Choosing Chuckles Page 5

  “Perhaps it will end my lifespan.” She would prefer to die than become someone she didn’t like. And if Chuckles was killed, that would change her. Forever. She knew that in her soul. “I’ll take that chance.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Keeper didn’t hold back on her opinions. “I have to speak with Smarts.” She walked away from her. That conversation must require privacy.

  Bettina didn’t ask to join the discussion. She’d extended her offer and didn’t have anything else to add to it. The decision would be Smarts’. It was her ship. She controlled who flew it and who was transported on it.

  If she said no…Bettina didn’t know what she’d do. Not having an alternate plan, she had to assume the answer would be a yes.

  That meant she had a cyborg to prepare for transport

  “Keeper thinks I’m an idiot, sir.” She slipped her gun into her pocket, turned and gazed up at Chuckles. “She believes you’ll try to kill me.” He was a very large male, had the ability to do exactly that. “But you said you’d never cause me permanent damage and I trust you…a stranger.”

  Bettina sighed, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. She was placing her lifespan in the hands of an unknown male.

  “I might be an idiot.” She admitted to that. “But I can’t allow anyone to harm you.”

  Her cyborg had tried to protect her. He had given her release, not taking any pleasure for himself. And something inside her said he was hers.

  She bent over, opened a compartment in the wall, dragged a large pack out of the space. “I have to remove your body armor, your weapons, your boots, sir.” Rendering the beings naked decreased their threat level. “They’ll be returned to you when you’re unloaded.”

  The pack would be dropped along with the specially designed sleeping support on which the beings were stored. Only the beings’ ships would be kept and sold.

  She upturned a small container, climbed upon it. That put her gaze level with his face.

  He was a breathtakingly handsome male. His hair was short and as black as open space. His skin was the same shade of gray as the walls of rock her dad had cut through during his mining planet rotations. Sunstones had been hidden within that solid stone.

  She suspected there was something even more valuable within Chuckles. Bettina drifted her fingertips over her cyborg’s cheeks.

  His skin was as smooth as pebbles found on a river shore, their surface warmed by the sun’s rays. As she touched him, bolts of energy surged across his brilliant blue eyes, illuminating them.

  His reaction to her caresses was unnerving.

  She sucked in her breath, pulled her fingers away from him. “Can you see me, sir?”

  She had been told stunned beings couldn’t see or hear her, had never sensed the others watching her. Her cyborg was different in that and in other ways.

  Or maybe she was different. Maybe Keeper was right. Maybe her head wasn’t in this procurement and she was conjuring things that weren’t there, connections that didn’t exist.

  No. She touched him again. His eyes brightened. It had to be more than merely her imagination.

  “You’re my sir, and I’m your baby.” That statement felt right. “Even if it is only for this moment, this one fleeting instant.”

  Because that was all they could have. He’d never forgive her for stunning him. She had to unload him at the planet, set him free.

  “Sirs take care of their babies.” That was how she envisioned that relationship to be. “They protect them, spank them when they’re naughty, indulge them when they’re good.”

  She wanted to be cossetted and safeguarded. Having been responsible for other beings—her dad, Duggar—for so long, she yearned to be taken care of, to have someone else make the many decisions needing to be made every planet rotation.

  “Everyone knows that.” She unfastened a piece of Chuckles’ body armor, struggled to pull it over his head.

  It was heavy. Her muscles strained. She dropped it with a thunk in the pack, not having the strength to lower it slowly.

  “But sometimes babies protect their sirs.” She removed another piece, revealing more flawless gray skin. “And sometimes, to do that, babies have to let their sirs go.”

  If he could hear her, maybe he would understand she did what she had to do to protect him. Maybe he wouldn’t be angry with her.

  “I’ll unload you on Vega R, sir.” It was a planet sparsely inhabited by agri-lot tenders, merchants, good honest beings. “There’s a clearly marked path at the unloading site. It’ll only take you a planet rotation to run to the nearest settlement.” It might take him less time. He was very fast. “There, you can trade a couple of weapons for a transport wherever you wish to go.”

