Hunting Faith (The Hunting Series Book 1) Read online

  “Who knows, maybe just a route transfer,” Derson shrugs.

  None of my business, I figure. “See you around, Derson,” I call, but the log attendant’s attention is still focused on the slow crawl of the prison barge.

  Once off the docking line I head toward the main thoroughfare of the station. The gates to Nydor open, releasing a waft of stale and pungent air, smelling like the foods of too many cultures competing and combining with each other in all the wrong ways.

  The pathways are teeming with a wide spectrum of aliens. From the look of it, most are male. No big surprise there, seeing as we’re on a brothel station, though there are some hardened-looking females traversing the halls as well. The aliens all push past one another, every one of them appearing deeply absorbed in their own business here on Nydor.

  As far as business goes, there are only three types on this station: inns, eateries, and brothels. The establishments near the entrance are all inns and eateries that offer cheap beds and cheaper meals. Farther in is where a lonely traveler will find rows upon rows of brothels. Some even cater to specific species or fetishes.

  The brothels also offer food and lodging options, but those are a little more lavish and that fact is reflected in their hiked-up prices. Personally, I would never waste my hard-earned creds on such petty luxuries. At least, not while I’m trying to save every red for my sisters. Fortunately, as a station tech, my badge gives me access to whatever available room I want and meals are on the house. Still, I usually opt for the simpler things in life and forego the top-floor suits.

  Soon after entering the station I’m already passing the first of the brothels. Bots are on display in the windows, ostentatiously working to enticing the males looking in. I again consider booking time with one of them, but the slim appeal that was once there has soured since speaking with Derson.

  I am lonely, but I much prefer the company of a warm and willing female. Unfortunately, whenever I am on-world anywhere within Conglomerate space it is impossible to get any females to engage with me. Personality and looks mean nothing, the members of Conglomerate society only concern themselves with status.

  On-world, females won’t dare lower themselves to even look at an Aragrandani like me. That of course changes the second I enter a station or land on an unincorporated planet. Then, I have plenty of females who would love to engage in anonymous sex with me. But anonymous sex is not what I want. I have no desire for a female who only wishes to take advantage of me on backwater planets where status doesn’t matter. Those same females will proceed to act as if we never met once we re-enter Conglomerate space. And yes, that has happened to me…more than once. Females will use me on a station and then snub their noses at me at market on Hrad, acting offended by a simple greeting. The thought of it is disheartening and makes me worry over what my sisters will experience if I do not have them marry soon.

  I come to one of the thin corridors leading behind the storefronts and head down it, quickly fading into the darkness, away from the well-lit and noisy thoroughfare. The service entrances are all located in the back, accessible only by passkey. I walk slowly and listen for occupants in the alleyway, but it is silent. More than once I’ve stumbled across ribald interludes between aliens who are looking for more than what the bots can offer…which is always quite embarrassing to interrupt. Luckily, this time the alleyway is clear.

  I take in the dark and dank space behind the brothels. While the fronts are all bright lights and enticements, the backs are all hissing pipes and tarnished metal. I approach the handleless door, but before I swipe my passkey I notice that at some point since my last visit the door has been tampered with. I inspect it closely. While the integrity has been diminished, the door still holds. Whoever tried to get in was unsuccessful in their endeavors. I swipe my key and enter the back room, where I quickly type in a station service order for the door on my personal comm.

  When I’m done, I inspect the dusty storage space with a frown. Bots or not, there is something intrinsically unsettling about seeing the dismantled bodies of females strewn across the room. But it isn’t the old and broken companion bots I am here to service. It is the ones in active rotation.

  Along the far wall I’m able to access the bot charging stations. Green lights shine above three of them and the others all shine red, indicating the bots belonging there are currently in use. I only need one to install the updates though.

