bay and swiped a cleaning cloth under her dripping nose. The fabric sucked up the blood, rearranging the molecules into air, removing all evidence that the device was affecting her.

  Tifara would have a solar storm-sized meltdown if she realized the operation had aftereffects. She’d force Safyre to remove the device, and that couldn’t happen. It was Safyre’s only means of contacting Crash.

  He wasn’t one of the warriors. Half human, half machine, cyborgs were designed to follow orders. Crash didn’t blindly obey any being.

  He was a human conduit, a go-between. His communications device was more modern, having once belonged to an E model cyborg, and he claimed he could access transmission lines she couldn’t reach.

  Female, the mysterious male transmitted through the cyborg communications device.

  Did you speak with the cyborgs on board the freighter? That intergalactic freighter was her ride to Tau Ceti. It was transporting cyborgs to the planet and had the landing clearance she required.

  Yes. The male’s deep voice coiled around her heart and tightened her nipples. A female could come simply from listening to him. If her head wasn’t splitting in two from pain.

  Safyre winced. Can you control them? She’d crafted a plan. He’d control the cyborgs, ordering them to subdue the crew. She’d sneak onto the freighter before he arrived and take command of the vessel. That would give her control over Crash.

  They’ll follow my direction. The certainty in his transmission reassured her.

  Safyre was a pilot, not a warrior. She couldn’t defeat one cyborg on her own. The freighter carried one thousand of the manufactured warriors.

  This is a reckless plan, female, Crash told her yet again. Discard it before you cause lasting damage to yourself.

  The plan is set. She wasn’t changing it. Worry about yourself, not me. For a male interested in obtaining a cyborg army, he was overly concerned with her well-being. That was a strange experience for Safyre, a war orphan. She didn’t know how to deal with it.

  And if I back out of the plan—

  I’ll implement plan B. There was no plan B, not yet. She’d been contemplating other options, fearing no being would respond to her communications, when he answered. None of the alternatives were feasible.

  You will not implement plan B, Crash barked and her spine straightened. I’ll meet with you on board the freighter in one planet rotation.

  The line went silent. He must have severed their connection. Crash had the ability to open and close their transmission line, controlling communications. She hadn’t yet mastered that skill.

  Crash would communicate with her again. They’d been conversing several times every planet rotation. She couldn’t sidestep Tifara’s questions and avoid his subtle probing at the same time.

  She wiped the cleaning cloth under her nose, stuffed the fabric into the front pocket of her navy-blue flight suit and hurried into the medical bay. Tifara stood with her back to her, her curvaceous body covered with a white coat.

  Assistants buzzed around her. They took one look at Safyre’s scowling face and vanished into the back chambers, giving them privacy.

  Her friend continued inputting information into a private viewscreen. “Tell me you’re here to have the implant removed.”

  “It remains necessary.” Safyre lowered into a single ass support and stretched out her legs. “I can’t communicate with the male without it.” Crash had given her no other means to contact him.

  “You shouldn’t be communicating with any being.” Tifara turned. Her big brown eyes were a shade darker than Safyre’s and they reflected her concern. “The device was designed for a primitive B model cyborg.” It had been stolen from an ancient war artifacts exhibit and repurposed. “That cyborg would have had nanocybotics, giving him the ability to heal himself, to repair the damage the device was inflicting to his brain. You don’t have that ability.”

  “Crash hasn’t mentioned any side effects.”

  “And you trust this Crash, a being you haven’t even met?” Tifara lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not like you. You’re usually more cautious, more cynical. This could be an enemy trick.”

  Safyre was aware that Crash could be a Humanoid Alliance operative, setting a trap for her, but she had no other options. She had to reach her friend, Nymphia. The girl was alone. The other members of her team had escaped the planet.

  She must be scared.

  When she had first met Nymphia, ten solar cycles ago at the Academy, Safyre had been a battle-toughened girl of sixteen solar cycles. She was a war orphan, as Nymphia and Tifara were. Her short lifespan
alone in the harsh universe had trained her never to rely upon anyone else, never to care.

  Then, the eight-solar-cycle-old Nymphia had curled her baby fingers around Safyre’s rough hands, gazed up at her with her big brown eyes and asked if she was her new mommy.

  Safyre had told her to fuck off. The girl had blinked but wouldn’t let go.

  Safyre wouldn’t let go now. Even if holding on resulted in her own death.

