My Prize (3 page)

Where to put such a man to do the best good? Pulling absently on her lower lip, Alana wandered along, thinking, considering, discarding ideas.

A small data stream caught her eye and she stopped.

Daringly, she touched the screen and called up the information. She read it twice and summoned several more data-filled documents. Finally, she raised her head.

She had the answer.

Alana jumped as she realized she wasn't alone. Standing next to her was a tall man with the most unusual turquoise blue eyes. His hair was long and tied back neatly, and he was watching her fingers as they moved over the data screens.

He leaned over a little and read her information. Then he turned to her and a slow smile spread across his handsome face.

He nodded.

The Hubble Quadrant...A Different Thursday

A sparkling new TEDco Unit, Number 14/F-37c Green, or TUNG, as its users colloquially referred to it, stood in pristine glory on one side of the rather cramped quarters of Major Boralle North.

Being just one of many aboard the small star cruiser GAC 131—for Galactic Adjutant Court—Boralle had no illusions about her place in the overall scheme of things.

She was approximately ninety-seventh on the list of priority crewmembers, which meant that in case of a fatal hull blowout, she would be saved before the cat. Possibly. Given that the cat was a mech, and had cost the cook a lot of money, it would most likely get preferred treatment.

She'd come cheap. The actual amount of Interspatial Monetary Units that her salary drained from the Central Galactic Court system probably equaled their monthly budget for coffee supplies. And maybe a donut or two.

But the chance to go off-world and travel the universe, meeting new beings, working on new planets and learning about new cultures had been too great for Boralle to turn down.

Now she was a poorly paid legal clerk stuck on a ship full of blowhard bureaucrats. Oops...no, wait. That was an inaccurate statement. She was the
ranking
poorly paid legal clerk stuck on a ship full of blowhard bureaucrats.

And they expected
her
to win the Sexual Olympiad on Frallien IV, which had resulted in the addition of this monstrosity to her quarters.

She leaned back on her bunk and activated her vidviewer with the datacard that had come with the TUNG unit.

"Thank you for purchasing TEDco's most up-to-date Satisfaction Booth."

Boralle stifled a laugh.
Satisfaction Booth
? That's what they were calling it now? Well, they'd come a long way from that antique expression someone had unearthed from a thousand-or-so-year-old cache of ancient vids—Orgasmatron.

But name notwithstanding, it performed essentially the same purpose.

She resumed her vid. "
Your new TUNG unit is ready to bring you the ultimate in pleasurable experiences. You will immediately find your arousal higher than you can imagine, and the resulting cataclysmic explosion within your neurons will produce a sensation that has to be experienced to be described
."

She snorted. Yeah right.

An impossibly bosomy woman slithered into the TUNG, as naked as the day she was born. She flashed a winning smile and about twelve tons of extraordinarily white dental work at the camera.

The narrator went into great—and what seemed to Boralle to be quite lascivious—detail when it came to the placement of the probes.

She fidgeted, uncomfortable with the level of description. This was damn close to being one of those pornoviddies so beloved by the cook. And his mech cat.

Wait, it was getting a little better.

"
See how lovely Darleenni is settling herself comfortably? The seat adapts itself to the curves of her body and the probes do the same
."

The "lovely Darleenni" gave a sensual sigh and wriggled on the probes that she had just clamped to her labia with a large smile.

"
Now all Darleenni has to do is activate the unit—and behold
!"

Boralle beheld.

The unit's lights flashed rhythmically, and pulses on the various indicators showed the level of Darleenni's arousal. Within seconds, there was a flood of input from the sensors, the soft background music swelled to a crashing and resounding climax—and so did Darleenni.

The scene was overlaid with filtered images of waves pounding on the shore and fireworks exploding against a dark sky.

Boralle yawned. Just another fucking machine.

"
But wait, there's more. As a thank you gift for your order, TEDco has included a set of genuine carbomide steak knives...
"

*~*~*~*

"So how's the TUNG?" asked General Morrone.

"Haven't had a chance to try it out yet, sir," answered Boralle politely
. I would have if you hadn't buzzed me to get my ass up here in the middle of my off-shift.

"Well, I hope it's worth the extraordinary amount of money we spent on it, Major North. It's very important that we make a good showing this year. If we can't get those indicators up on those dials, we'll be a laughingstock and won't stand a chance in hell of being allowed in on the energy negotiations."

Boralle resisted the urge to roll her eyes as General Morrone launched once more into his spiel about Frallien IV.

She could practically recite it word for word.

Eons ago, scientists on Frallien IV had somehow discovered a way to harness the energy released during sexual activity. It was one of the most jealously guarded secrets in the quadrant. Their planet now existed with a relatively full power source, and the Olympiad held every fifty cycles charged up their storage tanks. Or whatever vessels they used to store such power.

However, the business itself had become mechanized some hundreds of years ago, and no longer required actual contact between the two sexes.

A variation of the technique had been adopted by early galactic explorers, and patented at great cost by the TEDco Company, thus removing the lures, temptations and incredibly explosive situations that sex in space could produce. Now, all starships were equipped with earlier—and less expensive—varieties of TUNG booths, and everyone had a very satisfactory physical outlet for their needs.