  I open the panel on one of the green lit charging stations and see the exposed back of a bot that has been modeled in the appearance of a Hungue female. I hold down a spot on her neck and one on her hip, causing a hidden seam to appear across her synth-flesh, then I peel it back. I unfold her circuit board and reach in my work bag, pulling out my music disks and fixing the slim pads over my ears, cranking the volume. Time to get to work on these upgrades.

  I have been compiling data from bots on all the brothel stations, creating algorithms based on all the varieties of situations they come across. I focused on positive feedback rates of the customers…meaning erections and orgasms. From that data, I have been able to develop random response outcomes for the bots to perform, which will make interactions feel more real to their customers.

  I think about what Derson told me though, about males who like to be rough with the bots, and I decide to decrease submissive traits and increase all the dominant ones. I chuckle and begin to lose myself in my work. It is a job that takes time and concentration to fine tune and code all the complex circuitry. There are very few people who understand this tech well enough to service the bots and even fewer who are able to further the AI capabilities. Hence my invitation to The Hunt.

  My music disks rotate twice before I finish my work. I slide the circuit board back into the bot and reseal her skin, then pop the disks off my ears. As I do, I could swear I hear something moving behind me. I spin to scan the shadowy storage room with an assessing eye. There is nothing there besides the grime and dust-covered defunct bots that were present when I first entered. I shrug and close up the panel. I still have a few more stops I must make before my work here is done.

  I zip up my bag and begin to head for the door. Still, I have an unsettling feeling brewing inside me. It is as if I’m being watched. My footsteps slow to a halt and my eyes scan the bots who all stare blankly ahead…at least, those who still have heads do. That’s when I see something that makes me stop short. There is a complete bot standing in a dark corner of the room. It is a model I have never seen before, with creamy colored flesh and long hair as black as night. I approach it with curiosity.

  I do not know the species she is supposed to emulate, but she is stunning. Small, perhaps, but she looks soft and feminine. Her lips are full and the lashes that line her eyes are as dark as the hair on her head. I stand close to her and study those eyes. They are beautiful dark green pools. Gazing into them, realization suddenly dawns on me and a wide smile spreads across my lips. This is no bot. Before I have the chance to speak, the look on her face contorts to one of fierce determination and she hits me over the head with something hard.

  Everything goes dark.

  Chapter 3

  Faith

  I snatched a station log before slipping unnoticed from the docks. I had hoped to use it for its maps, but I got lucky. An order came through on the system. There was a door in need of servicing. If it hadn’t been for that fact the locking mechanisms would have been practically impossible to break into. But with a station order, it was easy as pie.

  I was feeling awfully lucky when I hacked my way into the loose door panel using only the paltry tech of the station log. A whorehouse would serve my needs well enough. Not that I was in the market for companionship. No, I was looking for clothes to steal—something to replace my gray prisoner’s jumpsuit. I knew this was a service entrance so didn’t imagine anyone would be inside. Usually these places are nothing more than a dusty cellar filled with circuit boards. Instead, the sight of a massive alien bent over one of those circuit boards made me
stop dead in my tracks. I stood there frozen for a second or two before I noticed he hadn’t heard me come in. There were little round pads over his ears. He was listening to music.

  I quickly considered my options. He was a big guy, so when he started to pop those pads off his ears I hurried to conceal myself in an attempt to avoid a fight. Hide first, fight when necessary. When push comes to shove, though, I’ll do what I have to, and these idiot aliens always seem to underestimate a human when things get physical. Too bad for them, huh?

  I brought the heavy, disembodied arm of one of the bots down on the guy’s head and for all of his size, he still went out like a light.

  So, that’s where I stand, frowning down at him as he lies unconscious on the ground. I think I’ve finally been out here for too long, because this guy actually looks kind of hot for an alien. His skin is a gradation of pearly white, filtering to a deep avocado green, before it becomes nearly black in some places. He wears his hair shaved along the sides, but the rest is nearly as long as my own and he keeps it tied back by leather straps. For clothing he wears only a vest and plain trousers, along with oddly shaped black boots. Based on boots alone, I’m guessing we don’t share the same number of toes.

