Seducing Stag (Cyborg Seduction Book 10) (3 page)

“Smart,” Hellion muttered.

“That’s why I’m in charge.”

Stag quickly typed out the message by using the first initial of each male on his list, to signify a number, until he had the coordinates of where they’d enter the dead zone of space. He sent it.

“Do you think they’ll figure it out easily?”

“Flint is smart, and he’s in charge of the
Star
right now. I titled it B.P. List, and that will clue him in.” Stag sighed. “Otherwise he’s an idiot but he’s not one. He’ll realize I’m giving him numbers. The Markus Models won’t be able to break my code, Hellion.”

“How will he know who is on your list and their numbers?”

Stag hated his authority being questioned. “At least three men in mine are assigned to the
Star
.”

Hellion nodded. “They can decode it.”

“Exactly.” Stag leaned forward. “Take us into the dead zone. Count it out every second, our speed, and record how far we go before changing course. We’ll just reverse and exit by using that information.”

“It’s going to mess with our sensors.”

“I’m aware. Don’t use them.” He stood up, walked to the front, stared at the utter blackness they flew into. “Visuals only. Mark time and speed.”

“Shit,” Hellion muttered. “I get why we’re doing this but I’m not happy about it.”

“Turn on your emotion-suppression chip if you’re going to whine.” Stag had no time to deal with feelings. “I refuse to allow us to be captured by Markus Models. I’d rather us all die on our terms than be tortured for the location of other cyborgs. We have a good chance of getting out of this. Those bastards have two Genesis Four shuttles at their disposal and the
Varnish
would be no match for them. They’d take out our engines and board us. Our intel said they’re traveling in units of four to six. We’re not equipped for hand-to-hand combat with that many.”

“It’s a sound decision. The Markus Models wouldn’t think we’d do this.”

He turned to glance at Kelis. The male gave him a sharp nod, communicating that he was in agreement with Stag’s decision.

“Maybe they’ll follow us in and get lost if they enter the dead zone too.” Veller grinned. “That would be a bonus.”

“They are intelligent. They’d have the same odds as we do of finding the edge again.”

Stag’s words muted his crew. He faced forward. “Tell me when the sensors stop getting readings.”

Long minutes passed. “Now,” Parqel whispered.

“Visuals?”

Hellion answered. “Gone. Not a glimmer of light from the stars.”

“Shutter all ports and turn off any exterior lighting.” Stag returned to his chair, changing course himself. He knew his crew was watching, memorizing every order he input. He finally used the thrusters and brought the shuttle to a full stop. “We’re going to become as dark as our surroundings.”

“Shit,” Hellion murmured.

It was eerie quiet when the engines were shut down. Stag kept life support on but at a minimum. “We wait. In seventy-two hours, we’ll reverse course. I want two of you visually scanning for any lights. The Markus Models will have to rely on visuals too and might amplify their exterior lights, hoping to spot us.” He tapped out a new schedule, sending it to their pads. “Rest as much as possible to slow your breathing.”

“Why did you lower life support?”

Kelis answered Hellion’s question first. “In case we can’t find our way out. We’ll use less fuel repowering our systems and survive longer in case we’re stuck out here.”

Stag leaned back in his chair and slowed his breathing, measuring each one. He also accessed lighting inside the ship, dimming it to draw less power. “We’ll get out of this.”

He hoped he hadn’t just lied to his crew.

Nala made the bed and glanced around the room. The lights were so low it was difficult to see much. Stag was a mega asshole for making it as tough as possible to clean his quarters, but she’d done it.

Her stomach grumbled. He’d wanted to motivate her to do his bidding, and he had. She’d been abandoned in his room for what she guessed was a good seventeen hours now. The only reason she had access to water was the cleansing unit sink.

“What a dick,” she muttered.

She took a seat on the floor in case Stag was anything like her father. Manny Vestria had hated creases on his bedding. He’d spent twenty years in the military, before he’d retired and taken a job with her on her transport shuttle.

She drew her knees up and hugged them. Her father and the
Pride
were gone.

The freighter had been her baby. She’d sold everything after her grandfather’s death and bought it at an auction. Some smuggler had been caught by Earth Government and his loss had become her gain. She’d hired men her dad had trusted, ex-military buddies of his, and she’d built her reputation as being honest and dependable. At first she’d landed a few jobs hauling supplies to colonies, but then she’d hit the jackpot by being given a contract to deliver sex bots.

Now she had nothing. Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back. It was done. There was no changing the past. She’d learned that lesson from a young age. She’d been the daughter of a military officer who’d spent more time in space than on Earth. Her mother had died when she’d been eight, her grandmother four years later. Then her grandfather, when she’d been nineteen and just learning the import business he had built.

