Claiming Cure (Dauntless Cyborgs #3)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Cure and his female treated patients, helped distribute nourishment every ten planet rotations, ate nourishment and his female drank beverage, restored their energy levels, and they bred.

Multiple times a rest cycle.

His female would fall asleep in his arms. He’d wait for a moment, savoring the feel of her against him. Then he would force himself to roll off the sleeping support.

He would clean her garments, her white jacket, her boots, her not-at-all-practical head coverings, and the wrist decorations they both wore as much as possible.

Once their private chamber was tidy, he’d move to the laboratory. The exterior of the Rayan Skin Restorer was dissembled and put back together every rest cycle. He wanted to present a modification to her already completed. They would test it together. And future modifications would be a team effort.

The first modification was a collaboration also.

But with one of his brethren.

I’m scanning the wiring. Cure sent that message over a private transmission line. He peered into the machine and looked slowly from left to right and back again. Do you detect any deviations from our schematics?

I detect no deviations. Doc, the medic from the Reckless, confirmed that projection. The male had assisted with the crafting of the schematics. This should work. What are your test procedures?

I’ve grown simulated tissue. Cure had done that without his female processing also. 74.2363 percent of those samples have been infected with tumors. The remaining 25.7637 percent will be the control.

Lost a few infected samples, didn’t you? Doc grinned.

They were inviable. Cure admitted to that failing.

That happens. The other medic nodded. Will the first test be an injection of straight solution, no stabilizer?

I was projecting a split test. One with no stabilizer. One with a stabilizer. That would save time. But Medic Cyra will be the lead on the testing.

A solar cycle ago, you would have insisted on being the lead. Doc stated that truth. Cure would have insisted on that. But then, a solar cycle ago, you wouldn’t have reached out to me for consultation. You would have insisted on modifying the machine alone.

A solar cycle ago, he wouldn’t have modified the machine. He would have weighed saving projected cyborg lives greater than saving current humanoid lives.

That modification is Medic Cyra’s doing. His female had fabricated him into a better being.

Medic Cyra. Doc’s lips twitched. I agree with calling her that when you’re communicating to others. It relays the respect she deserves. But, when it’s the two of us, Cure, you can refer to her as your female. He paused. I’m happy for you.

Doc had found his genetic match also.

Thank you. In all their solar cycles, they’d never had such a non-medical-focused exchange.

It felt…nice.

Cure detected movement in his female’s private chamber. She was stirring. I have to go.

Send me any updates. Doc’s head dipped. I’ll research other possible repairs for the tumors.

The male ended the transmission.

Cure quickly replaced the exterior panels on the Rayan Skin Restorer, cleaned the laboratory, and raced back to his female’s private chamber.

He was naked and pressed against his female when she opened her eyes.

“Hi there.” She smiled at him.

“Hi.” He kissed those upturned lips.

Need flowed through his circuits. And usually, if there wasn’t a medical emergency, they would breed as the sun rose.

But not this planet rotation. “I have something to show you in the laboratory.” He hugged her to him for six, seven more heartbeats.

And then he rolled off the sleeping support.

“In the laboratory, huh?” She dressed. “I hope that something is big and hard and you plan to use it next to the Rayan Skin Restorer.” Her eyes sparkled.

Her breeding chatter caused wanting to flow through his circuits and his cock to bob.

That made it difficult to don his body armor.

He managed that feat, however, and partially covered that garment with his medic jacket. “That something involves the Rayan Skin Restorer.”

He set one of the head coverings Kritalin had fabricated on top of his female’s short black hair.

Those accessories remained extremely impractical. But Cure had learned that not everything in a being’s lifespan had to be practical.

Some items could be pretty. And infused with meaning.

“That something doesn’t involve breeding.” He told his female.

“That’s disappointing.” Her forehead furrowed with processing lines. “It’s also mysterious.”

She clasped his hand. They linked their fingers, and they walked side by side to the laboratory.

Cure shortened his stride to match hers.

“I hope the Rayan Skin Restorer is okay.” She met his gaze. “I know how much you love that machine.”

He did love the Rayan Skin Restorer, but he cared for other things—and other beings—more.

They entered the laboratory. He led her to the machine.

“It looks fine.” His female’s shoulders lowered.

She had been worried about the Rayan Skin Restorer. He stared at her. Because she processed how much the machine meant to him.

Cure’s world shifted under his booted feet.

“The Rayan Skin Restorer has been modified.” His voice was gruff with emotion.

He pressed a button. The sequence had already been programmed.

A robotic arm moved over the being support. The muzzle of the injector gun attached to it, rotated 35.5263 degrees. 1,148 rays of energy beamed down. Drops of liquid were left on the surface.