  His clothes conceal any other unique anatomical differences we might have. Still, I can see he’s a giant compared to me, with broad, muscular shoulders and an animalistic look about him. His nose is wide and flat, reminding me vaguely of a cat. That being said, the rest of him is nothing like a cat at all.

  He has these absolutely biteable lips and when his eyes were open I saw they were an electric green color, practically illuminated. His hands are wide and sport one less finger than I’m accustomed to. They’re tipped with gnarly looking onyx claws that would have left me terrified a few short months ago. Now, I just think they make him look kind of tough, like a badass. Yup, he’s definitely giving off badass vibes. Hell, claws or not, his sheer size is something to reckon with. Walking around with a guy like him, on a station like this…a girl might actually feel safe. As if there is such a thing.

  “Sorry, buddy,” I murmur, before I begin to scramble around the room, looking for clothes I can rip off the old robotic sex dolls. Everything’s dusty, but it’s still better than the alternative. I find a brightly colored crop top. Unfortunately, since I pulled it from a sex doll, it’s meant to be revealing and my boobs are practically bursting out of the thing. Luckily, I find some more serviceable pants, with decorative metal plates sewn across them. I pull off my prison clogs and quickly don a tall pair of boots whose only saving grace is the fact that they don’t have heels. All the better to run in.

  The last thing I have to do before I make my grand escape is rob the hottie who had the misfortune of crossing paths with me. I hastily dig through his bag. It’s filled with a bunch of alien computer gadgets and spare hardware pieces. Some I recognize, but they aren’t worth much and I don’t have a need for them. Other than that, the poor sap doesn’t even have a weapon. Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is to walk around on a brothel planet without a piece? I shake my head, silently reprimanding his unconscious body. I don’t find anything useful in his bag, so I move to his pockets and try not to grope the guy too much.

  Score. He’s got a station badge, which is like a VIP card to this whole place. It can get me food and a place to sleep. I also find an e-lock port. That means he has a ship at the docks. My heart races. If I’m quick I might be able to scan his bio read and create a synthetic one I can use to steal his ship. Hurriedly, I try to unhook the personal comm from his wrist, but he begins to rouse at my touch. Damn it. Out of time. I grab the station badge and push my prisoner jumpsuit under a broken sex doll on my way out the door.

  Even though it hurts to pass up a ride out of here, I’ve learned to not get greedy. Greed can get you caught. No, what I need to do is simply bide my time. I’m a pretty girl on a brothel station, for Christ’s sake. Another opportunity will be right around the corner.

  Chapter 4

  Rylan

  My head throbs as I wake and I blink at an unfamiliar ceiling, wondering where I am. Then it all comes back. I push myself up on my elbows, laughing and rubbing out the knot on my forehead. Scanning the room, I look for the pretty female, even though I know she is long gone. For some reason she was hiding here amongst the bots and then struck me when I discovered her. I struggle to imagine what that was all about. Any other female and I’d worry she was in some kind of trouble, but clearly this one can take care of herself.

  Getting to my feet, I rummage through my bag, checking to see if she lifted anything while I was out. Nothing seems to be out of place until I feel my pockets and immediately notice the absence of my station badge. Oddly, I’m happy to know the mystery female has it. If she is in trouble I hope a good meal and a place to sleep can help her.

  Then I groan when I think of the work still waiting for me. What cruel torture to have such an exciting introduction, then have to go back to programing sex bots for the next few hours. I gather my things and make sure the service room is as it should be before I move to the next stop on my work order. The rest of the night is spent skimming my way through programming, only halfheartedly focusing on it. I cannot stop thinking about that female. My mind alternates between worry for her and mirth at the way she handled me. I even find myself considering ways to locate her. In the end I decide it was fate that caused us to cross paths in the first place. I suppose if we are meant to cross paths again, then that will be up to fate as well.

