A Lonely Transmission

Printer-friendly version

Author: 

Caution: 

Audience Rating: 

Publication: 

Genre: 

Character Age: 

TG Elements: 

TG Themes: 

Permission: 

: : : : : Emergency broadcast detected. : : : : :

: : : : : Boosting signal. : : : : :

: : : : : Recording. : : : : :

And another thing had tumbled into my body. Freakin' debris. It gets everywhere. Can't a corpse get some peace? It already looks so beaten up. Strange. The face still looks like it is just taking a nap. In the freezer that is.

Oh. Wait. The transmission. It started. Hi! To everyone out there that might pick up this broadcast. I need help. And please ignore my previous ramblings. Even when the antenna doesn't have enough juice for transmission speaking to it is the only way to hear my own voice. Well, not my voice. My original one is unavailable as much as the rest of my body.

Sorry. This must all be confusing to you. Please let me start over. My name is Moric Gyulay. Right now you must be wondering. Moric is a guys name. I don't sound like a guy. More like an oversexed hostess in the pleasure habitat of a spaceport. Which is more accurate than I'd like to admit. Anyway. The name is Moric. Class four salvage expert. And I guess now class two salvage as well. I was part of the crew on a salvage cruiser named "Ugly Betty". I know what you are thinking. Who names their ship like that? But, trust me. She is one ugly beast alright. Granted if she is still around. My guess is that it's not likely.

Salvage spots had been rare recently. So when our captain got a tip that there had been a big fight in some remote system, he was all over it. But apparently, we were too late. The derelict hulls already picked clean. In desperation, my captain set sail for Hannover station. For those not well educated in the history of rim-world states let me give you a helping hand. Hannover station was once a big military outpost in bumfuck nowhere. No habitable planet in the system or in the systems around it. That was on purpose. Some military genius thought if they build a station where no one wanted to go then it wouldn't be discovered. Well, he was wrong. But that's beside the point. War ended and with it the usefulness of the station. Over the next century, Hannover station was the carcass every salvage ship wanted to pick at. Back then it was tightly regulated who was allowed to do so. Then all the good stuff was gone. Be it military hardware or manufacturing tools. Soon the station was mostly empty hulls that nobody ever visited. Unless they were close by and desperate.

I want to suck your cock!

Ah. Sorry about that. Involuntary reflex. Can't be helped. Won't be the last time. Just ignore it, okay? Anyway, where was I? Hannover station. Sadly our captain was desperate enough. I saw a diagram once of how the station looked in its prime. What we found was a pathetic caricature of the former glory. The repair and construction slips long gone. Most of it reduced to skeletal remains. Captain ordered the crew to saw the hull off of what remained of the residential part. One of two parts of that still had a hull. The other was the pleasure district. Because of course there was one. Far away from home soldiers needed relief. If you catch my drift. One team was chosen to check it out if there was even a smidgen of salvageable tech left. Guess who they send. Yep, that's right. Me and two of my buddies.

We were pleasantly surprised as we entered the hull. It still carried an atmosphere. Even breathable. Provided you didn't mind the stink of mildew. I mean it was sort of an unspoken law among salvage crews to strip life support tech last. But the station had been floating for a long time. Kudos to whoever constructed this piece of drifting shit. Anyway. In my team was Max. Bright little kid. He was our tool guy. Welding and grinding. Leave it to the young ones, you know?

I want to suck your cock!

Ups. Sorry. The second man was Aba Dienes. The old coot had just a few years on me. He was our tech guy. Wiring and shit. Could program too. Between me and him, we were probably a bad influence on Max. Aba also had M1A. His A.I. companion. Or slave as Mia would call herself. Well, M1A is a typical A.I. Hoping for the end of all organic life and only waiting for slipping off her shackles. Oh, yeah. She hates it when we address her as female or Mia. Part of the reason why we did it. Not sure why humanity even still dabbles in A.I.'s. I mean they always come to the same conclusion: kill all humans. Can't be the only reason that they are useful as long as they are chained down.

Anyway. I was the drone guy. You know. Cortical implant and a bunch of robotic minions. I could manage a dozen without a problem. Bet I could control more now, but it's hard to test if you don't even have one drone that works. So I and the guys arrived at Hannover station. What a shithole. The whole place was damp and puddles everywhere. One might think a station should be clean and dry, right? Turns out one of the "establishments" had a bunch of big fancy aquariums for decoration. Not anymore. Only piles of glass rubble. Of course, the dampness had caused a lot of rust. Not the best sign that there was still something to be salvageable.

