The bedroom was big and ornate. Dimly seen pieces of off-white furniture lurked in the gloom. A single bar of sunlight slipped between the drapes, crossed the carpet, and pointed to the bed.
It was a large, well rumpled affair - with plenty of room for three. Governor Sandral Usmos gloried in her nakedness, in the way the two lovers sought to please her, and thought about sex. Or was it power?The male was one of Sandral's aides, he stationed himself between her legs. The girl who was barely out of her early twenties, guided him to the target.Sandral took the man in, selected the rhythm she wanted, and took pleasure from the now.The girl was everywhere, touching, caressing, and fondling.Sandral wasn't sure which she enjoyed the most, the physical pleasure or the knowledge that she had power over them. Somehow the knowledge that the male labored between her thighs because he wanted a promotion added to her pleasure rather than detracting from it.TheBut, no matter how emotionally satisfying such a course of action might be, the officer knew he couldn't do it alone. He struggled to keep his voice even."I recommend that we increase our counterinsurgency efforts, put more resources into psychological operations, and attack the Confederacy where it is weak".Sandral raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. "And where, please tell, it's that?""In the Senate", the officer replied bleakly. "Everyone knows that President Rackoon would send a peace keeping force if he had the support. Thanks to our allies, he doesn't. But for how long? What if Marcus Doug Douglas decides to renter politics? He could be more dangerous than a brigade of legionnaires".Governor Sandral felt a sudden surge of interest. "So, what would you suggest?"Luton shrugged uncommittally. "You like politics, go where you can do the most good".Sandral felt her pulse raise. Yes! She loved the senate. A place
The Shem ships dropped out of hyper and swam through the darkness of space. There were planets, six of them, all worthy of investigation. Scouts were dispatched, probes were launched, and samples were taken.The Hoon was busy, very busy, but nowhere near capacity. The Artificial Intelligence had time to make backup copies of itself, plunder the newly discovered star system, and run the fleet, all without missing a beat.The AI also reserved some of it's processing capacity for small, unexpected anomalies, especially those that were interesting and potentially dangerous.This one took the form of a request for information from a unit that didn't need it - a highly unusual occurrence that set off alarms.Curious as to why a machine would do something like that, the Hoon assigned a tiny fraction of itself to the investigation and waited to see what would happen. The first question the robot wanted an answer to was rather basic. "Who created t
By rigging a pack for Alpha, and carrying one on his back as well, the human brought thirty days of rations. The outward bound leg of the trip took four.Once there, Jyro ignored the planet itself, which amounted to little more than a giant slush ball, and ordered the shuttle to keep on going.There was a moment of excitement when the ship headed out into the darkness of space, but his hopes were dashed when the shuttle circled and headed back.The human yelled, pleaded, and argued, all to no avail. While the Hoon didn't care about Jyro, it did value the spaceship, and saw no reason to part with it.The prospector was on a leash, a rather long leash, but a leash nevertheless. * * * Because Herbert was self aware, it lacked the means to shut itself down, and had no choice but to endure the long, non-productive wait. The situation was made more frustrating by the fact that humans had programmed the Artificial Intelligence to be
The Terminator's wardroom was empty for the moment, which allowed Sophie to slip inside and admire the breathtaking view. The planet Byron hung huge against the blackness of space. With the exception of the poles, most of its surface was brown. It had very little water, and what there was flowed deep below the surface through veins in the volcanic rock.And it was there, protected from the sun's wicked rays, that the great worms spun their gossamer cocoons, "sang" their epic love songs, and manufactured their optically switched computers for which they were so justifiably famous.Among the businesses that went together to comprise Doug Douglas Enterprises was a well known "glass house", as chip based computer companies were known.That being the case, Sophie had gone to some lengths to educate herself where related technologies were concerned. Rather than create conventional computers, in which electrons follow pathways etched into tiny silicon chips
The words, translated by the computer woven into the senator's day robes, sounded only slightly stilted.Thus prompted, the spy, a minor member of the president's staff, started to talk.The information was important, extremely important, or would have been if it had been delivered five days earlier. The report tailed off, concluded with another request for funds, and finally came to an end.Though well aware of the effect the gesture had on humans, the Midvalian yawned, and the operative, who hated the sight of the wormlike organs that waved from the interior of the other being's mouth, tried not to shudder."Interesting", the politician concluded. "Very interesting, but made a good deal less valuable, since former President Doug Douglas is scheduled to land within the next standard hour or two. There will be no bonus. Fetch something more valuable next time".The use of the word "fetch" was intentional, and the meaning was clear. He
That being the case, most visitors had no choice but to don their space suits or wait for a pressurized crawler to pick them up.Doug Douglas didn't need oxygen, not much anyway, and knew his body could function in a hard vacuum - a fact that had saved his life once in the past.Sophie had no such advantage, however, and was forced to wear a navy issue space suit. It was a little too large, but not enough to matter. She sealed herself in and followed her uncle through the lock. A luggage laden autocart trailed behind.Organized chaos ruled the repellor-blackened flight deck. Space suited biological bodies rushed to deal with newly arrived ships, robot hoses nosed their way into receptacles, and two person maintenance sleds flew over their heads.A pathway that consisted of two parallel yellow lines zigzagged across the enormous deck, terminating in front of a well marked hatch. The words "Many minds but with one purpose" had been inscribed over th
Arrogant one moment and subservient the next, his assistant was a study in contrasts. He nodded, killed the holo, and took control of the conversation. "So? What, if anything, did the spooks send today?"Though not entirely comfortable with the term "spooks" as a synonym for the Hegemony's intelligence service, the staffer knew whom Six was referring to and answered accordingly. "Yes, Senator. In addition to the usual summary, we received notice that Governor Sandral Usmos departed Earth. She will arrive soon".It was an interesting piece of news, and the clone took a moment to consider the implication. The governor had timed her visit to coincide with the new session, that much was obvious, but why? To forestall the sort of military action for which the the Turr had lobbied? To buy time for her illegitimate government? Both possibilities seemed reasonable.His government remained neutral where the "Earth problem" was concerned, and so was he. Six nodded.
Xian Karrh knew he had been dismissed and was happy to go. The dinner, a formal affair scheduled for end of work the following day, was a diplomatic must. "Yes, I'll be there"."Excellent", the senator replied. "I'll see you then".A worker drone escorted Xian Karrh to the hatch. It opened, and he stepped outside. The corridor was crowded, and traffic pulled him along. Nothing had been gained, or had it? Why would the Midvalians be interested in Dodvalian planets? Didn't they have enough already?It was an interesting question, and one he would endeavor to answer. * * * The private dining room, which was just right for the intimate dinners that Maricolt Rackoon liked to host, was paneled in Vorthillian walnut.The wood gleamed from frequent oiling and matched that of the long, formally set table - most of which was obscured by what seemed like acres of white linen.The President smiled cordially as he ushered his guests into the