Portal

by Sydney Morgann

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  Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver Books

  www.atlanticbridge.net

  Copyright ©2003 Sydney Morgann

  First Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge, March, 2003

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 6280 Crittenden Ave, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2003, Sydney Morgann All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  “For Danu's sake, Captain, turn that braincase-splitting alarm off!” Malcolm shouted from the galley. His voice was calm, belying the harsh words, but an octave above the normal bass thunder Captain Cea Knight was used to hearing when the android deigned to speak directly to her.

  Cea grinned mischievously then reached out and hit a flashing red button on the ship's console. The alarm stopped, leaving a ringing vibration in the air that reminded her of the discordant music on the last planet they'd visited in their quest for marketable technology.

  Stretching long legs, way past cramped due to hours in the captain's chair scanning planets, moons and asteroids for a sign of derelict ships or useable ores, Cea groaned. The groan combined with boredom and a rising sense of cabin fever to produce a sound closer to pain than relief.

  It feels like a damned itch I can't scratch, she thought while reading the data on her screen. The data indicated a large, indeterminate mass dead ahead. It wasn't moving.

  “What set off the alarm?” Malcolm asked, still rattling dishes in the galley. “A dead ship or an ore lode?”

  She scanned the data then flicked the screen off after instructing Mother, her pet name for the computer that ran the ship, to save the data to the central computer brain. “Neither. It reads like an anomaly. It's probably just another half-destroyed asteroid. Those damned pirate scavengers keep using outdated atomics to blow these things for the ore. The radiation sets off our alarms and we waste our time checking them out.”

  She punched a button and the lights indicating the online sensors blinked out. “Not this time,” she snapped before turning her back to the view screen.

  The smell of cooked food coming from the kitchen set Cea's stomach rumbling. Worse, a rising streak of mischievousness coursed through her, like a wave of overwhelming excitement.

  “Hey, Malcolm! When's dinner going to be ready? I'm hungry, very hungry!” she shouted as she lay back in the chair, put her feet on the center console, then closed her eyes. In more ways than one, she thought, a small smile spreading pink lips.

  “It's coming!” Malcolm responded while clanking even more dishes.

  “I hope so, and soon! If you don't become more efficient, I'll trade you in at the next port and get myself a real servant.” She grinned at the reaction that comment was bound to elicit in the stiffly correct droid.

  The seven-foot machine stepped through the hatch, balancing a large tray filled with steaming food and drink. “You may well threaten, Captain, but you know as well as I you'll never find another combination robot of my quality for the price you're willing to pay,” he replied in a dry voice, tinged with rigid dignity.

  “Why do you call me captain when I've asked you to call me Cea when we're not around others?” she asked, knowing he never called her by her name unless they were having sex.

  He does have his protocols to follow, she thought with amusement.

  “I am not comfortable with casual forms of address to one's owner.” Malcolm glared at her posture. “What is your full name anyway? Why won't you tell me? After all, if it's really horrible and you swear me to secrecy, I will be totally incapable of telling anyone about it.”

  She snuggled deeper into the personal indent on the captain's chair and grinned up at him. “Okay, in that case, I'll tell you but I order you not to tell anyone. Not anyone!”

  Malcolm balanced the tray and tilted his head, waiting for her revelation.

  Cea sighed. “All right, already! I hate this name but my father loved it, so I'm stuck with it.” She sighed again. “It's Bodicea, after an ancient English queen who fought the Romans. She and her daughters rode chariots, wore armor and wielded swords as well as men. My father named me after her,” she grumbled.

  “I am well aware of the history of that great and noble lady. I fail to see why you are ashamed of her name,” Malcolm said, again glaring at the bottoms of Cea's dirty feet as they perched on the command console.

  “I'm not ashamed of it!” she snapped. “I just know what kind of fun assholes would have with it. They'd call me ‘Body’ or the ‘Bod’ or worse. Besides, I like Cea. It's exotic and, since I pronounce it Chee-ah, it sounds almost like a dangerous animal, a fast cat, doesn't it?” She folded her arms across her chest, tilted her chin at him in a proud manner and showed her teeth in a feral grin.

  Malcolm gently swept her feet off the console then placed the molded synthetic plate and cup down beside her. “Will there be anything else, Captain Cea? I have some minor repairs to make on the aft engine and I would like to finish them before shutting down for my recharge.”

  Noting the addition of her nickname, Cea smiled. “How about some conversation for a change?” she asked while making some minor adjustments to the navigational sensor.

  “I am not programmed for intelligent conversation, as you well know, Captain. I was designed to service the ship and you, nothing else,” his droll voice intoned.

  A full, robust gale of laughter erupted from Cea. “Yeah, I know about your servicing abilities ... after the fact.” She giggled. “My bargain basement copilot and mechanic turned out to own some very special tools, ones I find very useful.” She glanced down at the large bulge in his skintight pants.

  “Why do you not employ a real human male if what you desire is mere emotional companionship?” He cocked a black eyebrow at her grin.

