Women of Steel 1: Marti Gets Her M.A.N. Camille Anthony All rights reserved. Copyright ©2004 by Camille Anthony No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC. ISBN 1-59596-029-5 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1561 Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci Cover Artist: Bryan Keller This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. Chapter One “Come on, Marti, you have to think of this as just another mission. You are a leader of soldiers, a decorated war hero… Your on-file policy is ‘Leave no one behind’.” Martini Harmon, a colonel in the Planetary Repulsion Force, muttered to herself as she brought her flitter to a hovering park. “Just pretend this is enemy territory and those people are holding your M.A.N. prisoner. All you have to do is go in, get your M.A.N., and get out!” Celebrated as the most gung-ho soldier of her day, this current trepidation confused her, shamed her, and pissed her off, royally. She hadn’t been this nervous the first time she faced the alien Scarth. Frowning, she exited the flitter and locked it down, ignoring the ‘No Hovering’ signs posted along the street. In wartime, military personnel garnered special privileges. No Botcop would issue a tick once it scanned the vehicle and found it active issue. Stomping the two blocks over to the towering building housing the company that had raised her legendary ire, she rehearsed her mantra, repeating the phrase over and over. “I will accept no bullshit excuses. I will not be turned away empty-handed, and so help me, Matrix, I will get my M.A.N. today!” Stopping in front of the street’s lone multi-level building, she paused, breathing deeply. In and out, lungs expanding smoothly, body functions priming for a fight, she relegated everything but this present challenge to the back of her mind. Lips curling in a determined sneer, she stepped forward. The imposing frosted glass doors guarding the lavish offices of M.A.N.-Kind, Inc. sported old-fashioned door handles. Grasping the knobs firmly, she flung the doors open and stalked into the chilled, rarified air of the office suite housing the multi-billion dollar robotics company. Goose bumps immediately blossomed over her exposed shoulders, arms, and thighs. This time, she would let nothing deter her. Today -- if sheer determination had anything to do with it -- she would finally get her M.A.N. Long, lean legs clad in shiny black, over-the-knee leather boots carried her past a second set of glass doors. Powered by her determined strides, her three-inch heels struck the decorative tile, sounding like the sharp, cracking retorts of gunshots. Lips drawn tight in irritation, she swept past the secretary’s pristine desk, a cautioning finger cocked and pointing at the sputtering flunky who started to his feet, hands wringing in consternation. Good, he recognizes me. “Don’t even try to hand me any bullshit, buster,” she warned as she circled back to his desk and snatched up a stylus. Pushing the hapless server out of her way, she leaned over, scribbling rapidly. Straightening up, she tossed the electronic pen and pad into the chest of the startled worker. “There, I’ve ‘penciled’ in an appointment with your boss for a major ass whipping. Unless you want some too, I suggest you stay the fuck outta my way. Got that?” The drone nodded glumly, straightening his chair and sinking back down with a resigned sigh. Obviously ignorant of her enhanced hearing, he pushed a button on his console, speaking two hushed words into the intercom. “She’s back.” “Damn straight, I’m back,” she snapped, “and there’s nothing wrong with my hearing, dick-head. I’m back, angry at the world, and mad enough to be just a lee-tle bit impatient. All I can say is heaven help anyone who gets in my way.” Like the smarmy salesperson slithering into my path, right now… “Good morning, gentlefem. Welcome to the main offices of --” “Out of my way, cretin, I’m gunning for your boss!” “Well, that is the problem, isn’t it?” The drone jerked back, alarm crossing his features when she growled an explicit insult at him. “Everyone wants the boss. He’s busy… uh… can’t be disturbed. No, he’s out of the office. Gone for the day -- arrgh!” he broke off with a strangled cry, voice high and thin from being forced through the constrictive grip of her steel-hard fingers. Stopping just shy of truly throttling him, Marti lifted the neuter until its feet dangled four inches from the ground. Voice sounding like jagged shards of glass, she snarled in its face, “Listen up! I