Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Kissing his female ranked number one on Cure’s list of best experiences.

It was better than reattaching both of a brethren’s legs on the battlefield before the Humanoid Alliance noticed that damage. It was better than being chosen by Intrepid, his captain, to serve on the Dauntless. It was even better than the first time he’d utilized the Rayan Skin Restorer.

His systems almost went down. That was how good it was.

Once his female’s friend had asked if they had kissed, doing exactly that was all he could process. And although it would complicate their futures, he didn’t regret it.

If he hadn’t the communication with Drift and their captain pending, he would have kissed more than her lips. He would have covered her with his nanocybotics.

That was a primitive urge he couldn’t suppress.

But it was sunrise, and he had a mission to complete, an assignment that would keep every being in the universe safe and functioning. That included his female.

Cure raced along the hallways at cyborg speed and entered her private chamber.

He utilized the wall viewscreen for the communication.

Mere heartbeats later, Drift opened a secured line with him.

An image of the G model’s face appeared on one half of the viewscreen.

The other half of the viewscreen was dominated by an image of their captain. Intrepid was situated on the bridge of the Dauntless. The male’s genetic match, the Valkyrie, was seated beside him. Grid and Argot and the other officers were visible behind them.

All of the beings displayed appeared to be fully functional.

“I’m online.” Cure deemed not to share visuals.

It was his female’s space. He would respect her privacy.

“Do you have an update, team?” Captain gazed at them through the devices.

“I have visual confirmation of the Humanoid Alliance’s presence on Cancri B, Captain.” Drift sent seven images of beings over the transmission lines.

The two males were human and wearing Humanoid Alliance uniforms.

In the last image, they also appeared to be nonfunctional.

“Frag yes.” Grid fist pumped the air.

Cure silently echoed the male’s words. Drift’s report rendered his unnecessary.

That was a relief as all the information he had uncovered was based on his female’s confidences. And that couldn’t be relayed, as he hadn’t received authorization from her to do so.

“I’ll relay that intel to Power.” Captain treated the situation with the seriousness it deserved. “Do you have confirmation they’re manufacturing a weapon?”

Cure’s female projected their shared enemy was manufacturing a weapon. But, again, as that couldn’t be relayed, he remained silent.

“I don’t have confirmation of that activity.” Drift lacked proof also. “I have confirmed Cancri B is a source of a material the locals call monster-maker ore.” He transmitted the specs for that energy-emitting substance. “The Humanoid Alliance refer to it as Belel 6 Uraninite.”

That aligned with Cure’s female’s processing.

“According to the databases, Belel 6 Uraninite was fundamental in the fabrication of the Humanoid Alliance’s world-enders, Captain.” Choice, the Dauntless’s newest engineer, relayed that information.

“It was projected that the exposure to Belel 6 Uraninite caused abnormal growths in those local populations.” Cure shared his research on that subject. “I have visual confirmation that many of the locals on Cancri B are also afflicted with growths. The sizes and colorings are different from those documented on the other planets. But the biology of Cancris also varies from those other humanoids.”

“Is there a repair for those growths?” Drift surprised him with that question.

His mission partner rarely expressed interest in medical matters.

“My contact has fabricated a repair to slow the growth’s progress, and it is effective to a point.” Cure projected that was why his female remained alive. “But that repair causes its own damage.”

“What damage does it cause?” Drift requested more data.

“Hair loss. Fingernail and toenail loss.” Cure’s female suffered from both of those. “The inability to consume solid nourishment. And once the damage from exposure to the Belel 6 Uraninite progresses to a certain point, even that repair is ineffective. The pain also exceeds the strongest of suppressors.”

Drift shifted in his seat. “With your assistance, Cure, I project your contact could fabricate a better, more-permanent repair.”

Cure stared at the male through the viewscreens.

Drift had processed about the tumors since they left the Dauntless. He had never once suggested Cure fabricate a repair for them.

“That can be a secondary assignment.” Their captain designated the finding of a repair as a lower priority. “Our primary assignment is to stop the fabrication of the Humanoid Alliance’s weapon. If we’re not successful with that mission, the locals on Cancri B along with everyone else in the sector will die whether they have growths or not.”