  She snorted and checked the gauges on the flight console again. “Men! Slimy, lying bastards. I wouldn't have one on a bet,” she sneered. Turning back to smile up at him, she added, “Machines are so much more ...” the grin broadened, “...reliable.”

  “I suppose you found that comforting inside prison where only females were available?” He pointedly glanced at the tattoo of a sword piercing a penis that adorned her upper arm. A broad gold band encircling the arm drew attention to the tattoo, instead of covering it.

  The grin slipped off Cea's face. “Sometimes, I think your declared lack of emotion is a lie Malcolm. You seem to delight in reminding me of things I'd rather forget.” She poked at the image of an Energizer Bunny in the middle of the short, white, sleeveless T-shirt he wore. “And you seem to have a warped sense of humor, too.” The grin returned. “Is this your way of protesting your extra-curricular duties?”

  He continued to stare down into the icy, pale blue eyes, challenging him to speak the truth. “Yes, it is. Now, is there anything else you require?”

  Ignoring the question, Cea grabbed the plasteel plate heaped with crispy Martian sand worms and began to gobble them
down. When she finished a third of the delicacy, she noticed Malcolm still standing beside her chair, stiffly at attention, and staring out the front shield screen. “Aren't you going to at least sit with me tonight?” she asked with a playful smirk on her lips. “After all, your positronic brain isn't supposed to feel miffed when I insult you, so I know you're doing nothing but playing at being human again,” she added before taking a long draught of the icy green Io water he knew she liked.

  Her gaze followed his outside among the stars, finally singling out Beta Centauri, a blue-white star with a glow around its rim. “Beautiful, isn't it? Almost as good as a moon for romance. If you were a human male, you'd be taking advantage of that right now.”

  She smiled.

  Malcolm's broad shoulders quivered, but his expressionless face remained fixed on the shield screen. “I do not play at being human. I am programmed to emulate human behavior. Nothing more.” His voice rumbled under the soft synthetic skin of a broad male chest, complete with thick black hair that peeked over the low-scooped neck of his shirt.

  Cea studied the masculine face she'd created. The cleft in his chin, laugh lines accentuating a full mouth, a strong jaw with a five o'clock shadow, and a thick black moustache, all combined in a male figure that looked remarkably like a young Sean Connery, an ancient Earth, male movie star who starred in her favorite antique films about a secret agent named James Bond.

  She admitted to herself that Malcolm still excited her, even after five months of service. “I dreamed of you Malcolm, created you, slaved to save enough credits to buy you then have you refitted, and now I enjoy you. It is a shame you do not enjoy me as much,” she said, watching simulated muscles contract under the tan-colored synthskin of his body.

  “I am pleased you enjoy my company, Cea, but I remind you, once again, I was not programmed for emotions, only obedience. I fail to comprehend why you continue to expect pleasure from me. I cannot feel such a thing, or any other human emotion.” This time, he turned and met her gaze. Brilliant turquoise eyes processed her image, analyzing her mood and storing the information away in a databank complex and large enough to learn as well as assimilate data.

  “Then, why did they label you Malcolm?” she shot right back at him.

  “What does my name have to do with anything?” he asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.

  She laughed. “For a walking computer, you're sometimes very dense Malcolm. Or didn't you know your name is an acronym? It's short for MALe COhabitational Luxury Mechanism.” A giggle bubbled out of her mouth at the look of studied consternation this bit of information evoked. “If that isn't fancy talk for a walking dildo, I don't know what is.”

  His face cleared. “My point exactly. Dildos do not feel, they only function in the hands of their owner.”

  Stifling a belly-busting tidal wave of laughter, Cea reached out and stroked the thick ridges of his exposed belly. “Can you not at least believably pretend to enjoy it when I touch you, my pet? It would give me much pleasure to think, even for a few minutes, that a male who looks like you feels great passion for me,” she purred while slowly moving her fingertips down toward the skintight black latex pants he wore.

  She leaned forward and ran her tongue over and inside his bellybutton while running her hand down to cup the coiled mound of his penis.

  Malcolm regarded Cea's down-turned head without emotion and tripped the required connections in his positronic brain. In response, an erection began to harden and grow under her hand. The bulge became a fully erect penis that magically made its way past the waistband of his pants and up his belly a full three inches. The hardness came to rest under her palm, like something with a mind of its own. Cea curved her fingers and closed her eyes, dinner and the quest for wealth completely forgotten.

  “I'm so glad I ordered the top of the line tool for you after I found out what you are, Malcolm. It did cost more than I wanted to spend, but ...” she murmured while she admired the perfection of the penis she paid a month's profit to buy. Her hand stroked the silken skin, now moist and warm.

  When her head moved toward the throbbing erection, his left hand reached down to stroke her thick white hair. After her lips clamped onto the engorged tip, his right hand slid under the waistband of his pants and gently pulled them further down, fully releasing him to fill her hungry mouth.