  “Safyre.”

  “I’m okay.” She waved her hands dismissively. She knew damn well that she wasn’t okay, but the implant was essential for coordinating with Crash. It couldn’t be removed.

  “Hmmm…” That sound said Tifara didn’t believe her. “Do you have a headache?” She scanned Safyre’s skull with a handheld device.

  “I’m on a battle station with thousands of chatty humanoids.” She scowled. “Of course, I have a headache.” They looked at her for leadership for some unknown reason. “That’s not why I’m here. I need something that will knock a human male out.”

  She didn’t want to kill the freighter’s captain, not if she didn’t have to.

  “You’re asking me to risk my position on the battle station.” Tifara set the handheld device down with a thump on the horizontal support. “If any being finds out I gave you some of our much needed supplies, I’ll be removed from my role as chief medic and forced to leave the vessel.”

  “I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Nymphia.” Safyre didn’t try to hide her emotions. “Would you allow her to die alone?”

  Her friend’s face softened. “She could already be dead. If she doesn’t find a water source—”

  “She’ll find one,” Safyre insisted. “Tau Ceti is lush. She’s trapped underground where many of the streams are located. And this is Nymphia. Remember how we hid the extra nutrition bars and she always found them?”

  Having known hunger, they’d hoarded the bars. Just in case. Nymphia never had those concerns. She’d been confident they’d take care of her.

  Tifara smiled. “Nymphia does have a talent for finding things but—”

  “She’s a child.” Safyre wouldn’t listen to the buts. “I can’t allow her to deal with this on her own.”

  “She has eighteen solar cycles.” Her friend placed her hand on Safyre’s shoulder. “Nymphia is no longer a child. She knew the risks she was taking.”

  Safyre snorted. “She thought only of saving children and nothing else.”

  “True, but—”

  “She would risk her position to help you.” She met her friend’s gaze.

  They stared at each other for one, two, three heartbeats, neither of them backing down. Safyre wouldn’t. She’d vowed to always take care of Nymphia.

  Tifara’s shoulders slumped. “She would help me,” she conceded. She turned and looked at the selection of medical supplies lining the walls. Her forehead furrowed. “K-19 would knock out a human male but not a cyborg. I don’t know anything that will do that.”

  Shit. That had been Safyre’s next request. Crash would be leading a cyborg army. If he ordered them to attack her, she’d be fucked.

  Which was why she had to intercept the shuttle first and take control of the systems. He might have command of the cyborgs, but she’d have command of the ship. He’d need her. “I’ll take the K-19.”

  “Only one tube is needed to subdue a human male.” Tifara slid three tubes into a tiny injector gun. “You don’t trust this Crash being, do you? You think he’ll double cross you.” She held onto the medical device.

  Safyre gazed at it, tempted to snatch it from her friend’s hand. “I’m not taking any chances.”

  Crash couldn’t technically betray her because he hadn’t actually agreed to anything. He’d adeptly skirted around making any commitments to her.

  That pissed her off. But she had suppressed her anger because she needed the damn male. That had been hard, so fucking hard, to do. Controlling her temper wasn’t a strength of hers.

  “See that you don’t take any chances.” Tifara handed her the injector gun. “What type of being wants a cyborg army?"

  A dangerous being. Safyre had no illusions about Crash’s character. She had heard the menace in his voice, the warning, the power. He was accustomed to being obeyed, feared.

  But she had to deal with him. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, trying to stave off her nosebleed.

  Tifara gazed at her, expecting a reply.

  “What type of being wants to be dropped off on a war-torn planet?” Safyre tucked the injector gun in her pocket. “He has his reasons. I have mine.”

  “I don’t like that you’re facing this unknown male alone.” More worry lines appeared on Tifara’s face. “Maybe…”

  Say it, Safyre silently pleaded. Tell me you’ll come with me. Show me you care, that you’re willing to die by my side.

  She’d reject her offer. Her softhearted friend would be a liability on the sure-to-be-bloody mission. She’d attempt to heal every being Safyre shot.

  But she needed to hear the words.

  “I want to come with you.” Tifara frowned. “Except I have patients depending on me.”

  “I understand.” And she did. Those lives were more important than she was. The beings her friend healed could change the universe. They could matter.

  “You should take someone with you.” Tifara gazed at her with concern. “To ensure that this Crash being doesn’t betray you.”

