Free The Belter's Story (BRIGAND) by Natalie French, Scot Bayless

a little easier.
    The Trand greeted the soldier as a comrade, clasping his arm in much the same way Rox had clasped ours so many years ago. They even spoke the same ritual greeting. A marine then. A Jack.
    We knew the Trand had used a neutralizer on them. We could feel the tingle, the tiny EMP that came along with the device's effect. And we could see that the marine knew exactly what had happened.
    He put his arm around her, his posture relaxed, but we could see his tension radiating in brilliant green. Fight… Flight…
    We stood and moved around the workbench. We commanded our bots, dozens of them, to come to us and a swarm of little spidery machines formed around our feet. We didn't know what the Trand wanted, but we knew that we must not allow him to gain whatever it was. We didn't care about the marine. All we wanted was her.
    "Cruase, you know what to do." Trand's voice was flat and hard.
    Now we understood. The purpose of the augment Trand had given us was to collapse nearby energy fields. We knew what a wraith could do. And we knew that, with those fields gone, she would no longer be able to use one of her most potent skills.
    We wanted to warn her and took a hesitant step forward. The marine saw us and moved to defend her. We faltered, not sure what to do. We didn't wish her harm. We only wanted —
    Then we had it. The timing would be tricky, but if it worked she would be safe from whatever the Trand had in mind. At least until we could come up with a way to get her away from here. We watched her with all of our attention and, an instant later, were rewarded with the tell we sought. Her glow warned us of her intentions just before she stepped into one of the pockets wraiths use. We triggered the augment.
    Instead of being blocked from entering the pocket, as the Trand had planned, she disappeared. We had done it. She was secure. Our eyes, aglow with the excitement of our small victory, shifted to the marine — just as he drew his sidearm and threw it. Straight at us. The last thing we saw was a brilliant flash of white and then the gritty floor swooping up to meet us.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    Awareness returned to us like the flipping of a switch. We heard sounds of struggle. We smelled blood and sweat and pain.
    The marine was injured. A gash had opened the back of his head and he was struggling to rise from the floor. The Trand stood against the far wall, our goddess suspended limply by one arm from his huge fist. She was naked except for her boots and narrow tracks of dark blood trickled from countless little wounds all over her body. Her glow, still bright, was tinged with the colors of suffering. Our first impulse was to rush wildly to her aid, but then we understood. She wasn't unconscious.
    She was lying in wait.
    The extensibles of Trand's left hand were writhing and clutching at her white skin. "What do you say, Roy? Think she can learn how to please a real man by the time we get to Marajo?"
    He slid his machine hand, the hand we had built for him, down between her legs and lifted her against his pelvis, grinding himself into her from behind. Anger flared inside us. We saw now what the Trand wanted. What he must never have.
    "NO!" Our shout was drowned by the marine, who yelled at precisely the same moment. He had made it to his knees and was trying to force himself to stand.
    "The Trand must not do this." We stepped forward. We needed to be close. "This one has a glow — not like any other. The Trand must not destroy such a thing. The Trand will not."
    "Shut the fuck up, Cruase. I own your contract. Without me, you wouldn’t even have air to breathe. Go build your little bots and leave the man stuff to the men." He lifted her higher and leaned his head forward, clamping his mouth down on her, between neck and shoulder. He bit hard and lifted his head, tearing skin and trailing blood down his chin.
    "NO! She must live." We closed the distance between us, our chest extensibles lashing out. They gripped his