by Jenna Ives
The second guard dropped his hands. “Aside from the firearm, he’s clean.”
The first guard nodded, and lowered his weapon. Bruiser gave Wyatt one long look, then turned his head and spat. The insolent gesture was his way of telling Wyatt that he wasn’t afraid of him, even if the most powerful person on the planet had sent him.
“This way.”
Wyatt’s boots echoed on the concrete floor as he followed the guard into the building. They headed down a huge, empty hallway, through a sliding metal door that squealed on its track, and then onto the main factory floor.
Wyatt paused briefly. The noise inside here was deafening; the machinery was obviously operating at full capacity. He caught a glimpse of a naked form inside a pneumatic tube being carried along by a conveyor belt, but before he had a chance to get a good look at the technology, the guard veered off to the right.
Wyatt set his jaw and followed.
A makeshift office with floor-to-ceiling windows allowing a view of the entire factory floor was nestled into a corner, elevated by about six feet. The guard mounted a dozen steps to the door, with Wyatt close behind.
One bang on the wood from the side of the guard’s fist signaled their visit. Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Wyatt followed, grateful for the immediate and blissful silence of the room.
That is, until Anson Carron opened his mouth.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he roared, as he shot up from behind his desk.
The guard had his weapon aimed at Wyatt’s chest even before Wyatt could put up his hands in a calming gesture.
“He said Theus sent him,” the guard explained quickly, in his own defense.
If possible, the look on Carron’s face turned even more outraged. “What?”
Wyatt slowly lowered his hands. “Theus has named me as his personal liaison between you and the High Council. I’ve come to give you your first orders. From here on out, you and I will deal directly where your robot soldiers are concerned.”
“The hell I will,” Carron spat. “I answer to no one but Theus!”
“No,” Wyatt corrected deliberately. “There’s a new chain of command. As of today, you answer to me. I am your conduit to the Council.”
Anson Carron’s face was quickly turning an unhealthy shade of red. Wyatt knew from his previous dealings with Carron that the ex-owner of Beautiful Dolls had tried to kill Marque Callex in order to usurp Callex’s position as Theus’ right-hand military man. It was a powerful and coveted position. So for Carron to now have to answer to Wyatt, well, Carron must be incensed. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Wyatt gave a mental nod to the High Council premier. Theus was a brilliant strategist. As surely as he knew Wyatt would ride Carron’s ass to keep him in line, he apparently also knew that having Wyatt as Anson Carron’s superior would keep Carron off-balance. Less smug in his new role. And subsequently, less dangerous, perhaps.
“You’re welcome to contact Theus for confirmation of my position, if you like,” Wyatt drawled. He couldn’t resist the barb. He knew there was a tiny chance Carron would actually do it, but it was just as likely he wouldn’t take the risk of being humiliated by Theus for doubting Wyatt’s word.
Besides, no one ever misrepresented Theus’ orders and lived to tell about it.
Carron knew that as well as Wyatt did.
Wyatt threw a pointed glance at the communications console on Carron’s desk, but Carron made no move toward it.
“All right, then,” Wyatt continued, savoring his small victory. “Before we get down to business, I’d like a tour of your factory floor.”
Carron’s hands fisted and unfisted at his sides, as he obviously tried to get his anger under control. With a low growl, he came around his desk, pushed roughly past Wyatt, and headed for the office door.
Wyatt followed him down the metal stairs, the security guard right behind them. Once again, the piercing noise of the machinery grinding through its creative robotic procedures assaulted Wyatt’s ears and set his teeth on edge, but neither Carron nor his bruiser of a guard seemed affected by it.
Carron walked the entire length of the factory floor, to where the process of making the robot soldiers obviously began. He spoke briefly to a technician dressed in what looked like sterile scrubs, then turned to Wyatt.
“Since we stopped manufacturing Beautiful Dolls six months ago, we’ve been concentrating on creating only male models and converting the existing females to males. The process of building them starts here.” He laid a hand on a large gun-metal colored machine about four feet long and three feet high. “This is where the initial lump of polymer is fed. The torso is created first.”