  She chattered, giving him advice on whom to talk to, where to sleep, to eat, while she stripped his body armor. His shoulders were broad. His muscles were defined, his biceps huge, his abs delineated. She jumped off the upturned container. His hips were narrow.

  There was no give in his massive form. She had felt that when he’d pulled her to him. He was a thin veneer of softness over an unrelenting frame.

  Her hands trembled and her mouth dried as she removed the piece protecting his groin. The bulge hadn’t lied. He was huge, long and thick and fully erect. His base was bare, her cyborg having no body hair.

  He was bigger than any other male she’d fucked. She squeezed her thighs together, her pussy pulsing with a primitive beat. He would fill her with hard cock.

  She wanted to experience that, was frustrated she never would. Once he was loaded into his private storing chamber, she wouldn’t be able to touch him. And she wouldn’t violate his form while he was stunned, incapable of saying no.

  “Why couldn’t you have met me after my last procurement, sir?” She forced herself to continue stripping him. “I would be tending a stall filled with my designs.” The decorations would sparkle, drawing his attention. “You’d approach me, ask what fragrance I was wearing.”

  He’d sniff her neck. She quivered. That had been extremely sexy.

  “We could have a normal relationship.” She removed the piece covering his right knee. It was as perfect as the rest of him.

  She did the same with his left knee and inhaled sharply. Dark gray scars striped his skin. The marks were too precise to be battle wounds.

  It appeared as though…someone had deliberately sliced into him, inflicting as much harm as possible. Her stomach twisted with sympathy. She wanted to ask her cyborg what had happened to him, but he couldn’t reply, and a lifespan spent around scarred males had taught her not to pry.

  Physical injuries were always accompanied by emotional ones. And she was a stranger, hadn’t earned the right to his confidences.

  She gently prodded his kneecap with her fingertips. The muscles were gnarled and tight. He must be in agony, couldn’t show it because he was frozen in place.

  “I’ll put some healing balm on your knee before you enter your private storing chamber, sir.” She had it fabricated for Duggar. A fallen beam had pinned the miner, permanently injuring both of his legs.

  “Don’t talk to them.” Keeper had returned. “And don’t listen to them. They’ll tell you anything to convince you to open their private storing chambers.”

  The Dracheon had brought her Chuckles’ specially designed sleeping support. It was fabricated to fit in the private storing chamber, floated above the floor, making beings easy to transport.

  Bettina positioned it behind her cyborg. She looked at Keeper for assistance.

  The bigger, stronger female merely gazed at her, her arms crossed before her.

  Fine. She’d do it herself. Bettina slowly tilted Chuckles back. He fell. She hastily pushed the sleeping support forward. Her cyborg landed on the soft surface and she released her breath, relieved she hadn’t hurt him.

  “Smarts says she’s holding back your credits for this procurement until you return the ship.” The Dracheon threw those words at her like they were weapons.

&nb
sp; “I suspected she would do that.” The ship was worth much more than her share of the procurement. Bettina removed Chuckles’ boots, placed them in his pack. “Does she want to speak with me?”

  “No.” Keeper snorted, her response brutal even for her.

  “Oh.” Bettina’s shoulders slumped. She must have been mistaken about them being friends. A friend would want to speak with her, especially if there was a possibility it might be for the last time.

  “Don’t look like that, Bait.” The Dracheon made an aggravated noise. “She’s upset. We all are. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “Oh.” Her mood brightened. Smarts was too worried about her to communicate. That must mean…she cared. Deeply. “He won’t kill me. Trust me about that.”

  “I trust you.” Keeper turned her imposing glare toward Chuckles. “I don’t trust him.”

  There was nothing Bettina could say to change that. She couldn’t even determine why she trusted the cyborg. “Has Pilot arrived?”