am not happy. When I am unhappy, I start taking things apart.” Disgusted by the tears leaking from its fear-contorted face, she shook the hapless M.A.N.U. “Shut the hell up before I begin with you. I can’t stand it when you Male-Anatomy-Neutered-Units start blubbering. Damn-it-to- hell, snip off a man’s prick and he becomes one -- a damned crybaby one, at that.” “I… b-beg your indulgence,” the drone gasped between sobs, mopping at his face with a soggy sleeve, “for distressing you with m-my tears, b-b-but you are frightening me.” “Yeah, well, live long enough and you’ll find life does that, Bub,” she sniped, setting him down more gently than he might have expected. “Frightens the hell out of you if you give it a chance. Now, am I going to hear any more crap about your boss being out of the office?” A quick, fervent shake of the head answered her. “If you will come this way, gentlefem…” The M.A.N.U. scurried out of her reach before gesturing down the plush, thickly carpeted hallway, eyebrows cresting when it caught her murmured response. “That’s the problem egghead,” she muttered in disgust. “I haven’t come any way for far too long a time…” Chapter Two “Believe me, gentlefem Harmon, I understand what you’re saying and sympathize with your plight.” Marti shook her head earnestly, her long blond hair flying about her face. “See, I don’t think you do.” Scooting closer to the edge of her chair, she tapped an impatient finger on the hard surface of the executive sized desk. “Because if you did, gentlehom Aresti, you wouldn’t be stalling me like this.” The youthful president of M.A.N.-Kind, Inc. leaned back in his wide leather chair, rested his cleft chin on slim steepled fingers and stared right into her baby blue eyes, his own a pale green, frosty with dislike and disgruntlement and something else she couldn’t quite identify. “Then explain it to me in words of one syllable. Why must our company accommodate you before all the other ladies ahead of you in the waiting line?” Lips tightening at his disapproving expression, she mumbled under her breath, “I don’t like you either, you dickless sycophant!” What the hell did she care what he thought about her? She was used to disgruntled looks and surly attitudes. Hell, those were the only kinds of looks she ever received. All her life, her mother, the General, and her two sisters -- the General’s wannabe clones -- often found her more than they could handle. Deep down, though, she almost wished he didn’t have such a soft, sour look about him because the man was drop dead gorgeous. Thick, black curly hair, pale green eyes, a mouth with a full bottom lip that made her want to tug on it, and a muscular body that had her nipples standing at attention. All sharp angles and slashing grooves, his face held just enough flaws to be beautiful without being girlie feminine. Too bad, he wasn’t really her type. She liked them a lot bigger and darker… Denzel Washington dark, to be exact. Still, any port in a storm… and damn it, her hormones were a raging hurricane with all the attendant wetness involved. “You want reasons, cutie, I’ll give you some. First reason is I already paid up front. You should have delivered my M.A.N. last year. Course, I was incommunicado and off-planet to boot, so I excused that lapse. Now my second -- and by far easier to uphold legally -- reason is that I have spent the last five years out on the fringes, fighting to keep you -- and all the other sybaritic deadheads like you -- alive and living the cushiony life you have grown accustomed to. Lastly, I am a public servant, and as such, am entitled under Martial Law number 3950 section A-67 to preferential treatment. In other words,” she paused, letting a disdainful smirk widen her full lips, “I get to jump any line I want, and I choose this one. So, your bottom line is, you can either get me my M.A.N. or you can become my man. Right now, I don’t much care.” The man visibly shuddered, a frown darkening his face. “There’s been no action out at the fringes for over two years. That’s a poor attempt at trying to deceive me.” “Ha! There’s been no new action. Mop-up has been taking place ever since the cease-fire and containment orders. If even one of those invading Scarth troopers had penetrated our rear guard, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. This entire sector would be a burning slag and you know it.” Aresti nodded in reluctant agreement, lips drawn into an unflattering line. Marti released an exasperate...
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