As if on cue, a naked male torso was extruded from one end of the machine and into a pneumatic tube. Wyatt noticed that the torso was not anatomically correct. He’d never seen an actual Beautiful Doll – only his ex-partner Jai’s imitation of one – but the sexbots were legendary for fulfilling every sexual fantasy, in part because they were so incredibly lifelike, down to every intimate detail. This example was far from it. Instead, it reminded Wyatt of the simple toy soldiers he used to play with as a child.
Carron started walking alongside the pneumatic tube’s conveyor belt, which seemed to connect various similar machines of differing sizes throughout the room, all apparently programmed to create select body parts. The torso disappeared into the second machine as they approached it. “This one makes the arms…”
Carron proceeded to the next machine, a longer one. “This one, legs…”
Next machine. “Heads…”
Carron walked a few more feet, and then paused at a more complex-looking device. The technician, who’d been pushing buttons on a console, stepped aside.
“Theus has asked for an initial order of five thousand soldiers,” Carron said. “As you can imagine, it’s a very delicate process to make them, especially creating the hands and feet, since those are responsible for such dexterous work as firing a weapon or engaging in combat. This part takes a little longer.”
Wyatt would dearly love to take a closer look at the technical workings of a machine that could create human-like fingers and toes, but that would have to wait. Carron had started walking again, stopping in front of what possibly was the last machine on the floor. “We have the ability to create twenty-five soldiers a day, but in order to meet that ambitious deadline, we’ve stripped the androids of most of their… personality.”
Carron crooked his finger and motioned around a corner of the room. Wyatt stepped forward to have a look.
His eyebrows reached his hairline. He estimated four thousand robot soldiers stood lined up in neat rows in a cavernous storage area. Bloody hell, Carron had already created an army. Wyatt took note of the soldiers’ identical bland, homogenous faces with their slightly luminescent glow. The men were all dressed in the one-piece duty uniform of Tau Cetus police agents – except that theirs was a camouflage print, not Wyatt’s standard navy blue.
“Of course, creating their body is the easy part,” Carron said, motioning Wyatt to follow him out a back door and away from the factory floor. “Their sophisticated programming is another matter.”
Wyatt tried to quiet the ringing in his ears as Carron led him down another hallway and through two sets of double doors marked ‘programming lab.’ Inside the first room, a dozen latex-gloved and masked technicians worked on what looked like delicate computer chips mounted underneath high-powered magnifying devices. The bright light in the room was nearly blinding, but Wyatt assumed the techs needed the intense illumination for their intricate work. Carron paused only long enough to let Wyatt register what was going on around him, and then led him to the adjoining room, where a score of lab-coated programmers hunched over computer screens, obviously writing code that would direct the robot soldiers.
Wyatt held back a small whistle of amazement. This was some operation Carron had going here.
And there wa
s apparently still more to see.
Carron was moving briskly toward a black door at the rear of the room. Bruiser-the-security-guard gave Wyatt a not-so-subtle nudge with the butt of his weapon, urging him in that direction.
Wyatt stood his ground for a moment after Carron disappeared into the next room, in order to make the point to Bruiser that no one was going to push him around. Then he casually headed toward the black door.
The smaller room into which Wyatt stepped was also some sort of lab. In here, a man in a blue polo shirt and khaki pants typed feverishly at a keyboard. Next to him stood a naked robot soldier, connected by a single cable leading from the side of its head to a computer.
“This is Titus Veraine, my programming chief,” Carron said by way of introduction. “He can answer any questions you may have about the soldiers. When you’re through here, I’ll be in my office. We can talk about Theus’… orders… then.”
Turning on his heel, Carron left the room, followed closely by Bruiser. Wyatt was surprised the security guard left, but then again, Wyatt had pretty much established himself as the High Council’s official representative. He was no threat to Carron’s operation. Besides, he’d have a hard time even finding his way out of this massive place.