“ What did you do?” His female’s eyes widened. “Is that what… No, it can’t be. A modification like that would be…”

“It would be impossible to reverse.” He said the words she couldn’t relay. “The Rayan Skin Restorer is now the Tumor Elimination Machine…or it could be a very large hole puncher.” He attempted a joke. “It hasn’t been tested. There’s a probability, small yet existing, that it won’t work.”

“It’ll work.” His female’s jaw jutted. “We’ll make it work.”

She gazed at the machine.

“You modified the Rayan Skin Restorer, your most prized possession, the thing you cherish most in the universe.” Her voice softened.

It wasn’t his most prized possession. He touched his wrist decoration.

And it wasn’t the thing he cherished most in the universe. Cure reached out and gripped his female’s trembling fingers.

“You don’t know if it’ll work, but you did it.” She looked up at him.

Her cheeks were wet with tears.

His heart clenched. Her female had damaged herself emotionally.

“You did it to save lives.” Her eyes glowed. “So no one else has to die like Kritalin did. You did it to honor her.”

That was noble.

But it wasn’t true.

And Cure wouldn’t allow his female to believe it. “I did it for you, my Cyra.” He gestured at the machine. “This was for you.”

“You did it for me.” She gaped at him. “For me .”

“For you.” He confirmed that fact.

“Oh, my Cure.” She hugged his arm. “I would never ask that of you.”

“I process that.” And he processed she would have tried to talk him out of modifying the machine. That was why he had done it before he told her about it. “You want to rid our patients of their tumors. A modified Rayan Skin Restorer is our best means to do that. We can give them—and us—hope.”

Before meeting his female, he hadn’t processed how powerful a repair hope could be.

“Our patients.” His female smiled. “I love it when you say that.”

Cure did process the patients as being theirs. He projected that had ramifications for their future and for his role as the Dauntless’s top medic. But he would face that modification when the mission to stop the Humanoid Alliance’s manufacturing of a world-ending weapon was completed.

“Zorelle hasn’t yet arrived to open the medic bay.” His female pulled him closer to the machine he’d modified for her. “Let’s run some tests.”

He had projected she’d want to do that.

“I have simulated tissue ready for testing.” He inwardly grinned.

* * *

Three planet rotations later, Cure and his female hadn’t yet derived a repair for the tumors. However, the mission to stop the world-ending weapon’s fabrication was progressing.

Cure projected it would develop further during the upcoming communications with Drift and captain and crew of the Dauntless.

“We won’t share visuals,” he told his female.

She was seated on his lap.

That physical connection with her was soothing.

Regretfully, they were both fully clothed. The communication was occurring in the middle of the planet rotation. They were taking a short break from seeing patients.

“If you wish to speak, you can do so.” He projected his female wouldn’t want to actively participate in the discussion. She viewed it, as he did, as a means to gain information, not share it. “If you wish to speak solely to me, squeeze my fingers and I’ll mute us.”

“Got it, my medic hottie.” She turned her head and gave him a quick kiss on the chin. “Let’s do this.”

Cure secured the viewscreen in front of them and joined the communications.

The image of Drift’s face dominated one half of the viewscreen. The image of the Dauntless’s bridge filled the other half.

“Do you have an update, team?” Their captain gazed directly into the recording device.

Drift took the lead on that update. The male outlined a surprisingly detailed plan.

A female contact Cure hadn’t previously processed existed had recruited a team of Cancri males. All of those beings had tumors so advanced they were no longer repairable.

The Cancri males would smuggle tiny containers of Erinomean Green Fire, an extremely powerful explosive, into the Humanoid Alliance’s manufacturing facility. They would place the containers around the world-ending weapon.

Cure’s shoulders lowered. His concern that the explosives he’d fabricated might not be capable of blowing the weapon up was eliminated.

The Erinomean Green Fire would dissolve it completely.

While the Cancris were placing their explosives, Drift and the female contact would enter the space occupied by the Humanoid Alliance leadership. They would set more containers of Erinomean Green Fire in that area.

Drift would then carry the female contact out of the structure, detonating the explosives as they left.

Cure’s female looked back at Cure and nodded.

She processed, as Cure did, that the explosion was the event that would trigger her part of the plan.

You’re a fortunate bag of bolts, warrior . Grid, the Dauntless’s Navigator, expressed his envy through the officer-only transmission line. Your mission sounds exceedingly dangerous.

One of my dad’s closest friends plus that warrior’s genetic match was killed by Erinomean Green Fire. Choice reminded everyone how dangerous the situation was. It’s highly volatile.

There will be modifications you haven’t processed. Argot shared that concern.

It was valid. That C was a human female and Cure’s genetic match had been a modification to Cure’s original plan. Drift’s plan would face modifications also.

