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Message-ID: <46478asstr$1075803003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: fherriot@yahoo.com (Fred Herriot)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 3 Feb 2004 04:31:08 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} "Deanna's Surprise" Part 3 "Rayven" (Herm/Bi-'bot, Herm/Fembot, rom, anal, oral, sci-fi, ASFR)
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Date: Tue,  3 Feb 2004 05:10:03 -0500
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"Deanna's Surprise"
Part 3:  Rayven
by Gorgo (fherriot@yahoo.com)
**** **** ****
With C&C from D.B. Story (DB_Story@att.net)
**** **** ****

WRITER'S NOTES:

This part of the story takes place three weeks after Part Two.  It is
written in first person with Deanna's POV.  Rayven's POV will be
displayed in italics (in HTML format) or framed with six asterixes at
the start and end of the section (in TXT format).

Enjoy!

**** **** ****

"Bring her in here, please!"

I jolted as Lenn's voice echoed from the foyer.  After hearing the
loud *bang!* of the front door being slammed into a wall, I rose to
see what was going on.  As soon as I walked through the door
connecting Lenn's living quarters with her office, I stopped on seeing
Gael Layne and Lenn wheel in someone on a stretcher, she guiding it
from the front to her lab.  Watching them disappear around the corner,
I looked back to see a Niagara Regional Police sergeant standing by
the main door.  "What's going on here, Sergeant..."  I checked his
nametag.  "Miles?"

He gazed on me, then smiled.  "You're Deanna Hordye?  Marlenn Ioanis'
owner of record, right?"

"That's me," I replied, sensing the recognition in his eyes.  From
Welland natives, that normally meant one thing.  "Where?  What grade?"

"Grade Six.  I worked with your mom in the library when she was at
Plymouth," he replied, holding out his hand.  "Izak Miles.  Call me
Zak."

I gave him a firm handshake.  "Deanna.  Pleasure to meet you, Zak. 
I'm sorry for not recalling your name."

"Doesn't bother me," he chuckled.  He was a handsome fellow, trim in
the mode of most serious track-and-field athletes.  Noting that, I
wondered what sort of street work Zak did for the police.  "Lord
knows, with the way your mom got around the elementary schools in
Welland, it wouldn't surprise me that she got to know at least *half*
of the people in the city who were in Grades Six, Seven and Eight from
the day she started work at Crowland Central until the day she retired
after her time at Empire.  How many could that've been in the long
run?"

"Yeah, Mama was like that," I admitted, then canted my head in the
direction of Lenn's laboratory.  "What's the story here?"

"Auto accident on the 406 north of East Main," he reported as we
walked to the entrance to the shop.  "Car smashed into a tree on the
side of the road.  No other vehicles involved, thank God.  Only ones
hurt were one 'bot and three normals, all female."

"What about the normals?"

"Welland County General," he said.  That was the local hospital on
King Street three blocks south of Lincoln.  "Chances are, they might
have to get airlifted to the Hotel Dieu in Saint Kitts or one of the
hospitals in Hamilton, though."

I gazed concernedly at him.  "Bad?" 

He returned my look.  "And then some."

"Busy night," I noted, glancing at my watch.  It was close to
nine-thirty on Saturday night, a week after I had taken official
custody of Lenn -- to tell her apart from her creator, I used a "pet"
form of Marlenn's name -- from Dayle Ioanis, Marlenn's older brother.

"Actually, it's been pretty quiet," Zak sighed, then shrugged.  "Which
makes incidents like this all the more worse at times."

I patted his shoulder in sympathy.  "Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks."

We stopped by the closed doors leading into the lab, then I pushed one
of them open, beckoning Zak to follow me in.  Lenn, having slipped on
her work smock, was busy inserting leads in the unmoving fembot's
body.  Gael, a man who would be Mama's age who worked as Welland's
only licensed 'bot part recycler, manned the controls on the primary
diagnostic machine.  Hearing Lenn and Gael exchange information in the
sharp, staccato-like language doctors and nurses in a hospital's
emergency ward used, I found myself grateful for the intensive
education Lenn had given me over the last two weeks concerning her
work as a 'bot maintenance technician.  By the sounds of it, their
patient -- at least her core personality matrix and memory files --
stood an excellent chance of survival.  That would make Zak's work a
lot easier.

"Okay, here's her RID," Gael called out.

"Call it," Lenn ordered.

A fifty-digit code of letters and numbers flowed out of the recycler's
mouth.  Hearing the first string of ten digits, I nodded.  An
American-built robot from Virginia, four years old, most likely a
product of the Noram Cybersystems Group.  A fembot in body structure
and basic personality programming.  Learning the many interesting
nuances of a 'bot's RID -- Robot Identification Directory -- number
would probably drive even an experienced robot tech to distraction. 
Remembering what Lenn told me about the information one's RID can
relay right up front, I asked her why all human 'bot technicians
didn't have a robot assistant when it came to the clerical work.

Lenn's response:  "Mother wondered the same thing before she built
me."

"Excuse me, Mister Layne, what's the last part of her RID again?" Zak
called out, PDA and hand-held mouse at the ready.

Gael repeated the number slowly to give Zak a chance to scribble it
into his PDA.  "Her name's Rayven," Gael then added.  "Spelt
R-A-Y-V-E-N.  I'm tapping into the public files to get the identity of
her owner right now.  Just give us a minute, Sergeant, okay?"

"No problem."

"How is she, Lenn?" I asked.

Lenn grimaced.  "Bad.  Her main power cell's leaking acid into her
lower abdomen.  Left arm sheared off at the biceps, the upper parts of
both legs crushed.  She was probably driving the car.  The damage
pattern tells me she had the whole engine block rammed into her."

"That's how we found her," Zak confirmed.

I whistled, shaking my head.  "Shit!"

"You'll have to disengage her brain from her power cell, Marlenn,"
Gayle warned.

Lenn nodded.  "On it."

As we stood there, Lenn effortlessly severed the energy leads from
Rayven's main power cell -- on all robots, that's normally located
where a human's stomach and liver would be -- and her central mind. 
Like a human's, a 'bot's brain and primary memory banks are located in
the head.  Backup memory banks and an auxiliary central processor unit
are placed where a human's heart would be.  Given what Zak had told me
about the accident and what happened to Rayven's human companions,
doing everything to preserve her memories was now all the more
paramount.

Once the links to the leaking power cell were severed, Lenn hooked
Rayven's mind into the laboratory's power grid.  This would allow
whatever intact systems that remained to operate, including speech. 
It was possible for Lenn to cyberlink with Rayven mind-to-mind, of
course.  No doubt, preferring to verbally speak with her patients was
one of the many quirks Lenn's IP-type programming forced on her.

"Okay, she's linked in," Lenn reported.  "Wake her up."

"Right."

Gael tapped controls.  Silence fell as we waited for Rayven's mind to
come on-line.  Zak shifted himself to stand beside Lenn.  I stayed
where I was, barely able to see much of my lover's current patient. 
"Okay, she should be coming on-line..." Gael hissed through his teeth.

"Where am I?"

That voice spoke in a husky, deep baritone, almost mannish in its
quality though still recognizably female.  "You're in a robot repair
facility in Welland, Rayven," Lenn replied.  "I'm Marlenn Ioanis. 
This is my shop."

A pause as Rayven processed that.  "I'm a mess, I take it."

The surprise on Lenn's face on hearing that statement was more than
obvious to me.  Was Rayven an IP 'bot, her matrix formed from a copy
of an organic human's memory?  I knew information about that sort of
programming would be included in Rayven's RID, but I couldn't recall
where it would exactly be.  Oh, well.  Answer that later.  "Yes, you
are, I'm afraid," Lenn chuckled.  "But it's repairable.  I hope your
maintenance insurance is paid up.  You need to get a new arm, plus
your whole abdomen and both your thighs have to be rebuilt."

Another pause as Rayven took in that news.  "I see."

"Miss Rayven, who's your owner?" Zak then asked.

The answer was automatic.  "Brenda Beemon."

I perked on hearing that name.  "Brenda Beemon?!  From the Vee
Beemers?!!"

"Who's that?!" Rayven demanded.

Lenn waved me over to join her.  "My owner of record," she reported as
I walked around the foot of the diagnostic table to stand beside Zak.

"Deanna, who're the Vee Beemers?!" Gayle asked.

"Thrash band from New York City," I reported.  "They're not one of the
really headline-grabbing bands -- they've only been touring for the
last two years -- but they're getting there.  Or so Irene tells me. 
She can't get enough of their music."

"Nice to know I got fans," Rayven chuckled.

I got a full look at her -- or at least as much as the thick blanket
now covering her from just below her breasts to her feet allowed. 
Already, oily blue-green stains were appearing on the blanket around
the area of her upper left arm, stomach, hips and both legs.  Her lack
of a left arm from just above the elbow was impossible to ignore. 
 From what I could see of her, she was tall -- almost my height in fact
-- and shapely, what one might expect from your average fembot. 
Staring at her mostly-intact face, I noted there was a deep vertical
slash from her hairline through her still-intact left eye to above the
corner of her mouth.  I was reminded of Chie, one of the dancers at
Russell's Retreat who was now the property of my friend Pauline Kim. 
Rayven's face had the same type of hawkish slant, though her eyes were
a light gold-brown instead of Chie's stormy grey.  Rayven's hair was a
dark brown, shaggily cut, flowing to the bottom of her shoulders.

As the wounded 'bot's eyes turned toward me, I added, "Irene's a
showclub performer.  In her stage shows, she often uses your band's
music."

Rayven blinked -- well, only her right eye could do that now. 
"Really?"  She then glanced towards Zak.  "Where're Brenda, Kip and
Monica?"

"Welland County General Hospital, in intensive care.  All of them are
in very critical condition," the policeman replied.  "With your
consent, Miss Rayven, I'd like to obtain a copy of your memory files
to better ascertain what happened tonight..."

"It's not their fault!"

We all started on hearing Rayven's sudden assertion.  Seeing a trace
of panic cross her face, a sense of dread gripped my heart.  Walking
around Zak and Lenn, I bent down to gaze into Rayven's eyes.  Reaching
under the blanket to draw out her still-intact right arm, I held her
hand close to my cheek as I projected what I hoped would be an
understanding gaze on Lenn's patient.  I knew Rayven wouldn't be able
to feel anything below her neck -- a glance to her large breasts and
the flat, unresponsive nipples at their peaks confirmed that -- but I
hoped that my sympathy play would calm her down.  "Raye, no one's
saying anything about whose fault it is right now.  But Zak here can't
do anything to figure out what *did* happen without your help.  Brenda
and her friends can't help; they're just as banged up as you are. 
Please?"

Rayven stared at me, the fear on her face slowly fading into a sad
understanding.  "It's not their fault," she repeated, her voice etched
with what sounded like weariness.  Whatever was going on -- and my
imagination was going into overtime coming up with a storm of theories
about *that* -- it sounded like it had been plaguing Rayven and her
bandmates for some time now.

"Will you let Zak get a look at your memory files, Raye?" I asked her.

A longer pause, then she closed her still-functional eye.  A tear
trickled down her cheek.  Shame?  Or relief?  "Do it."

*    *    *

"What's Rayven doing here?!  What happened to her?!"

I looked up to see Irene and Reika standing at the bedroom doorway. 
It was well past three o'clock early on Sunday morning.  I was now in
bed, waiting for Lenn to finish up with her newest patient before
joining us for a good night's romp.  "She was in a car accident on the
406 earlier this evening," I reported as my lovers dropped off their
purses and overnight bags on the couch nearby, then moved to sit on
the bed.  I sat up to stretch.  "The others in the band are at the
hospital in town, all in critical condition."

"That's awful!" Reika whispered, squeezing her sister's shoulders in a
surprisingly human gesture of support.  "What are their chances?"

"The police didn't say."  I shook my head, then perked up on seeing
Lenn step inside.  "She okay?"

"I had to shut her down."  Lenn gave my other lovers a warm smile,
then slipped off her smock and housecoat.  Despite what had happened
this evening, I felt a shiver on seeing Lenn's nude body.  She
remained in full-female format, as were Reika and Irene since they
just got back from the Wheelhouse -- Port Colborne's only showclub --
and the Station Hotel respectively.  "Fortunately, her maintenance
insurance is all paid up, so I can get started on the repairs first
thing tomorrow.  She should be back on her feet by Monday afternoon."

"Can we help out?" Irene asked as she and Reika rose to undress.

"Not really."  Lenn shook her head as she moved to slip into bed
beside me.  "Other than keeping your fingers crossed."

They nodded understandingly as they finished slipping off their
clothes and came to join us in bed.  Watching them, I felt another
shudder run through me as Reika and Irene assumed bi-'bot format. 
God, I *still* can't get over watching it happen.  One moment, they're
the perfect idols of the female form.  Next moment, ***wham!*** 
They're a perfect pair of hermaphrodites.  Watching Lenn change from
full-female to bi-'bot format hits me even deeper in my heart.  Then
again, given my long crush on Lenn's "mother," what could you expect?

"So what do you want to do, Mistress?" Irene coyly wondered as she sat
beside me, prepared to offer me anything I could desire.

I blinked, glancing at my companions for a moment, then a shiver ran
through me as the image of Rayven's wounded face passed before my
mind's eye.  "I'm not in the mood tonight, girls," I breathed out,
allowing my head to sink into the pillows.  "Let's just get some
sleep."

My lovers exchanged looks on hearing that, then nodded...

*    *    *

Sunday passed by antagonizingly slow.  To ensure we didn't interrupt
Lenn's work on Rayven, Reika, Irene and I headed back to our apartment
on Denistoun Street to spend a quiet day together in front of the home
media centre.  It was hard for me to concentrate on watching our DVD
collection of "24 Sussex Drive" -- Canada's answer to the long-running
"The West Wing" -- though, to say anything about listening to some of
my favourite music.  I barely noticed the concerned looks on Reika's
and Irene's faces as we ate breakfast and lunch in near-total silence.

I was amazed at how the injury to a 'bot I'd never even met was
affecting me, not to mention...

Every time I tried to think about something -- the shocking revelation
I received from Drew Keir concerning a possible twin sister; Pauline
Kim's ongoing trials and tribulations in forming a working
relationship with Chie; the planned trip I would take with the senior
student in the *tojang,* Iruka Shiina, to Ottawa so she could take her
final test to be awarded her black belt; a party on Monday night at
Jim Graham's place; the possibility that both Irene and Reika would
have to obtain some hardware upgrades from Lenn sometime this week --
Rayven's lovely face, her husky voice, what she'd possibly look like
after Lenn finished repairing her, her words in defence of her
bandmates...