Earth Government had come in and said they were taking over the business, using the excuse that she wasn’t qualified. There’d been nothing left on Earth for her at that point. She’d sold the house, emptied her grandfather’s credit accounts, and bought her freighter. EG couldn’t steal from her again if she wasn’t living on the planet.

The door opened and she lifted her chin. Stag entered then sealed them inside. He held a covered tray. “Food.”

She rose up and was tempted to hit him with the damn thing but hunger couldn’t be denied. It might feel good to shove whatever he’d bought all over his nice, neat uniform but in the long run, she’d be the one to suffer for her show of defiance. He might wait another seventeen hours to feed her.

“Thank you.” She accepted the tray and returned to her spot on the floor.

“You may sit on the bed.”

“It’s been made with clean sheets and blankets. I even fluffed your pillows.” She hoped he’d smother on them. “I don’t want to mess it up again.”

He took a seat on the bed and she could feel him watching her, but she focused on the tray, lifting the lid. The smell hit her instantly and her body reacted to the delicious aroma. She grabbed a fork and dug into what passed for meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

“I apologize for the wait. I didn’t mean to stay on shift that long.”

She wasn’t buying his excuse but decided to not call him on it. For now, she was a prisoner, and she’d play his little control-freak game. She had no choice.

“Is this the silent treatment?”

She swallowed and stared up at him. “This is the ‘I’m so hungry I’m eating this as fast as possible before you decide to take it away’ treatment.”

“Eat slower. I won’t take it from you. The Markus Models were returning to your ship. We entered a dead zone to avoid them finding us.”

Her hand froze, the fork inches from her mouth. “You what?”

“I didn’t want to leave Control until I was certain we wouldn’t be found. We’ve seen no sign of them. They weren’t able to follow our trail inside.”

“We’re in the Pitch?”

“I’m not familiar with that term.”

“The Pitch. It’s what they call that black hole or dead zone, whatever. Every captain in this sector knows to avoid it. Didn’t your sensors read the warning markers put up along the border? That would be an alert transmitted to your computer to not to go beyond that point or dire shit happens.”

“I wasn’t aware it had been named.”

She put the fork down and took a drink from the cup he’d brought. The liquid tasted like red wine. It surprised her that cyborgs had some, but she didn’t comment on it. It was usually a drink reserved for important celebrations. “You’re crazy. Do you know how many ships have entered the Pitch and never been heard from again?”

“Four.”

“Oh, it’s way higher than that.”

“The marker warning stated four.”

“It hasn’t been updated in forever then. They lost two ships just last year. Probably three the one before that. The first time I traveled out this way, a colony-seeking ship thought it would be fun times to see what might be on the other side of it. There were a hundred and nineteen souls aboard, and that was six years ago. They were never heard from again. I was told they sent in rescue ships searching for it. Over twenty went in, and they spaced them apart but close enough to keep in sight of each other, and still managed to lose six when they drifted in too far. You crazy bastard.”

He frowned. “We had no choice.”

“Run. How about that? You burn thrusters until they give up chasing you.”

“Is that what you tried? How did that work out for you?”

“I didn’t pick that damn shuttle up on sensors. It docked and they attacked before I knew what was happening. I would have run if I’d seen it coming.”

“Are you familiar with Genesis Four S-class shuttles?”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“They’re new, top-of-the-line, and can outrun most existing ships, especially an old freighter like yours. They are also heavily shielded to prevent damage. You would have run and they’d have caught you, boarded you anyway, and your crew would still be dead. This shuttle is faster than your freighter, and I knew they’d still catch up to us.”

She lowered her gaze, taking in that information. It helped alleviate her guilt a little. It sounded as though the
Pride
had never stood a chance.

“Nala?”

She looked back at him, holding his gaze. It was impossible not to notice his good looks or how incredibly blue and vivid his eyes were.

“This was our only possibility for survival. I can’t allow the Markus Models to capture any of my crew.”

“You might have signed their death warrants anyway when you flew us into the Pitch.”

“To avoid death wasn’t my priority. We have information they can’t ever obtain. Capture isn’t an option.”

“What kind of info?”

“Where other cyborgs are. They want to trade that information to Earth Government. Only a limited number of the Markus Models escaped, so we theorize they want to start a conflict between Earth and my kind. Earth Government would send battle cruisers to kill us, and it would make it easier for them to slip back to the planet and free more of their models once security around Earth wasn’t as tight.”

She held up her hand. “Stop. You’re telling me androids are plotting all this? It sounds like some kind of coup.”

“Yes.”

“They are machines. Who programmed them? Rebels? Military?”

“It doesn’t matter. They believe they are sentient but they aren’t.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

He frowned again, narrowing his eyes. Anger showed on his face when a muscle in his jaw clenched. “
We
are sentient. They are not. They have hive-brain thinking, all linked together. We’re individuals. We don’t wish to exterminate innocent life. They believe they are the only beings worthy of existing.”

