Grace Goodwin - Her Cyborg Warriors

Warden Bisset was in training, or so I’d been told before they put me under. She’d be going off to Paris to a new bride testing center where they would send even more criminals into space to be sandwiched between two hot aliens until they forget their own names.

And that’s exactly what had happened to me. I forgot I was me and became her. Whoever she was. Lucky woman.

I never panicked, and I never lost control. I hadn’t survived against the ruthless ocean this long as a world-class surfer by losing control of myself when things got dicey.

But that dream? These two ladies had laid waste to me. Wrecked me. And I was embarrassed and not too happy with myself.

“Do any of the brides sue for harassment after you force them to have sex?”

Warden Bisset whispered disagreeably under her breath, but Warden Egara’s dark brow arched. “Were you forced?”

I thought of the dream, the lingering memory of my pussy being crammed full, the burn in my bottom where the plug had been lodged.

Well, shit. It seemed I couldn’t make myself lie to her either. “No, but they ordered me to do things.”

“They were dominants. Most of the males on other planets will be strong and demanding. The typical alpha male.” Warden Bisset’s voice implied I would be pleased by this information, as if dominant, bossy aliens were my thing.

Just great. “You didn’t answer my question. Was that normal?”

Warden Bisset looked down at her tablet. “Actually I’ve never had a volunteer who fought the testing so much. Usually test subjects give in and the dream takes over, allowing access to the subconscious to collect the data needed for the perfect match. You, however, had to be subverted to secondary protocol.”

“What does that mean?” I didn’t even mention the fact that she’d just called me a test subject, like I was a lab rat.

She sighed as if I were a total pain in her backside. I didn’t care. I wanted to know what she meant by secondary protocol . Did that mean I didn’t have a match? That I was abnormal? What?

Doctor Surnen Syrzon, Science Bay, Medical Unit, The Colony

The organism moving beneath the microscope twisted and stretched, completely engulfing the healthy Prillon cell floating in the growth medium next to it. Something so tiny, so fascinating, was making warriors sick. It wasn’t killing my patients, but the infection was incapacitating strong fighters in their prime. It was my job to identify it, understand it and eradicate it. Not just for here on The Colony, but throughout the Coalition. I was almost there.

“Dr. Surnen? You’re needed in transport two.” Captain Trax stood at the entrance to my laboratory. He was my chosen second—should I ever be lucky enough to be matched to a female of my own—and a trusted friend. He was also prone to overreaction, his warrior instincts making every matter urgent. He’d grown up on a battleship, been fighting since he was old enough to hold a blaster, and he made decisions in seconds that I preferred to contemplate for a bit longer.

I was a doctor, a researcher. We both followed protocol to the letter—I, as a scientist, he as a ruthless fighter—believing that regulations were what kept us all safe. But the frequent trips I’d been taking to Transport Two to check incoming medical supplies were growing tiresome. I was busy and too close to finalizing the treatment serum that would end this latest sickness to divert my time.

My gaze locked to the infectious cell as it continued devouring the now weakened Prillon cell, I didn’t bother lifting my head to respond to Trax. Adding a drop of fluid to the slide, I watched as my serum sample killed the bacteria. I grinned. “Send one of the techs. I’m busy.”

His deep exhale was the only indication of his frustration with me. “Surnen, don’t be an ass.” And his tone. And word choice. “Now. Now would be good.”

“Still busy.” I had two Prillon warriors in ReGen pods and half a dozen more quarantined in their quarters. Someone else could check off inventory lists.

I expected Trax to leave, to do as I’d requested and drag one of the medical officers down to inspect the new shipment. Instead he stepped farther into the room. “Are you refusing to accompany me to Transport Two?”

“Yes, I fucking am,” I snapped. “Go away. I’ve got eight warriors down with this gods’ damned infection already, and I’m finalizing the treatment. As I said, I’m busy. I have more important things to do than inspect the latest shipment to come in.”

“Excellent.” His happiness stirred my curiosity, and I lifted my chin to look at him over the medical equipment.

“I’m glad you are pleased.” I cocked my head toward the door. “Now get out.”

“Dr. Surnen of Prillon Prime, as you have refused to arrive at transport to greet your new mate, I officially request the rights and privileges of Primary Male be transferred to me. Computer, please make note of the date and time of this request.”

A smooth, feminine voice emanated from a speaker near the door. “Confirmed, Captain Trax. Your request has been processed and sent to Prillon Prime for formal consideration.”

“What?” What the fuck had he just said?

“Let me know when you are finished playing with your toys, Surnen. You can be my second. I’ll be taking care of our female while you work. Don’t worry about her safety or happiness. I will make sure she is claimed and protected by a Prillon collar and tend to all her needs while you save the universe.”

With those final words, he bowed formally, turned on his heel and left me behind my workbench, jaw slack.

What?

My mind stirred slowly. When I worked, every thought, feeling and emotion I had came into sharp focus on the task at hand. The serum sample I’d made could eliminate the need to use ReGen pods to cure the warriors. A single dose of the serum should act as a preventative to further infections. The information and the treatment I would perfect would be uploaded to the Coalition Fleet’s medical database and disseminated to the Fleet to assist other warriors who may have human females for brides. As Earth was the only planet that appeared to have females willing to accept the damaged males on The Colony as mates, finding a cure was of paramount importance as the bacteria was a human disease that had adapted to its new environment: nonhumans on The Colony.

With so many planets constantly interacting, the struggle to contain new strains of disease kept me well occupied and was a constant battle within the Coalition Fleet, one I excelled at winning.

I battled what I could fight, using my intellect and ability to focus to cure diseases from all over the galaxy. Other worlds often sent me samples of new organisms and diseases, seeking assistance in understanding and treating them. I would not rot away on this planet feeling sorry for myself. I refused.

I’d spent enough time mourning the deaths of my parents due to my mother’s rebellious nature and my two fathers’ lack of desire to control her. She’d been fun. I would admit that. My mother had lived life like there was no tomorrow and thrown caution—and regulation—to the stars. They’d all died for it, for my fathers had given in to her every whim.

Because my parents broke Coalition Fleet protocols, I’d become an orphan at twelve. Determined not to allow any others to make the same mistakes or suffer the same consequences, I’d joined the medical job training system on Prillon Prime to learn how to save others. I had no family, few friends, and once I’d been captured and contaminated by the Hive, I knew I never would.