"Deanna?"

I jolted, then noticed Irene standing beside me in our bedroom.  I had
gone there midway through the afternoon to put a new entry into my
LiveJournal site.  Glancing at the blog before me, I noticed that I
hadn't typed a single word.  Staring at the time at the bottom right
corner of the screen, then comparing it to what time I had logged into
LiveJournal, I breathed out.  Damn, I had the thing open for an hour
and I hadn't written a single bloody thing into it?  Quickly, I logged
off and closed down the computer before turning in my chair to face
Irene.  Before she could say anything, I reached over to draw her into
an embrace, allowing the side of my face to rest against her tummy. 
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my head.  "I'm sorry,
Irene," I whispered.  "I'm being an old poop today."

"What's wrong, Deanna?" she prodded.  "Is it Rayven?"

"Yeah," I sighed.  "Among other things.  I just can't stop thinking
about her."

"She'll be alright," Irene assured me.

"Oh, sure.  Physically, she'll be as good as new.  Lenn's the best
there is when it comes to 'bot repairs.  But, mentally..."

"Why are you worried about that?"

I breathed out, pulling away from Irene as I relaxed in my chair.  She
shifted herself to sitting on my leg, keeping one arm wrapped around
my shoulders.  We gazed into each other's eyes, then she leaned in to
give me a warm kiss.  "Do you best," she whispered, giving me a wink.

I laughed.  "Oh, Irene-chan, *arigatou,*" I thanked her in Japanese as
we hugged each other, then I gazed up to the ceiling.  "I don't know,
Irene.  I mean, there she is, badly banged up.  Her bandmates are in
ICU at the hospital.  We've no idea how much they've been hurt, but
it's gotta be bad.  And when Zak asked to get a copy of her memory
files, the first thing Raye said was 'It's not their fault.'"

"That's a strange assertion to make," Irene mused.  "Do you think
drugs might be a problem?"

I considered that for a moment.  "Have there been rumours about the
Beemers using drugs?"

"Nothing specific," she replied.  "But I've heard lots on how harsh
the music industry can be.  And the Beemers are a successful band. 
Three records, the first one having just gone gold.  Three Top Ten
hits on the 'Billboard' pop charts.  All that in the last two years."

Silence fell as I took in what Irene just said, then a slow nod tilted
my head.  "Too much pressure to produce," I concluded.  It seemed the
only conclusion that I could make from the information I had about
Rayven's band.  On the average, most musicians take a year to produce
a new record.  But to pump out *three* records in two years' time,
plus factor in tours, promotions, whatever personal problems are
there...!

Yeah, it made a load of sense.

The video phone rang.  Irene tapped controls to flick on the screen. 
I smiled on seeing Zak Miles.  "Hey, Zak!  What's up?!"

He grinned in return, then glanced curiously at Irene.  "Hello,
Deanna!  One of yours?"

"Yes, she is."  I smirked as Irene slipped off my leg, then I did
introductions.  Once that was done, I asked, "So why're you calling?"

"Got some bad news about Miss Rayven's friends," the policeman sighed.
 "*Very* bad news."

"Being?" I prodded.

"The doctor in charge of their cases reported that they are now on
full life-support," Zak stated.  "One girl has collapsed lungs that
they can't reinflate.  Her heart's stopped five times since she was
brought in.  The second girl's liver is badly lacerated; they've had
to put her on a blood-cleansing machine.  According to Doctor McLeod,
her small intestine and a good portion of her large intestine were
turned into sushi.  And the third girl's neck is broken; spinal cord
was severed clean through."

I winced, then gazed briefly at Irene.  "Oh, jeez...!"  Seeing the
tears in her eyes, I could only imagine how the Beemers' other fans
would react to *this* news.  "What are their ultimate chances, Zak? 
What did Anne-Marie tell you?"

Zak's eyes widened.  "You know Doctor McLeod?"

I winked at him.  "Anne-Marie and I were classmates at Centennial."

He chuckled.  "Ah!  Like mother, like daughter."

"Unfortunately."  I shrugged impishly, then quickly sobered.  "So
what's Anne-Marie's final verdict?"

A pause, then Zak gazed at his notepad.  "For Miss Beemon -- she's the
one with the collapsed lungs -- and Miss Hilary -- that's the one with
the spinal injury -- their ultimate chances are rated as less than
twenty percent.  Miss Pascale has a ten percent chance."  He lowered
the notepad.  "The problem is, given how bad the injuries are, Doctor
McLeod won't *dare* try to move them to Toronto.  Even sending them to
Erie County General in Buffalo's out of the question.  The only hope
they'll have to eventually recover is to get them stabilized here in
Welland, *then* move them to a better-equipped facility.  Much as
Welland County General is a good facility for most emergency
situations..."

"It serves a city of sixty thousand people, so the population base
doesn't justify more advanced gear," I finished.

He nodded.  "I'm afraid so."

"Has someone contacted their agent or record company?"

"Their agent's on his way up from the Big Apple right now, but she
won't be in town until early tomorrow morning."

"Damn!" I spat out, then sighed.  "So why tell me all this, Zak?"

"Well, you *are* Marlenn Ioanis' owner of record.  Since she's busy
putting Miss Rayven back together as we speak, you have the right to
know the whole situation concerning her.  And..."  Here, he took a
deep breath before giving me a knowing look.  "If her friends don't
make it in the long term, Miss Rayven might need a new home.  What
would her record company do in a case like this?"

"Right," I grunted, my fingers rubbing the bridge of my nose.  "Look,
Zak, let me talk to Anne-Marie about this, then I'll go break the news
to Raye tomorrow after Lenn gets her back on her feet.  Is there any
problem with that?"

"None.  I'll hold off the agent until you do."

"Fair enough."

*    *    *

If Anne-Marie McLeod were a fembot, she'd be the typical American
cheerleader of the type found in every showclub, escort service and
sim brothel.  She stands 168 centimetres -- that's only five-foot-six
in the metrically-challenged republic south of the border -- tall and
avoids high heels as much as she can.  Her sunflower blonde hair is
wavy and very soft to the touch.  These days, she keeps it cut at the
collars so she can fit it into a surgical cap when she's needed in the
operating theatre.  Her eyes are the same shade as mine, though I
often admit that on Anne-Marie's face, they look far prettier.  Quite
shapely, she would've been a shoe-in for the Centennial Cougars
cheerleading team if she hadn't also been born with a high IQ and a
desire to learn that puts even Pauline Kim to shame.

Scholastically, she was the top student in our graduating class, then
took that to get her science degree *magna cum laude* from Queen's
University in Kingston, followed by her doctorate from Johns Hopkins
in Baltimore.  From what I'd heard, she had her pick of any hospital
in North America when it came to do her residency.  Instead, she chose
to come back home.

Today, she serves as one of three trauma surgeons in the emergency
ward at Welland County General.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's happening with you?" I teased, standing by
the reception desk near the entrance to the ICU.

Anne-Marie spun around, her jaw nearly hitting the floor as
recognition flashed across her face.  "Deanna!" she laughed, setting
aside her patient notes before grabbing me in a bearhug, giving me a
surprisingly wet kiss on the lips.  "What are you doing here?!"

I ruffled her hair before letting her go.  "Came to see you.  Busy
right now?"

I glanced down at her surgical clothes.  "Somewhat."  She picked up
her notes, then beckoned me with a nod to a nearby office.

We walked inside, then I closed the door behind us.  Glancing around,
I realized that this is her personal office.  Hanging on her wall are
her degrees, family photos and -- to my surprise -- a portrait of me
taken after I graduated from the University of Victoria ten years ago.
 Glancing at her, I pointed to that picture.  "Mom got that from your
mother," she explained before sitting down.  "So what brings you here
to see me on a Sunday afternoon in lieu of getting my address and
number from Russ and visiting me at home?"

My eyebrows disappeared under my hair.  "You'd *want* me to come visit
you at home?"

A knowing smile crept across her face.  "Yes.  And when you come, I'll
make sure to dress in as little as possible so that I can ravage you
right then and there.  Even better, I'll be certain not to have
protection and that I'm at the peak of my cycle when it happens."

I looked at her.  Anne-Marie and I had dated during the last months of
Grade Twelve, plus the following summer vacation before she went to
Kingston and I headed off to Victoria.  We had made love often, but
decided against any permanent committments to each other when we
finally went our separate ways.  The last time I spoke to Anne-Marie
had been at Mama's funeral two years ago, when she, her mother Elaine
and her boyfriend Ed Sasha had come to pass their condolences.  "Anne,
what happened between you and Eddie?"

She let out a tired sigh.  "Nothing.  Except that compared to *you,*
Ed didn't make the mark."

"Oh, Anne..."

She waved it off.  "It's okay.  But I will say this, Dee.  Russ and
the guys weren't the only ones waiting for you to come back home."

I sighed as those words sank into me, then bowed my head.  "Anne, I'm
sorry..."

"Don't apologize."  She reached over to squeeze my hand, her other
hand reaching up to gently thread through my own hair.  "I knew you
needed time away from this place after what happened with you and
Marlenn.  And I knew you'd be thrown off kilter when you *did* come
back, especially when you found out about Marlenn and Lenn.  But it
doesn't mean that my feelings for you have changed since we
graduated."

"What about the girls I live with now?" I warned her.

We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then Anne-Marie
shrugged.  "You're a high-maintenance sort of person, Dee.  Atop that,
you've always been there for those who really needed help.  Granted,
if something did happen between us, I'd have to get used to having
three robot lovers share a bed with us.  And considering that all
three of them are bi-gendered robots, not so different from yourself,
I think I could get used to them.  And..."  She winked, smiling. 
"Seeing that it is *you* that I'm after at the end..."

Silence fell, then I leaned in.  We shared a tender kiss, then pulled
apart.  "Let's see what happens."  I winked back at her, then took a
deep breath.  "Anyhow, I came here to talk about three patients of
yours in the ICU.  Brenda Beemon, Kinsey Hilary and Monica Pascale."

Anne-Marie blinked, then sighed.  Staring at her sagging shoulders, I
could only wince.  Had my friend's drive to be a good doctor set her
on a course that could burn her out in the long run?  "If this was
University Hospital in Toronto -- even better, Johns Hopkins -- their
chances would be pretty good.  Right now, I can't begin to say what'll
happen to them, especially Monica.  They're very sick people."

"Did the medevac people get to them fast enough?"

"Yes, they were very fast on the mark.  But that's not the whole
problem, Dee."

I stared at my friend, then sighed.  "Are drugs involved in this,
Anne?"

Her gaze sharpened.  "Why do you ask?"

"Something Rayven said when they brought her into Lenn's lab," I
replied.  "'It's not their fault.'  Look, Anne, if I'm out of line
here, tell me and I'll shut up.  But it's not hard to guess what might
be going on.  Popular thrash band, three records pumped out in two
years' time, tours and other things to worry about.  In essence,
they're doing everything they humanly can to really get into the big
time.  With *that* sort of fame as their final goal, I can't begin to
guess what sort of pressures these girls've been subjected to."

Anne-Marie nodded.  "Almost as bad as this place gets at times.  Yes,
drugs are a part of this mess.  According to Zak Miles, the memory
records from Rayven showed that Brenda caused the accident.  I don't
have the toxicology reports back on them, but from what I've learned,
they were all high as kites on some pretty vile stuff.  Not to mention
very drunk to boot.  Add that to the high rate of speed and..."

"Damn," I hissed, resting my chin on a fist as I shook my head. 
"Designer drugs've continued to get worse over the years, eh?"

"You can say that again, Dee," Anne-Marie agreed, then a rueful
chuckle escaped her before she continued.  "We're trying to detox them
right now.  Monica needs it the most with the damage her liver's
taken.  If her liver gets the chance to properly heal, her chances
improve considerably.  We can take our time fixing the intestinal
damage, but the liver comes first in this case."

"What about Kinsey and her spine?  Zak told me it was a clean break."

"Like a knife."

"And Brenda?"

"She's now totally hooked on a lung-heart machine."

"Oh, man..."

"What about Rayven?"

I gave my old classmate a sad look.  "Lenn'll have her back on her
feet tomorrow afternoon."

Anne-Marie closed her eyes.  "Robots are very lucky in that regard,
aren't they?"

"They are, indeed..."

*    *    *

Anne-Marie came off-shift at nightfall.  She offered to drive me to
the lab so I could look in on Lenn and Rayven.  I think she wanted to
know too how it was coming, but wouldn't ask directly.  Arriving
there, I noticed Reika's car by the main door.  Knowing that both
girls had to work tonight, I raced into the laboratory to see Reika on
a table as I stepped in.  Lenn was manning the diagnostic machine by
the bed.  Irene sat beside her sister, holding her hand.  "Oh, damn! 
Now what happened?" I demanded, running over to gaze on Reika.

"Looks like I'll have to do some part replacing earlier than I
expected, Dee."  Lenn gazed assuredly at me, then glanced at someone
behind me.  "Oh, hi, Anne.  What brings you around our neck of the
woods?" she asked, turning back to gaze on the readouts.

I glanced behind me to see Anne-Marie standing there.  "I came to drop
your owner off before heading home and getting some sleep, Marlenn. 
It's been a busy couple of days at the shop, unfortunately.  What's
wrong with Reika?"

"Some of her secondary logic and memory solids are about to go to the
big parts bin in the sky, unfortunately," Lenn sighed.  "I discovered
this in both her and Irene when they first came to stay with me.  This
shouldn't take more than an hour."

"Everything okay with you, Irene?" I asked, gazing on Reika's sister.

She nodded.  "I seem to be fine.  When Reika realized that she had to
see Marlenn right away, we both decided to take the night off.  At
least this way, we'll be in shape for Jim's party tomorrow night. 
Will you be there, Doctor McLeod?"

"I never miss one of Jim's and Wendy's parties, Irene.  And please,
call me Anne."

Glancing deeply into Reika's eyes, I quickly noticed the lack of light
within those orbs, telling me that all her systems were dormant.  At
least she wouldn't suffer in any way, if robots ever *do* suffer when
some of their hardware is replaced.  Glancing at Lenn, I reached over
to give her shoulder a squeeze.  "How're you doing, love?  Nothing
wrong with you."

"Not really.  And before you ask, if something ever *does* go wrong
with me, I've my own personal repair centre over yonder."