Titus Veraine pulled his fingers off his keyboard, leaned back in his chair and blew out what sounded like an exhausted breath. Wyatt took the opportunity to look the naked robot soldier up and down.
“Mr. Carron just quickly briefed me before you came in,” the programmer said. “What would you like to know?”
Wyatt was still staring at the machine, which had the luminescent glow of his fellow soldiers on the factory floor. “Can I touch it?”
“Be my guest.”
Wyatt took two steps closer to the immobile soldier, and reached out a hand to feel the robot’s forearm. Bloody hell. He would have been hard pressed to say that the thin membrane covering the machinery wasn’t actually skin. In fact, it felt almost exactly like the coated skin of his ex-partner Jai, whom Carron and this man Titus Veraine had made up to resemble a Beautiful Doll for her undercover assignment with Marque Callex.
To cover his reaction, Wyatt cleared his throat. “Can you show me its capability? In particular, I’d like to see its dexterity. What can it do with its fingers?”
Veraine stared at him. “What, are you the only person on the planet not familiar with our Beautiful Dolls?” He motioned to the robot. “This is nothing. This is a big step down from the sophistication of what we used to do.”
Wyatt shifted on his feet. “Regardless, I’d like a demonstration.”
Veraine shrugged, then stood to unhook the cable from the side of the robot’s head. “Wake up,” he ordered.
The soldier’s eyes opened slowly. Two black holes stared back at Wyatt.
Veraine reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square of metal, perhaps part of a bolt of some kind. He laid it on the edge of his desk. “Pick this up,” he said to the robot.
The soldier dutifully reached out a hand and retrieved the thin piece of metal between his thumb and forefinger. The robot even held it out to Veraine, offering to give it back to him.
“Very impressive,” Wyatt acknowledged. So. There would be no problem with this soldier gripping a weapon or pulling a trigger. “How about strength?”
Veraine looked around the room, and spied a concrete block in the corner. He pointed to it. “Destroy that.”
The soldier turned, identified its target, and moved across the room in three steps. With one blow from the side of its hand, the cement block crumbled into small pieces.
A scant moment later, a white-coated programmer opened the lab door and poked his head around it. He took one look at the mess in the corner, and threw Veraine a glance. “I heard a loud noise… Everything all right in here?”
“Fine. Just a demonstration.” Veraine jerked a thumb toward the robot. “This one’s ready to go.”
The programmer crossed the room. “Come with me,” he said to the soldier. As he led the robot back toward the door, he said to Veraine, “Are you ready for me to bring in the next one?”
Veraine looked at Wyatt, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Give me ten minutes. No, on second thought, I’ll come out and get the next one.”
The programmer nodded, then left with the robot, closing the door behind them.
“Tired?” Wyatt inquired.
“Exhausted,” Veraine answered. He looked Wyatt up and down. “Are you really not familiar with Beautiful Doll sexbots?”
Wyatt hesitated. “Of course I know about them. Everyone does. Or, rather, did, since they’re no longer being manufactured. But I never saw one in person.”
Veraine shook his head. “Damned shame. I loved that job. All the Dolls have been re-commissioned.” He paused, then winked. “Except for a select few.”
Wyatt’s eyebrow went up at that news. “What do you mean ‘a select few’?”
Veraine gave Wyatt a sly smile, and jerked his head for Wyatt to follow him. The two men walked over to what looked like a small utility closet. Gripping the handle of the door, Veraine slowly eased it open.
Wyatt’s mouth literally dropped open at what he saw there. A naked female, eyes closed, obviously a Beautiful Doll. The sexbot had gorgeous red hair that flowed down to caress her creamy white shoulders. Easily double-D breasts with rose-colored nipples that tempted him to reach out and fill his hands with them. Curvy hips that would cradle a man while he sank himself deep inside her. Hell, even her lips were full and pouty, an unspoken invitation if ever Wyatt saw one. The robot screamed sex; hell, he could feel his cock responding just at the mere sight of her.