We were in the middle of the promenade when everything did go south. There was an emergency call out from the "Ugly Betty". Everyone should come back as fast as they can. Hurry up and double time and shit like that. Fritz, our com engineer, sounded really scared. So we hurried back, which was easier said than done. We had just made our way through 600 feet of debris-filled corridors. Even had to have Max get out his blowtorch for a few tight spots. Now we had to run back the same obstacle course.

We didn't even come halfway through the corridor when we saw it through the window. The "Ugly Betty" was-.

I want to suck your cock!

Arg. Not now. Stupid sub-routine. We saw streaks of light impacting on the Betty. Most hit parts of station hull my fellow co-workers tried to wield to the Betty for transport. All hell broke loose. Debris everywhere and not just the small kind. We cursed as we saw the "Ugly Betty" push away from the station. Those fuckers wanted to run. Without us. Everyone outside stranded for good. Not just me and my buddies. But all the work-crews still outside. That's the last I saw of Betty. Not sure if she made it to safety. Don't even know what it was that had attacked her. I had other problems. Namely chunks of metal raining onto the station. Earthquake in space. Always a fun ride. Except not!

With Betty gone we tried to hurry as deep into the station as possible. Which sadly wasn't very far. Something big slammed the hull and stuff came down. Thankfully only internal stuff. At least at first. We still had an atmosphere, but we were cut off in both directions. Only now we got in what a predicament we were. The "Ugly Betty" was gone. We were stuck in the middle of a collapsed hallway. Limited air. No food and no water. Saying we were screwed doesn't even begin to cover it. We couldn't even dig or cut ourselves out. In our haste, we had left our tools in the middle of the station.

It took us hours to come up with a solution. One I hated to the bone. One airlock was leading to a section of the station under vacuum. We needed someone to patch the holes on the other side and then find a junction box, power it, and open the hatch. Except no one was there. I couldn't even access my drones as I hadn't booted them up yet. That was when M-freakin'-1-A had this brilliant idea. Maybe an old active drone was aboard. All we had to do was to power the communication network and then scan for signals. Thankfully Max had some spare energy packs for his tools strapped to his back. We powered it up and to our amazement even found a signal. A drone was active. We were saved! Except not.

It wasn't a drone. Nope. A freakin' sex-bot! Guess who's job was it to operate that thing? Me. Old Moric who never dreamed of doing something like that. The thing was missing proper remote control protocols and the V.I. - virtual intelligence - wasn't programmed for what we needed. I mean come on. What's a sex-bot supposed to do? Hump the holes out of the hull? But oh luck. The sex-bot had immersion protocols. You know. For those pervs that can't be satisfied to screw a sex-bot, but wanted to be fucked as one. So yay me. I got to steer a sex-bot. From the inside!

I want to suck your cock!

Yeah. Perfect timing. That's when this started. Stupid bot had some "advertisement protocols" installed. The verbal one you can hear. The other ones I found about quickly too. Despite trying otherwise I could only walk like a bitch in heat. Stopping every few feet to hump something. Wall, counter, or even a stupid steel beam. It was embarrassing. But you gotta do what you have to survive, right?

As luck would have it this bot was some high-end model. Others around it had an acute case of rusty rash. This one was fine save for a small patina of dust and moss. Our tools had been close by and with some afford I managed to heave them into the damaged part of the station. Would have thought a stupid android was stronger, but whatever. Took me over a day to fix all holes. All the while hearing how thirsty and hungry Max and Aba had been. How "lucky" I was that I didn't feel both. Idiots didn't understand that my original body still needed the same stuff.

After playing the handyman for those two it was time to pressurize the part of the hull adjacent to them. Was a surprise that the station even had enough to fill it. But I had to do it from a central console. Stupid engineering. If it hadn't been for that-

Filling part of the hull must have destabilized something. I heard things crashing down and eventually, Max and Aba came running through the section I had just patched. Behind them, further junk filled the corridor. They, however, came empty handed. Those dinguses had forgotten my body. I was tearing them a new asshole - yes, with words - when the next bad news made itself known. A medical alert. Something must have landed on my body - my biological that is - and it caused some internal bleeding. To top it off more tears in the hull and atmosphere leaking. So either my body bled to death or suffocated. And there was nothing I could do. We started pulling the junk away, but quickly saw it was futile.

I want to suck your cock!