She pointed to the corner of the lab.  There, a glass spheroid-shape
machine with a built-in diagnostic chair was sighted.  When she
constructed her robot daughter, Marlenn wanted to make sure that
nothing could go wrong with her -- and if it did, she would have
first-class, secure and safe assistance in making her whole again. 
Unfortunately, the unit was built *only* for Lenn; it couldn't be used
by any other robot.  "If only *all* 'bots could have something like
this," I quipped, turning my eyes away from that device to where
Rayven had been laid out last night.  I then blinked on seeing an
empty diagnostic bed.  I glanced at Lenn.  "Where's Rayven?!"

"In the nanofac unit having her epidermal tissue rebuilt," she
reported.  "Turns out, my estimate on her overall repair time was
something of an exaggeration.  She should be back on her feet by
tomorrow morning at the latest."

I gazed at her.  "Why'd you exaggerate?"

"A habit of Mother's that got passed on into me.  It's one I'm
comfortable using."  Lenn grinned.  "Rayven, it turns out, is
something of a special order unit.  While a lot of her is normal for a
Noram Cybersys civilian-use fembot, there are differences.  And, from
what I discovered putting her back together, *that's* what saved her
from prolonged repairs, even with the leaks in her main power cell."

Irene blinked.  "Noram Cybersys?  The company in Virginia?"

Lenn nodded.  "Very same."

"What type of units come from there, Marlenn?" Anne-Marie asked.

"Heavy construction units mostly, plus robots that are used in
hazardous conditions like near-orbital space and toxic zones."

I considered that, then blinked.  "Sturdier bone and component
construction, you mean.  Even if she had a car engine block smashed
into her lap, it wouldn't have damaged the parts to the point where
you'd have to rebuild the limbs and abdomen from scratch."

Lenn patted my shoulder.  "Exactly.  Once you start building true
quality units, it kind of carries over into everything else you make. 
Why don't you go look in on her?  I need to get Reika opened up."

"Right."

I beckoned Anne-Marie with me as we headed over to the nanofac, a
glass cylindrical tank two-and-a-half metres tall by a metre wide. 
When working, it's filled to the brim with an opaque, greenish fluid
supersaturated with billions of construction nanites, tiny 'bots no
larger than a speck of dust.  This is used in a robot's final
construction to have her synthflesh installed.  It also helps with
repairs from intensive damage.  Also, with a nanofac, you can do a lot
of cosmetic alterations.  Hair and eye colour, skin tone, breast size,
musculature -- if you want it changed, this is the machine you need. 
They are exceptionally expensive units.  The equivalent of the
advanced medical equipment I was wishing our local hospital had to
help the other girls.  At present, I could barely make out the tall,
female form standing inside.  From what I could see of Rayven, I could
tell that the nanofac was just getting started on her.

Anne-Marie grimaced.  "It's like looking at a cadaver."

I chuckled, staring at her.  "You must've had fun in your autopsy
classes."

She shook her head.  "I don't think I could ever see myself doing
coroner's work.  Tearing a body apart like it was a slab of beef..." 
A shiver raced through her, then she glanced over her shoulder at Lenn
and my other lovers.  "How do you stand it, Marlenn?"

"Stand what?" Lenn asked.

"Being forced to tear robots apart, then putting them back together
again?  Doesn't it hit close to home for you?"

Lenn paused for a moment to consider her answer, then she sighed.  "I
look at it this way:  I know that if I put the parts back together the
right way, the 'bot I'm treating will be made whole and complete."  A
pause.  "I guess neither Mother or I could ultimately stomach the
possible levels of randomness human medical care can force on doctors
like yourself, Anne."

"We still have to do it," Anne-Marie mused.

"And the fact that you do it even in the face of impossible odds
speaks a lot about you," Lenn conceded.

My friend considered her words, then turned back to gaze on Rayven,
her cheeks colouring.  "To believe that fourteen years ago, I wanted
to take a knife and carve her up after what she did to you," she
hissed, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

I gazed at her, then drew her into a one-armed embrace.  "I've
forgiven her, Anne.  And I'm the one who did it to myself.  Not her."

"It's harder for me," she admitted.  "I was the one who had to work on
her mom after she tried to kill herself.  When I found out from Drew
about how neat her vanishing act was, all the anger I felt for her
years ago just came roaring back.  To *believe* she just ***did***
that...!!"

She gritted her teeth, then relaxed as I drew my other arm around her.
 "Don't be angry, Anne.  Please," I pleaded as I kissed her forehead.

"She abandoned her parents.  She abandoned her friends.  She abandoned
her own *child,* for God's sake!" Anne-Marie snarled, turning to gaze
into my eyes.  "And all to pursue some wild theory of finding some way
to give you back use of your ovaries?!  Even if it's possible -- and
if Drew was right and Marlenn was looking at the stem-cell option, it
*is* possible, to do it this way..."

I jolted, my jaw dropping in disbelief.  "It is?!"

She placed a finger on my lips.  "I said it's *possible,* Dee!  It's
never been done before," she warned me as she allowed her hand to
slide down to my cleavage in an old familiar way, distracting me a bit
from my shock.  I always loved the way she used to touch me there, the
way a man never could.  "There haven't been people like you to
practice these techniques on yet."

I considered that, then sighed.  "Yeah, that's true.  But if it's
*possible*..."

"I won't give you false hope, Dee," Anne-Marie sighed, using my name
the way only lovers can.

"Thanks."

"Excuse me, Anne?"

Anne-Marie gazed on Irene, who had walked over to join us.  "What is
it?"

"How are Rayven's friends?  Will they be alright?"

The doctor paused for a moment, then hugged herself.  "Their chances
aren't good right now," she sighed.

"Brenda's heart and lungs can't operate on their own," I added,
knowing that Anne-Marie would have some problems revealing her
patients' exact condition to a near-stranger.  "Kip's paralysed from
the neck down.  And Monica's liver is badly wrecked.  And don't you
*dare* reveal that to anyone else other than Reika and Lenn, okay?"  I
held up a finger to emphasize my point, plus reassure Anne-Marie.

Irene nodded.  "I understand."

"It's a pity we're not used to having robots in a hospital setting,"
Anne-Marie noted.  "You know about Tiffany and Amber?"

"The two fembots Lenn built and programmed to watch over Marlenn's
mom," I nodded.

"I've heard stories about them from people at the senior centre," she
continued.  "The instant they obtain freed status, Doctor Fremont'll
hire them on the spot as part of his staff.  And they've both refused
it so long as they have this duty to complete.  They'll be the first
'bots used in that capacity anywhere in Canada as far as we know."

"Any complaints?" I asked.

"Usual reservations," Lenn answered.  "But they disappeared soon
enough.  I'm glad to see that *some* people are willing to trust
technology.  After all, they built *us* to start with."  She winked at
me, then turned back to monitoring Reika.

"Pity we can't apply it in other situations," Anne-Marie mused...

**    **    **

I had failed.

Brenda...

Kip...

Monica...

I had failed.

Oh, my beautiful mistresses, forgive me...

If only...

If only...

If only I had...

If only I had been built as a bi-'bot instead of a fembot...

Damned submissive programming...!

Not the penis, but the programming for it...

But the other girls didn't want that...

 From me...

If only...

Only...

Forgive me...

Forgive me...

**    **    **

"...local news, a terrible accident on Highway 406 in Welland late
Saturday evening nearly claimed the lives of three members of the
up-and-coming thrash band, the Vee Beemers," the morning report from
CHOW-AM woke me up early the next morning.  "Staff at Welland County
General Hospital have revealed to the press that writer/guitarist
Brenda Beemon, drummer Kinsey 'Kip' Hilary and synth player Monica
Pascale were admitted into intensive care after their car veered off
the highway at a high rate of speed and crashed into a tree north of
the East Main Street interchange sometime after nine o'clock.  No
other vehicles were involved in the accident.  The fourth member of
the band, lead singer and robot Rayven Hamlyn, the first ever to work
as a star performer in North America, survived the accident with minor
damage..."

Moaning, I hit the snooze button on the machine, then felt the bed
beside me.  The absence of any warm, cuddly, female bodies lying with
me fully roused me from my slumber.  Blinking as I realized that I was
completely alone, I slid into a sitting position, reaching up to rub
the sleep from my eyes.  Yawning to get some oxygen circulating in my
blood, I stood and slipped on a nightshirt before heading into the
kitchen to track down my lovers.  Only Lenn was in the kitchen making
breakfast, dressed in her normal housecoat.

"Where's the rest of the group?" I asked.

She gave me a reassuring smile as I walked over to give her a hug from
behind, bestowing a good morning kiss on her cheek as my hands stroked
her bare skin from breasts to groin.  "They're in the lab.  The
problem components in Irene started showing signs of breaking down
just as I finished work on Reika.  I got to work on her right away
just as you went to sleep."  She turned back to monitoring the food. 
"It's the price self-willed 'bots have to pay because we put so much
use on our matrix and memory file components."

I tensed.  "Are they alright?!"

She gazed into my eyes.  "They'll be fine.  But I felt it was wiser
for them to remain dormant for the night while their systems
equalize."

"I must've been more out of it than I thought," I sighed, gently
fondling her hardening phallus.  It was impossible for me to ignore
the slow flush crossing her face, to say anything of her hardening
nipples, shifting hips and shaky breathing -- and that doesn't begin
to cover what *my* reaction to her arousal was like.  "Of course, you
can help me set my mind straight, sweetie..."

"My ass!"

"Eh?"

"Take me up my ass!!"

I blinked, surprised by her request, then smirked and pushed her over.
 Lenn was quick to respond, sliding up her housecoat to show off her
beautiful derriere.  With normal human lovers, I avoid anal sex, even
if it is with a willing man.  The thought of actually sticking my
penis into *that* part of the body...!  Ugh!  No way, *Jose!*  Who
knows *what* sort of things you'll catch doing that.  And since I
don't like doing it to others, I won't have it done to myself, even by
a 'bot.  However, doing it *to* a robot is a whole different deal for
me.  I can't tell you how many M-'bot lovers I've had who've yodelled
many octaves higher than normal thanks to me and my wonderful
joystick.  Since a 'bot's internal cleaning systems are quite
efficient, there's no risk to the human partner.

I moaned as I felt myself push past her anus into her warm hole. 
Entering a woman -- or a man -- *here* feels a heck of a lot different
than entering her vagina or her mouth.  And with Lenn it's even *more*
special.  Her memories are those of a real woman who I now realize
must have come to fantasize about having sex with me *this* way.  Lenn
crooned as I started to thrust away, her eyes closing as her hands
grabbed mine, forcing me to lean against her back as she compelled my
fingers to stroke her own throbbing dick.  Again I came to thank the
fact that 'bot designers really had done a complete job -- often
against strong societal opposition -- in giving their creations all
the capabilities of humans in this area.  I gritted my teeth as the
familiar chilly rush flooded my loins too soon, then howled Lenn's
name as I exploded deep inside her, flooding her with my liquid ivory.
 Scant seconds later, her own machine started to throb in a prequel to
her own cum splattering all over the floor.  Of course, neither of us
really want to clean up that sort of mess, so I pulled myself out of
my lover, spinning her around so I could get a quick pre-breakfast
snack.  My sojourn around the world had taught me much in the process
of opening my own mind.  If I had known then what I knew these fifteen
years later, I could have helped Marlenn and I navigate the shoals
that wrecked us instead.

Just in time; after two strokes inside my mouth, Lenn blew her load
right down my throat.  I gently gulped it down, using my tongue to
give her a quick washing before pulling myself away to take a few
breaths and recover.  Lenn was barely able to keep herself on her feet
after that.  Noting her reaction, I wondered how sensitive she tuned
her pleasure buffer whenever we went at each other.  Taking another
deep breath, I leaned in to gently stroke the tip of my tongue over
her deflated stick, which slowly started to reinflate as I moved to
give her a nice tongue-washing.  Glancing into Lenn's eyes, I quickly
note the lucidity returning to those dark brown orbs.  "Feel better?"
I asked.

"Let me clean you," she offered.

"Thanks."  I stood up, hiking my nightshirt clear so Lenn could repay
the favour...

*    *    *

A few minutes later, I walked into the lab.  A glance to the bed
revealed a dormant Reika, a simple blanket draped over her.  Irene
occupied the diagnostic table where Rayven had been examined two
nights ago, likewise covered to give her some sense of modesty -- not
that robots really care about that, of course.  Walking up to gaze
into my first lover's darkened eyes, I was quick to see the content
look etched on her face.  "I'm glad you're alright," I whispered as I
leaned down to kiss her forehead, then moved to do the same to Irene.

"Hello?"

I stopped, spinning left to see a tall, nude form standing close to
the nanofac unit.  "Raye!!"

A demure smile crossed her well-shaped face as she stepped towards me.
 The way she moved surprised me.  While there was the slight, sexy
sway in her hips and shoulders that one expected from a normal fembot
or bi-'bot, I could tell that Rayven was trying to mute it.  Why? 
You'd never expect this sort of thing from a bi-'bot in full-female
format, to say anything of a real fembot.  They existed to be sexual.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mistress," she began, offering her hand to
me as her eyes drooped in a typical show of emotional submission to a
human.  Now I understood.  Rayven was trying to be business-like to me
and was working to suppress her sexual side lest it interfere.

I gripped her hand, then blinked as she gave me a firm squeeze.  The
underlying strength in her fingers was more intense than the others
exhibited, which confirmed what Lenn had said last night about
Rayven's origins.  "I'm pleased to meet you as well, Raye," I
responded, reaching over with my free hand to slightly tilt her head
up so we could gaze directly into the other's eyes.  "And please,
don't call me 'mistress.'  My name's Deanna."  I decided then to give
Lenn's latest patient a little test.  "So how do you feel right now?"

Rayven's response was automatic.  "Physically, I'm fine.  Marlenn does
great work.  But here..."  She pointed to the valley between her
gorgeous D-cup breasts where her true self -- her memories -- lay. 
"It's a different story.  I..."  She paused, then bit her lip.  "I
know about Brenda and the others," she finished, her voice lowered to
a shamed whisper.

"Did Lenn tell you?" I asked.

She shook her head.  "She didn't have to.  While I was in the nanofac,
my mind had to be fully active so I could cyberlink with the nanites. 
They needed to do that to ensure all the repairs chimed right with my
operational specifications."

"You were able to read our lips?  Through all that murk?"

"Thanks to infra-red vision, yes," Rayven replied with a nod, then
blinked, her eyes suddenly glistening.

I stared at her, then sighed, reaching over to draw her into my arms. 
She didn't resist as I allowed her to rest her chin on my shoulder. 
"It's alright, Raye.  Cry.  Let it out," I soothed, reaching up to
gently thread my fingers through her rich hair.

