Children of Titan Series: Books 1-4: (A Space Opera Thriller Box Set)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “You see?” Lucas said. He then looked David directly in his eyes. “David, please incapacitate this man with a non-lethal gunshot.”

  “Yes, sir,” David droned.

  He rotated toward me and began to raise his gun-hand. Survival instincts kicked in. I wished I’d held onto my pistol. I prepared myself to pounce, but before the situation escalated, Lucas stepped in-between us and lifted his hands.

  “David, stop,” he ordered calmly.

  David immediately lowered the firearm and returned to standing at attention, arms slack along his sides. My heart was racing. I didn’t even realize I was crouched until I turned my head and realized I was looking at Lucas’ belt.

  “Forgive the bluntness of my example,” he said.

  “Forgive?” I stood to full height, straightened my duster, and mustered the poise of a veteran Collector. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

  “I knew an ordinary test wouldn’t prove anything to a man of your expertise.”

  I took a long breath to calm myself. “I’ve had plenty of guns aimed at me, Doctor Mannekin, but never like that. Not even a second of hesitation and no payment necessary? You’re going to put me out of a damn job.”

  “That is not my intent. Imagine, if you will, having a partner that would never question your orders, never experience fear, and would be instantly replaceable. Collector deaths could be lowered, and the simple tasks I know you detest could be delegated while you focus on the jobs only men like you can handle. There is no substitute for real experience and intuition after all.”

  Now he was trying too hard to say exactly what I wanted to hear.

  “All right, Doc,” I said. “I’ll admit, it’s all very impressive, but I prefer dealing with people who can reason. These…things make me wonder if that meteorite should’ve just finished us off centuries ago.”

  Lucas’s lips formed a straight line. He was growing frustrated by my lack of enthusiasm. “The future is approaching faster than any of us could’ve imagined, Mr. Graves,” he said through clenched teeth. “I hope your personal aversion won’t affect your decision.”

  “Don’t worry. I never take my job personal.”

  My response caused his expression to soften. “Is there anything else you wish to know about their training?”

  I scanned the room. There were many more things I wanted to know: What else the androids could do; exactly how they were made; how they screwed…but all I really needed to know was where the human subjects were staying, specifically one worth a nice chunk of change.

  A sealed door led into the next enclosed segment of the station beyond the training area. This one was marked. The words PRODUCTION CENTER: PROTECTION REQUIRED were posted prominently on the central porthole. Through it, I noticed that there were no more polished corners or wood trim. Instead, the ceilings boasted exposed air ducts and circuits, without even the slightest attempt at disguising them. That meant raw materials and machinery. The shit beneath the station’s gleam. The good stuff.

  Another researcher inside led a young man out of one room and down the hall. He looked exhausted, and I could’ve sworn that his back belonged to Jimmy, but before I could get a better look they vanished around a corner.

  “As much as I love seeing the finished product,” I said, “I’ll need to get a firsthand look at your manufacturing process to evaluate current and future rates of production. If you do want me to report what I’ve seen to Pervenio that is. I’m guessing that’s through there?”

  “It is. However, I’d ask… Mr. Graves!” Lucas hollered when I shuffled around and strode toward the locked entrance. He hurried after me and kept pace. “It’s not safe to proceed further without proper precautions,” he warned. “Allow me a night to prepare a demonstration for each stage of production.”

  “Again, with this?” I said. “Just show me what’s what, and I’ll be out of your hair and one step closer to a deal.” I reached for the handle.

  “Mr. Graves!” Lucas pulled on my shoulder so hard that I spun all the way around to face him. If he were anybody else, I would’ve broken his hand. “I’d ask that you please stop!”

  I shrugged him off and halted a meter from the door. Sweat dripped down his forehead in droves. His lips twitched. If decades of dealing with criminals and miscreants had taught me anything, it was that he was hiding something.