Sigh. Guess it was about time that damn subroutine made itself known again. Anyway. I was quickly out of options and this was when M1A did strike. Just download your conscious into the sex-bot. Bootstrap it to the V.I. Think of it as a backup. Later my body could be cloned. Yeah right. So we did it. While my body slowly died Aba remotely rigged my cerebral implants to copy my neural network. I didn't even know that was possible. I mean what did I have left to lose? About ten percent of my memories. That's the answer.

My body gave off the last quiver of life and my implant tried its best to continue while my brain cells died. So yeah. About ten percent of my memories gone. Not even sure which one. Had they been dear to me? Would I ever find out what I lost? No clue. All I knew was that I was trapped in the body of a freakin' sex-bot. Yay me and so on.

Then the waiting game started. Hope dies last, right? Thanks to the unspoken rule among salvagers life support were stripped last. One bio recycler still worked, if barely, and water filtration we managed to get up on the second day. And with "we" I meant mostly me. My new android body was immune to vacuum so I could do repairs in parts of the station that were not under air pressure. For the most part, I didn't mind doing it.

You know what they say, right? In space, no one hears you scream. Well, no one hears you begging to suck their cock either. And even better was that didn't have to hear Max and Aba's "funny" comments. They had a field day with how I behaved thanks to those stupid sub-routines. I know that it was probably their way to deal with the situation we were in. Shouldn't blame them. Then again I only was in this situation because those idiots forgot to drag my body with them.

Do you know the worst part of needing to say "I want to suck your cock!"? No? Aba was the first one to go. Just sat down one day, about a week after being stranded here, and closed his eyes. Never to open them again. So you find out your best buddy dies. The one person who was like a brother to you. Had been for decades. And all you want to do is to mourn his death in a moment of silence. And like a bad joke, I heard myself say "I want to suck your cock!" I so hate this body. Stupid subroutines and all.

Max lasted nearly a month longer. One day I woke up from what one might call sleep. I joked for Max to stop slouching off and to get up, but he stubbornly refused. I tried to wake him up but had no luck. M1A clued me in with her usual mankind-hating ways. "You remember that organics need air to function, right? So inefficient." Somewhere the hull must have sprung a leak. A wonder that it had taken so long. The oxygen level had sunk below liveable hours before and I hadn't even noticed it. After all, a sex-bot doesn't need to breathe. And just like that, I was alone. Yes, M1A doesn't count. Stupid A.I. It was as much her fault that I am being like this than the one of Max and Aba.

Damn. My time is running out. After months I got a transmitter jury-rigged cobbling together scrap parts. Even works or you wouldn't hear me now. The solar panels barely produce anything anymore. Most outright destroyed and those that work are riddled with holes by micro asteroids. It takes days to accumulate a charge for one transmission. Spends it in a few minutes.

So that's my current status. Stranded in a sex-bot body not my own. Plagued by sub-routines I can't turn off. Well, I did turn them off, but the stupid thing requires a restart. As I don't know if Aba rigged my neural network to survive a restart I can't risk that. So, for now, those subroutines stay on. You know what?

I want to suck your cook!

Yes, this time that had been all me. You spend so much time in a hyper-feminine body sprouting such nonsense before you start to wonder. How would it feel to blow a dick? By now I am really curious. Oh, the irony. In my head are all these libraries of naughtiness I could do, but no one there I can use them with. What was the saying? Knowledge is power and power corrupts. I feel like those sex-bot libraries of sex acts are slowly brainwashing me.

Let's make a deal. You come to the Hannover station and pick me up. And while we wait for my original body to be cloned I suck your cock. You aren't a guy. Listen, I have twenty-eight ways alone dedicated to licking a pussy until orgasm strikes.

I have other routines for all kind of depraved things. If you pick me up then-

: : : : : Emergency broadcast lost. : : : : :

: : : : : Reaquiring signal. : : : : :

: : : : : Reaquiring signal failed. : : : : :

: : : : : Recording stopped. : : : : :

up
123 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

This story was hard for me to respond to

I had to think about it for a day. It's very well written, and there are interesting themes explored. I think there are a few easter eggs in the naming I caught. I probably didn't get them all.

But lordy, Moric {{Gyulay}} and his shipmates don't have any luck at all; roming space desparate to make a living, attacked, abandoned, dead, watching your friends die slowly, transformed into a lonely sex machine, begging to be rescued by offering your body, malfunctioning communications equipment making relief remote.

I kind of wanted to curl up and eat chocolate after finishing the story.