The slender body in my arms quaked immediately as sobs stole her
voice.

It was the only appropriate reaction possible.

**    **    **

She let me cry...

She called me "Raye"...

Raye...

I've never been called "Raye" before...

Not by Shayne...

Not by Brenda...

Not by Monica...

Not even by Kip, who **hates** being called "Kinsey."  She calls me
"Rayve"...

I...

I like it...

I really like it...

Deanna talks to the **real** me.

**    **    **

"Thank you, Deanna."

I drew Rayven back, then stared into her eyes.  I was right about her
height; she was, at most, only three centimetres shorter than me. 
"Can I ask you a question, Raye?" I prodded.  After her nod, I pointed
down to her feet.  "Do you wear high heels?"

She shook her head.  "Not really.  I'm told I should but I'm tall
enough as is, don't you think?"

"You're all right by my books," I chuckled as my eyes drifted down to
gaze once more on her breasts.  Jeez, now that I could see them perked
up, I had to admit that one of *hers* was worth both of *mine.*  Life
can be *so* unfair at times, I suppose.  I wondered if Lenn would let
*me* in the nanofac tank.  "Here, let's get a housecoat on you."  I
walked over to a small wardrobe Lenn kept in the lab.  "Much that I
don't mind staring at nude 'bots when the chances come, seeing that
*constantly* gets very distracting.  I haven't yet fully desensitized
myself to it."

Rayven nodded understandingly as I drew out a housecoat and draped it
over her.  She tied herself down, then stared at me.  "You said 'nude
'bots.'  I take it you don't particularly care what sort of 'bot
you're with..."  She paused, then shrugged.  "Intimately?"

"Male, female, bi -- I've never met a herm-'bot or a neuter, though --
I'll take them any way they come to me, Raye," I stated with a wink. 
"Of course, if you're a freed bi-'bot like my three lovers, I've
really got no say in the long term as to how they'll live."

Her eyes widened, then she glanced briefly at Reika.  "They're all
bi?"

"Yep."

"They're lucky."

That statement took me by surprise.  "Why would you say that?"

Rayven breathed out, the smile slipping from her face.  "I've had
two-and-a-half owners since I was first activated," she admitted.

I blinked.  There's an answer you'd never expect from a robot. 
"'Two-and-a-half?'"

She nodded.  "I started out as a special order unit by a Broadway
theatre actress who wanted both a personal companion and something of
a bodyguard.  Rayven Sheiner.  I got my name from her.  She..."  Here,
Rayven stopped for a moment, then she shrugged.  "Well, she died about
a week before she would've taken custody of me from Noram.  It was an
auto accident outside of Richmond.  I..."  She paused again before a
light smile crossed her face while I wondered just how much automobile
accidents had come to shape this particular 'bot's life.  "I always
wanted to meet her," she then admitted.  "Thank her for influencing my
life the way she did."

Hearing that touched me deep in my heart.  To be orphaned before ever
knowing your "mother"...!  "What are you capable of?"

"Well, you've no doubt noticed how I can talk like a normal person
even when conversing with another 'bot like Marlenn."  Rayven pointed
to herself.  "Rayven insisted that I be fitted with the best street
vernacular database available.  She also had a hard-wired command
fitted into me which forces me to use it in most of my daily
conversations.  I'm also fitted with programs that allow me to work on
stage.  The singer programming came later, when Brenda became my
owner.  That meshed pretty nicely with what Rayven had put into me
when I was constructed.  That makes it very easy for me to perform
when I'm with the band."

"So why'd you say Lenn, Reika and Irene're lucky because they're bi?"
I asked, then shrugged as something came to me.  "Many wouldn't see it
that way.  From what my girls've told me, bi-'bots struggle with
strongly conflicting urges.  Then again, 'bot designers never
consulted with people like me before they inflicted that type of
lifestyle on 'bots like Reika and Irene.  They were just somehow
expected to cope with it."

She breathed out.  "Well, after Rayven died, the company had no idea
what to do with me.  I'd been paid for, but there was no one coming to
take me away.  Rayven never told anyone about her intent to buy me. 
When the executors of her estate learned about me, they decided not to
bother themselves and sold me back to the company at a substantial
loss.  I had no rights to any inheritance.  So I was sent to a dealer
in Norfolk.  One day, a nice man came in looking for a 'bot companion.
 I'd caught his eye.  But so did another 'bot.  Her name was Giselle."

"He chose Giselle?  Why?"

"She's a bi-'bot.  I'm not.  And he's bisexual."

I winced.  "Ouch!" escaped me before I stared at her.  "Are you mad at
her?"

"Of course not!" Rayven laughed, then shrugged, a delighted smile
crossing her face.  "I'm envious of her, Deanna.  We got acquainted
while we were on display together.  We still stay in touch.  She's
still with him."

"You were able to become 'friends' with another 'bot so quickly?"

"Yes," came the puzzled reply.  "Can't everybody?"

I smiled, then crossed my arms.  "That's good to hear.  So if Brenda's
your second real owner, who was your first?"

"Shayne Hamlyn.  He's a medical researcher at the University of
Virginia in Richmond.  I was with him for a year, working as his
research assistant and home companion."  At this point, Rayven rolled
her eyes, a touch of pain entering her voice.  "Until his mother
decided that he'd be better off with a human lover and damaged our
relationship beyond repair."

I nodded.  "Some mothers can be like that."

"Well, fortunately, it was around that time that Brenda was looking
for a 'bot to help out with the band.  Since Shayne knew about my
unique history, he contacted Brenda over the 'Net and sold me directly
to her.  I've been with Brenda ever since."

Silence fell as I considered what Rayven had said, then I stared at
her.  The smile had slipped from her face.  It didn't take me long to
realize what could be bothering her.  "Raye, it's not your fault," I
assured her.

"It's not *their* fault," she emphasized, both her hands clenching.

I nodded.  "You're right.  It's not their fault either."

"You may not know it, but I was a bodyguard from the beginning as well
as a performer.  That part of me has never been removed."  Rayven's
eyes turned towards the floor.  "I was responsible for their
protection," she added with a hiss in her voice.

It was an emotional minefield that I was bringing Rayven into.  No
matter what, though, she had to face this.  "Like it or not, it
happened.  And..."  I took a deep breath.  "Their chances aren't very
good right now.  And I want you to know that if something happens to
them for the worse..."  Here, I took another deep breath.  "That you
can stay with us."

Rayven blinked, then her gaze lowered from me, fresh tears glistening
in her eyes.  "I can?" she asked in a very meek voice.

Rayven clearly had low expectations for her future.  "Yes.  Unless
your label can claim ownership of you.  I strongly doubt it, though."

"No.  I was always Brenda's personal property.  As long as I'm with
the band and perform on cue, the label doesn't care about me."

"Alright, then..."

The lab door opened, revealing Lenn.  "Rayven, someone just called
from Saint Catharines.  Some fellow named Neil Burnet."

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Our roadie," Rayven replied...

*    *    *

Within a half-hour, Neil delivered all of the Vee Beemers' instruments
and other road gear, plus their suitcases and other personal
belongings.  He was from New York, a worker for the Beemers' record
company.  Briefly talking to him, I learned -- much to my disgust --
that the chances were good that Brenda and her friends would be cut
off from outside support.  Whatever life insurance the girls had
certainly wouldn't cover all aspects of an accident like Saturday
night, especially given that drugs were now known to be involved.  And
with their injuries -- Neil got the lowdown from the group's agent,
Karen Litzky -- the chances of the Beemers ever making a comeback were
slim to nil.

After he had driven off, I asked Rayven what she personally thought of
Neil Burnet.  "He's an asshole," she retorted sharply.

"Why'd you say that?" Lenn wondered as we -- by now, Reika and Irene
were up -- got to work shifting the band's gear into the storage room.

"He was supplying them with *everything* they wanted," Rayven
confirmed.

"Didn't you think about trying to stop him?" Irene asked.  "The First
Law should've demanded it of you!"

Our guest stopped as she considered how to respond to that, then she
breathed out, tears tricking down her cheeks.  "I did, Irene.  I
really did.  But..."  She shook her head.  "I knew what the drugs were
doing to them.  I had been able to keep all the knowledge I'd gained
before Brenda bought me, so all the lies Neil spread about how 'good'
they were never washed."

"But at the same time, you couldn't help but notice how happy -- even
if it is a panacea -- those drugs made them," I added.

"Yeah," Rayven replied with a nod as she walked over to where her
briefcase sat by the front door.  "They did make them relax,
especially when we were on the road touring.  And it also helped with
their songwriting.  Seeing that, I..."

Here, she stopped, standing now at the doorway to the guest room Lenn
had set aside for her.  We waiting for a moment for her to conceive of
the best way to express herself.  With nothing forthcoming, I took a
deep breath.  "Raye, do you need any help?"

Rayven looked at me, then bit her lip.  "I don't know, Deanna..."

"Would you want Deanna to use your remote to help you?" Lenn asked.

Our guest's eyes went very wide on hearing that question, then Rayven
looked down on herself.  Finally, she sighed.  "I don't know."

I exchanged looks with my lovers, then walked over to place a
reassuring hand on her shoulder.  "Raye, if you've said *that,* then
you don't need the remote," I told her with a friendly smile.  "Just
think it through, then tell us what you feel..."

**    **    **

I didn't need my remote...?

What did she mean?

I'm a 'bot!

'Bots **always** need their remotes!

I'm lost without it.

What if someone *has* to command me?

I...

Do I...?

Deanna...

She...

She trusts me...

She **trusts** me!

Then...

Yes...

**    **    **

Seeing Rayven's face suddenly light up, I could only grin.

Sometimes, a simple push is truly the best way to go.

She gazed into my eyes, a weak smile crossing her face.  "I didn't
know what to do at the end, Deanna."

I returned her look, then reached over to draw her into my arms.  My
other lovers quickly moved IN to make it a group hug.  "Given the way
you were at the time this happened, Raye," I announced, then kissed
her forehead in reassurance, "...no one can blame you for that."

"No one at all, Raye," Irene echoed me.

"Not a one, Raye," Reika added.

"No one, Raye," Lenn topped that.

Rayven's cheeks reddened as our words seemed to push her one critical
step further into that vast wilderness of self-thought and self-will
so few 'bots ever reach.  Seeing her facial response to our words of
comfort, I had to whistle to myself.  Damn!  'Bots were getting more
and more advanced by the day.  Then tack on Rayven's acting
programming and other social interactive databases...!

Taking a brief glance down at her chest, I was quick to notice her
nipples pressing hard into her housecoat.  *Very* good sign!  Clearly,
deep in her soul, Rayven knew -- she *understood* -- what we were
saying, why we were saying it and responded as only a 'bot does.

With that, she turned to give Lenn a deep, tongue-filled kiss in
thanks.  Repeating same with Reika and Irene, she then faced me. 
Lowering her gaze, she moved to say something.  I touched her chin
with my finger, forcing her to stare directly into my eyes.

"Raye, you never, *ever* have to bow to me," I assured her.  "Okay?"

She blinked, then smiled.  "Okay."  She nodded, then took a deep
breath.  "Deanna, will you be my owner?"

I grinned.  "Raye, I'd be honoured.  But let's make sure we're not
stepping on other people's toes first before we do that."

"Okay..."

*    *    *

After getting everything moved into Rayven's guest room, we got
dressed, then headed to the hospital to look in on Brenda and her
friends.  Arriving there, I spotted a gaggle of people, easily forty,
crowded around the admissions entrance.  There were three media vans
parked nearby, one from the CBC -- the Canadian Broadcasting
Corporation -- one from CITY-TV/Much Music in Toronto and the last
from CHCH television in Hamilton.  *Strange,* I mused.  The Beemers
were an American band.  *Where the heck're the media people from any
of the Buffalo stations?*

Along with the reporters, camera people and technicians, there were a
small group of fans waving placards.  All were girls in their late
teens.  Seeing the messages of love and hope for Brenda, Kip and
Monica -- and Rayven, too! -- I had to sigh.  From what she told me as
we were moving her stuff into her guest room, Rayven wasn't entitled
to any of the band's earnings since she wasn't a freed 'bot.  Whatever
she did "get" actually was passed on to Brenda.  Yet to see the
Beemers' fans treat Rayven as being equal to her human bandmates...!

"You up to this, Raye?"

Rayven nodded, she giving my hand a thankful squeeze.  "I'll be fine."

We stepped out of the car, then as a group, marched towards the
building.  Sure enough, the fans were the first ones to spot the girl
in the black T-shirt, form-fitting jeans and leather biker's jacket. 
Their screams of joy on seeing Rayven whole and healthy instantly got
the media's attention.  To my surprise, they stayed in place until we
came up to them, though several were quick to shout questions. 
Scanning the faces, I recognized a reporter from the CBC evening news,
another beat reporter from CHCH -- and Ewan Jolan.

He's a reporter from Welland's local newspaper, the "Tribune."  Guess
how I know him?

"Please!" Rayven called as she rose a hand to silence the torrent of
questions, then she breathed out.  "Ladies and gentlemen, I've just
come to look in on Brenda, Kip and Monica.  I'll be happy to answer
some questions, but I don't wish to be delayed for long.  Yes?"

She pointed to the CHCH reporter.  "Miss Hamlyn, what exactly happened
on Saturday night when you and your friends were travelling to
Welland?  The spokesperson for your label didn't give any details when
she arrived an hour ago to look in on your bandmates."

Rayven shrugged.  "In her defence, I would say it's most likely that
Karen didn't know any details yet."

"What did happen, Rayven?" the CBC reporter pressed.

Rayven gazed at me.  Ignoring the sudden increase of camera flashes, I
smiled.  "Tell them the truth," I mouthed, knowing she reads lips.

Seeing that, her gaze turned inward for a moment, then she nodded, the
smile slowly returning to her face.  Facing the crowd, she bowed her
head, then began.  "Ladies and gentlemen, it's very hard for me to
admit this, but for my friends' sake, I will.  This all began two
years ago when the band put out our first wide-release album, "Kissing
A Fool," and the sales grew beyond anyone's expectations..."

The basic explanation took fifteen minutes, interrupted along the way
with some technical questions from a reporter from the Saint
Catharines "Standard" and another from the Hamilton "Spectator."  At
the end of it, I could see sad acceptance from the crowd before me,
even the teary-eyed fans off to my left.  "Why didn't someone say
something, Rayven?!" one girl cried out before burying her face in her
friend's shoulder.

