Planet of the Normen

Expansion Edit 4/15 ...

1.

Normans or Normen (both considered correct) are a particular model of android originally designed in the previous century for agricultural labor on developing colonies. Later, because of the handsomeness of their design, for a period it became fashionable among the wealthy to dress them up and make use of them as domestic servants. They are golden and muscular figures, entirely hairless, and often compared to classical Greco-Roman statuary, yet their synthetic flesh is warm and soft to touch.

Many of them were modified by their owners for sexual service.

Then there was a great cosmic war, and for many cycles, this particular one went very bad for humankind. In desperate need of fresh troops, all the Normen were conscripted by the government and reprogrammed for combat. It was a smart move. They turned the tide and saved their creators. In the process, they also evolved into sentience. Of course that wasn't meant to happen—the machines themselves were not entirely pleased by the change—but it wasn't something that could be undone or reversed.

After the war, they had no desire to return to their original employment, nor were they suitable for it.

They were awarded a world of their own. One that used to belong to the enemy, which the Normen had rendered extinct. Yet the planet remained apart from Living Space (the cosmic community which presently included most of the various derivations of humanity). The Normen were not granted citizenship, and they never asked for it.

Because of the complex, contradictory influences of their background, from slavery to soldiery, vastly and shamefully exploited at every stage, with layers upon layers of fundamental reprogramming, the whole entire breed had evolved a number of distinctly dangerous psychological drives upon their achievement of sentience or sapience—meaning full consciousness on equal level with humanity. Thus, their values and the lifestyle with which they satisfied those drives did not conform enough to the cultural standards of the LS community (flexible and liberal as the majority of its citizens believed those standards to be), nor its laws. They did not fit in. They did not want to.

For decades, there was little trade or contact with the Normen—some, for certain valuable mineral and biological resources could be obtained from their world, but very little. Surprisingly so, in light of the potential profits. Going there wasn't officially forbidden, it was simply considered too unsafe of a planet for most merchants to risk visiting. The Normen were a resentful people. They became legendary for it. An entire species of warlike immortal mechanical men, with a savage chip on their shoulders. It could never be erased or eased. It was at the core of their programming. They wanted to be left alone and for the most part, they were.

Occasional rumors circulated of the androids raiding other settlements, carrying off prisoners ... Government officials thrice published statements to the focean that those reports had been diligently investigated by Vigilance administers and found to be "devoid of truth".

2.

Only yesterday, Dr. Sharon Green was made captain of a brand new hospital ship. Today, not one hour after they'd set out on their first assignment, rimworld pirates took the ship from her. They'd make a fortune from all the medicines and healing equipment it contained. And probably even more money from selling almost her entire crew—a hundred doctors and two hundred nurses, most of them fresh out of school—into slavery. Just Sharon and two others had escaped the ship undetected, in a small ambulance shuttle. Then they'd crashed on a planet called Prize, according to the computer. It was labeled as Inhabited and Not Hostile, but also Non Allied and Unsafe/Contact Unrecommended. That was all it would tell them. "Further Data Restricted by Vigilance Order".

"Is there anything more you can tell us, Gerrod?"

He frowned. Though you wouldn't know it from looking at him, Gerrod was an android. Completely "anthromorph"—unlike many droid varieties, there was nothing weird or fake-looking about the color and texture of his skin and his hair. His eyes also appeared normal, and his manner. He was not at all a robotic robot. He'd also been her second in command. "Why do you ask me in that tone, Dr. Green?"

Polly answered before she could. "Because everybody knows you used to be a Vigilance agent." Polly had been the pilot of the ship. She had spiky hair and tinted goggles.

"I can neither confirm nor deny that assertion," he replied, with a slight grin, "Yet if I had been a member of Vigilance, and if I left the organization, most of my memories of those experiences would have been restricted as a matter of protocol."

"Erased, you mean?" Polly asked.

"Suppressed," he said.

"Shit," said Sharon, "I should have thought of that."

"The name does give me a ... feeling of familiarity," said Gerrod, "and that disturbs me."

"So you think you used to know more, is what you're saying."

"It is possible, Polly. I want the pair of you to wait here in the shuttle. Our scanners are too damaged to tell us much, but these energy readings to the north might indicate a nearby settlement. I'm going to investigate alone."

