Page 19 of Operation Iron Heart

“Is that a compliment?” she asked uncertainly. “From what Rochelle said, MacIntyre doesn’t have particularly sophisticated taste in women.”

“Well,” replied Jack, attempting a rare display of dry humour that, as a robot, he was still working on, “I guess neither you nor Rochelle look the way you do by accident.”

“Oh thanks, that’s really nice of you, Mr Robot,” retorted Marci sarcastically. “Rochelle was nearly eighty and had been under the knife more than a dozen times.”

Jack wasn’t sure whether he’d said something wrong again, but Lennox was right – human women weren’t as predictable as he would have liked.

He decided it was better not to say anything more about her appearance, particularly when Jeanette then turned Marci’s dark locks into a smooth, Titian-red mane that flowed down her back. Jack thought it made her look even more gorgeous than her previous hairstyle but refrained from commenting due to his newly acquired caution. He normally had his body well under control but as Jeanette skilfully applied a dark-red lipstick onto Marci’s beautiful full lips and emphasised her sparkling eyes with dark eyeshadow and mascara, he felt it respond of its own accord. He went from leaning against one of the mirrors, arms crossed, feeling a bit bored as Marci underwent her transformation, to now suddenly feeling aroused by the thought of having her completely naked and wanton beneath him. The idea turned him on so much that he had to imagine himself back in the Antarctic where he’d previously fought as a combat robot; he had no intention of letting his unexpectedly swelling member embarrass him in front of Marci and Jeanette. He lowered his hands over his crotch as his heart automatically started to beat faster. Jeanette noticed his discomfort and smirked at him.

“Yeah, I’m good”, she stated confidently.

Typical human arrogance, he thought.

She looked at him with a challenging expression. “Tell me I’m good.”

“Perfect.” He forced the words out in a rough voice, adding obliquely, “almost as good as Cathrin Porter.”

Obviously, that was a huge exaggeration. Cathrin had not only made him attractive and enabled him to experience human emotions; she’d also given him the ability to speed up the awakening of his humanlike consciousness by enhancing the relevant processors. This made him aware of his burgeoning feelings and helped him to manage them better. Jack concentrated on his internal control centre and increased his emotional hormone sensor, which immediately scaled back his surging libido. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know what he could get up to with his otherwise useless manhood, although he hadn’t paid any attention to its secondary abilities until after his escape from the combat zones. His human colleagues had taken every opportunity to induct robots like him into the mysterious passions of humans and also procured suitable visual material by showing him and the other robots the most bizarre range of porn films. These showed actors getting it on in the most peculiar ways with robots and human women, or with machines entirely comprised of artificial genitals. Jack found it all rather weird. He was more interested in romantic films in which sex between a human man and woman was all about love. His colleagues thought this was hilarious. Subsequently, Jack had started searching for his idea of love and had acted out his new desires with both human women and robots. His successes, however, and the associated physical activity never became more than a mechanical act, albeit a stimulating one. It took him a while to realise that there was only one woman who he truly wanted, and she was now standing right in front of him, in the flesh.

“I think I look completely different.” Marci’s comment interrupted his thoughts as she looked at herself critically in the mirror. “That doesn’t look like me anymore. What do you think, Jack? Isn’t it all just a bit too good?”

Jack rubbed his chin awkwardly and cleared his throat, as Marci and Jeanette waited for his judgement.

“Er, no…I think you look fantastic. Not that you didn’t look incredible before,” he added hastily, hoping to avoid further conversation. “But Cathrin has made it clear that MacIntyre and his business partners must not be able to recognise you. I think the new look brings out a totally different side to you that MacIntyre certainly won’t have noticed when you worked for his ex-wife. So it’s all good.” He gave a thumbs-up to Jeanette and nodded encouragingly at Marci.

“OK, if you say so.” Marci’s enthusiasm sounded cautious and she gave another uncertain glance in the mirror. “I just hope that Willie Junior and Logan will still recognise their mom when we return.” “If we return,” she added almost inaudibly to herself.

After a disturbed night during which Marci cried a lot and thought more about what she was about to do, she was late for breakfast the next morning. Cathrin and her team were really supportive but she suddenly felt unsure about whether she was up to the task before her. Only the thought of getting revenge against MacIntyre for Will’s death gave her the drive she needed to see the plan through.

Jack was waiting for her in the soldiers’ canteen and showed her to a free place. Most of the tables were occupied by men but there were a few women in black jumpsuits and combat boots; she couldn’t tell the difference between human and robot apart from one or two indicators that seemed more human – they were drinking hot drinks and had food in front of them, and they showed a certain interest in her appearance. Even without any make-up and just wearing a plain jumpsuit, she felt the curious glances of some of the men as she sat down at the table next to Jack and flicked back her new Titian-red hair.

“You’re getting a lot of attention from your lot,” murmured Jack with a cautious smile.

“I’d noticed,” replied Marci, trying to sound calm but rolling her eyes in irritation. “I’m wondering whether it’s my large boobs or the red hair, which I really don’t think looks natural. At any rate, I can’t remember the last time I was stared at like this.”

“Do you want me to get you something for breakfast so you don’t have to go past these idiots and have them undress you with their eyes?”

“That would be nice of you.” Marci tried to stifle a yawn. “Although I don’t understand why they’re interested. Willie Junior always says my puffy eyes and the dark shadows around them make me look like a panda!”

“Are pandas that cute?” Jack smiled at her, his eyes twinkling, and stood up. “Full Scottish breakfast?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Have they got tortillas with beans and cheese?” She felt cheeky for asking as she wasn’t used to being spoilt for choice.

“Of course,” confirmed Jack, heading off to get them.

As she looked pensively at his retreating back, a large shadow fell over her table, blocking out the light from the ceiling lamps. She looked up and was met by a pair of friendly blue eyes and an open smile. Seeing them, she was immediately reminded of Will and suddenly felt a lump in her throat that made it difficult to swallow. Like Jack, this man wore a black jumpsuit and had a similarly imposing appearance, although he wasn’t quite as tall. His dark blond, chin-length hair, with a few strands lying across his forehead, covered up part of his striking face but did not fully conceal the tension in it. He was slightly stooped, as if he’d only recently been discharged from hospital, and his aura of controlled energy led her to think that he wasn’t a robot. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said politely, offering his hand. “Lennox Copper.”

Marci hissed through her teeth as he pressed her hand. It felt like her fingers were being squeezed between two plates of steel. “Marci Finnegan,” she replied, gasping slightly, “whose hand is currently being squashed.” He released her hand immediately with a horrified look on his face. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he stammered, “did I hurt you?”

“No,” she croaked, rubbing her fingers. “You really can’t tell that you’re a robot, too.”

“I’m not,” he said hurriedly, “I’m one of these stupid hybrids that they send to the slaughter on the front lines of the killing fields, so a kind of cross between a human and a machine. Sorry, I’ve got new arms and hands and apparently I can’t yet sense how strongly I can squeeze.”

Marci sat up straighter and looked more closely at him. He was a handsome, athletic guy who looked like the epitome of an attractive twentysomething male, but she thought she could see in his eyes the grief and sadness caused by the hell he’d experienced.

“May I sit down?” he asked, looking at her hopefully.

“Of course.” Marci forced a smile, not certain whether her current mood made her good company. “Maybe Jack can get us another coffee,” she added, feeling slightly awkward and not wanting to give Lennox the impression that she’d been waiting for company.