  Still, I walk slowly as I navigate the station’s passageways in between brothels, taking the main routes instead of the back ones so perhaps I might recognize a pair of deep green eyes amongst the crowd. While meeting this female again might be up to fate, that doesn’t mean I can’t lend a helping hand, I think wryly.

  Eventually, my work draws to an end and I find myself filled with an unwarranted level of excitement as I wrap up the last updates in another brothel’s AI data core. I can’t explain how or why, but it feels like my female and I have an impending date. All I need to do now is find her. So, I send a prayer up to fate, the Gods, or whatever powers that be, please let my path cross hers.

  Bounding out onto the streets, I am relieved my work is finally done. Now, I find myself pacing up and down the thoroughfare, scanning every face and peering into every doorway. Unfortunately, more time passes and the reality of my task begins to solidify for me.

  Finding my female on such a busy station is easier said than done. Time wears on and I’ve walked up and down these halls so many times now that the bots no longer solicit me as I pass. Still, it isn’t until hunger finally kicks in that I begin to yield to the idea that I may never find my dark-haired beauty again. Dejected, I duck into a bar with my head hung, feeling the heavy weight of disappointment inside me as I find a table. Scanning through my comm, I check to see what they serve in this establishment, but long after I’ve decided my meal no one comes to tend my table. Frustrated, I finally make my way to the bar.

  “Ayo! Ayo, friend?” I call to the bartender, but he ignores me and remains at the far end of the bar wiping down a bit of counter over and over again without ever looking at it. Every other male along the bar stares off into the same direction that the bartender is looking. Finally, I follow their gazes and immediately see what has everyone’s rapt attention. Excitement spreads through my chest like fire when I see her. She’s changed her clothes but there is no doubt, it is her. My mysterious female.

  Her features are relaxed now and one would never guess that this soft-looking creature attacked me in the service room of a brothel. I watch as her eyes coyly inspect the males in the room. Even though she has masked herself with an expression of innocence, I can tell she is assessing them. I even notice a few of the braver males preparing to make an introduction. I must beat them to it, I think, jumping into action. Cutting my way to the end of the bar, I slam my cred reader down in front of the tender.

  “Drinks for me and the female. B
est stuff you have back there,” I tell him firmly…urgently. Still dazed by the beauty across the bar, the tender distractedly pours our drinks. I too keep my eyes on her as he works. Finally, she lifts her chin and sees me. Recognition blossoms on her features, but instead of looking conscience-stricken about our earlier meeting, a wide smile brightens her face and she looks at me as if we’re old friends. Taking this as an invitation, I pick up our drinks and make my way over to her table, just before an Itharene is able to steal my place next to the mysterious female. I shoot him a challenging look and he begrudgingly retreats to the other side of the room, but still refuses to take his eyes off my female.

  “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she tells me as she takes the drink from my hand and sips from it.

  “Were you now?” I ask, laughing at this brazen female’s words.

  “Absolutely,” she answers, resolutely. Her eyes twinkle and laughter teases at the edges of her words. I don’t bother holding back my grin as I dive into whatever game this is that she wishes to play.

  “One would think you’d be avoiding me after our first meeting,” I point out.

  “That’s funny, I would think you would be the one avoiding me, but here you are buying me a drink. Thank you by the way.” She tips her glass toward me and takes another sip. “You’ve got a nasty bump on your head there, in case you didn’t know. Might want to get it checked out.”

  I wave away her concern. “I’ve been looking for you, you know,” I admit.

  “I hope you’re not angry with me,” she says, peeking up at me from under those thick dark lashes with a feigned sheepishness.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m not. I was more curious than anything else.”

  “There’s a saying on my planet, Rylan Graz Bregen,” she says, leaning in and using my full name. She must have read it off my station badge. The sound of it on her lips sends a thrill through my body. “Curiosity killed the cat,” she tells me.