Romantics: Erotic Romance Stories From The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games: The Wittegen Press Giveaway Games, #7

A Special Catch – Author's Notes

Sophie Duncan

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When it comes to writing erotica, I'm normally a M/M gal. However, just sometimes I'm inspired towards M/F. Having said that, when I first conceived this story, it was M/M, but as I got to thinking more about the main character, my Roid Wrangler, I began to realise that it would work better with a strong female lead rather than my default male protagonist. Having a strong woman and a man in a weaker position to her mixed up the dynamics and I enjoyed playing with that.

The epilogue I gave Sasha at the end was off the cuff. I knew I wanted round the story up, but when I finally settled on Sasha's point of view, it all slotted into place really quickly. The ending is ever so slightly sappy, but, hey, I was feeling sappy at the time.

A Special Catch - Sophie Duncan

SOMETIMES TRAWLING THE STREETS OF DAGAR for missing and rogue roids could be a bitch and today looked like it was going to be one of those days. Hayley had thought she was in luck when her scanner had picked up the tracer signal of a rogue that was on the system for having wandered out of its fruit-picking field.

It happened all the time, the cheaper roids malfunctioned and just walked off. It kept her salvage operation in business, and it was usually easy to pick the dumb machines up. Yet, now the bloody thing had blipped off her tracker. She pulled her truck over, knowing that if its tracer was flakey, she was going to have to find it on foot.

Keep me informed if it pops back up, Sasha, she spoke to the dash as she climbed out of the vehicle.

Of course, Sasha responded, the slightest hint of disdain in her voice.

Just monitor the area, Hayley snarked back, in no mood for her AI to have a snit-fit.

She had no idea what her dad had done to Sasha, he'd always been tinkering, but the computer that ran her entire business could be a bit of a diva. Still, Sasha was the best AI in the salvage industry; Hayley'd had many a wrangler offer her a pretty penny for the system. Sasha was not for sale.

Walking off while slipping her comm's bud into her ear and turning on her handheld scanner, Hayley knew Sasha would do her job, even if it meant they had a discussion about workplace respect later.

Just got a blip two hundred yards ahead of you, Sasha informed her through the earbud as her own scanner flashed up just for a moment.

Great! Hayley huffed as she looked over the heads of all the tourists milling around and realised she was about to enter the Mulo District.

You want to call this one off? I can put out a find alert on the system, you'd get ten percent, Sasha checked.

No, Hayley barked back, shocking a couple of tourists in front of her. She calmed and continued, No, thanks, Sasha, I can handle it.

That wasn't strictly true: the last time she'd been in the Mulo part of the city, one glance at a juju seller had torn her to pieces for three days, but that had been four years ago. Steadying herself, Hayley headed past the large, silver archway that marked out the exotic district.

If you looked hard enough, you could find anything you wanted in Mulo, legal and illegal, since the Mules had a flexible attitude to both planetary and interplanetary law. When she'd been younger, going after the big wrangles with her dad, this place with its long, winding back alleys and rich mix of inhabitants had been exciting, fun, but now it had too many ghosts.

Next alley on your left, Sasha told her and Hayley could hear the disquiet in her AI's sound.

Got it, Hayley replied and tried to keep her voice steady.

Hayley's heart hammered in her chest as she came to the dingy corridor that stretched up five storeys, but was only wide enough on the way in for a pedestrian. She ignored the flash in her mind's eye of her dad waving her back as he walked into a very similar alley, took a deep breath and headed into the grey world.

I'm getting an intermittent reading: it seems to have stopped, Sasha kept talking, which was a boon to Hayley. Power pack must be damaged.

Like all the alleys in Mulo, this one didn't run straight. It began to curve round to the right. Hayley put her hand on her blaster just in case there was more than a broken roid down the end of the alley. She was right to be nervous, because, as she rounded the bend, Hayley spotted two figures in the gloom at the end. She raised her gun and squinted to make them out.

The roid, blank-eyed like all the worker units, was slumped at the base of a wall, head flicking compulsively to one side. It gave Hayley the creeps, they all did now, but rounding the bloody things up when they went awol was her job. However, she was more interested in a young man, who was kneeling in front of the roid and reaching out to the tight little movements like some kind of demented healer. She'd seen all sorts in her time: nutters who wanted to save roids' souls; eccentrics who wanted to free them from their torment; psychopaths who wanted to reprogram roids as weapons. Steadying her gun, Hayley ordered, Wrangler. Step away from the android.

Immediately, the man, who didn't look all that much like the loonies she normally dealt with in a tight pair of jeans and a nicely fitting black t-shirt, stood up and held his arms up. He looked startled and his brown eyes zeroed in on her gun, which made Hayley feel a whole lot safer.

You know you need a licence to deal with androids? Hayley pressed her position of power home, closing in and making sure her target didn't move.

I meant no harm, he is injured, came the typical reply of one of the do-gooders who thought roids should be people too.

It's just a machine, Sir, Hayley corrected, trying to sound as professional as possible.

A flicker of something crossed the young man's chiselled features then and he looked away. Hayley lowered her weapon slowly as it appeared she was going to meet with no resistance. Yet, it was when the deluded Samaritan went to lower his arms that Hayley spotted the barcode on his wrist. Hastily, she raised the weapon again and her target took a step back, raising his hands.