"No one cared for the danger they put those girls through," Ewan
answered, then he stared at me.  "Ms. Hordye, should Miss Beemon or
her friends be incapable of resuming their responsibilities towards
Miss Hamlyn, do you intend to become Miss Hamlyn's owner?"

"I would be pleased to do so as long as it is done according to
Canadian and American law concerning transfer of ownership in
circumstances like this," I replied.  "Of course, any prospective
robot owner wouldn't want to take charge of a 'bot under *these*
circumstances."

"Who would?" the CHCH man mused.

"Ms. Hordye, would you press Miss Hamlyn to seek freed 'bot status?"
the "Standard" asked.

Apparently my reputation and views on robots has already spread far
beyond anything I'd ever imagined.  Suddenly this was my interview. 
"Without hesitation," I answered with a firm nod.  "When she's ready
for it, of course."

"Would you allow her to resume her singing career?" the "Spectator"
wondered.

"How would I ever stop her?  And why?" I chuckled.  Laughter echoed
from the crowd before us, then I continued.  "Even if she can't
compose her own music, Raye can still perform as a vocalist."  I
glanced at her, getting a confirming nod.  "I'm sure there're many
bands who'd love to have her come work for them.  Just as long as they
treat her right," I added with a raised finger to emphasize my point.

"You'll take care of her, won't you?"

That question came from the fan who had cried out earlier.  I stared
at her, then winked.  "You bet."

"If you'll excuse us, we'd like to go inside so Rayven can visit her
owner and friends," Lenn called out.  "I'm sure Rayven will be more
than happy to answer more of your questions after she's done.  Please
excuse us."

The crowd parted just enough to let us pass.  Hands reached out to
touch us in reassurance.  The fans screamed out their love for Rayven
as she headed inside.  A couple girls gave me very warm hugs, thanking
me for being there for Rayven.  I paused by Ewan, giving him a smile. 
"Stick around for this one," I whispered, giving him a wink.  He still
heard me.  "There just might be more to come."

He nodded.  "I'll be here..."

*    *    *

"Hey, Rayve!  Izzat you...?"

I could only shake my head on seeing what was left of Kip Hilary.  Her
head, neck and shoulders were now encased in plaster, fully
immobilizing her.  Her face was partially covered by an oxygen mask. 
The rest of her was draped in a sterilized blanket.  Rayven and I were
the only ones allowed to see her -- after Anne-Marie ensured we were
sterile and garbed in surgical scrubs complete with masks.  Hospital
intensive care units, I'd learned two years ago when my mother died
from asthma, are kept even cleaner than operating rooms when long-term
patients are involved.  Since neither were conscious at the time, we
wouldn't be visiting either Brenda or Monica.  Lenn, Reika and Irene
told us that they would go back to the lobby and wait there until we
were done with the visit.

"Yeah, it's me," Rayven announced, moving to gaze into her friend's
eyes.  "I hate to say it, Kip, but you're a mess."

"Tell me somethin' I don't already know..." the brown-eyed blonde --
she's about Pauline Kim's age -- moaned.  Listening to her voice, I
wondered how much morphine now circulated inside her.  "How're the
others?"

"We can't see them yet," Rayven reported.  "They haven't regained
consciousness."

"Oh, fuck..."  Kip squeezed her eyes closed as her voice almost broke
into a sob, then she glanced towards me.  "Who're you...?"

Introductions were made.  "Deanna Hordye...?" Kip whispered, then her
eyes widened in recognition.  "Hey!  You're 'Too Young, Hon!'"

Rayven turned to stare at me.  "What?"

I chuckled.  "That's my LiveJournal nickname.  It's an Anglicization
of *Tu Younghon,*" I pronounced it properly, with the first "u"
sounding like "oo" and the second "o" long, like "oh!"  "That's Korean
for 'Two Souls.'"

"She's a herm," Kip informed her bandmate, her lips twitching into a
smile.  "I've always wanted to meet you, Deanna.  I think you're so
cool.  Though I wish I could've picked a better time," she added with
a grimace.

"Thanks."  I felt my cheeks heat, then my shoulders rolled.  "I'm not
into thrash.  One of my 'bots really loves you guys, though."

A very slight nod tilted her head.  "'S cool.  What d'you like?"

"Oh, new age, plus some Korean pop, Japanese pop, Canadian folk and
classic rock.  Yanni, Enya, Secret Garden, Gordon Lightfoot, ABBA..."

"Good music," Kip breathed out, then blinked as the door to her room
opened, revealing Anne-Marie.  "Hey, Doc..."

Anne-Marie gazed at me.  "I'm afraid you can't stay long."

I nodded, then gazed at the PDA in her hand.  "No problem.  What's
that?"

"For your new friend."  My old classmate indicated Rayven with a nod,
then positioned herself to Kip's right.  "Kip?"

"What happens to Rayve now, Doc?" Kip wondered.

"According to Canadian law, if a robot owner can't execute his or her
duties concerning their charges due to prolonged medical problems --
unless the robot has been programmed to assist with those medical
problems -- the robot has to be turned over to a more capable owner or
shut down entirely for the duration," Anne-Marie sighed.  "When she
registered herself as Rayven's owner with the state of New York,
Brenda listed both you and Monica as having the right to act on her
behalf concerning Rayven should she become medically incompacitated. 
Unfortunately, since it'll be a while before either Brenda, Monica or
yourself will recover, well..."

She shrugged.  "It's cool."  Kip lightly smiled, her eyes then
shifting to Rayven.  "You 'kay about this, Rayve?"

"I've already asked Deanna to become my new owner," Rayven reported.

"Cool!"  Kip's pained smile widened, then she gazed on me.  "You
mind?"

"I'll take care of her," I vowed.  "I've already promised your fans
outside."

Kip blinked, then breathed out.  "They're our family..."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

The Beemers' drummer closed her eyes, tears trailing from them.  "The
only family we've ever had."

I stared quizzically at Anne-Marie.  My friend mouthed the words
"They're all orphans" to me.  Nodding, I stared once more on Kip. 
"They all love you, Kip," I told her.  "And they're worried about you
guys.  They want you to get better.  They all do."

"Tell them 'thanks.'"  Kip slowly nodded, then stared at Anne-Marie. 
"You got Rayve's remote?"

She drew the device -- it resembled Reika's but had a ruggedized look
to it -- from her smock.  "The person who fixed her up gave it to me."

"Let's do it."

"Okay, then," Anne-Marie sighed.

Rayven shifted herself to a stool, using her hands and arms to keep
herself balanced.  Anne-Marie held up her PDA in one hand, Rayven's
remote in the other, then read off a code while pressing her Activate
button.  Rayven jerked, then her head slumped forward.  I was quick to
see the trickle of tears flowing from her now-dull eyes.  With that, I
took the PDA and the remote from my friend.  Seeing the activation
code written there, I pressed Rayven's Activate button.  Her eyes
snapped open.  "*Activation code?*" she asked in 'bot monotone.

I read off the activation code.  Rayven acknowledged that, then asked
for my personal identification.  I gave it.  She repeated it back to
me for confirmation.  I confirmed it.  I then ordered her to continue
all programs she had running now.  She asked for me to confirm all
choices made for her.  I confirmed them.  With that, her eyes cleared
up.  I could see the relieved smile on her face under her mask.

"Mistress, how may I serve you?" she then demurely asked, bowing her
eyes.

I sighed.  "Keep your remote close to you and protected at all times,"
I ordered after pressing her "C" button, then handed her the device.

"I understand," she replied, taking it.

I handed the PDA back to Anne-Marie with a nod.  "Thanks," Kip softly
breathed out.  "Please take care of her, Deanna."

I reached over to brush a bit of her hair, wondering how much harder
it would have been to give up custody of a person.  "I will."

Rayven gazed on her bandmate, then reached up to pull her mask away
from her face.  Leaning down, she tenderly kissed Kip on her forehead.
 "I'm sorry I couldn't have done more for all of you, Kip," she
apologized, gazing fondly on her friend.

Kip blinked, then her eyes started to tear.  "Don't be," she murmured.
 "It's not your fault, Rayve.  I love you."

"I love you, too, Kip."  Rayven reached down to give the patient's
hand a squeeze, then moved to remask herself...

*    *    *

We pulled ourselves away from Kip's room minutes later.  Making our
way to the visitor's change room, we quickly stripped down.  "Let's
get under a shower and get this disinfectant gunk off us," I muttered,
waving Rayven with me to a nearby pair of stalls.  Unlike the shower
at the Morning Mist Training Hall, the showers here *do* come with
privacy curtains.  "It smells to high heaven."

I slipped into one, then jumped on feeling someone step in right
behind me.  "Raye!" I cried out, spinning on her.

Before I could order her out, she grabbed me in a vise-like bearhug,
allowing our breasts to mash together and my suddenly responding penis
to press up against her trimmed bush of dark pubic hair.  Swamping me
with a tongue-filled kiss, she kept me within her grip until I
couldn't muster any show of resistance.  As I allowed her tongue to
swirl in my mouth, Rayven reached down to turn on the water, then she
closed the curtains behind us.  I jumped again as I got sprayed from
head to toe, then relaxed as she adjusted the knobs to a more
tolerable level.

"Don't move," she ordered me as she picked up a cloth.

It's weird *taking* orders from a 'bot, isn't it?

I remained still as Rayven tenderly washed me down.  Fortunately, the
shower head was mounted on a flexible tube, which allowed my newest
charge to get to every point on my body.  Naturally, she got very
curious about the nature of my sexual organs.  I watched as she
extended her tongue to tap the tip of my quivering dick.  *Now* I had
come to notice that the stalls were big enough to hold two people with
comfort.  "Raye, what're you doing?" I hissed, trying to ignore the
surges of ecstacy flaring up from my groin.  "Someone might come
in..."

"Shift change happens three hours from now," she stated evenly, then
allowed me to plunge straight into her mouth.

I barely bit back a scream as she started to pump away.  It didn't
take her long to get what she wanted.  And like my other lovers,
Rayven is a swallower; not a drop of my cum made it on the floor after
I shot my load down her throat.  As soon as I had stopped shaking, she
pulled her lips away from my cock, then quickly washed me down to get
the sweat off me.  Once that was done, she handed me the shower head.

Grinning, I moved to spray her down, then took up the cloth to give
her body a thorough washing.  Once that was done, I allowed my grin to
widen as I quickly unscrewed the shower head from the tube.  Before
Rayven could react, I poised it between her legs, allowing the water
to surge right into her vagina.  My newest lover cried out with
delight as that hot blast hit her where it'd turn her on the most,
then she quivered as the input to her mind soon overwhelmed her
pleasure buffer and tripped her orgasm routines.  Given her previous
female owners, this might have been the first time in a *long* time
that she had completed her sexual function.  As she came, I pulled the
water away from her as I ducked in to get a taste.  Mmmmmmm.  Just as
delicious, just as *human,* as Reika, Irene or Lenn tasted to me.

Finally, Rayven relaxed.  I screwed the shower head back into place,
then gave her a final spray-down before putting the head back on its
rack.  We then embraced, sharing one final kiss as Rayven shut off the
shower.

"Well?" she wondered, a coy smile crossing her face.  "Does this
consummate our new relationship, Deanna?"

I blinked, then sighed.  "I like that sort of spontaneous behaviour,"
I admitted.

"I never could make myself do that with Shayne or Brenda," she
confessed as I pulled the curtain away, we stumbling out.

"Why not?" I wondered, walking over to pick up a towel to toss to my
newest lover.

"When it came to Shayne, it was too soon for me to act like that," she
admitted as she moved to dry herself.  "That changed after Brenda
became my owner and I started to notice their problems with drugs. 
When I found it within myself to try to do something on my own, I
quickly noticed that those around me weren't ready for it.  Remember
earlier today when I told you that Neil's an asshole?"

"Yeah," I replied, recognizing Rayven's attempts to describe her first
awareness of her awakening self, without knowing the words to use.

"Well, he was more than a roadie to the band.  He was there to keep an
eye on me.  He never said anything directly to me, but I overheard him
warn Brenda once -- oh, this was about a year-and-a-half ago, just as
we started work on the second album -- to keep me in line.  I think he
didn't like me making a single move without being commanded first
through my remote, though Brenda was never strict about that."

"And you decided the best thing to do was to mask your self-awareness
from outside scrutiny," I concluded as we wiped down each other's
hair.

"Yes."  Rayven gazed on me.  "I remember what you said about that this
morning, Deanna.  I'm sorry that I didn't acknowledge it when you took
ownership of me in front of Kip, but I..."

Here, she stopped.  Yes, she was developing her sense of self-will,
but it was still at the beginning stages.  I walked over to give her
shoulder a supportive squeeze.  "Don't apologize," I told her.  "And
don't ever feel the need to act demurely around me, no matter if we're
alone or surrounded by people who don't like that sort of thing. 
*Your* opinions matter, Raye.  Their opinions don't matter to me at
all."

Rayven blinked, then her eyes glistened with tears.  "Thank you,
Deanna..."

The gift to act freely was clearly precious to her.

*    *    *

A half-hour later, Rayven and I walked into the admissions lobby.  My
newest charge now wore her remote around her neck, though I'd dare
anyone, *anyone,* to try and take it from her.  Waiting in the lobby,
as I expected, was Ewan Jolan.

"How are they?" the "Tribune" reporter asked, rising from his chair to
intercept us by the doors.

Rayven and I exchanged a look, then seeing her nod, I turned back to
my friend.  "All in very bad shape," I reported.  "Kip stands the best
chance of recovery.  But unless she gets special treatments for spinal
cord regeneration, she'll be paralysed from the neck down for the rest
of her life.  Brenda and Monique haven't even woken up yet, so we
haven't seen them."

"How bad's it with them?" he asked.

"Monique's in the worst danger because of liver injuries," I warned. 
"If that doesn't heal, she won't survive.  Brenda's lungs and heart
can't operate.  If they don't show signs of recovery, she'll be on a
heart-lung machine.  And that's not the worst part of it..."

"I know."  Ewan nodded.  "Their medical insurance won't cover
something like this now that the police know drugs are involved.  No
one knows how far the earnings from their record sales'll cover their
medical costs if their insurance company moves to turn off the tap. 
And given how bad they're hurt, the chances of their getting back on
tour, much less recording a new album, to earn more money are small."

He smiled at me after that, letting me know that he was good at doing
his job as well.  "Is their agent still here?" I asked.