“Yes, Captain.” Cure and Drift responded at the same time.

“I’ll contact Power.” Captain’s head dipped. “The two of you will attempt to obtain visual confirmation of the weapon’s existence, but use caution. The Humanoid Alliance will kill to protect their fabrication.”

The Humanoid Alliance would kill purely for fun. Argot’s tone over the transmission lines was dry.

You’re fortunate bags of bolts. Grid’s envy was palpable.

There was nothing fortunate about risking death. Cure pressed his lips together.

“We’ll obtain visual confirmation of the weapon’s existence, Captain.” Drift assumed responsibility for their assigned task.

And Cure didn’t battle him for that responsibility. He had to uncover a repair for the tumors. And he had to decide what his future with his female would be.

“Contact us when you do that.” Captain relayed that order. “Ending communications.”

The main viewscreen reverted to the blackness of its nonfunctional state.

Cure had stored a virtual copy of all his female’s files in his databases.

He reviewed them one by one.

The repair his female had applied slowed the growth of the tumors. But it didn’t rid the body of them.

Not at those dosages.

He started running different dosages through the simulations, adjusting for patient functionality, the stage of the tumor, and 256 other factors.

Being a cyborg, able to effectively multi-task, he pushed that evaluation to the back of his processors.

And he left the chamber to rejoin his female. Too many beings were situated in the medic bay. Any one of those beings could damage his fragile human.

He followed her scent through the structure.

Zorelle, his female’s friend, was situated close to the main doors. “She’s in patient chamber number 2, Healer Cure.” The Cancri female pointed to the hallway to her left. “She’s not alone.”

Cure had projected she wouldn’t be alone. He headed in that direction.

“Yes, that’s her mate.” He heard Zorelle say to another being. “She says he isn’t, but he is. I caught them alone in a patient chamber, and I think—” Her voice lowered. “—they were kissing .”

A collection of ohhhs and ahhhs followed that false projection.

Cure’s lips twitched. The Cancris chattered about others as much as his fellow cyborgs did.

He hadn’t partaken in those projections. A gossiping medic didn’t inspire confidence.

Cure stopped outside of the patient chamber. He placed his right palm on the viewscreen positioned by the doors. “Am I authorized to enter?”

“We’re almost finished here.” His female responded. “We’ll?—”

“Yes.” A voice yelled in the background. “You can enter.”

His female sighed. “You can enter.”

Cure strolled into the chamber.

A young Cancri female was seated on an examination support.

Cure’s female crouched in front of her. She was examining her patient’s right shin.

The Cancri female glanced upward and quickly…for a humanoid…straightened her head covering. It was as elaborate and impractical as the one Cure’s female was wearing.

He noted 15 similarities in its design.

“Is that him? Is that your mate?” The young female giggled. “Fates, he’s large. You’re not that big, Healer Cyra. He could likely carry you.”

“I could carry Healer Cyra with one hand.” He confirmed that truth. His female was tiny.

“Ohhh…” The Cancri female giggled again. “He’s got a great voice too.”

Cure stood taller. “My voice is within spec for?—”

“Healer Cure does have a great voice.” His female’s voice was edged with sadness.

Cure peered around her. There was a tumor on the Cancri female’s leg.

Judging by the size of it, she would be dead within thirty-seven planet rotations.

Unless…

He grabbed his handheld from one of the holsters built into his body armor.

Amputate it. He inputted that message and showed it to his female, hiding the tiny screen from her patient.

She shook her head, rejecting his diagnosis.

“His voice is so deep and dreamy.” The Cancri female placed her palms on her chest, above where her heart should be. “I hope my mate’s voice is deep like that.”

If the female hadn’t yet met her mate, it was improbable that she ever would.

She was dying.

Cure showed his female his message again. Amputation was the only processable option available to them. He tapped the screen.

Cure’s female covered her patient’s leg. “Kritalin, do you mind if I look at your stomach again?” She stood.