  There were no other someones. Nymphia and Tifara were her closest friends. Safyre didn’t have anyone else. “If I arrive and I’m not alone, Crash will believe I betrayed him.”

  “He would believe that.” Her friend scrunched her nose.

  “It’s best that it’s only me.”

  Tifara tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You want to be alone with him. Ohhh…” Her lips formed a circle. “You plan to fuck him.”

  That wasn’t the reason she’d arrive solo but Crash’s low growly voice did appeal to her and a sexually sated male was much easier to manipulate. Plus she had needs. Normally. When her brain wasn’t being bombarded with pain. “Fucking him is a possibility.”

  “It’s a certainty.” Tifara rolled her eyes. “I know you. If he is at all attractive, you’ll do him.”

  “That’s likely.” She grinned. A splitting pain shot through her brain and her lips flattened once more. “Depending on the circumstances.” Her headache might stop her sexual exploits.

  A prick on her arm diverted her attention. Tifara stood beside her with an injector gun.

  “What did you do?” Safyre demanded.

  “We’ve known each other almost all of our lifespans. I can tell when you’re hurting.” Tifara clucked her tongue. “That’s a pain suppressor for your headache. If it gets worse, we’ll have to remove the implant.”

  It had already gotten a lot worse. “Fuck, Tifara.” Safyre pushed herself to her booted feet, feeling light-headed. “Crash is able to talk with me at any time. I need a functioning brain when I deal with him.”

  She stumbled out of the chamber.

  “You’re welcome.” The doors closed on Tifara’s cheery voice.

  Another reason Safyre needed a functioning brain was because she was flying this planet rotation. She leaned against the wall for a moment, fighting the urge to vomit.

  Beings passed her, gazing at her questioningly. None of them stopped because none of them truly cared.

  About her. They had their causes, many of them seeking to rescue beings from the evil clutches of the Humanoid Alliance.

  She’d rescued her fair share, flying into areas no pilot should ever fly into.

  But Tau Ceti would be the worst she’d seen.

  The planet was the site of a cyborg manufacturing facility. The Humanoid Alliance, concerned that the facility would fall into the wrong hands, was extending major resources to defend it. They’d locked down all of the Tau Cetian airspace, allowing only authorized ships to enter, destroying all o
thers.

  There was one docking facility still standing. They controlled that, too.

  For now. The fighting was fierce, the battle having raged for over a solar cycle. Rumors said the rebels were winning, their forces helped by off-planet allies. Many of the locals had hid in tunnels during the initial purifying. They had warriors, weapons, missiles, and were downing a remarkable number of ships.

  They could down the freighter. If she made it onto the planet, it would be a miracle. She was unlikely to make it off. Two beings leaving the planet’s surface was an impossibility.

  She knew she was going to die during this mission. She’d accepted that.

  Safyre glanced at the closed doors. She wouldn’t see her friend again, wouldn’t be patched up by her healing hands, view her smiling face, feel the warmth of her hugs, hear her bubbling laughter. Her heart ached. “Good-bye, Tifara.”

  She swiped her dripping nose with the cleaning cloth and strode toward the docking bay, not looking behind her.

  Her pack and the supplies had been loaded. She entered the space. Her ship was ready to go.

  Some beings would debate that statement. The exterior was a patchwork of different-colored panels, all salvaged from wrecks. The interior wasn’t much better.

  But it was hers. Safyre patted the side, savoring the smack of palm against unrelenting metal. She’d scrimped and saved credits to buy the vessel, taking the merc jobs no one else wanted, spending endless planet rotations in open space.

  Unfortunately, Mesh, her ship, didn’t have clearance to land on Tau Ceti.

  Three human males glanced in her direction. She knew them, had helped the largest male with a route issue. They didn’t approach her, didn’t ask her where she was going, what she was doing.

  She told herself that was because information about many missions was restricted. The reality was…they didn’t care.

  Safyre strode up the ramp, closing the doors behind her.

  She breathed deeply and the weight bearing down on her shoulders lightened. This was her home, the only home that had ever truly belonged to her.

  She drifted her fingers over the lopsided container Nymphia had made for her birthing day five solar cycles ago. Her gaze fell on the white scarf wrapped around a pillar. That had belonged to Tifara. It had been payment for medicine she’d sourced for one of her friend’s patients. That had been an adventure, one she barely survived.