And she’s not giving it up easy.
“Over here,” I say, guiding her with a hand on the small of her back when she continues to head towards the scanner. “There are private rooms this way.”
“Imagine that,” she says. “Good to know you have some respect for the girls you imprison here.”
I just suck in a deep breath and hold in my response.
The door to the check-in area slides open as we approach and ALCOR says, “Go with the bot, Lyra. Serpint, wait here.”
“Gladly,” I say, sinking into a plush chair in the corner.
I need to check on Booty anyway. I stayed there all afternoon but they told me she probably wouldn’t be back online until tonight.
My thumb and forefinger pinch the air, then spread a data screen open into the space in front of my eyes. Sure enough, the red letters are still blinking OFFLINE.
Something must really be wrong. Something bad. Something that can’t be fixed with a software update or the usual decontamination procedures. She’s never been offline for more than a couple hours before. And that was when we upgraded her into the current ship. That’s the biggest procedure she’s ever had. So this… this is not good.
Loud crashing sounds come from down the hallway where the exam rooms are. Then cursing. Which gets louder when a door opens.
“Oh, hell no. Oh, hell the fuck no.” Lyra appears in the waiting room, shaking her head. “He’s the doctor?”
I swipe my data screen closed and glance over her shoulder to find the cyborg master rolling his eye. Which is not easy to do since it’s just a red light across his forehead. But he manages it.
Which kinda makes me smile and ask, “What’s the problem now, princess?” in a fake, condescending voice.
Which she doesn’t even bother to notice. That’s how angry she is.
“He’s not touching me! He is not a doctor. He’s a… he’s a sexual predator, that’s what he is.”
“Lyra,” the cyborg master says in his calm, I’m-a-doctor-voice. “Not only am I wearing a doctor’s coat, but I’m also certified in three thousand, two hundred and seventy-one surgical procedures on seventeen humanoid species. I think I know what I’m doing.”
“Certified!” she says. Too loud. Too high-pitched. Like she’s about to throw a royal fit. “Certified?” she squeals again. “The bot who did this to me said he was certified too!”
“Lyra,” I say, tired of this day and unable to hide the fact that she’s wearing me down. “Just—”
“No! No. No. No. That thing isn’t coming near me again. I’m putting my foot down! I want a real person!”
She actually stomps her foot.
“OK.” I sigh. “ALCOR, what should we do?”
“Lyra,” ALCOR says in a voice that’s far too sweet and understanding for the situation. Usually he just barks orders at temperamental princesses. Does he like the girl? Is he infatuated with her? What is his deal?
“What?” she snaps.
“If you don’t want the harem doctor to touch you then I’m afraid your only choice is to have Serpint help with the exam. We do not have human doctors on Harem.”
She glares at me, but then her eyes begin to shine with what might be tears. Seems like she’s had enough of this day as well. I think this might be her breaking point.
I stand up and walk towards her, grabbing her hand as I pass, and say, “Come on, I’ll make sure nothing bad happens,” as I pull her back down the hallway.
There’s a moment just before I enter the room where she hesitates. But I just tug her harder, pull her inside, and then the cyborg master follows us and locks the door behind him after it slides closed.
Lyra jerks her hand from mine and backs herself up into a corner.
“For sun’s sake,” I say, rubbing two fingers alongside my temple to stave off a headache. “It’s a fucking thirty-second exam, Lyra. In five minutes you’ll be done, your little problem will be fixed, and we’ll go home.”
I cringe, realizing my mistake. My quarters are not her home.
But that’s not what she focuses on. She looks around the room, trains her eyes on the set of laser pens hanging from a holder, and then glares at the cyborg master like she might chop his head off with one of them.
“Just take off your clothes and get in the scanner,” I say.
Her head spins to the gyno-scanner. It’s not really that intimidating when it’s in standby mode. Just a long machine the length and width of a body made out of white plasteene.
“Please,” I say. That headache is in full force now, no matter how hard I rub my temple. I don’t have much fight left in me today. I really don’t. Maybe I should just give this girl back and be done with her? Simplify things? Because I’ve got enough problems of my own. I don’t need some lying, neurotic princess making things worse.