Identify, she ordered and she actually thought she saw fear in her target's eyes. No response. You're a type six, aren't you? Hayley pressed.

Unit 6578392CC3, the sophisticated roid replied, holding out its wrist.

Hayley held her scanner over the barcode which marked the place where the ID chip was inserted and information flashed up on the little screen. She quickly checked it, the picture ID matched and its owner's address was local.

What are you doing here? she asked warily.

I am on my way to work, the roid replied flatly, the fake life in its eyes far too realistic for Hayley's taste: she liked her machines to remain machines.

And you just happened to stop and want to help, she challenged, waving her scanner at the broken roid.

My owner, Mr Hiscox, requires me to assist when I am able, the roid replied and if she hadn't already known it was just a lump of expensive engineering, Hayley would have thought she heard nerves.

She stared at the roid, all well-sculpted six foot of it, not quite believing what she was hearing. Anyone rich enough to buy a type six did not normally worry about helping their fellow man.

May I go? it asked and when she didn't reply, added, I will be late.

Where do you work?

Daylight Dance, the roid replied. I am a barman.

Hayley had heard of it, it was a fake-flesh club where tourists went to watch pretty roids strip. That would have explained the expensive body job if the roid had been one of the strippers, but for a barman, the work was way over the top. However, Hayley had a fruit picker to get back to its farmer, so, eventually, she nodded and the roid quickly walked off. She watched it until it was out of her sight and only then did she turn to the broken roid.

Sasha, send me down a floatdeck, this thing is not walking anywhere, she requested.

✽✽✽

An hour later, back at her shop, Hayley was examining the roid lying face down on her work bench. Sometimes she performed repairs before returning a broken roid, since it got her a bonus, but, looking at the dent in this one's lower cortex at the base of the moulded neck, it looked like there was far too much damage to make it worth her while. It did explain why the thing had wandered off, though.

Okay, Sasha, pack and inform the owner we're returning a pile of junk to him, Hayley sighed and leant back against her tool trolley as Sasha turned on the floatdeck and it drifted over to where she kept the storage boxes.

However, as she watched the roid being locked into a secure transport carton, thoughts that had been nagging at Hayley's mind since she had dismissed the type six came back to haunt her.

Sash, why would a type six be working for a living? Hayley voiced the first anomaly that came to mind.

I was considering the same point, the AI replied. Surely Mr Hiscox does not require an income.

Check out Mr Hiscox, please, Sash, see if for some reason he's fallen on hard times and has decided not to sell his type six for sentimental reasons, Hayley requested. And double check that identity registration while you're at it.

A second later, Sasha reported, Ah ha! Mr Hiscox has an apartment at 135 Gerian Heights, a modest dwelling he has owned for the last sixty years. He worked as a mechanic before he retired, but the oddest this is that Mr Hiscox was on low income support until two years ago, when he died.

Hayley stood up straight and grinned to herself. Looks like they had an expensive rogue on their hands.

And the reg, she checked.

Very clever, might have fooled a lot of AI's, Sasha crowed, but it's fake. Azure, the company listed as the manufacturer, didn't make type sixes five years ago, which is when the droid was registered.

Cool, let's go round up our wayward pile of circuits, Hayley clapped and headed for the truck. We'll work out who owes us the finder's fee later.

✽✽✽

Hayley walked into Daylight Dance and grimaced as the heavy bass shook her body. For a place with daylight in the title, there was surprisingly little of it inside the smoky club, but Hayley could see enough to find the bar. However, there was no sign of her pretty little money pot. Ignoring the three glitzy, permanently pouting roids gyrating on stage, Hayley headed over to the mainly empty bar, leant on it and flashed her wrangler licence at the nearest barman. The roid nodded to her and she asked, Manager?

It pointed down to the other end of the bar where a slender young woman in a very smart suit was watching the show. Hayley made her way down to the manageress and waved her wallet again.

I can assure you, all my licences and registrations are up to date, the blond bombshell quickly informed her: it was the usual thing when a wrangler came calling.

I'm only looking for one roid, Ma'am, Hayley replied. Six foot, brown hair, type six.

You mean Jay, the manageress smiled in a way that told Hayley the woman had sampled what the anatomically correct roid had to offer, which explained how it had got the job. I checked his reg, and he's one of my best barmen.

I just need to know where he is, Ma'am, he's a witness to a pickup, Hayley covered, she didn't want any do-gooder warning the roid of her arrival.

He had an emergency call from his owner, he had to go home, the manageress replied.

Thank you for your help, Ma'am, Hayley tried to act calm, but she turned quickly and headed out the club: the roid was going to run.

✽✽✽

Any sign of it? Hayley checked in with Sasha as she walked into the front door of the huge apartment block.

Not yet, and no hint of a tracer, so be careful, this one had to be an expensive run, Sasha replied.

Just means it nicked a whole wad of cash from its owner, who should be even happier to get it back then, Hayley finished with a satisfied grimace: it was at times like this she really liked her job.

She fell silent as she stepped into the lift and decided just how she was going to take out the weasel of a machine.

Let's make this short and sweet, Sash, universal knock out code through the handheld, Hayley ordered as she stalked up the hallway towards her destination: it was a blunt hammer and could damage a badly programmed roid, but the knock out code that had been installed in every