Women of Steel

Women of Steel (Box Set)
Second Edition
Camille Anthony
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Camille Anthony
Excerpt from Marti Gets Her M.A.N.

"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 am 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..."