  “No one else is entering the shuttle craft until the cyborg is disposed of.” The Dracheon’s tone was dry. “It’s too risky.”

  “He isn’t being disposed of.” Bettina rolled her eyes. “He’s being transported. And someone has to remove his private items from his ship.” Those possessions would be placed in his pack also.

  “His private items will be jettisoned.”

  That wasn’t right. “They’re his belongings.” She wouldn’t want to lose her private items, her decorations, her stones, her tools.

  “He’s lucky to be alive, Bait.” The flames in Keeper’s eyes flared. “Smarts doesn’t like this any more than I do. She thinks we’ll never see you or the ship again.”

  Bettina liked to believe Smarts was more worried about her than the vessel. “Can you place his pack in the ship?” She didn’t want to leave Chuckles’ side, was fearful of what the Dracheon might do during her absence.

  The female huffed and transferred the pack. Bettina couldn’t have moved it. It was too heavy. Keeper carried it easily.

  While the female was gone, Bettina fussed over her cyborg, arranging him on the floating sleeping support so there was little risk he’d fall off, straightening one of his arms, pushing back a lock of his black hair. His skin was warm. His breathing was steady. He should be okay.

  “You got a travel pack, Bait?” Keeper was back.

  “My packs are in the chamber.” She had gathered all of her possessions, believing this was her last procurement, that she’d never be returning. “I have to bring them all.” She hadn’t organized them and might need items from each pack.

  “How much shit do you have?” The Dracheon managed to carry all six packs. “Tell me there are weapons in here.”

  “Bait doesn’t need many weapons.” Her role required pretty garments and enhancement products.

  Keeper grunted, walking away with her items.

  Bettina looked at Chuckles. She hoped they weren’t leaving behind many of his possessions.

  He would be alive, she reminded herself. That was the important thing.

  She guided his floating sleeping support toward the transport ship, moving her cyborg through the shuttle craft. Keeper met her halfway, followed her.

  “You don’t have to do this, Bait.” The Dracheon told her. “Give me a moment alone with the cyborg and I’ll take care of the situation. You don’t have to be involved. You can tell yourself he’s on the ship. Your conscience will be clear.”

  “I’m doing this.” She knew how Keeper would take care of the situation. Her cyborg would die and her conscience would be far from clear.

  “You’ll die. He’ll kill you.” The female sounded certain about that.

  “You’ve warned me about that…multiple times.” Bettina paused in the space between the shuttle craft and the transport ship. “I appreciate your concern.”

  “I’m not concerned about you.” Keeper snorted.

  Bettina, being skilled in untruths, recognized that as a lie. The tough Dracheon female was concerned about her. “I have to do this.”

  “You’re an idiot.” Keeper’s lips flattened. “You have my gun?”

  “Yes.” Her cyborg had taken her gun, not the Dracheon’s weapon.

  “Don’t open the private storing chambers for any reason.” The female glared at her. “And don’t fuck this up, Bait. We need you for the next procurement.”

  “I won’t fuck this up.” Bettina summoned a smile. “Be well, Keeper.”

  She pushed the floating sleeping support through the transport ship’s doors, her fate now entwined with that of the cyborg warrior lying on the horizontal surface.

  Everyone believed she was making a mistake and would die.

  She hoped they were wrong.

  Chapter Five

  Two shifts later, Chuckles had regained complete mobility. He sat in his translucent cage, his left foot propped up on his sleeping support, his gaze on the other captured beings.

  His lips twisted. They were all males and all dishonorable.

  A four-armed Palavian wiped his own feces on the walls of his space. He muttered foul threats as he contaminated his surroundings. His kind were known for being highly volatile and slightly unhinged. Captivity had increased the male’s penchant for violence.

  A large Silan slammed his ridged-head against his enclosure again and again. That impact did nothing, yet the male didn’t stop. Blood trickled down his face.

  An Ahkian paced back and forth. His eyes were bright yellow and his entire body shook. The male was addicted to Mox-X and was undergoing the early stages of withdrawal. His behavior would become more and more erratic the longer he was held.