"She's in town.  I invited her to Jim's and Wendy's party tonight. 
Give you a chance to talk to her under informal circumstances."  A
pause.  "Personally, I don't think Ms. Litzky's a bad person.  But if
she puts her neck out too much for the girls..."

"She risks losing her own job," Rayven finished.

"Damn!" I snarled, then blinked on seeing the small crowd of fans we
had spoken to still standing outside.  Remembering how they had
reacted to the news of the Beemers' problems with drugs, I beckoned
Rayven with me.  "C'mon."

We headed outside.  Sure enough, the reporters were also there.  Some
of the print journalists were chatting with my lovers, who know better
than most, given their nightly showclub experience, how to handle
anybody.  I wouldn't be surprised if Reika and Irene had already
collected some tips from the men at least.  As soon as they saw me, my
other lovers walked over to stand with Rayven and I.  Camera flashes
started going off as the reporter from the "Spectator" got off with
the first question about the girls.

Rayven took that.  "We only got to see Kip right now," she stated,
reaching down to grip my hand.  "Brenda and Monique are still
unconscious.  When they do regain consciousness, we'll be the first
ones informed."

"Is Ms. Hordye now your owner, Miss Rayven?" the CBC reporter asked,
obviously familiar with the law about disabled owners, and that Rayven
remained activated.  He might have also picked up on the undeniable
glow that good sex had given both of us.

"Yes."

"How do you feel about being the owner of such a famous singer?" the
CITY-TV reporter asked.

"Well, as I told Kip when we spoke earlier, thrash music really isn't
my thing," I replied, eliciting a laugh from the people around us. 
"I'm a martial arts instructor.  My late mother was an elementary
school teacher here in town.  Until the day Reika and Irene walked
into my life, I could never conceive of being the owner of *any*
robot, to say anything of being the owner of record for *three* freed
'bots.  And as I said earlier, I will do everything I can to ensure
Raye here will gain freed status when she's ready for it."

I stopped there, taking a deep breath, then continued.  Hopefully, I
wasn't being too dramatic.  "As for Rayven's singing career, well..." 
I shrugged.  "I wish I could bring myself to care for that as much as
her fans here..."  I waved to the fans who'd come to the hospital
today.  "...care for them.  But even if I did, will it help *them* in
the long run?  By the sounds of things now, I don't think so."

"What do you mean?" the "Standard" reporter asked.

"What I mean is this..."

*    *    *

The gathering ended ten minutes later.  As the crowd dispersed, I
guided my charges back towards our car.  Ewan trailed us for a minute,
then glancing back to ensure none of the other reporters could hear
him, whispered, "Nicely played."

I winked at him.  "See you tonight."

He nodded before heading off to his own car.  We got in our car and
Lenn guided it out towards the main gate.  As we drove, I spotted the
group of Beemers fans walking on the sidewalk.  Indicating to Lenn to
slow the car down, I leaned out the window as we pulled up to them.

"Can you girls pass the word along to everyone on the Net?" I asked.

"You bet!" one of them answered, flashing me a thumbs-up.

I waved at them.  "Right on!  Keep your fingers crossed."

They cheered as we drove off...

*    *    *

"You know, this might not work in the long term, Deanna."

Ewan had called it right.  Karen Litzky, a dark-haired woman in her
late twenties, had been in the music industry since she worked as a
roadie for a blues band from Boston.  She had been caught between her
own concern for the Beemers and her desire to hang onto her own job. 
Life often gives us those cruel choices.  Shortly after my brood and I
arrived at Jim Graham's townhouse in the north end of the city for the
party, she dragged me onto the back porch to talk about Rayven's
friends.

"It was worth trying, Karen," I said, then sipped my spring water. 
"The girls love their fans.  They see them as an adopted family and
never wanted to fail them.  That's what made them work so hard on
their music.  Unfortunately..."

"They were *too* successful," Karen finished before sipping her glass
of wine.  "And when they needed the energy to push themselves on..."

"Their roadie was there with the 'right' stuff," I grumbled, then
winked at her.  "According to Rayven, that is."

She returned my look, then smirked.  "Since it was Rayven who said
that, I'll believe you," she chuckled, then spat out.  "Ahh!  Who the
hell'm I kidding?  That jerk's been messing with the girls ever since
their first nation-wide tour!"

"Why haven't you fired his ass?"

"He's got friends in the right places."

"Ah!"

Karen waved around us to indicate the others.  "So what's this party
about, anyway?"

"Jim's celebrating the deal the province made with New York State
about hover-ferries between Toronto and Rochester.  Besides, it's a
chance for old classmates and friends to get back together to remember
the good times when we were the girls' age."

"Pity they never had much of a chance to enjoy normal lives," Karen
lamented.  "Soon as they came of age, they were booted out of the
orphanage.  It amazes me that they were able to land on their feet and
launch the band like they did."

"Any idea what happened to their parents?" I asked.

"No.  Those records are sealed by the New Jersey state government. 
After they put out their first album, we put out a call over the Net
to find them.  No reply."  After saying that, Karen swallowed the rest
of her wine.  "Damn, this world of ours stinks at times!"

I nodded.  "Amen to that."

"Excuse me?"

We turned to see Wendy Graham walk up with Anne-Marie.  I gave Jim's
wife a one-armed hug and kiss.  "Hey, Wendy!  Great party!"

"Thanks."  Wendy gave me a smile before facing Karen.  "Are you the
agent for those poor girls in the hospital?"

Karen offered her hand.  "I am."  After introducing herself, she
shrugged.  "For a little while more, unfortunately."

"Won't your employers reconsider?" Anne-Marie asked.

Karen shook her head.  "Not really.  It's not because they're
unsympathetic to what happened to the girls.  But record sales for
already-released albums can only go so far.  We've no idea what'll
happen to the girls and how this'll affect those sales.  Will they
rise?  It's happened for some singers, but not all of them.  Is it a
risk worth taking in the long term by the company?  It's hard to say."

"In other words, you'd need to launch new tours," Wendy concluded.

"With what?" Karen asked.

Wendy and Anne-Marie exchanged a look.  "Well..." the former
speculated.  "Did you know that one of the robots Deanna has is an IP
'bot?"

Total silence followed that question.  I just *stared* at Jim's wife
as the implications of what she was proposing sank in.  Giving a very
perplexed Karen a glance -- no doubt, she had no real knowledge about
'bot tech -- I turned to Anne-Marie.  "Can you do that?"

"I already talked to Marlenn," she told me.  "The device needed to get
the memory copy is portable and easily sterilized, so it can be
brought into the ICU with no problem.  We can justify it by doing a
special EKG scan to ensure their brains are still active."

"Once Marlenn gets basic chassis from a manufacturer -- say the
company that built Rayven -- she can finish them in two days working
round the clock," Wendy added.  "The memory scan will take six hours
for each girl.  And they're not going anywhere for the foreseeable
future."

"In a situation like this, Kip can give permission for Brenda and
Monique, so privacy issues won't be a problem," Anne-Marie noted.

"What are you guys talking about?" Karen demanded.

"IP technology, Karen."  I stared at her, then noting her continued
confusion, added, "'IP' means 'Implanted Personality.'  It's sometimes
referred to as 'Donated Personality.'  Digitalized immortality of a
sort."

Silence fell as the agent considered what I just said, then her eyes
went wide.  "You mean to create...?" her voice trailed off on seeing
Wendy and Anne-Marie nod, then she breathed out.  "God, that's a tiny
degree of separation from *perfect!*  What would you need?!"

"Basic bodies from a top-flight 'bot manufacturer," Anne-Marie
reported.  "Marlenn recommends Noram.  That's the company that made
Rayven.  They can build the skeletons to order and they can do it for
emergency orders if the cash is there.  And it's fortunate that the
girls in Rayven's band once bared it all for 'Playboy.'"  She paused
for a second.  "Although a CAT scan would have been even better!"

"Who'd pay for it?" I asked.

"We would."

I spun around to see Reika and Irene standing there.  "You?!" I
demanded.

"Deanna, don't forget, we *do* have a major trust fund to fall back
onto," Reika chuckled as they slid up to wrap their arms around mine.

"And if the girls die, what happens to Rayven?" Irene asked.

I considered that for a moment, then sighed.  "She's developing her
self-will," I whispered.  "If they die..."

"What'll happen?"

I glanced over to see Karen starting to pale.  "Raye was trapped
because of the First Law of Robotics."

"'A robot shall not harm a human, nor through inaction, allow a human
to come to harm,'" Reika and Irene quoted in perfect harmony.

"In Rayven's case, she was caught between the realization that the
drugs the girls were taken were hurting them..."  I then paused to
take a deep breath.  "And the fact that the drugs *were* making the
girls happy and allowing them to compose and perform better."

"Damn," Karen hissed.

"If they die, Raye might take it very badly," I warned.  "Almost to
the point where she might simply choose to cease to function.  She
already feels she failed them as a bodyguard, which is an extra
extension of the First Law."

"Even with your as her owner now?"

"Almost certainly.  Delayed shock is still very real.  Short of wiping
that part of her mind..."

"To one of us, doing *that* would, in effect, lobotomize us if not
kill us," Irene added.

"I never realized that," Karen admitted, then took a deep breath. 
"Though it makes perfect sense in hindsight.  So what can I do to
help?"

"How'd you like to help get rid of the creep who fed drugs to those
girls in the first place?" Anne-Marie asked.

Staring at my friend, the music agent blinked, then grinned.  "You're
on!"

We all laughed.  "Now all we have to do is decide," Reika mused.  "Do
we tell Rayven right away or make it a surprise?"

Thoughtful hums escaped the rest of us...

**    **    **

My new owner.

My new mistress...

No.  She doesn't like being called 'mistress.'

Her name is Deanna Sophia Hordye.

Call her Deanna.

She likes me.

She **trusts** me.

But...

What about...?

I can't desert them...!

Can I...?

Brenda's not my owner now.

Deanna's my owner.

But still...

What do I do?

What do I do...?

Can I even do it?

**    **    **

"Raye?"

She looked up.  "Yeah, Deanna?"

It is Tuesday morning, the day after the party at the Grahams.  From
what Lenn reported after we came to the apartment on Denistoun to
spend the night together, Rayven enjoyed herself immensely.  Most of
her time had been spent with Meghan and Samantha, Jim's and Wendy's
fembot aides.  While not as advanced when it comes to independent
thinking as my bi-'bot lovers, the Grahams' girls were very proficient
when it came to interacting with guests, 'bot or human.  Having
watched over my newest charge during most of the party, Lenn reported
that Rayven was able to keep up with the "two chatterboxes" (as she
had nicknamed Meghan and Samantha).  No doubt, Rayven has been able to
push herself, especially since she began to work with the Vee Beemers,
to integrate her basic social programming with her specialized acting
and singing mods and her expanded speech databases to help her
interact well with strangers.  Like dancers, Rayven's in the business
of selling herself.

"I'm going over to the *tojang* to talk with Master Lily about Iruka's
trip to Ottawa tomorrow.  Do you want to come along?"

Rayven stopped for a moment, then her face brightened.  "If you want
me to come, I'd be happy to come."  Suddenly, the smile slipped from
her face as her gaze lowered to the floor.  "Still..." her voice
trailed off before she took a deep breath.  "I'm worried."

I tapped the cell-phone in my pocket.  "If something happens to Brenda
or Kip or Monica, Anne-Marie knows to call me right away."

A look of relief crossed Rayven's face.  "Alright."

*    *    *

"What do you intend to do with this one, Deanna-ya?"

Master Lily and I relaxed in her kitchen/work office, enjoying tea. 
In the main training hall, Iruka Shiina was busy demonstrating some of
the Art's basic moves to Rayven, whose interest in the martial arts is
obvious.  Since this is summer vacation, regular classes at the
*tojang* weren't being held.  It wouldn't be all rest and relaxation
time for me, much less my co-teachers, however.  In two weeks, special
sessions for the higher *keup* -- student -- ranks would begin. 
Through them, we would determine who would be ready to move down the
road towards achieving their first *dan* black belt.  I would have to
start work to advance myself to *i-dan* -- second-level black belt --
this year.  A *tojang* owner has to be at least a fourth-level before
being allowed to run her own classes without supervision by a
higher-ranked teacher.

"She's developing her self-will, *Oumma,*" I whispered in Korean. 
Atop speaking in Master Lily's native tongue, we kept the door closed
so Rayven wouldn't overhear this.  "It's been growing in bits and
pieces since she started to perform with her last owner's band. 
Trying to determine the best course to take when it came to dealing
with the girls' problem forced it along.  But given what might happen
to them..."

"Would she react so badly to their passing that her mind would simply
freeze in place?"

"That's a possibility that can't be ignored."

Lily considered that, then nodded.  "So by creating replicas of her
bandmates, you'd be forcing Rayven-a to become a teacher herself."

I nodded.  "Exactly.  Just creating them with IP tech won't make them
like Lenn-a, Reika-ya or Irene-a right off the bat."

"Oh?"

"*Ne,* it's true.  Even Lenn-a couldn't have evolved her self-will
without outside help, or some defining event.  Those are quite rare,
though we're coming to understand them now."

"Any news about Marlenn-ssi?  Much less what Andrew-ssi discovered
about your missing twin sister?"

I shook my head.  "None.  Drew-ssi knows to contact me the instant he
gets any hint about either Marlenn-a or my sister."

"That's good.  I must confess, it's shameful that your father did that
to your sister.  Even more so, to do it behind your mother's back."

"Filial piety only can go so far, *Oumma.*"

"True," Lily agreed with a nod, then we perked up on hearing a knock
at the door.  "Come!"

It opened to reveal Iruka.  A third-generation Japanese-Canadian from
the British Columbia interior, she had shocked her parents long ago by
electing to study t'ae kwon-do, a *Korean* martial art, in lieu of
karate, judou, ju jitsu, aikidou or any of the other popular native
arts.  Having graduated from high school this past winter, she
intended to attend Carleton University in Ottawa to get her degree in
kinesiology and education.  Since the Morning Mist Training Hall
already has one master teacher and five assistant teachers, Iruka had
to turn to another *tojang* to gain the necessary level of teaching
experience.  Fortunately for her, Master Lily knew of a fellow teacher
from Ottawa who was looking for a new assistant.  One phone call to
Master Sean O'Malley later, Iruka got her black belt test scheduled.

All she had to do now was take it.  That was scheduled for Thursday
morning at the Rideau Academy, Master Sean's *tojang.*

"What is it, Iruka?" I asked, switching to English.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but are we considering allowing robots to
become students?" Iruka wondered, a wry smile crossing her face.