  “Why do you foolishly seek to pleasure me, Cea, while denying yourself the same pleasure?” he asked, cocking his head, as he watched her run her tongue up the length of his erect tool. “And why do you not want me to perform even the simplest acts of foreplay on you? Why do you not want me to kiss you or caress you? Why...”

  “Shut up! Don't ask questions. Just get into the spirit of the game, get with the program, will you?” she murmured without breaking pace. She reached around to massage a tight buttock while the other hand cupped and massaged a large testicle. She groaned, spread her legs and began to move sensuously on the textured leather of her chair.

  “This is not logical,” he responded. “My primary programming demands I behave in a logical manner. I must understand. I can no longer accept your excuses for not informing me of your motivations in the act. I must have accurate data in order to perform with efficiency.” His erection lost some of its rigidity.

  Cea pulled back, dropped her hands and took a shuddering breath of air, clearing her head and regaining some control. “Dammit to hell!” she exclaimed, expelling the air in an explosive burst of irritation.

  As his erection began to dramatically droop, she shouted, “Okay, okay! I get the message already. Sometimes you are a pain in the ass.”

  “No, Cea, I am a heterosexual android with minimum coital programming. When you purchased me, I was given explicit instructions that no anal sex would be in my repertoire,” he said.

  The irritation on her face increased to volcanic proportions. “Oh, shut the hell up! I'll explain, if it's the only way I can get laid,” she muttered.

  He remained standing, his penis half-erect and dangling in front of her face like a prize she couldn't have until she earned it. “It is, Captain.”

  She leaned back and crossed her arms across her breasts. Erect and sensitized nipples rubbed against the soft, nubby cotton vest she wore, sending a shiver of lust through her, ending with a twinge of unbearable pleasure inside the engorged clitoris which strained against the crotch of the shorts she wore for comfort.

  “This feels too damned much like my father's schoolroom,” she snapped. “It would be nice to get something without being forced to earn it for a change.” The memory of her father's demanding learning curve in science, literature, math and astronomy sent a surge of pain through her.

  Subconsciously, her gaze traveled to the far wall of the cabin to rest on a photo of her father, grinning like every other tourist in Greece, as he stood next to a statue of Cea, the goddess of the hunt and her namesake. Below the photo, a full suit of lightweight, new-age armor, custom-molded to fit her body, and an enhanced replica of an ancient Greek sword hung, ready to don and use if needed. Her father had given her both items when she'd “graduated” from his lonely, space-born classroom.

  I miss those days of sword practice and dad's teaching, she thought, her body stiff and unyielding in the chair.

  Malcolm cleared a throat that didn't need clearing.

  Cea turned her attention back to him and his rapidly disappearing erection. Facing her past wasn't something she liked to do, and he knew it. “My history and my motives are none of your business, android,” she grated between teeth she wanted to bite him with.

  His penis throbbed momentarily, adding hardness back to its beauty. Cea licked her lips and relaxed her tense body in resignation. “If you must know, I can't stand to have any male ...” she glanced up at his impassive face, “...not even a synthetic one, in control of me. Not in mind or body.” Her arms tightened across her chest once more, pushing her large breasts above the vest. “I don't want intimacy, just raw sex. Is that so hard to understan
d?”

  “No, but my sensors detect that you are not telling the truth, at least, not the whole truth. I cannot function...”

  With long white hair flying around her face like an angry cloud, her head whipped upward again to glare at him. “Before I bought you I traveled and worked with my father...” she unlocked her arms and shot one out to point at the endless vista of space in front of the ship. “...he educated me, taught me, loved me...” Her arm sagged until it came to rest on the console. “...we lived by selling whatever we could find out there. One day, we took on two paying passengers. One turned out to be a thief, Xander Crowe, and the other...”

  She turned her head away from his inquiring gaze. “...the other was an undercover cop. His name was Tal English. I knew him as Xander Black, but I found out his real name later. I ... loved him.” She stiffened her back and returned his gaze with a defiant one of her own. “While arresting Crowe, English shot my father and killed him. I went to prison for the theft of some technology Crowe stole from a government lab. I couldn't prove my innocence because the bastard got away. I spent two years inside that hell hole, vowing I'd get revenge for my father's life and for the hell I lived for those two years. Somebody found enough evidence to free me.”

  Malcolm opened his mouth to speak. She held up a shaking hand. “It doesn't matter who. Even if I knew, I wouldn't care. All I care about is that I got out, scraped up the money to buy this rust bucket, and got the hell off that planet. I have no plans to ever live on terra firma again. Space is the only place where you don't have barriers. And, I won't give it up again.”

  She glared harder at him. “All I wanted was to get back into the freedom of space and be left alone, but, after a few months, I realized I couldn't do it alone. So I went back home to Europa and bought you from a junk dealer I knew. I upgraded you as much as I could afford, but I didn't know I was getting a pleasure droid. Much to my surprise, you ended up being a decent mechanic and copilot.”