“I don’t mind.” The Cancri female, Kritalin, smiled up at Cure. “I like your mate’s eyes also.” She twirled the fine knotted rope hanging down from her head covering around her right index finger. “I’ve been dreaming lately of a Cancri boy with blue eyes. Seeing him every rest cycle is…comforting. But he can’t be real, and he isn’t my mate. All Cancris have brown eyes.”

Cure’s female lifted her patient’s chest covering slightly.

Cure revised his projection. The tumor on the young female’s stomach was much more advanced than the one on her shin. Judging by its size, she should already be dead.

“ Could a Cancri have blue eyes, Healer Cyra?” The patient chattered. “Is that at all possible? The male in my dream is…nice and I would very much like to have a mate with blue eyes.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Kritalin.” Cure’s female lowered her patient’s garment.

“Oh.” The young Cancri female looked disappointed.

She was dying, must be in horrific pain, yet she was concerned about the eye color of the mate she wouldn’t ever meet.

“It’s improbable.” The words escaped Cure’s lips before he could censor them. “But it’s not impossible. Eye-color genes mutate in other humanoid species. It could happen with the Cancris.”

Kritalin stared at him.

“Your mate could have blue eyes.” He clarified.

“My mate could have blue eyes.” The Cancris female beamed at him. “Fates. He will have blue eyes. And he’ll be tall. Some Cancris are tall. And have a deep voice. And he will love me the way I already love him. We’ll have two kids, a female and a male, and?—”

“I’m giving you a pill to help you sleep.” Cure’s female transferred a small container to her patient. “So you can dream of your mate.”

Her gaze met Cure’s. Gratitude and something more shone in her eyes.

Cure’s chest heated.

“I also found this flight suit.” Cure’s female returned her attention to her patient. “It doesn’t fit me.”

She handed Kritalin one of the flight suits Cure had placed in one of the medic bay’s storage chambers. The massive garment wouldn’t fit his tiny human. It was fabricated for a C Model cyborg.

“I don’t know if you can do something with this.” His female chattered. “If you can’t?—”

“I can.” Kritalin hugged the garment to her chest. “Litph asked if I could craft another head covering for her. This light green would look beautiful with her skin tone.”

“It would look good on her.” Cure’s female agreed with her patient. “I’m so glad you can use it.”

The lack of surprise in her expression relayed she processed it would be used.

Kritalin placed the flight suit in her pack. “I have something to give you too, Healer Cyra.” She held out a braided circle of fabric.

Cure’s female slipped it over her hand. “Awww… it has my name on it.” She held out the wrist decoration for Cure to see.

Healer Cyra had been woven into the decoration.

“Thank you, Kritalin.” Cure’s female hugged her patient. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

Cure couldn’t project ever embracing a patient. It wasn’t…professional.

But Cure’s female’s patient appeared to enjoy the hug. “I thought you’d like it.” Kritalin beamed. “I’ll make one for you too, Healer Cure. Don’t you worry.”

Cure wasn’t worried. Cyborgs didn’t wear wrist decorations.

“Ohhh…I’m going to have a blue-eyed mate.” Kritalin clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to tell my mom.” She slid off the examination support. “She came with me this planet rotation. It was as though she knew. She’ll be so happy.”

The young female limped with enthusiasm out the door.

Leaving Cure alone with his female.

“Her mom accompanied her.” His female stared at the closed door. “She never lets her mom accompany her.”

“She’s functional.” Cure spoke at auditory levels only his little human could detect. “And according to my calculations, she shouldn’t be. What formulation did you prescribe for her?”

“It’s not the pills.” His female’s voice was equally soft. “It’s a side effect of having thirteen solar cycles. And wanting to live to meet her mate.” She sighed. “Hope is a powerful force.”

He hadn’t processed hope could be a repair.

“She won’t meet her mate.” He projected the young female wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

“She’ll meet her mate…eventually.” His female relayed that with 100.0000 percent certainty. “The Cancris believe they are greeted by their mates, if those mates are no longer alive, when they die.”

That sounded…implausible.

“Oh, Cure.” His female hugged him. “You did a great thing, telling her she could have a blue-eyed mate.”

He paused for a heartbeat and then wrapped his arms around his little human.

