Page 7 of Her Alien Cyborgs
She chuckled as she tapped in the code. “Thank you for confirming my theory that no one wants to remember anotherfraxxingpasscode.”
Despite her curiosity, Hezza stayed put until the hatch was completely open. No sense rushing toward potential trouble.
Beyond the heavy hatch was another corridor, but this one was different. Instead of unmarked doors, this area had cells, complete with thick metal bars.
Jackpot.
She held up her comm device and captured several images. Then she sent a quick, encrypted message to Phylomenia that included the photos and her approximate location. Only then did she enter the new area.
“Hello?” she called out in Galactic Standard. It was common knowledge that cyborgs were programmed to understand and speak every known language, but why make it complicated? Galactic Standard was exactly as the name declared, a standardized language used by all the known species.
“Are you from the IAF?” The voice was low, deep, and male.
“Sort of. They’re here, and I came on one of their ships, but I’m not military. I represent another group.”
“Explain.” The voice sounded the same, but something told her it wasn’t coming from the same being.
She raised her hands, palms out, and moved toward the voices. “My name is Hezza. I’m here because some friends asked me to come. I think you and they probably have a lot in common. They were kept in a place like this once. They’re free now, though, and they want you to know you aren’t alone anymore.”
“Why would they care about us?”
She reached the front of the cell and turned to face the inhabitants. She’d been about to explain that her friends were cyborgs, but the words died unspoken.
She’d met cyborgs before. Plenty of them. But these two were nothing like the others. For one thing, they weren’t based on human DNA.
“Ohfraxx. You’re Vardarian.” She eyed the two captive males in disbelieve. This was not at all what she’d expected.
It was so much worse.
The pair were identical, so much so that she assumed they were clones. Both were large and heavily muscled, which was typical for cyborgs. They had silver scales, with the familiar barcode style marking on their wrists. Every cyborg she’d ever met had one. Apparently, the assholes running this research base hadn’t felt the need to change their identification protocols when they’d added a new species to their research.
They were Vardarian, no doubt about it, though she’d never seen any look quite this… primal. Their dark blond hair and beards were long and wild, as if they’d never met a barber before in their lives. Given their situation, that was probably true.
She considered them for a heartbeat and then two. Her first impression was that the two were viscerally beautiful and more than a little feral. She’d have to be careful.
“We’re not Vardarian,” one of them said. He stood next to the bars of his cell, his gray-blue eyes locked on her.
“We’re cyborgs,” the other continued. He stood in the back corner of their cell with his massive arms crossed over an equally huge chest. “We’re not the same species as our donor DNA.”
That was interesting. The cyborgs she knew saw themselves in the same way. They referred to themselves as cyborgs. Never as humans.
“The beings I represent are cyborgs, too. They care because they’re the same as you in some ways, and they would like to offer you a safe place to recover.” She gestured around them. “From all this.”
The one closest to the bars stiffened, his head snapping up to stare at the door. “Someone else is coming. Several beings, and they’re in a hurry.”
Veth. She needed more time. Would closing the hatch slow them down? Probably not. One of them would think to look for the passcode, just as she had.
“They’re IAF soldiers. They won’t hurt you, but they’ll likely shout orders and try to boss you around. Me too. Do me a favor and stay calm. I have friends on their way. We’ll get this sorted out.”
She took a deep breath to center herself. But instead of helping her focus, her pulse sped up, and a sudden rush of heat washed over her.
She ignored it.
Instinct told her she needed to put herself between the two captives and the incoming soldiers. She moved before she could consider the ramifications, placing herself less than a meter outside the bars, and then turned to face the hatch.
“What are you doing?” the nearest male asked.
“Giving them a reason to stop and think before they do something stupid.”