  A human reclined on a sleeping support, his smaller form relaxed. At first glance, he appeared to be the least dangerous of all the males. But that first glance was deceiving.

  Chuckles glanced at him. The human met his gaze. His eyes glittered with cruelty mixed with knowing, a combination that didn’t bode well for Chuckles’ female or anyone else on board the ship.

  “You escaped decommissioning, huh, machine?” The human’s tone was casual as though he were commenting on the weather, not on death by dissection, the most painful possible way to end a lifespan. “That’s too bad. Whenever I was given the opportunity, and that was often, I’d attend one. They are vastly entertaining.”

  They were horrific, not vastly entertaining. Chuckles pressed his lips together, suppressing his rage.

  He had witnessed too many decommissionings in his long lifespan. His dying brethren often transmitted their last moments to him and to every cyborg in their vicinity, relaying their pain, their anguish, their anger. He had heard their screams, shared their shock as their body parts were harvested, felt their relief when they were finally allowed to die.

  Only a monster would enjoy that experience.

  “Once I held a cyborg’s heart in my hands as it was beating.” The human smiled. “I squeezed it and its eyes flashed and blood spurted everywhere.” He folded his arms behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. “That was a good time.”

  It was a struggle, but Chuckles kept his expression blank. The male was trying to emotionally damage him. He wouldn’t give the human that satisfaction.

  The male must have grown tired of his verbal torture. He stopped chattering.

  The human, the Ahkian, the Silan, the Palavian—those were the beings his female had interacted with, had trapped—as she had trapped him. It bothered Chuckles that she might associate them with him, might view him the same way.

  He had honor. His chin lifted.

  His untrustworthy female had some honor also. He begrudgingly recognized that about her.

  She and her disreputable team were treating him with greater kindness than the Humanoid Alliance ever had. His temporary accommodations were surprisingly comfortable.

  He had a sleeping support. The Humanoid Alliance humans normally required cyborgs to stand.

  His clear cage was spotless. It host
ed a cleansing station in one corner and a nourishment station in the other.

  There were cleaning cloths, a dispenser for nourishment bars and beverage, containers for consuming that beverage. Judging by how hard the Silan had thrown one of those containers against the walls, they were unbreakable.

  The recycled air was fresh. Chuckles inhaled deeply. It smelled slightly of his female, the scent hardening his cock.

  He was naked. They all were. But that didn’t affect him. The Humanoid Alliance often stored them naked during re-energizing cycles.

  His female had even applied balm to his knee. His gaze lowered to that damaged part of him. A soothing heat had permeated his skin, warming him to his frame, loosening his muscles, numbing the pain.

  She was a lying deceitful human but she wasn’t cruel. He had been impressed by her defense of him, how she had readily accepted hardship to save his lifespan.

  Being jettisoned would have killed him. He would have transmitted to his brethren, requested their immediate assistance, and they would have attempted to rescue him. But their efforts would have been futile. He would have been dead. Cyborgs couldn’t survive for very long in open space.

  His female had stopped that from happening.

  She had also almost caused it by stunning him. His fingers twitched. He would swat her ass for that. She wouldn’t be able to sit for six planet rotations.

  Why haven’t you communicated you’re returning to The Reckless? As though summoned by his processing, Truth contacted him. Has your colorful female captured you?

  Chuckles gritted his teeth. She has captured me, but I can escape.

  She captured you. Truth laughed, his mirth rolling through the transmission lines. I like this female.

  She’s my female. Chuckles didn’t want his friend to like her…too much. And I can escape. He repeated that fact.

  Then why haven’t you escaped, my fellow D Model? His friend asked, his words lilting with humor. Are you enjoying being captured? Because I vastly enjoy hearing you’ve been captured. This is the highlight of my planet rotation.

  The male would tell every member of the crew about his situation. Chuckles shook his head, his irritation with his female escalating.