“She was so happy when she left.” His female pressed her cheek against his body armor-covered chest. “She’ll dream of her blue-eyed Cancri again this rest cycle.”

Cyborgs didn’t sleep, but Cure projected if he did, he’d dream of his brown-eyed human.

“She won’t think about the pain.” His female touched the back of her neck.

Cure stiffened. “Are you in pain, Medic Cyra?” He utilized her formal designation, seeking to put more emotional distance between them.

The decision he’d soon make had to originate from his processors, not his organics. It would be permanent, and it had to be right.

“She’ll think of her mate and their two kids, and that will give her joy.” His female didn’t answer his query.

He drew back from her. “Are you in pain, Medic Cyra?”

“I feel less pain when you touch me.” Her smile didn’t conceal the sadness in her eyes.

And it didn’t delete her words.

She was in less pain when he touched her.

His female was in pain.

Cure had to battle not to howl. “My female?—”

“Did your communication go well?” His female abruptly changed the subject. “Were you able to connect with the beings?”

He paused for five, six, seven heartbeats, waiting until he’d wrangled his emotions back under control.

Then he utilized his machine half to respond. “I was able to connect with the beings.”

He reached out and curved his right hand over the nape of his female’s neck.

The mass there hadn’t lifted the skin, but it had grown.

“That’s good.” She gripped his wrist. As though she needed that physical connection as much as he did.

Moments passed.

They didn’t speak, didn’t move.

The scent of his female teased Cure’s olfactory system. Her jugular vein pulsed against his palm. Their breaths synchronized. The connection between them was palpable and right.

“Fates. I need you.” His female launched herself at him.

Their forms smacked together. Her head covering fell to the floor.

His female clutched his shoulders. He cupped her jacket-covered ass, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her lips covered his.

He growled. That primitive sound of pleasure surprised both of them.

His female pushed her little pink tongue inside his mouth. She tasted of sweetness and hope. He coiled his flesh around hers. And she moaned. That expression of her desire for him pulled at his cock.

He was hard. As he always was around his female. She lit up his circuits with wanting and possession. He inhaled her musk as they ravished each other’s lips. That tantalizing aroma was burned into both his organic memory and his databases.

His female undulated against him, brushing her cloth-clad breasts along his body armor-covered chest, grinding against his stomach. He squeezed and released, squeezed and released her ass, encouraging her to use him, claim him, take her satisfaction from him.

She trembled. Her breathing turned ragged.

His female was close. And he would help her achieve fulfillment.

Because they hadn’t much time left. The universe was threatening to intrude.

He held her with one arm and reached his other hand between them. Her eyes widened. He pressed the heel of his hand against her flight suit-shrouded pussy and then rotated his wrist.

She screamed into his mouth, arching her back. He secured her to him. She was his female. He would never allow her to fall. She gyrated violently, gloriously against him.

Her passion was awe-inspiring. He held her as it crested and then eased.

They had one wonderful moment of stillness, a duration of connection and caring and peace.

Then he slid her down his form. “There’s no place left for beings to stand in the waiting chamber, and your friend is debating whether or not she should leave her post and retrieve us.” Cure steadied his female. “She thinks we’re kissing. Or so she told another being.”

His female’s cheeks flushed with pigment. “Fates. We were doing more than kissing.” She touched her bare head. “Where’s my head covering?”

He retrieved the impractical accessory, dusted off the fabric, and placed it on her head. “You needed that more than kissing.”

The situation with her patient had emotionally damaged her.

He smoothed her white jacket.

“She’s so young, Cure.” His female’s expression was stricken. “She should be thinking about traveling to other settlements with her friends and the subjects she’ll learn at the academy this solar cycle and what garment to wear to a festival, not about pain and dying.”

Cure bracketed her face with his hands. “You repaired her as much as you could.” Which wasn’t much at all. “Focus on the next patient, Medic Cyra.”

That was easier for him to do, he projected. He could disregard his organic side.

His female, in contrast, was all organic.

“Focus on the next patient.” She squared her shoulders. “Yes, that’s what we have to do—focus on the next patient.”

Cure liked that she used the word we.

They were a team.

Whether he claimed his female completely or not.