  “Is everything okay, Doctor?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied too quickly. After my glare bored through him for a few more seconds, he sighed. “Like I said, you arrived earlier than expected. Through that door is where our products are grown and our subjects are studied exhaustively for their human qualities. Production happens in stages, and I’d prefer it if I could prepare a proper demonstration of the entire process.”

  “And I’d prefer to see your standard operating procedures.” I took another step. Again, he grabbed me.

  “You will!” he assured. “Please, Mr. Graves. This is my life’s work, and a chance at developing a relationship with Pervenio Corp is the best I’ll ever have. Consider it a professional courtesy. I can see how exhausted you are and on the other side of reception we have wonderful accommodations which help us cater to our subjects when they are on downtime.”

  I scratched my scruffy chin. His reaction only made me want to see what was behind the door more, and I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. Aria, Jimmy and Pervenio Corp were waiting for me to wrap things up but all the walking had me so exhausted that my legs felt like they were going to fall off. Any excuse for a nap couldn’t hurt and neither could an opportunity to look into who Lucas Mannekin really was. If I kept playing up the possibility of me reporting his operation to my bosses, he wouldn’t touch me.

  “Please,” he repeated while I stood thinking. “I can have Rebecca prepare the luxury suite and bring you up a glass of my finest whiskey. Vintage 2312.”

  “All right, you win,” I conceded. I was never one to say no to a free drink, especially when I was stuck on an assignment I didn’t want in the first place. 2312? My mouth started to water. “I’ll give you a few hours to make this trip worthwhile, but that’s all.”

  He took my hand and shook emphatically. “Thank you, Mr. Graves. That will be perfect.” He whipped out his hand-terminal and typed without needing to look.

  “The room better be luxurious.”

  “Again, you won’t be disappointed,” he said, his smile broader than ever. “This way.”

  THREE

  Luxurious was not an overstatement.

  A molding made of wood so real I could smell it, sculpted with the images of fruits and vines, some of which were long extinct, wrapped around my room’s ceiling. A wide viewport was sunken into a portion of the floor on an angle so I could see the wrinkled face of the asteroid around which Helix Station orbited. Hell, the bed positioned across from it could fit four of me and was covered with plush, silken sheets.

  First, I scoped the room for hidden surveillance feeds or wires. When I was confident it was clean, I removed my belt and duster and set them down on the bed. Then I took a seat. My legs had never been so grateful for a rest. Despite knowing why I was on the station, I couldn’t stay away from this one glaring question: Who was Lucas Mannekin? A man who could stay off everybody’s radar, who had the resources to develop this station and the incredible technology it fostered.

  I whipped out my hand-terminal and got to scouring Solnet. They’d probably be able to track my searches on their network, despite my Collector encryptions, but I didn’t care. Any discerning businessman would research their partner before he got into bed with them.

  Lucas Mannekin was a ghost—as expected with a name like that. Nothing on him at all, and no Mannekin clan-family to speak of. Wealthy men often legally took on their own surnames to make themselves feel special, so I moved on to splitting his name into keys per syllable. Seeing if anything bit. I narrowed the newsfeeds down to former owners of any company or corporation in Sol. People
who might have credits to spare and those who had disappeared. My eyelids grew heavy as I scrolled through thousands of potential articles. I was almost ready to doze off when one finally caught my attention.

  THE FALL OF MANN INDUSTRIES.

  Its CEO was Victor Mann, and a quick look at the press conference showed me he and Lucas were one and the same, albeit with a significant amount of surgery in the present to keep him looking young. The article was from ten years prior. Mann Industries had made its name developing rare medicines, the most significant being a cure for a degenerative brain disease caused by early sleep-pod technologies. After Victor’s partner left for Venta Co., they developed competing products at a lower cost and their profit margins suffered. Then, Mann’s Mars-based complex suffered from an “unexplainable” hydrogen leak and was blown half to hell. Victor Mann’s body wasn’t ever found, but his company recouped its wealth from insurance before dissolving and spreading the credits throughout several holdings in the relatively ungoverned asteroid belt where unsanctioned clinics and casinos ran rampant.

