Page 33 of Max
“We will protect your female as if she were our own,” Brute assured Max while Force bowed his head briefly in agreement.
Max caressed Falyn’s cheek with his finger tips and gave her an ardent look before he left to mount his sky cycle. Moments later, he was in the air and off like a shot toward the horizon.
Brute and Force went to move the dead gangers’ flyer out of the pasture and load the dead men into it. Meanwhile, Falyn went to the tool shed to get a scoop-shovel to start cleaning the broken glass.
In addition to broken glass, wood splinters were on nearly every surface. She started at the top with the bullet-riddled cupboards. Dishes in her family for over a hundred years were shattered. A few had miraculously survived, but all the heirloom wine glasses in the top of the cupboard were broken.
That’s when Falyn started to cry angry tears. Of course, she knew they were all just things. She was alive, and her home could be repaired. None of her animals were harmed, but the broken dishes and wine glasses were all part of her heritage.
Climbing up on a stepstool to survey the damage, she sobbed angrily. These were dishes and glassware her great-great-great grandparents used to serve food and drink. Only a couple of plates remained intact. Hoping at least one of the wine glasses was unbroken, she took one step higher.
Falyn let herself cry for a minute or so after seeing none of the wine glasses intact. “Those bastards!” she cried. They fucking destroyed her kitchen, trying to kill her all because Max was doing his job. Conversely, they never would have come after her if not for Max.
Blaming Max wouldn’t be fair. They came to use her against him because they knew how much she meant to him. Losing her would break him. Killing those bastards had saved the life they were making together. They were part of a gang that sold humans to alien slavers who sold them to other aliens to abuse sexually.
When she had cried out her anger and fear, she wiped tears from her eyes with her fingers. She didn’t dare to use any cloths in the kitchen because they might hold slivers of glass. She calmed herself with a few deep breaths and picked up the large metal pot and brush from the counter.
Using the long-handled utility brush to keep her hands from getting cut on the glass shards, she swept the remnants of her wine glasses off the shelf and into a large metal pot.
As she moved on to the next shelf, she caught sight of her dining room China cabinet. It was unmarked, and the ‘good’ dishes had all survived. Her pot filled quickly from one cupboard and the counter beneath.
She carried it outside, trying to decide how to dispose of it. Setting the pot on the porch, she went to the tool shed and got the wheelbarrow leaning against it. She steered it to the porch, parked it, and emptied the pot of broken dishes, glass, and wood splinters into it.
When it was filled, she would start a pile at the edge of the woods surrounding her property and then bury it. That wouldn’t be the end of it. Most of the cabinets were damaged beyond repair, but she needed to clear away the broken glass to see if anything was salvageable.
Bullet holes in the cook stove’s metal chimney meant it would need to be replaced before she could heat or cook with it. It was midsummer, so heat wouldn’t be a problem. There were bullet holes everywhere, worrying Falyn about the structural integrity of the kitchen and porch.
She would clean up first and rescue whatever was salvageable. Max would help her figure it out when his mission was finished.
Chapter Twenty
The raid of the Overlord stronghold was fully underway when Max returned to the urban ruins. Teams of five cyborgs went from structure to structure on four sides of Thrix’s territory. Most of them were makeshift dwellings of salvaged materials.
All of the cyborgs were wearing traditional armor except for Max. His armor was integrated within his body and assembled at will by internal nanites. It was impenetrable by bullets from projectile guns, but that didn’t stop the gangers from firing non-stop at them as the cyborgs raided them.
Only one member of each team carried an ion rifle because short-range blasters were more effective in close quarters. The protectors either walked right up to the shooters firing at them, ripping their weapons from their hands, or used the blasters to stun them.
Thrix’s control center was in the middle of his territory and served as his home. His gangers built theirs surrounding it, so they served as a buffer zone. Unknown to them, he had an underground tunnel that would take him to a hanger outside the buffer to his Mesaarkan escape flyer.
Colton landed his flyer at Thrix’s hanger just ahead of the cyborg protectors’ landing outside his territory. His com-tablet vibrated in his pocket before he could leave the cockpit.
“Colton, I can’t get a hold of Thrix,” Driscoll grumbled. “He’s not answering his com, and he needs to get out of here before the cyborg teams come. If they find him, they just might kill him.”
“Especially those who fought in the war. He’s probably in his playroom with one of the females. I’ll run over and check.”
“Watch yourself,” said Driscoll. “He’s been known to go ballistic when he’s interrupted.”
“He doesn’t want to test them. They’ll waste him in a heartbeat if they find him balls deep in a human female.”
“That will be his problem,” said Colton as he started jogging through the tunnel to Thrix’s lair.
Colton heard the cries and moans of a female as he entered Thrix’s dwelling. Just as they thought, the Mesaarkan was tormenting some female. Then he heard the female wailing in pain. As he listened, he heard a slapping sound before the next scream.
At that point, the female started to sob as Colton moved stealthily down the narrow hallway to the Mesaarkan’s sadistic playroom. The door was open wide enough for Colton to see inside. The Mesaarkan had some blond female strapped spreadeagle and face down on a horizontal X-cross on a swivel, fucking her.
Colton thought the Mesaarkan was probably the only one enjoying it as she wept softly. The reptilian lashed her with the whip-like end of his tail, eliciting another painful scream from her.
The cyborg convert hated himself for helping to provide human females for Mesaarkans like Thrix to abuse.