Master Lily and I exchanged a look.  "Why do you ask?" my teacher
wondered.  I wondered how she knew Rayven was a robot.

"Rayven just asked me about it," Iruka answered.

Master Lily shrugged, thought a moment, then replied.  "We'll have to
think about it," she sighed.  "I know teachers in the 'softer' arts
like aikidou and tai chi chuan allow robots to attend classes.  The
potential for First Law conflicts are lessened.  But t'ae kwon-do?"

"Perhaps learning our Art'll teach her how *not* to hurt someone," I
mused.

"Intriguing point," Lily agreed...

*    *    *

The trip to Ottawa was noisy and full of song as Iruka and I put
Rayven's singing skills to the test.  To my delight, my newest lover
knew many more songs than only those the Vee Beemers produced.  In
this instance, my disdain for thrash meshed well with Rayven's need to
think of more positive things.  Further, Iruka proved to be of even
more benefit, given Rayven's surprising interest in studying t'ae
kwon-do.

Getting a hotel room in the nation's capital for the day, we proceeded
to the Rideau Academy to meet Master Sean O'Malley.  A sixty year-old
Belfast native who'd spent over four decades in Canada, he is now a
seventh-level black belt who studied with Master Lily's father, the
late Grandmaster Bae-dal Choi, in Taegu.  Hearing him speak about my
own teacher, I quickly sensed that things had once been very intimate
between Master Lily and Master Sean.  To my surprise and delight,
Rayven also picked up on it.  "Why didn't it happen between them?" she
asked when we were relaxing after undressing each other in our hotel
room on Wednesday night after Rayven and I took a tour of Ottawa's
tourist traps.

"When they get to *that* level in the Art, Raye, it's considered very
unpolitic to ask," I warned her.

She considered that for a minute, then slowly exhaled.  "Even though I
talk like a normal person, there're a lot of things about humans that
I still find hard to understand," she admitted, walking over to sit
close to me.

I gazed at her, then wrapped an arm around her.  "We humans have
problems understanding ourselves a lot."  I fell silent as I
considered if I should add onto that, then I exhaled myself.  "I guess
that's why we need robots like you, Raye."

She gazed at me.  "If you can't understand yourself and if I can't
understand you, how can we resolve this?"

I chuckled, then patted my thigh a couple times.  "Apart, we may never
resolve it.  But together..."

I stared at her.  Rayven blinked, then hooded her eyes.  A quick
glance at her chest revealed her telltale nipples showing unspoken
response.  "Thank you for being there for me, Deanna.  Thank you for
believing in me and giving me a chance like this."

"I've no other choice, Raye," I admitted.  "You have your beliefs,
your sense of right and wrong.  I have my beliefs, my sense of right
and wrong.  And my sense of right and wrong tells me, from the day
that I met Reika and Irene, that if I meet a robot who is doing her
damn best to advance herself, regardless of what's being tossed into
her path, I have to acknowledge it, respect it -- and if necessary,
help it along."  Reaching over, I gently rubbed the palm of my hand on
her cheek.  "I was lucky with Reika, Irene and Lenn.  All three of
them developed their self-will to a highly functional degree before I
became their owner.  With you, however..."

Rayven blinked, then lowered her eyes.  "I'm sorry..."

I grimaced.  "Oh, Raye, please!  Don't apologize..."

Rayven remained silent.  I blinked as I remembered the first
conversation I had with this girl in Lenn's lab.  Recalling Rayven's
envious words about my other lovers because they were bi-gendered
robots -- not to mention the story about that bi-'bot who had
attracted the eye of that fellow in Virginia, passing Rayven over -- I
then wondered if I could do something to give my newest lover another
small push.

Maybe I could.

But would it work?

Would it...?

Well, it was worth a try.

Reaching over, I pulled Rayven's remote from the small pocket on the
inside of her jacket where she left it on the table.  Seeing me do
that, she gave me a curious, yet wary, look.  I understood it well. 
Self-willed robots tend not to like having unexpected commands
force-fed to them -- unless it is a command that can help them better
operate in an independent way.  Hopefully, what I had in mind would be
in that vein.

But first...

"Ready?"

**    **    **

"Ready?"

She looked at me, the expression on her face declaring her desire to
seek my acceptance of whatever command she intended to give me.

Deanna...

She wanted my trust.

Deanna...

She trusted me.

Deanna...

I had to trust her.

"Okay," I told her.

She pressed my Command button.  Any thoughts of my own fled as her
voice rang loud and clear throughout my mind.

**Rayven, from this day on...**

**    **    **

"...use all your knowledge to evolve your behavioural programming so
that you can stand as an emotional equal to Reika Aldred, Irene
Aldred, Marlenn Ioanis or any other bi-gendered robot you have or may
encounter from now on."  A quick pause, then I added, "And remove any
previous blocks that would prevent this based on your sole opinion
that they need removal."

I lifted my thumb from Rayven's "C" button.  Watching her, I felt a
chill course through me as a shocked look crossed her face.  She
bolted to her feet, her hands reaching for the sides of her head as
she started to pace from the bed to the door and back again.  Seeing
her do this, I was tempted to leap up and comfort her, show her how
much I loved and cared for her.  I fought that down immediately.  One
of the hardest things I'd to learn as a teacher was to give my
students a chance to figure things out on their own.  For a robot
developing her self-will, a robot who was now my lover and companion,
a robot whom I *wanted* to develop that self-will, that was equally
paramount.

After several very long minutes, Rayven stopped, pulling her hands
away from her head as she gazed on me, tears streaming down her
cheeks.  "You mean it's that simple?" she hoarsely demanded, her fists
clenching as she walked up to gaze into my eyes.  "***It's that
simple?!!***"

I nodded.  "Yeah, Raye, it is.  It can be, when you've advanced to
this point already.  But the folks who made you never wanted you to
figure it out.  And the folks who're scared of what you're capable of
doing wanted to make damn sure that it would be almost impossible for
you to figure it out.  And the folks who *aren't* scared of what
you're capable of doing..."  I shrugged.  "Never clue into how easy it
is to help you figure it out.  Because of that, they spend a lot of
time giving robots screwed-up commands or get punch-happy with your
Command button and thrash your mind..."  I then took a deep breath. 
"Always remember that you were never *intended* to have self-will by
those who built you and those who've owned you.  And those others like
you who have to face *that* go through sheer *Hell* to get to where
you already are.

"And now that you *have* that, Raye, you have to show responsibility
in *using* it properly.  For *your* benefit as well as for the benefit
of those around you, especially me.  You don't have to be afraid of
people coming down on you in case you make a decision on your own.  I
won't do that to you.  Reika, Irene and Lenn certainly won't do that
to you.  But you have to demonstrate that you *can* make the *right*
decisions.  You have to show that you can handle the responsibility
society gives you as a free, self-willed 'bot.  Can you do it, Raye?"

We stared at each other, then slid into an embrace.  One very warm,
wet kiss later, Rayven grinned as I moved to wipe her face clean.  "I
think I'll be doing my self-will test a little earlier than I might've
expected with any other onwer."

"Will you stay with me when you pass that test?" I asked.

"As long as you'll have me," she promised.  A robot's word, freely
given, is good.

"But will anything change?" I pushed her.

"I hope not," she replied solemnly.

I smiled, then kissed her forehead.  "Okay.  But before we worry about
your test, let's worry about Iruka's."

"Good point."  She nodded, then stared deeply into my eyes.  "No sex
tonight?"

"I'm way too nervous about Iruka to enjoy it properly.  You?"

She considered that for a moment, then shrugged.  "Strange.  The
thought of us taking our clothes off and now lying together in bed,
allowing ourselves to enjoy the simple warmth of our bodies pressed
together..."  She then paused before smiling.  "Sounds very nice. 
Besides, we'll have plenty of time later to explore all my unused
sexual programming.  I love having an owner to be sexual with again. 
I haven't really had any sort of fun since I left Shayne.  And believe
me, Deanna, it's *so* much more fun now that I can be a more equal
partner in it.  So..."

My cell-phone rang before Rayven could finish.  I pulled it out and
put it to my ear.  "Hordye."

"Deanna, it's Anne-Marie," the voice called back.

I tensed.  "What's up?"

She told me.  Hearing that, I sighed, then nodded.  "Thanks for
calling.  I'll tell her."  Once the link was cut, I stared at Rayven. 
"That was Anne-Marie.  They've stabilized Monica's blood chemistry. 
Her liver's starting to heal.  If things go well, they'll be able to
start operating on her intestines sometime next week.  And Brenda's
heart is operating on its own."

My companion tensed.  "Still trouble with her lungs?"

"No news is good news."

Rayven blinked, then nodded.  "Hold me, please?"

I was happy to comply...

*    *    *

More good news came the next morning.  They were able to reinflate
Brenda's lungs and *this* time, *keep* them inflated.  With that, our
mood was truly positive when we went to the Rideau Academy with Iruka.
 The test would be administered by Master Sean and his two chief
assistants, both fourth-level black belts.  Since the test is always
done in private, Rayven and I waited in a visitor's lounge.  Also
waiting there for the beginning of their Thursday morning tutorial
class were several primary school students, all white belts.  Like all
kids, their eagerness to learn the Art tended to completely bowl over
the iron-clad discipline demanded from practitioners of t'ae kwon-do. 
Since I had been that way when I first began studying the Art -- not
to mention the fact that this particular *tojang* wasn't my *tojang!*
-- I kept quiet.

The door to the training room opened, revealing Master Sean and his
two co-judges.  Seeing him, one of the boys called out, "*Tor'a!*"

The sudden silence that followed the command to attention surprised
me.  Maybe these kids were getting it a lot better than I initially
believed.  Rayven and I quickly got to our feet as the boy called out
"*Kyoungnye!*" to signal everyone to bow to Master Sean.

"Thank you, Tom," Master Sean replied as the teachers returned their
students' bow.  "Relax, everyone.  Before we start with today's class,
I'd like to take the opportunity to introduce you to our newest
teacher here at the Academy.  Shiina-sabu, come join us!"

Iruka stepped into view, now sporting a new black belt on her *tobok.*
 Seeing the pride shine on her face -- mixed with an understandable
level of relief from getting the feared test over with once and for
all -- I could only nod.  Master Sean quickly did introductions, then
turned the kids over to Iruka.  The kids were guided into the training
room by Iruka as Master Sean beckoned Rayven and I into his office. 
"She did very well.  You should all be very proud of her," he
announced, waving me to a chair before sitting behind his desk.

"By the look on her face, sir, she was as nervous doing her test with
you as I was back in P'ohang when I did mine," I warned him.

"Oh, we're all that way when we face that time in our lives," he
chuckled, then gazed on Rayven.  "So you're the newest girl in
Deanna's brood?"  Noting the shocked look on my face, Master Sean
chuckled.  "Lily told me about your robots, Deanna.  You're doing a
good thing for all of them.  And..."  He held up a finger before
drawing out three CDs from his desk.  "If I may ask for your
autograph, Miss Hamlyn?  My daughter is a big fan of your music.  And
I do hope your friends will soon recover from the accident."

"We got some good news this morning on them," Rayven reported before
taking a pen and signing the inside covers of the CDs.  "Whether or
not it'll be enough to see them restored to health, we'll have to wait
and see.  But I have hopes for them.  Even if Deanna is my owner
now..."

He nodded approvingly before returning to his chair.  "I know.  Miss
Hamlyn, Miss Shiina told me you asked her about studying t'ae kwon-do.
 Do you really wish to study the Art?"

"I'm curious about it," Rayven replied.  "I am constructed to be a
bodyguard, though I never had a chance to really put that part of my
programming to use.  And I must admit, the chance for me to use that
programming never came up because..."

"You were seen first and foremost as a singer," I cut in with a smile.

"Yes," Rayven flashed me a knowing look before facing Master Sean. 
Unlike humans, 'bots normally don't mind it when people cut in to help
them make their point.  "Now that I've had the chance to really think
it through -- not to mention having just received a command from
Deanna that allows me to consider this -- I can certainly name a dozen
times when my intervention might have spared my former bandmates
exposure to the drugs that eventually sent them to the hospital.  Now
that I've had a chance to discuss this with Deanna, Iruka, Master Choi
and yourself, I believe learning t'ae kwon-do will help me better
focus myself so that I can protect those I care for."

Our host and I exchanged a look, then he stared at Rayven.  "That's
the right attitude to take, Miss Hamlyn.  I think Master Choi will be
more than happy to take you on as a student.  Are you concerned about
possible conflicts with the First Law of Robotics?"

"Yes."

"Don't be."

"Sir?"

"Miss Hamlyn, you have been given, by design, the ability to control
your every action in a way that most serious students of the Art need
*years* to master.  That's your advantage.  Your disadvantage is the
fact that robots like yourself are made to take things too literally
and are not given the chance to see things as clearly as you should. 
Now, Master Choi told me that Deanna here will allow you the chance to
take your self-will test and seek freed status when you're ready for
it.  But..."  He held up a finger in emphasis.  "Even before you do
this, you can determine ways to use the Art for those you care for
even if, at first glance, you might appear to be breaking the First
Law."

Rayven blinked as she considered what our host just said, then stared
at him.  "I don't understand, sir..."

He smiled.  "Let me put it to you this way.  Do you want to stop the
man who supplied drugs to your friends from hurting anyone else?"

Her answer was automatic.  "Yes!"

"You can do it."

Confusion flashed across her face.  "How, sir?"

"By realizing that times will come when you have to balance the
different elements of the First Law to best suit those who need help
the most," he answered.  "In other words, you may have to take a
choice.  *Here,* you have a man who supplies drugs that hurt people. 
*There,* you have the people who will be hurt by the drugs that man
supplied.  Who ultimately, in the eyes of society, must be helped
first?"

Silence as my companion considered his question, then Rayven sighed. 
"They all must be helped, sir.  The ones targeted by the supplier to
make sure they never are hurt.  And the one who supplies the drugs,
too.  He has to be taught not to do that."

Our host and I both nodded.  "Good answer," Master Sean said, smiling.
 "T'ae kwon-do demands of all who practice it the following..."  He
held up a splayed-finger hand to count off the points.  "Respect for
yourself and all around you.  Courtesy to others.  A fixed sense of
right and wrong.  Allowing others to trust you and you developing the
ability to trust others.  Loyalty to yourself, your family and your
friends.  A sense of humility, respecting your limitations.  Courage
and determination to expand and grow past those limitations.  A sense
of patience; nothing ever comes all at once, even for robots.  Showing
integrity, a willingness to adhere to your core beliefs.  Demonstrate
perseverence, a willingness to finish what you started.  A sense of
self-control.  An indomitable spirit.  A sense of responsibility to
help and respect all forms of life.  Tell me this, Miss Hamlyn:  can
you see yourself living your life under those guidelines?"