  As a Collector, it was part of my job not to believe in coincidences. It turned out my new friend Lucas had a checkered past and an invented name that I figured from the start, was too suitable to be real.

  Someone knocked on the room’s wooden door and nearly caused me to drop the device. I switched the screen off and stowed it in my pocket.

  “Come in,” I said. I’d almost forgotten about the drink Lucas had promised me.

  The doorknob twisted before it opened—another strange sight these days —and Rebecca appeared in the entrance holding a tray. Her long blonde hair was down, and a bright red dress hugged her lithe figure. It was cut so low around her neck and high on her thighs that my attention was immediately stolen from the crystalline glass of golden-brown liquid in the center of her tray. Not an easy task.

  I was wrong about her. Outside of her business attire, none of the other androids could compare. She was…sublime.

  “Good evening, Mr. Graves,” she said as she sashayed in.

  Her voice remained monotone and her face without a smile, but this time she was looking at me, not through me. I was speechless. She gently placed the tray down on the night table beside my bed. The sultry manner in which she bent over had to be intentional.

  “Is there anything else you’d like, Mr. Graves?” she asked as she lifted the glass and placed it in my hand. Our index fingers grazed each other. Hers was wet and cold from condensation.

  “Please, it’s Malcolm,” I said before I could catch myself.

  “Is there anything else you’d like, Malcolm?” She ran the tips of her long, manicured fingers along my back. A chill ran down my spine. “I’ve been trained extensively in the arts of massage therapy. Your muscles must be sore after such a long trip.”

  She pressed her strong fingers into the skin around my shoulders. Her touch made my entire body tingle. I almost choked on a mouthful of whiskey. When I pulled it away from my mouth she was directly in front of me, her hands hovering above my heaving chest. Our faces were centimeters apart, her warm, human-like breath lapping at my cheeks.

  “I’ve been instructed to make your stay as enjoyable as possible, Malcolm.” She wrapped her fingers around my wrists and guided them toward her legs. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she pressed her hips against mine so that my hands ran entirely across her thighs. They were smooth, yet with the slight bristle that comes from not shaving for a day or two—unbelievably realistic.

  Before I knew it, she’d pushed me onto my back and climbed on top of me. She was aggressive and coming from me that says a lot. I’d visited every shitty brothel from the slums of Earth to Titan.

  Her mouth pressed against mine. After resisting her for a few seconds, I gave in and started to kiss her back. Her lips were soft and moist. I pulled her closer, and as I did my finger slid across a shallow groove around her hip. It was barely noticeable, enough to be an old scar, but my finger traced it. It ran all the way around her upper leg like a seam.

  I shoved her off me and sat up, struggling to catch my breath. For a second, I’d almost forgotten she wasn’t human.

  “Is something the matter, Malcolm?” she asked.

  She wrapped her fingers back around my shoulders and pulled herself close, not in the least bit dismayed by my rejection. Any human would be. I grabbed her arm and lowered her dress to reveal one of her shoulders. I couldn’t see it at first, but when I leaned in close and used my hand, I was able to locate another groove. This one was shallower than the last, but it too wrapped all the way around.

  The bright lights of the facility’s testing area had apparently made the blemishes impossible to notice on any of the other androids, but now that I’d found hers, they were clear as day. It was exquisite work, but in the end, she’d been stitched together like she was Frankenstein’s Monster’s wife. My stomach turned at the thought that I’d been so close to sharing my bed with her.

  “Everything’s fine,” I said. “Just almost made a huge mistake.” I stood, grabbed my drink, and guzzled down the entire contents of the glass. The biting taste made me wince, but I’ve always said drinking shouldn’t be easy. I took a few steps away to shake it off.

  “Please, Malcolm,” Rebecca said. Suddenly, she was directly beside me. She didn’t even care to fix her dress. The top was half pulled down, exposing one of her breasts. “Doctor Mannekin insists that you remain in your room until he can finish preparing the demonstration.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  She drew herself closer and wrapped her hand around my waist. “Please, Malcolm. Allow me to bring you another drink. Or are you hungry? We import fresh produce from Ceres.”

