Chapter 1: Green Hell

“One thinks it was a very good party!” said Charles the Robot, dumping plates and cake leftovers in the Recycler.

Roy tried to remove some Sparkle Bright Neon Gum one of the guests had glued to one of his father’s prized real wood book cases and said, “It was alright, I guess but I am not much for parties.”

The robot observed Roy struggling with the bright purple glob and started to recite. “Sparkle Bright, Sticky Messes, Oil, and Tar can easily be removed by using Roxy-Scrub! Roxy-Scrub, Roxy-Scrub, even you can join the club!”

Roy laughed. “Charles I think you are the only Cerberus robot in the entire Galaxy that watches and recites commercials.”

The machine responded with its deep modulated male voice. “One is also very likely the only Cerberus robot doing household chores! This unit watches commercials because they are part of a Holo show. ‘As the Galaxy turns’ One watches this program.”

Roy grinned. “I do not see the attraction of these programs, but I guess everyone has different tastes.”

“Robots do not have tastes. This unit observes it merely for information gathering.”

Roy still grinned. “Yes that’s a good excuse.”

It was now eight years ago when Uncle Sam had given Charles to Roy as a birthday present.

Charles was a genuine SII-Cerberus Type IV Robot, the very pinnacle of Terran Battle robot technology of its time.

Of course the military used Cerberus type IX now and Charles was decommissioned military surplus, but it was still an awesome machine.

Almost everybody on Green Hell had robots and, due to the nature of the planet, all those robots were armed, but these were usually S-10 Multi function Bots with an added weapon arm. Charles was designed as a weapon system from the ground up.

No one he knew owned a Cerberus and that was not just because a Cerberus was incredibly expensive but it was almost impossible for a civilian person to get an Owners License for this sort of military hardware.

Yet somehow Uncle Sam had managed and Roy was one of only 525,000 civilians owning a Cerberus robot in the entire Union. That wasn’t a lot considering the population of the Union was counted in Trillions. He finally managed to get the gum off and tossed it, along with the rag he had used, into the recycler and watched Charles direct the Hoover-Vac around the carpet. “Do you regret being my robot and doing household chores?”

“Roy, one is a machine. One does not have such emotions. It would be the same for this unit to stand in a corner for the next one hundred years and do nothing or execute whatever command you choose to give.”

“I know you are a machine, but you are more to me.”

Charles’ dome shaped neck-less head turned around, not that it needed to do that since it had Omni-directional optic sensors, but this side of the head was its ‘face’. “You are more to me than a master. I dedicated much sub processing space to you that goes far beyond the standard loyalty program. One likes to mention that one is a Type IV and quite advanced. It is part of one’s ability to alter my programming to adjust to new situations. Neuron pathways have been permanently burned with you as focus and it is the closest alternative one could define in terms of feelings towards you.”

Roy did not notice that the robot refereed to it using the word I. Roy hugged the massive machine. “I always knew you like me!”

The robot’s dark red dimly glowing visual sensors flashed a little brighter for a short moment and Roy did not notice the machines massive syntho-muscle powered right arm with the huge Ultronit fist that could crumble steel like tissue paper gently patting his shoulder.

The robot scanned the room by turning his head 360 degrees and said, “Besides, logic determines that household work is far less dangerous to a robot than being sent into battle, deemed too dangerous for living beings. So this unit prefers household chores.”

Just then the voice of Roy’s father called the boy’s name. “Mister Roy Masters, would you please come to the study?”

Charles said, “Your father requires your presence. One is completely capable to complete this chore!”

Whenever Paul Masters, Roy’s father, called him Mister, he knew he was in trouble. Paul never called him like this if he had good news.

Expecting the unavoidable, Roy crossed the living room of the dome shaped two story home and entered his father’s study.

Paul Masters was an avid collector and fan of everything Pre-Astro from Earth. Pre-Astro meant things Terran humans used before the ascent over 3000 years ago. Even though Paul Masters was born on Ribenna Colony, 763 light years from Terra and had visited Earth only during his University studies.

His father’s love for these old things was the reason that most of the furniture in the house was made of wood or pseudo wood and had no integrated tech at all.

Paul also loved books, the ancient kind, made of an exotic material called paper. He had those books stacked and shelved everywhere in his study. Roy’s father also had taken to the Terran habit of smoking. He smoked pipes and the sweet tobacco smell penetrated deep into the house, despite the best efforts of the air recycling system.

His father was thin and tall and his colleagues at the Institute often called him the stork, a nickname, and a reference to some sort of Terran avian life form. Paul’s nose, Roy agreed, did almost have the appearance of a bird’s beak. His father had the same bright blue eyes as Roy, but Paul’s hair was black and did not have the sandy blonde shade Roy and his mother shared.

To the boy’s surprise his mother was present as well. She sat on the corner of his father’s wooden work desk and they both looked at their son, their stares signaled he was in deeper trouble than he expected.

His mother was, so everyone told him, quite pretty. She had a very feminine body and wore her hair in a chin length bob-cut. Her eyes were dark pink as those of almost everyone that came from the planet Phantas. His mother was born on this perpetual twilight world almost 22,100 light years away. Clear across this quadrant at the other end of the Upward Sector.

Like his father she was an exobiology scientist and they had met when they both were students on a famous university on Earth.

Mother never wore any make up, or dresses or anything like that and always wore the same one piece body suit almost everyone on Green Hell wore, the only difference to Paul’s Bioseal suit was that hers had red panels, while Paul’s were blue. Roy’s wore a green jungle camouflage pattern, like a real native Greenie would have.

Martha Masters did not really approve of this as she looked at her sixteen year old teenage son. His hair cropped short in a regulation Marine Corps high and tight style. Roy wanted it that way because Uncle Sam wore it like that. Roy had grown visibly since his last birthday and was almost as tall as his father now, reaching 198 centimeters (78” or 6’-6”).

Roy filled out his camouflage patterned Bio suit with a peak athletic body and he had well developed muscular arms a rock hard six pack belly and muscular thighs. His face was angular and Martha saw much of her father in his features, Roy had the same chin, the same Roman nose as her Dad.

Paul pointed to the wooden visitor’s chair before his desk. Roy was convinced his father had bought that chair for the sole purpose of making him uncomfortable while he interrogated or scolded his son.

Paul said with a stern tone. “Have a seat, Son! Your mother and I have to talk to you!”

Roy sat down and was certain he knew what was coming and why he had been called on the carpet. To speed things up he said. “I confess I was outside again, so spare me the lecture father, and let us proceed to the punishment part.”

Paul took the pipe out of his mouth and began to clean the bulb with a silvery spoon tool. “Roy, you are 16 years old, we hoped you would grow out of these ridiculous boyhood fantasies that you have been outside in the jungles.”

Chapter 2 »