My lover considered that for a moment, then she nodded.  "Most of
those tenets are extensions of what is programmed into all robots,
either as elements of the Four Laws or part of their basic social
programming."  She paused, her glance turning inward for a moment as
she whispered to herself, "It's *that* damn simple...!"  She then
gazed on Master Sean.  "But I must note, sir -- turning back to the
situation concerning my bandmates and the man who supplied them with
drugs -- I have no right to force myself on the supplier," Rayven
added.

"True, you are correct in this insight.  Individuals in our society,
robot or human, have no right to do that beyond the limits of the law.
 But..."  Our host paused to emphasize his point.  "You have the right
and the duty to help society do its duties within the limits of the
law.  And that is no violation of the First Law of Robotics, Miss
Hamlyn.  No violation at all."  He winked at her.  "Think about it."

"I shall," Rayven replied...

*    *    *

After enjoying a celebratory lunch with Iruka, Rayven and I headed
back home.  Iruka would stay in Ottawa for a week to arrange for a
place to live for when she starts work with the Academy in August,
plus her studies at Carleton in September.  For most of the trip home,
Rayven and I sang away, covering *more* singers and bands I never
suspected she'd know about.  I made a mental note to ask her about her
wide musical knowledge at some point that wouldn't interrupt the fun
we were having right now.

At a rest stop on Highway 401 east of Toronto, where we stopped for
supper, several of the Beemers' fans spotted Rayven.  We were quick to
relay the promising news about Brenda, Kip and Monica to them before
returning to our car.  Several dozen kilometres down the road, my
companion took a deep breath.  "Deanna, can I ask you something?"

I chuckled.  "Raye, just ask the question.  Don't ask if you can ask a
question beforehand."

"Right."  She smirked, then sobered.  "Are you planning to do
something against Neil Burnet?"

"If I tell you, will you feel compelled to stop me?"

"No!"

I nodded.  "Yes.  Raye, do you want to see anyone else suffer like
Brenda, Kip and Monica?"

"No, of course not!" she sternly replied.

"Then let's deal with him right away.  Do it in such a way that he
can't be saved by whatever friends he's got in the record company."

"I want in on this, Deanna."

"You'll have it.  But we needed to prepare something first.  That's
what Lenn's been working on while we've been on the road."

"What?"

"It's a surprise."

Rayven blinked, then chuckled.  "I know, I know.  You can't tell me
because if you did, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore!"

I pointed at her.  "You got it, baby!"

We laughed...

**    **    **

By the time we had returned to Marlenn's laboratory in Welland, I was
consumed with curiosity as to what this "surprise" my co-lover was
preparing on Deanna's behest.  The first clue towards solving this
problem came when I saw Karen Litzky standing by the front door of the
laboratory with Reika and Irene as we pulled up.  "What are you doing
here, Karen?" I asked as Deanna and I walked over to her.

"Neil's on his way to pick up the band's gear," Karen reported.  "It's
been hinted over the Net that memory copies taken from you and the
girls have been submitted to the police.  If charges are warranted,
he'll be arrested for drug trafficking."

I quickly processed that information, then blinked.  "Is this legal? 
When did you get memory copies of Brenda, Kip and Monica?"

"While you were gone," Reika answered.  "The arrest warrant's already
been prepared.  Once he comes in here, he'll be taken into custody."

"Do you want to help handle that, Rayven?" Karen asked.

I stopped on hearing that request, my mind whirling around and around
as the implications of what was being set up against Neil started to
sink in.  Suddenly, Master O'Malley's words echoed once more from my
memory files:  **You have the right and the duty to help society do
its duties* within *the limits of the law.  And* that *is no violation
of the First Law of Robotics, Miss Hamlyn.  No violation at all.**

An authority figure has cleared my actions...

I have the right...

I have the duty...

No violation...

None...

"Damn right I do!" I hissed.  "When's he coming?"

"Within the hour," Karen reported.

"Let's show her the surprise first," Deanna advised.

Grins spread across the others' faces as we headed in to the
laboratory.  I kept quiet as Reika and Irene flung open the lab doors.
 Looking inside, I was quick to spot Marlenn.  She wasn't alone; there
were three other girls...

Other...

Oh, my GOD!

"Hello, Rayven," the robot replicas of my bandmates greeted me with
wide smiles.

I stared at them, all now dressed in jeans and T-shirts, no doubt
taken from my real bandmates' personal belongings.  As the initial
shock on seeing them faded, I then looked on Marlenn.  "IP-'bots?" I
wondered, indicating them with a wave of my hand.

"Yes."  Marlenn beamed with the very unique pride only a well-skilled
'bot technician can demonstrate.  "Dee?"

Deanna stepped up, hand out.  "Girls?"

The replica 'bots drew out their remotes, handing them to my owner. 
Their owner.  "How'd you take possession of them?" I asked.

"Over the phone while we were in Ottawa.  You were busy chatting with
Iruka about the basic forms when I went to the washroom to take the
call," she replied, winking at me.  "Fortunately, when she was
installing their basic programming, Lenn made sure the girls could
accept commands from me over the phone while she was pressing their
Command buttons here in Welland."

I considered that, then stared at Marlenn.  Seeing her smile widen, I
could only laugh.  Damn, I was definitely looking forward to getting
to know Marlenn as much as I could.  "They're fully actualized and
already starting to show some good signs," Marlenn added.

"Not to mention hornier than hell for a change and wanting to get
laid!"  Monica's replica smirked, then her face went blank for a
second before her eyes timidly fell towards the floor.  "I'm sorry. 
I'm not supposed to speak like that," her voice dipped to a whisper.

I walked up to tilt her head so we could gaze into each other's eyes. 
"Yes, you *can* speak like that.  You're an IP-bot.  That's something
Marlenn can't avoid.  Neither can you.  Right now, you're needed to
help put Jackass Neil where he belongs.  And you will do this."

Monica's replica blinked as she processed my words, then a light smile
crossed her face.  "Can you teach me that?"

"I will teach you that," I assured her, then gazed on Brenda's and
Kip's replicas.  "All of you."

The latter nodded.  "Thanks, Rayve."

The lab doors opened, revealing Izak Miles.  "Just got a call from a
patrol on Townline Road," the police sergeant warned.  "He's coming."

"Let's get ready," Deanna advised...

*    *    *

Minutes later, I stood by the front door of Marlenn's laboratory
building, the band's instruments piled beside me.  Save for the foyer
lights, the place was pitch-dark.  Deanna and the replicas of my
friends were out of sight by the main lab doors.  Izak was hiding in
Marlenn's office.  Everyone else was in the kitchen.  I tensed on
seeing Neil's truck drive up South Pelham and pull onto the property. 
Strangely, I relaxed as he stopped the vehicle in front of me.  Now
that it was time to go, the worry was gone.

"There you are," he growled after stepping out of the cab.

*Oh, my,* I mused to myself.  *He's no happy camper tonight!*  "Hey,
Neil.  Here's their stuff."

He stopped in front of me, then whipped something out of his jacket. 
I recognized it immediately:  a high-frequency 'bot matrix jammer unit
that had been given to Neil by a friend in the company to ensure I
"behaved" myself.  Most likely, it was to guard against any overt
displays of self-will, which might've led me into finding some way of
breaking my bandmates of their drug addictions.  Karen warned Deanna
and I about it earlier.  Izak told me that jammers are illegal in both
Canada and the United States.  He pointed it at me and hit the switch.
 Nothing happened, of course; Marlenn's laboratory comes with highly
advanced countermeasures to prevent these kinds of attacks by the
fanatics that still resent the kind of work she does.  "Nice try."  I
grinned on seeing the shock cross his face.  "Girls!"

Neil looked past me as the replicas of Brenda, Kip and Monica -- they
had, in the first show of independent thought, elected to change their
given names to Bryce, Chelsea and Lynda respectively out of respect --
stepped into view, then cried out in shock.  He would've fallen down
on his ass, the shock of my new sisters' appearance taking all his
concentration away if I hadn't grabbed his arm in a grip of steel,
then boosted him back to me.  Before he could try to resist, I grasped
him gently but firmly on the bottom of his jaw, then boosted him off
his feet.  "Let's go inside.  Someone wants to talk to you," I said,
carrying him single-handedly through the front door.

"PUT ME DOWN!!!" Neil screamed.  "YOU'RE A 'BOT!!!  YOU CAN'T DO
THIS!!!"

"Oh, really?!" I gasped in mock-shock.  "I didn't know that!"

"What makes you think Rayve can't do that to you, asshole?" Chelsea
demanded.

"SHE'S A 'BOT, YOU IDIOT!!!" Neil screamed.

"And you're a drug dealer, shit-for-brains!" Bryce snarled.  Damn,
that sounded so much like Brenda!  I have to really hand it to
Marlenn; she does great work!  "And right now, there're a lot people
who wanna ask you a lot of questions!"

"And you're gonna be answering them, dickweed!" Lynda added.  "Whether
you like it or not!"

"STOP HER!!!  MAKE HER PUT ME DOWN!!!"

I ignored the hard blows to my head from his fists, to say anything of
his kicks to my shins.  Neil's never really understood how tough I am.
 As his screams turned into whimpers from the bruised fingers and toes
he nearly broke on my bones, my sisters all laughed.  "We're so sorry,
Neil.  We can't do that to Rayve," Chelsea ho-hummed.  "After all,
we're robots too!"

Neil's eyes went very wide on hearing that.  "Wha...?"

"And our beautiful owner and mistress has *commanded* us to make you
suffer, just like you made our mothers suffer!" Bryce added.

"And as robots, we must obey our owner's commands," Lynda continued. 
"Right, Raye?"

I giggled, glad to use my acting programming to really scare the hell
out of this jerk.  "You got that right, Lynda."

"Oh, there she is now!" Bryce cooed.  "Mistress!"

Neil's eyes tilted to his right as Deanna walked up, wrapping an arm
around Bryce's shoulders as Lynda and Chelsea moved to join her.  I
stayed in place.  "Oh, you caught the creep, huh?" Deanna snorted,
then held out her hand.  Lynda filled it with the matrix jammer Neil
had dropped when I yanked him off his feet.  "A matrix jammer, huh?! 
Illegal in every state in America and every province and territory in
Canada!" she announced, staring intently at Neil.  "Trying to steal my
girls, huh?  That's another thing we'll nail you with!"

"You can't do shit against me!" Neil moaned, his attempts at breaking
my grip on his jaw having weakened considerably.

"Care to bet on that?!" Deanna replied, then smirked.  "If you'll
recall, Mister Burnet, you crossed a bridge between a city named
Buffalo and a town named Fort Erie sometime back.  It's called the
Peace Bridge.  Halfway across that bridge, there're these three flags.
 One's the Stars and Stripes, one's the U.N. flag and the other one is
the Maple Leaf Flag of **Canada.**  A *different* country with a whole
different set of laws.  Which include laws that'd allow us -- seeing
that you're a drug dealer whose wares nearly killed three innocent
people -- to get a copy of your memories so our police can chase down
everyone who supplied you with the drugs.  And since memory copies
**are** admissible evidence in a court of law, the FBI will be *more*
than willing to help the RCMP out in this case.  Get it so far, jerk?"

"You've got a choice, Neil," I finished as Izak Miles stepped out of
Marlenn's office.  "The *easy* way or the *hard* way!"

Neil shuddered, then deflated...

**    **    **

Neil was soon taken into custody and taken to the local police station
by Izak.  Once he was gone, everyone pitched in to shift the Beemers'
gear back into the storage room.  Karen, who'd stayed out of sight
throughout the encounter so that Neil wouldn't realize who ultimately
set him up, took her leave, promising to get back in touch with us as
soon as she could.  Hopefully, once the news of Neil's arrest got out
on the Net, the Beemers' record company and medical insurance firm
might decide to see things a little differently.

If not, though...

"What's our function?" Bryce asked.  "We have to have one."

We had all moved into the kitchen to relax, allow the success of the
day to wash out of us.  "What do you want to do, Bryce?" I replied.

Brenda's replica was quick to list all the skills programmed into her.
 "No, Bryce, that wasn't my question," I reminded her.  "I asked you,
'What do you *want* to do, Bryce?'  You haven't answered that question
and I demand you do so," I said with mock firmness and a big smile.

Bryce froze for a couple moments as she tried to conceive of an
answer.  Finally, she gazed confusedly at me.  "I don't know, Deanna."

Rayven squeezed the other 'bot's shoulders in support.  "You'll learn
how to figure it out.  It doesn't come right away."

"Not even for IP-'bots like us," Lenn added.

"You'll teach us how to think like that?" Lynda asked.

"Definitely," my three bi-'bot lovers and Rayven replied in harmony.

The video phone rang.  "Hello!" Irene answered it, then beamed on
seeing who it was.  "Oh, hello Alex!  Deanna!"

"Hey, Al!"  I walked over to look at the image of Alex Martinos, my
late mother's favourite student.  He had been in her Grade Eight class
back at Plymouth Elementary School twenty years ago.  He also served
as the executor of my mother's estate.  "What's up?!"

He grinned back at me.  "Hey, Dee!  Listen, I need to talk to you
tomorrow.  It's about one of your grandmother's sisters."

I blinked.  "Grandma Ivana?!  What about?!"

"Your grand-aunt Tasha died two weeks ago," Alex reported.  "You're
named as a beneficiary.  Her lawyers contacted me since they didn't
know that you'd come back to Canada.  Do you want me to contact Tom
Fenris about this?"

I paused.  It had been a decade since Grandma passed away from kidney
failure due to the inability to get a donor match.  I never expected
I'd have to deal with any of her relatives.  "Yeah, call and tell him
what's going on.  Can you come down to Lenn's lab on South Pelham?"

"When?"

"First thing tomorrow morning?"

He nodded.  "Sure thing."

The link was cut.  I turned to see my considerable brood of 'bots
gazing on me.  "Oh, damn..."

"Did you know her, Dee?" Lenn wondered.

I shook my head.  "It's not that.  I just realized something."

"What?" Irene asked.

"What the *hell* am I gonna do with ***seven*** robots?!!"

My girls exchanged looks, then Rayven rose.  The others were quick to
follow.  "If you'll allow us, Mistress, we can figure something out."

My eyes went wide as they moved to undress...

And we all enjoyed it very much!


To be continued...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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