Veraine’s sly smile widened. “This is Ginger. She was Beautiful Dolls’ most popular model.”
Wyatt blinked. Gorgeous Ginger was Beautiful Dolls’ most popular sexbot? He could certainly believe it.
“She’s in her hibernation mode right now.” Veraine glanced at the Doll. “Ginger? Say hello to Leith Wyatt.”
The Beautiful Doll slowly opened her eyes, and Wyatt’s jaw dropped further. The sexbot’s eyes were a deep, emerald green, and had an almost starburst quality to them. He remembered the blue starburst contact lenses Jai had been forced to wear during her impersonation of a Beautiful Doll, but Ginger’s eyes were downright beautiful, so beautiful that he imagined he could easily drown in them. Totally unlike the two lifeless black holes of the robot soldier he’d just seen.
“Hello, Leith Wyatt,” she purred.
Good God. The sexbot’s voice was a verbal caress, smooth as silk. Those two simple words were an erotic come-on in themselves. Wyatt felt himself get even harder. He threw Veraine a glance, unable to hide his look of amazement.
Veraine laughed, then shrugged. “Hey, I’m working day and night programming these damned soldiers for the High Council. I deserve a little…stress relief.” He glanced down at his watch, then back up at Wyatt. “Listen… I, um, I’m going to go out onto the floor for a few minutes. Yeah. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He tilted his head toward Ginger, then lowered his voice. “Beautiful Dolls are history, my friend. If you were ever curious about them, you should…indulge…that curiosity while I’m gone. It could be the only chance you’ll ever have.”
Wyatt stared at Veraine, speechless. Was the man actually suggesting Wyatt have sex with the Doll while Veraine was out on the factory floor?
Veraine gave him that sly smile again. “Ten minutes. I’ll close the door on my way out to give you privacy.” He threw a glance at the sexbot. “Ginger? Why don’t you demonstrate your special brand of fellatio for agent Wyatt while I’m gone? And maybe fellatio two, if there’s time.”
“Yes, Titus.”
With that, the programmer turned and left the lab, pulling the door firmly closed behind him.
What the hell — Trying to rein in his frantic thoughts, Wyatt anxiously turned back to the Doll. Ginger was actually smiling at him, a sweet smile, exposing perfect white teeth. Damn,
she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever –
Stop it! She’s not a woman, she’s a machine!
Ginger reached out a hand to grab onto his belt, and then sank gracefully to her knees in front of him.
“Wait…wait!”
Wyatt’s panicked words sounded desperate even to his own ears. But what exactly was he desperate for?
Are you desperate to stop her, or desperate to know exactly what she’s capable of?
This was insane. He couldn’t possibly let her perform fellatio on him, not even her own ‘special brand’ of fellatio, whatever the hell that was, despite the fact his cock was hard as a rock and very willing to find out.
Beautiful Dolls are history. You may never have this chance again.
Damn Veraine for putting that thought into his head. The sexual skills of a Beautiful Doll were legendary, but Wyatt had often wondered whether the legend was actual truth or just a good marketing ploy.
This is your chance to find out.
“No, no, I can’t.” He had a job to do here. One that certainly did not include a detour for oral sex.
Ginger looked up at him, her perfect smile fading. “If you refuse, Titus Veraine will be angry with me.”
Wyatt paused. Veraine had given her an order, and she was programmed to please. How was Wyatt supposed to stop her?
Before he could figure out the best way to deal with this outrageous situation, Ginger’s grip on his belt tightened, holding him in place, while her other hand determinedly eased down the zipper of his blue dress pants. Despite himself, Wyatt’s eyes rolled back into his head when her hand brushed his sensitized shaft as she inched the zipper down. One small corner of his brain screamed its gratitude that he’d decided to wear his dress uniform today, instead of the one-piece jumpsuit he normally wore. She wouldn’t have been able to get to him in that outfit.
Meanwhile, a smaller corner of his brain cursed the decision.