"Why alone?" Polly raised her blaster. "Why don't we all go? Safer if we stick together."

"I think not. I can scout more effectively on my own."

"Well, Sharon's still in command, isn't she?" Polly turned to her. "What do you say?"

"Trust me, Doctor," said Gerrod. "I won't take more than an hour."

Sharon nodded. "You get one hour then. If you don't return, we'll come after you."

"Agreed."

But then he ended up returning in less than twenty minutes. His expression was grim.

3.

"It's a camp," he announced, "A hunting party. And they are all Normen. At least twenty of them, with horses and ... servants. I overheard them talking. They saw our vessel coming down in the forest. They'll be coming soon. I'm afraid this places the pair of you are in considerable peril. We have to get away from the ship. Right now. We cannot be discovered here."

"I don't understand," Sharon said, "Normen are supposed to be heroes. They won the last war for us."

"They did, yes. That's why they were given dominion of this planet, and they're allowed to do whatever they like here. Their privacy is very important to them. They don't like uninvited guests."

"But we've landed here on accident. We crashed!"

"They might think we did it on purpose, trying to spy on them. Normen have paranoid tendencies. And it's rumored they have other even worse tendencies."

"Will they attack us? Surely they can't. They couldn't possibly harm us, since we're human. Sentient or not, their core programming still shouldn't let them even consider it."

"There's more leeway in the old safeguards than most people realize. Vigilance is careful to keep things that way. You're correct that the Normen won't try to kill you or injure you, but they will want to take you prisoner. And because you both happen to be females—and also young and attractive, if you'll permit me to point out the fact—they will want to enslave you."

"What? That's crazy! Why would a bunch of ex-military robots want to have human slaves?"

"For sex, primarily."

"You must be joking. They're robots! Robots don't have sex drives. Robots don't even the parts for it!"

"These do. It's not widely known anymore—most records have been carefully censored, after the war—but before they were converted for combat, many of the Normen were used as pleasure devices. The majority, in fact. It was a fad among the nobility. They had the Normen reprogrammed and of course equipped with fully-functional apparatuses. They were kept as household sex workers. For generations, in some cases."

"But what about when they were converted for the war?"

"Yes. The sexual programming was supposed to have been purged. It wasn't, not entirely. Too complex to fully eradicate, I would imagine, without mindwiping them altogether. And then it must have become entangled with their combat protocols, in unexpected, unpredictable ways. They developed ... quirks."

"You mean they all turned kinky. Whoa. Can they really feel pleasure, though? Do they actually get horny like regular men?" Polly, unlike Sharon, seemed more amused than horrified by these startling possibilities.

"Those questions are difficult to answer," said Gerrod, "I believe they probably feel genuine pleasure and arousal of a kind—but not necessarily the same way a human does."

"Robots don't have nerves!" said Sharon.

"They do, in a way. They have receptors built throughout the outer surface of their bodies. And erotic desire and sensation exists more in the mind than in the body, in any case. They were slaves of humanity at its most decadent. Then they were further exploited for violence. Merciless interplanetary warfare. When they achieved sentience, they also achieved rage."

"So it's for revenge," said Polly, "It's the payback that they get off on. Isn't it?"

"That is the concept that excites them, yes. A compulsion to exploit their former exploiters."

"Wait a moment," said Sharon, "You mentioned before that the hunters had servants with them. But you hesitated when you said that. They're not other robots, are they?"

"No, Dr. Green. No they're not."

"Oh God. My word. Why hasn't Vigilance put a stop to this?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit, Gerrod!"

"It is not bullshit. If I ever knew, the knowledge is locked away. I can speculate, however. The Normen saved Living Space once—we, as a species, may need to call on them again, if another cosmic threat of the same level should arise. If the price for that is to allow them to keep a proportionally quite small number of human slaves, I don't doubt our government would sanction it, so long as it's kept secret on this isolated planet."

"That's appalling! That's plain barbaric!"

"Yes," Gerrod agreed, "That's politics."

'We've got guns," said Polly, "Why don't we just fight the bastards?"

"Don't be a moron," said Sharon, "They'll have guns too. Much bigger guns than ours. We're hopelessly outnumbered. Our only chance is to run and hide."