“I don’t like the usage of Erinomean Green Fire.” Captain’s lips flattened. “But in this case, that appears to be an unavoidable input. The weapon would be fabricated to be nearly indestructible. Destroying it would require an extremely corrosive substance.”

The substances utilized in Cure’s explosives weren’t sufficiently corrosive to destroy the weapon.

“We tested the Erinomean Green Fire utilizing pieces of panel from the weapon.” Drift informed them. The G Model had more resources than Cure did. “It completely dissolved the pieces.”

“Verifying its efficacy was wise.” Captain nodded. “Cure, do you have intel to add?”

Cure muted their communications.

“Do we have intel to add?” He asked his female.

“Your friend’s contact has to be the Rebel Female.” She had the same projection Cure had. “Tell them our part of the plan.”

“I’ll add to that plan.” Cure processed a task his brethren would request them to do.

“Tell them what you want to tell them.” His female shrugged. “I trust you.”

Her trust was a gift. He?—

“Cure?” Captain repeated his name.

Cure unmuted their communications.

“Once the Erinomean Green Fire has dissipated, my contact and I will access the site and ensure the weapon has been destroyed.” He scrubbed all emotion from his voice. “We’ll also retrieve any intel stored at the site.”

That was the modification.

His brethren processed that information about their enemies was key to their survival.

“That’s logical.” Their captain sounded satisfied. “I’ll relay this intel to Power.” He assumed that task. “What else do you require from us?”

Cure muted communications again.

“Do we require any assistance from my brethren?” he asked his female.

“I can’t think of anything at this time.” She shook his head.

“Is there any way to minimize our team’s fatalities?” Drift’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.

When the G Model said team, Cure projected he was referring to the Cancris.

“The humanoids have to be on site.” Their captain had made the same projection. “If their roles are vacant, the Humanoid Alliance will become suspicious.”

“If they become suspicious, the enemy will block access to the weapon.” Drift nodded.

“The Humanoid Alliance will react the same way if the humanoids leave their posts.” Their captain tapped his chin with his index fingers. “The humanoids don’t have the speed to move outside of the blast’s range.” He looked at the rest of the crew stationed on the bridge. “What is the solution?”

Silence stretched.

Cure had no solution. But he could lessen Drift’s emotional damage.

“The humanoids are in advanced stages of damage.” Even the modified Rayan Skin Restorer treatment, when it was perfected, wouldn’t save those males. “There’re no repairs for them. And soon, if it hasn’t occurred already, their pain will exceed the offset of any suppressors. They will die. Either instantly during the mission from the blast or mere planet rotations in the future from their existing damage.”

“A warrior would choose death from the blast.” The captain’s Valkyrie stated her choice.

“Any being would choose the blast.” Argot’s human female supported that decision. “It would be faster and, hopefully, less painful. It’s the kind choice.”

Captain’s head dipped. “Ensure they process they have the gratitude of our kind.”

“They have the gratitude of beings everywhere.” The captain’s Valkyrie amended her male’s statement.

“And tell them their sacrifice will never be forgotten.” Captain’s expression was solemn.

There was a moment of silence.

The many, many brethren Cure had lost replayed in his processors. They would never be forgotten either.

“Contact us if you require additional assistance.” Captain ended the communication.

The image on their viewscreen reverted to blackness.

“So that’s the plan.” Cure’s female sank back, leaning into him.

“That’s the plan.” Cure wrapped his arms around her.

“A lot of beings, good beings, will die.” She sighed.

Her emotional damage twisted his nourishment processing system. “This is war.” Good beings died in war. And in training for war. “And the probability is low we can repair them.”

“I’ll die,” his female whispered.

“If you die, I die.” He wouldn’t survive her death. “We do this together.”

If there was any way he could complete their part of the mission without his little human, he would. Every nanocybotic in him wanted to protect her.

But she was right. She was a medic known to the Humanoid Alliance. And she was human. They would give her access to the site as they searched for survivors.

“And the probability of us dying is low also.” He’d ensure that didn’t happen.

The scene would be chaotic after the explosion. The Humanoid Alliance would be skittish. They’d shoot at everything.

His female would wear her white jacket. He would advise she dress from head to toe in white.

And…“We’ll train.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “We’ll walk through the mission from start to finish, covering every high-probability situation.”

Covering every situation wasn’t possible. There were too many possibilities.

“You’ll teach me how to use a gun.” His female said that with palpable distaste.

“I’ll teach you how to use a gun.” He nodded. She should have the ability to defend herself…should anything happen to him. “I will protect you, my female, in every way possible.”

She was too valuable to the universe and to him to lose.

Cure tightened his hold on his female.

The medic in him wouldn’t be leading their mission.

The warrior would be in charge.

And that warrior would kill every Humanoid Alliance male on the planet to keep his little female safe.