UNIT 78: RESCUED (CyBRG Files Book 2) Read online

  Hands trembling, she took the clear double cup and pressed it over her freshly waxed pussy mound. All of her body hair had been removed during her induction into the cult and she was kept clean and smooth—the better to boost her sensitivity, according to Sister Yancy.

  She watched in sick fascination as the outer cup attached to her pussy mound and began to suck. But worse was to come. As soon as the outer cup was firmly attached, the smaller, inner cup extended and fitted itself over her clit. The gentle suction on this area was designed to sensitize her nerves and increase the blood flow, making her pussy incredibly sensitive, incredibly wet and hot…

  And all so she would welcome the Breeding when it was time.

  Never, Kyrin thought fiercely as she tried to ignore the effects of the three cups sucking her most delicate areas. I’ll never welcome it—never welcome him or accept my fate. I’ll get away from here somehow. I have to!

  But even as she told herself she would never give in, Sister Yancy came up beside her and slipped a needle into her arm.

  Kyrin gasped at the sharp little pain and tried to pull away, but the drug was already entering her system. She could feel it building up day by day, breaking down her defenses, making her weak and needy and desperate.

  Making her hate herself.

  “That’s good, my dear,” Sister Yancy purred as she watched Kyrin fight the sensations building inside her. “When the nectar starts to flow from your breasts, you’ll be ripe for the Breeding Ceremony. And that will be any day now, I’m certain. When you are strapped to the Altar of Breeding and Father Tr’Ayer comes to you, you will welcome him and beg for his blessed seed. And when your belly grows big, you will know hope for the first time—the hope that your child will have the hair of flame and eyes like the sky—the hope that he will be the messiah who will spread the light of our Lord Tr’Low throughout the galaxy.”

  “Never!” Kyrin hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t want that bastard anywhere near me!”

  “But you must welcome him—he is partly metal, as the prophesy speaks of,” Sister Yancy lectured. “Therefore it must be that he is meant to be the father of your child. Unless another comes, one who more fully fits the description before the ceremony, it will be Father Tr’Ayer who breeds you.”

  “Can’t you get it through your head—I don’t want anyone breeding me!” Kyrin snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with your sick, twisted religion! I just want to go home.”

  “This is your home now, dear.” Sister Yancy’s voice was implacable, inarguable. “And never fear—soon the Breeding drugs we have been injecting you with will ripen your body and make you ready to carry a child. When that happens—when the Breeding Fever comes on you—your womb will cry out within you, begging for the seed of the right male. Nothing else will put out the fire within you. You will burn and beg and nothing will satisfy you but a thick shaft inside you pumping you full of life-giving seed.”

  “Never,” Kyrin protested. “I’ll never beg for anything so sick! Just thinking about it makes me want to puke!”

  “You say that now, but things will change when you ripen.” Sister Yancy nodded knowingly. “I’ve seen it hundreds of times with hundreds of novices. Despite your brave words, you’re not different from any of them. Biology is biology and no one can resist the Breeding drugs for long—you’ll see.”

  “You’re lying. Never. I’ll never want that. Never.”

  But despite her brave words, Kyrin felt the drugs working on her. Felt her nipples and pussy responding to the damned suction in a way that made her tingle and ache all over. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the sensations but she couldn’t do it…couldn’t help the way she was beginning to feel.

  What scared her wasn’t the fact that she might be trapped here on Breeder One for the rest of her life…no, what scared Kyrin the most was that Sister Yancy might be right and she would actually beg for what was done to her. That she would actually welcome it when the time came.

  Never, she told herself again. Never, never, never!

  But what if she was wrong?

  Chapter Three

  So the Tr’Low idiots thought their savior would be fathered by a metal man. Rich snorted to himself as Beacon Five filled the viewscreen of his long-range shuttle. He had more than enough metal. It was the man part that was still in question.

  No, he reminded himself, he was a man.

  Doc Chambers, their leader’s lady-love, had worked diligently on all of them, removing the controlling subroutines that governed their CyBRG halves, minimizing the implants and restoring organics where she could. For some of them, those lucky enough to have taken minimal damage in the mine attack that had “killed” them, she’d managed to restore them to almost human appearance.

  Of course, it was all on the exterior. She couldn’t remove the cybernetics that laced their insides, buried in their nervous and skeletal systems… but looking in the mirror and seeing a man, not a machine, went a long way toward peace of mind.

  Rich caught sight of himself in the reflection of the shuttle’s control console and winced.

  He hadn’t been so lucky. Like Captain Fisher, Drew, he’d been at the epicenter of the blast. He’d been less of a corpse on the operating table than a ragged mass of bloody flesh and bones. As injured as he’d been, he was one of the most enhanced of the rebel cyborgs. Only Unit 85 had more implants, the shaven-headed soldier—Josh Harper, Rich’s memory informed him—even now struggling to reconcile his new nature with his humanity.

  Rich turned his head, studying the implants across his face. Then he grinned. The Tr’Low apparently had a prophecy about a metal man. A metal man that would father a promised leader to sweep them to victory across the galaxy.

  Well… he was as metal as they were going to get. He just hoped they accepted him in time for him to find the admiral’s daughter. As though the thought of her had triggered his onboard processor, an image filled the left side of his vision. It was a picture of a young woman in an IPKA uniform.

  Obviously an official portrait, her expression was severe and her flame red hair was pulled back tightly. But he wasn’t looking at that. Instead he saw the softness of her lips, even though she tried to pull them into a prim line, and the delicate curves of her frame even in the boxy and frankly ugly IPKA uniform. She was a beauty all right. No wonder the Tr’Low leader had wanted her.

  Scuttlebutt he’d managed to pick up since he’d left Pierce’s ship had filled in the gaps in the Marine Corps intel. Tr’Ayer was the worst sort of “prophet.” Before he’d taken on Tr’Low’s cause, the cult was little more than a “harm none” peaceful group that had settled on a couple of colonies near to the outer rim. They’d believed in genetic purity and arranged matches so the resultant offspring would be genetically pure. Their holy books, such as they’d been, remarked vaguely on a coming savior who would lead them all to redemption.

  Then Hank Ayers had joined them and begun calling himself “Father Tr’Ayer.” Within a year the little cult had claimed him as their prophet, and he’d had “divine revelations” from Tr’Low himself. Mostly about stricter breeding programs and the need to spread the word. The kidnappings and drug use had started about that time. Now, nearly a decade later, Tr’Ayer had remade himself into the image of their prophesied “metal man,” facial implants making him look more cybernetic than he was.

  Rich snorted to himself. All that metal when it wasn’t needed. Cosmetic cybernetics were well advanced these days. Doc Chambers had used a hell of a lot of it rebuilding all of them… just some of them were too damaged for the cosmetics, or she’d advised waiting for upgrades.

  “Unidentified shuttle, you are approaching Breeder One.” His comm sparked into life, a calm female voice filling the cabin. “Please state your identity and reason for approaching a sacred Tr’Low planet.”

  He leaned forward, hands swift and efficient on the shuttle’s controls as he opened the channel to reply. The screen in front of him changed fro