“So they’re control freaks?”

“They judge Earthers as inferior and kill any they find.”

“Would they pretend I’m an android when I’m not one?”

He stood. “Don’t insult me. I’m nothing similar to the Markus Models. They killed at least one of your crew members by dissecting him while he was still alive.”

She reeled back, her stomach heaving. It was a fight to avoid throwing up the food she’d just gotten down.
God, don’t ask who it was.
She didn’t want to know. It hadn’t been her father. His body had been dressed and on the floor.

“I apologize. That was harsh. But you piss me off. Don’t make accusations like that, it’s a deep insult to be compared to the Markus Models.”

She forced her chin up and glared at him. “So you’ve never killed people before?”

“Only in self-defense.”

“What’s your version of that, just to be clear?”

“When they attacked or meant to do us harm first.”

“I guess we can agree on one thing. Our definition of that is the same.”

“I’m going to shower before sleep. I’ve been up for nearly twenty-nine hours.”

He moved past her, entered the cleansing unit, and she managed to pick at more of her food, trying to eat as much of it as her stomach would allow. It might be a while before he fed her again.

It didn’t take the cyborg long to get clean, since the unit was only on for about two minutes. It opened and Nala turned her head.

Shock hit hard as he stepped out only sporting a towel wrapped around his waist. The fork clattered to the floor.

Her gaze flickered down his body, taking it all in. No hair showed on his chest. His nipples were two flat disks, darker in color. Muscles were clearly defined along the tops of his shoulders, down his hulking arms, and all along his abdomen. He had a broad upper body but his waist thinned to narrow hips, then flared out again under the short towel, displaying muscular thighs. A little bit of hair adorned his legs but not much.

He had the best body she’d ever seen, by a long shot. Sure, her crew had taken off their shirts sometimes to work when the cooling system had failed. They were all hairy, older, and she hadn’t paid much attention. She couldn’t exactly say that about Stag.

He might be a jerk, but he was a really hot one. He’d been designed to be attractive to the eye in every way, and the company who’d made him had been right on target. Handsome, perfect physique to attract a buyer’s eye, and sleek enough that anyone with a heartbeat would want to touch him.

She lifted her gaze to his chest again. Some light scars marred his smooth skin. They looked like tiny white lines on his soft gray skin tone, some of them jagged. It took effort for her to blink and force her head to turn away. “I think you forgot to put something on,” she managed to say.

“These are my quarters. I wear a uniform while I’m on shift. I enjoy relaxing when I’m alone.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’d appreciate it if you could at least wear pants.”

“Your desires aren’t my concern.”

That word hit a nerve with her. It had been six years, nine months, and thankfully she’d forgotten how many days since she’d left Earth. Add in a few more weeks before that and it was the last time she’d had a boyfriend. Most women her age had a lover, or even a few, but she’d had a crew of men her father had chosen because they were as crabby as him.

Every man she’d met at pickup and delivery sites had been chased off if they even looked at her twice. That had been the down side of working with her dad and his friends. They had been overprotective. No guy had a chance of getting near her without a laser gun pointed at him.

They’d visited stations to take breaks but her crew never allowed her go anywhere alone. She’d put her foot down on her twenty-fourth birthday and confronted her dad. It had been over four years at that point since she’d had sex. They’d both been embarrassed by the conversation, but she’d won. He’d agreed to let her to visit an automated brothel. He’d agreed sex bots were safer than letting her into a bar to pick up a real guy. It had been her bad luck that they didn’t host any male bots. She’d returned to the
Pride
frustrated.

Six years since I’ve had sex. That’s why I’m noticing he’s hot.
She sighed.

“Are you contemplating how to kill me?”

Nala refused to tell Stag where her thoughts had gone, instead glaring up at him. “How did you guess?”

“Your tone implies disdain.”

“Give me a break. What am I going to do? Stab you with my fork? You’d just pull it out and be pissed some more. I could hit you with the tray but whatever part of you I nail would just dent the thin metal sheet. I’m not stupid. I’d break bones if I punched you. No thanks.”

“Are you done eating? I’m ready to go to bed.”

Her heart rate increased as she gave him a once-over again, her gaze lingering on his abs and that towel. After her twenty-fourth birthday, she’d secretly stashed an image advertisement for a sex bot model in her quarters. It had been blond, brown-eyed, and a bit smaller bodied than the cyborg in front of her.

She stood up. Stag might not have the greatest personality but she could get over that if he planned to touch her. It had been a really long time since anyone had. He claimed to be sentient. It implied he might have all the right body parts. He motioned his head toward the bed.

“You get the inside.”

“We’re sharing?”