Excerpt of Assassin Mine by Cynthia Sax

Chapter One

I'm being watched.

The fine hairs on Sabria's bare arms lifted and her skin tingled, early warning signals that had saved her life in the past. She curled her fingers around the handle of her gun, the cool metal reassuring her, her skills honed from a lifetime spent hiding on hostile planets. Show no fear. She inhaled, counted to five, exhaled, and pivoted on her booted heels.

She saw nothing, the illuminated walkway devoid of life, the citizens of Symrah III honoring the newly established curfew, the Federation at war with the vicious Balazoids. Sabria peered into the shadows, cocked her head and listened for the rustle of cloth, the whisper of shoes against simulated stone or the telltale click of a trigger.

"I'm armed," she called out, hoping to scare her stalker away. No one replied.

Traz, where are you? Sabria glanced at the night sky, searching for her brother's ship. Vessels shot across the darkness, the small specks of light too far away to be identified. The three moons hung low on the horizon, casting a pale glow over the rooftops.

There was no sign of Traz. She scanned the area. Or her mysterious watcher.

The streetcrawler positioned at her feet broke the silence, beeping and whirling as it awaited much–needed repairs, its lights flickering and its shell dented.

"Yes, yes, Bits, I'll fix you up." Sabria crouched by the cute little bot. "What happened to your shell?" She extracted the suction tool from her work belt. "Did some mean Federation man kick you?"

Sabria applied the mouth of the tool to the foot–sized dent. "There are some bad men in the world." She pulled and the metal popped into place. "People say my brother is one of them because he looks and acts tough...and because he escaped prison." As she removed the suction tool, the bot chirped happily, its appreciation gratifying. "But he's not. He went to prison to protect me."

Sabria flipped the streetcrawler over. "And you'll help me purge his records yet again," she whispered. She slid a card into the slot she'd modified during the previous round of repairs. "For a few months, maybe even a year, he won't be persecuted. He'll be free, equal to any other Federation citizen." She righted the bot. "You'll do that for me, won't you?" She patted its shell and the machine cooed contentedly, rubbing against her legs.

"And as a thank–you, I'll replace all of your lights." She pulled the filaments from her pocket. "My boss says you don't need lights, they're not necessary for you to work, but I know you like to be fully operational." The bot pushed against her hand.

As she fiddled with the front beams, installing and aligning them properly, the feeling of being watched intensified. Hoping to distract her stalker, she deliberately dropped a straighter. The tool clattered on the manufactured rock and she spun around.

She caught a glimpse of moonlight reflecting off an inhumanly pale male hand before her watcher disappeared into the shadows once more. He's a harmless android. Sabria relaxed, tension easing from her shoulders. "Are you broken?"

There was a long pause. "Yes." That single word echoed as though it traveled over a long distance, the android's voice low and deep and arousing.

He's a machine. Sabria shook her head, banishing her instant attraction to him. "I'll fix you." She straightened. "Stay still." The streetcrawler at her feet obediently froze in place.

Sabria approached the shadows, her body trembling with awareness. He must be a companion android. That's why I'm having this strange reaction. She fumbled in her tool belt for her diagnostic device, androids being more complicated than streetcrawlers to fix. "Have you identified your malfunction?"

"No," he growled, expressing an impressive degree of emotion.

Red eyes blazed in the dark. Sabria blinked, confused. Why would his visual system revert to such an inhuman setting? The only species with red eyes is—

Shoes scuffed against the pedestrian walkway behind her. "Shit." Sabria drew her gun as she turned. A beam arced before she could fire and her weapon flew from her hands, her fingers throbbing with pain. She reached for her daggers.

"Don't even think about it, bitch," Rium sneered, the greasy–haired Symrah soldier flanked by two of his henchmen. All three men held guns in their multiple right hands, leering grins plastered across their ugly faces. "After General Camur's assassination, we were given orders to shoot any suspicious characters."

"I'm not a suspicious character." She raised her hands in the air, defiantly meeting the power–high soldier's gaze, Rium grasping onto any weakness, any reason to torment her. "I have authorization to be here. I'm repairing the streetcrawlers."

"That's a perfect cover for an assassin." Rium's gaze drifted down her body, lingering on her breasts and groin, his perusal making her skin creep. "And your brother isn't exactly an upstanding citizen. No one would question your guilt."

Sabria stayed silent, recognizing the truth of his words.

"But we'll make you a deal." Rium licked his plump lips, leaving a trail of saliva on his flesh. "You be nice to us, all of us." The men grinned, their flight suits tented around hard cocks. "And we'll let you go."

"No." Sabria edged away from them, coiling her body, preparing to run, to risk her life to avoid that fate. "You're not touching me." She sprinted.

They lunged in a synchronized assault. One man yanked her arm and she spun. Another man ripped her top, cool air hitting her skin. She extracted her daggers and attacked blindly, slicing her blades across the closest assailant's chest, digging two deep stripes into his flesh. He howled in agony and dropped to his knees, blood gushing between his fingers.

Rium's other henchman fell backward, gurgling, a black throwing star lodged deep in his throat. Sabria glanced behind her. No one stood there. She was alone. How—