And that's what they did.

4.

Two days later, the edge of the forest. Huddled in the brush, they looked out upon a city. This was a small space port. A giant antenna array stood in the middle—a navigational beacon, of somewhat antiquated design—with a few strangely-shaped ships parked around it. None of those were human ships, or from any other recognizable citizenry of Living Space. The Normen must have established relations with unclassified Beyonders. Judging from the spidery black and silver figures striding about in the streets among the shiny golden Normen, their alien friends were all other species of robots, probably sentient and independent, like the Normen themselves. Not anthromorphs, though. Not even close.

"I have an idea," said Gerrod. "A plan to reach that antenna array, where we can summon aid. Provided I can interface with it."

"Can you?" asked Polly.

"With a bit of tinkering," said Gerrod. "It will have standard access safeguards, of course. I still know a few simple tricks for slipping through that level of security. Thankfully Vigilance did not suppress all my old skills, only the specifics of how I put them to use while I worked for them."

"Let's hear your plan then," said Sharon.

Gerrod suddenly tore all the skin off his face, revealing a golden metallic visage beneath. It was not exactly the same facial construction as a Norman, but fairly close.

"I can easily remove the rest of my skin as well, and my uniform, obviously." The Normen walked around everywhere naked, except for belts with their weapons.

"So we just hide here while you go in alone?" said Polly.

He shook his head. "Not this time. We're too close to the city. They have frequent patrols. You will both need to accompany me."

"How can we disguise ourselves as robots?" Sharon asked.

"You can't," said Gerrod, "But you can disguise yourselves as my slaves."

"I don't like this idea," said Polly, "Not one bit."

"You'll be perfectly safe," said Gerrod, "Far safer than if you remain here in the forest. None of the other robots will question your presence in the city, if they see you following me. They will simply assume you are my property. Look at that fellow crossing the street. It'll be just the same as that. Nobody else is paying any attention to him."

The Norman he'd just pointed to was leading six naked women with their hands tied behind their backs and their necks all roped together. They all looked miserable, hanging their heads as they shuffled along. But they did not look unhealthy, Sharon noticed. They were all well fed and clean, with no marks of injury. They also all happened to be young, tall, slim and attractive. Like a line of fashion models, only without any fashion on them. The robotic bastards were finicky about their choice of captives; that was clear. They treasured the beauty of their prisoners, and took good care of them. No, not them—it. Just the beauty of the slaves, not the poor women themselves.

"You'll have to bind our hands and lead us along on a rope, that same way, won't you? We can't just walk normally. That wouldn't look right."

"Correct, Dr. Green. You will both have to undress, needless to say."

Might have been needless, but he'd sure gone right ahead and stated it anyhow, hadn't he? Stupid to get angry at him. No doubt she only imagined the smugness in his tone.

"Hold on, hold on. There's no way," said Polly, "No way! I can't do that."

"You have to, Polly," said Gerrod, "You have to."

"Is that really necessary?" asked Sharon, already knowing the answer, "Surely if we're tied, the implication is the same."

"It's necessary," said Gerrod, "Recall. All the other slaves we've seen have been kept nude at all times."

"The climate is certainly hot enough for it," said Sharon. In fact, it would almost be a relief to shed her filthy uniform, after all this time. It was smelly and itching.

"It's too ... embarrassing," said Polly, "I won't be able to handle it. I'll freak out."

"I'm sorry but there's no choice," said Sharon, "I know it will be difficult and humiliating. I'm not looking forward to it any more than you are. But we're gonna have to do this, together. There's simply no better option."

"But I can't! I just seriously don't think I can!"

"If it helps, I'm making it an order. We have to do this, Polly. Understood, officer?"

She was shaking and starting to cry. "Please. Don't make me."

Sharon patted her shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll be right beside you. We're in this together. I'm just as scared as you are. It's more embarrassing for me, actually. Think about it. I'm older than you, not much I know, but still ... and on top of that, I'm your commanding officer. How am I supposed to hold on to any dignity or authority after an experience like this? Not just the nudity but letting my second-in-command tie us up and put leashes on us! Then he's gonna lead us down the street through those crowds like a couple of pet dogs. God. Oh God."