  “No, I think I’ll just settle for a walk.”

  I swatted her hand away and approached the exit, but no matter how hard I twisted the knob, it wouldn’t budge. I tried again with both hands while ramming my shoulder against the door. The thing was solid. I was locked in.

  I stepped back to build up momentum so I could break through, but this time Rebecca grabbed me by the wrist. All the tenderness had left her touch.

  “This is a working facility, Malcolm,” she said. “If any harm were to come to you, it would be a poor reflection on Mannekin-Tek.”

  Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but trapping me in a room, even a lavish one, crossed a line. I turned to Rebecca—who appeared as emotionless as her tone. “And what if I don’t want to stay in here?” I asked.

  “Doctor Mannekin insists. I will help make your stay as pleasant as possible.” She stared directly into my eyes as she released the straps on her dress. It fell into a heap around her slender ankles.

  She was too good to be true. Doctor Mannekin really must’ve done his homework on me because he knew all my vices. After rolling around with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen— an imitation of life or not—there was no question I’d be out of commission for more than the few hours and he wouldn’t have to rush his presentation. Clever man. Only he’d overlooked a few problems. Like with drinking, I prefer a little bit of a challenge when it comes to woman. I also have a strict, 100% human-only decree, that rule having presently been decided on.

  “Sorry, beautiful, but I think I’ll have to take a pass,” I said.

  An attempt to buy time meant Lucas was probably up to something. Even if he wasn’t, after seeing Rebecca in action I desperately wanted to get off the station before he sent more artificial seductresses at me. I could picture rows of her kind behind glass boxes in the strip-joints on Mars. Flawless bodies, no diseases, and premium prices, all in exchange for having no souls.

  It was time to go find Jimmy and get the hell out of Lucas Mannekin’s dollhouse.

  I hurried back to the bed and grabbed my duster. Rebecca was alongside me in a heartbeat. The dim lights in the alcove ceiling above the bed caught her curves perfectly and with them, the barely visible seams holding her together.

  “I can adjust the temperature if it
isn’t to your satisfaction,” she said.

  I threw the duster over my shoulders before I strapped on my belt, which was difficult with her hanging onto my arm. “How do I turn you off?” I grumbled.

  “I do not understand the question.”

  I tapped her on the head. “Partially organic, right? Let’s see if that’s true.”

  I had to take a moment to gather myself—hitting innocent women wasn’t something I often did, and she looked real enough—but I struck her in the back of the head with no other intention than knocking her out. It worked. She crumpled forward onto the bed. I immediately covered her with sheets and arranged the pillows so that it looked like she was cuddling with someone. It might buy me some time if anyone peeked in.

  I fixed my duster and studied the ceiling. It was mostly solid, but there were a few vents here and there for recycling air. They were too visible from the hallway, so I headed to the bathroom. I climbed onto the toilet, busted open a vent cap, and got to work pulling my body up, thankful for the .5 Earth G. Otherwise, I never would’ve made it. As it was, I was utterly sobered from exertion by the time I was inside.

  The inside of the cramped tube was less than a meter in either direction and sweltering hot. Sweat dribbled down onto the metal surface from my hair and forehead, enough to cause it to rust it in a few years. I’d be long gone by then.

  I removed my spotters from my belt, strapped them over my eyes and set them to night vision. Fortunately, Lucas had only forced me to hand over my weapon. Then I got to crawling. Helix Station was a ring, which meant that its main air-recycling ducts had to run around the length of it. Once I reached the main duct, I knew it would eventually pass right above the training area and the production center beyond it.

  FOUR

  After slugging along for thirty minutes, I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. My arms and legs burned with soreness, and the tepid, recycled air rushing across my face had my lips chapped and cracking. Android or not, a night with Rebecca couldn’t have been so terrible. Having space to stretch out my arms and legs probably wouldn’t have hurt either. Was this how Aria felt every time I made her stuff herself into that confined cargo hold?