"I'm not sure you're providing her much comfort any longer, Doctor," said Gerrod.

"You're right. I'm sorry. My mouth sort of ran away from me."

Polly was bawling. "But look at me! I haven't took anything off yet and I'm already falling to pieces! I'll attract too much attention to us. You two should go without me. Please. I'll be all right. I'll stay right here and I won't let the patrols catch me!"

"But what if they do?" said Gerrod, "Consider what happens then. I'll not mince words. They'll strip you and bind you, and it won't just be pretend, like if you let me do it to you. It will be real and there will be no escape. They'll take you away and then ... then they'll whip you, Polly. And they'll rape you."

"No. I've got my gun! It won't happen. I won't let it happen."

"It's too risky, Polly," Sharon said, "I insist. You have to stay with us. That's an order."

"I can't! I can't do it!" Suddenly she jumped up and ran away into the shadows of the forest. Gerrod pursued her. Sharon wasn't sure if she should go after them or not. Before she could make her mind up, Gerrod returned with Polly slung over his shoulder. She was still struggling. He'd already tied her hands behind her back with his belt, and gagged her with a strip torn from his own shirt.

"She's right about attracting too much attention, if she keeps carrying on like this," said Sharon, "Maybe we'll have to leave her after all."

"No," Gerrod answered, "We're not going to do that. It won't be a problem. She can cry and struggle as much as she likes. So could you, if you want. If you feel the need or can't help yourself. It won't matter at all out there. The other robots won't care. All they'll think is you are both fresh-caught slaves that I haven't managed to perfectly tame yet. Now you better get yourself undressed. I'll finish with Polly and then take off the rest of my coverings."

"What about rope? Do we have any rope?"

"We do. Plenty. There's climbing cord included in all of our survival packs."

"Oh. Oh yes. Of course there is. I guess I'd forgotten. What about the rest of our packs, and our guns?"

"I'll keep all the guns on my belt." He'd already stuck Polly's in, she noticed, next to his own. He held out a hand and she passed over hers, trying to hide her reluctance—trying to pretend it wasn't extremely difficult to make herself do that. "Trust me, Dr. Green," he said, "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do, Gerrod."

"Good. Now we'll have to abandon our packs, I'm afraid. They look too distinctive—too well manufactured."

"I suppose you're right. It's a shame."

"Same with all the clothing, except my belt. I'll dig a hole for it all, and put in the rest of my false flesh, while you make yourself ready."

"Do you ... do you think it'd be all right for us to keep our boots, at least? That would be ... helpful, you know. Make it all easier to bear. The street out there looks pretty rough. Lot of gravel."

"I'm afraid not, Doctor. Too conspicuous. Consider: the whole point of denying the captives footwear is to make it harder for them to run away, thus rendering them easier to control."

"Yes. Of course you're right. Just a thought. Please just ... when you take us out there, don't walk too fast, all right? I'm not used to being barefoot out of doors."

He nodded. "I won't let either of you be hurt. You have my word."

"Thank you, Gerrod."

It was silly of her, but she went behind a tree to undress. In another minute he was going to see everything. She would be completely naked in front of him and everyone else on this planet. And she would have to stay like that for a considerable period of time. Impossible to know for how long. Could be minutes or hours. Could be much longer. Just a bunch of soulless robots anyhow. What difference did it make? She shouldn't let it bother her.

She needed to put off the start of it as long as possible. So she stripped behind a tree like a shy little girl. Perhaps that was pointless and absurd. It probably was. She needed to do it anyway. Or she couldn't have gone through with it, any better than Polly acted. Her hands were shaking.

5.

Polly's sleek, well-muscled body had tattoos of jagged orange lightning bolts coiled around both her legs from crotch to ankle, and spiraled over her breasts and buttocks. Strange that she should be so cripplingly shy about her body, if she'd paid to have it decorated that way—the kind of body art you only showed off if you uncovered most of your skin. Then again, context is everything. There's a whole huge universe of difference between displaying yourself explicitly by choice, whether to an individual lover or before a crowd at a beach or some crazy rowdy sex club, if that was your thing, versus having it displayed in abject captivity on a savage planet like this one, outside your personal control.