Boralle found it acceptable and logical. It never occurred to her to question it, it simply
was
.

But this year, Frallien IV was in something of a dilemma. Their eternal rivals for the gold standard at the Olympiad were the rather savage inhabitants of nearby Magus Prime. And Magus Prime, with its new and warlike leadership, had sent word that this year they intended to win.
And
they'd demand the blueprints of the Sexual Power Technology as their prize. They also made some improbable suggestions as to what Frallien IV could do with the gold statuette customarily awarded to the Olympiad victors.

The Frallien leadership had fallen into a nice snit over that particular portion of the message, having evolved into a civilization where such vulgar expressions were seldom heard and, on the rare occasion that someone dropped a hammer on his toe, were treated with disdain. Very unlike the Magans, who were known to curse fluidly and fluently whenever the mood struck them. The mood, apparently, was a violent one, because it struck the Magans on a regular basis.

In fact, the message was pretty clear.
These games are simply an excuse. We're going to get the SPT information we want, one way or another.

The Central Galactic Court caught a whiff of this threat and saw the chance to turn the situation to their advantage. If they could negotiate a peaceful settlement between Frallien IV and Magus Prime, then they would cement their presently shaky position in this quadrant as legal counselors and advisers.

They could also get
their
greedy paws on the Frallien IV SPT energy secrets and score a major coup in the Intergalactic Council by presenting it to the enrolled members, thus ensuring their position as Lawyers for the galaxy for the next few light years. And selling it to others
not
enrolled thus ensuring their bankroll for the next few light years.

Boralle clenched her teeth at the absurdity of it all.

General Morrone was winding down, reminding her of her duty, the honor of the CGC. and that she was receiving some extra off-shift time to practice with her TUNG booth.

She attempted a look of grateful respect, but his eyebrow rose and she realized she'd probably failed. Well, rass that.

She didn't care anymore. If she was going to have to come for the fleet, the hell with his feelings. He'd earned his nickname of
General Moron
, and he was living up to it now.

With a salute, she turned on her heel and left his office, not realizing that he hadn't dismissed her. Her temper was up, her spirits down, and she was in the right mood to step into that damn booth and bust every dial she could find.

On that rather militant thought, she marched down gray corridors to her quarters, stepped inside and slammed the door behind her.

The small vase she'd bought recently shivered as the harsh metal sound rattled around the room.

Boralle was no tourist shopper, and guarded her small cache of IMU's with care. But when she'd seen this odd vessel, held out for her inspection by an unusual man with turquoise blue eyes, she'd obeyed a strange urge to buy the silly thing. It was a bit whimsical really, and every now and again she stroked the rather strange-looking handle that protruded from one side.

It was decidedly phallic, but much too large to be anything like the real thing. The wood, however, was soft, and its feel seductive. She liked it. Plain and simple, she liked it. Liked touching it as she passed, stroking it now and again, and just looking at it occasionally.

It was on a small shelf next to the TUNG.

That damned satisfaction booth.

Well, mused Boralle, no time like the present. Maybe if she broke it they'd find someone else to participate in these stupid games. Of course there was no one else on board ship who was as young as she was...

She sighed, and stripped her clothes off, folding them neatly and sliding them into the recycle chute.

It was time.

*~*~*~*

The TUNG booth was more comfortable than it looked and Boralle was surprised at how well it had been designed.

Turning around, she stepped backwards into it, placing her feet onto the small steps that slid downwards a little as they accepted her weight.

There was a slight hum as the system calibrated itself to her individual bodily characteristics.

Small flashes in the surrounding hardware let Boralle know that her body was being thermally scanned, and made little tingles begin on the insides of her thighs and beneath her breasts.

She relaxed as the sensations grew stronger and she felt her nipples harden as the sensors swept over them again and again.

Obeying some instinct, she reached over to the small table and picked up her little vase. Gently, she stroked the soft wood as the TUNG began to attach its probes to various parts of her body.

The "lovely Darleenni" notwithstanding, this particular unit seemed to need no help in that area, because it unerringly found her labia and her clit on the first try.

She gasped as a soft clamp pulled her delicate tissues and attached itself gently to her flesh.

Her hand tightened on the vase and the machine began to whirr. The sensory stimulation to her breasts and nipples increased. Her common sense told her that she wasn't actually being aroused by anything terribly physical, but that the centers of her brain where such messages were received were being told that it was happening.

Nonetheless, her breasts swelled and her nipples beaded into hard points.

She groaned as the lower units registered her increased lubrication and eased themselves into the action. A gentle rocking motion against her clit made her moan again.

This time, her muscles tightened, and the ever-responsive TUNG unit altered its configuration and moved its footrests, opening her thighs to its mechanical loving. She leaned her head back, clutched her vase to her body and closed her eyes.

She felt a solid probe nudge her between her legs. It was soft, probably covered in one of those new pseudo-dermal fabrics, she guessed. A few seconds later, she stopped guessing and just started feeling.

The probe seemed to be amazingly versatile. It slid from her clit all the way down across her pussy and back again, spreading her moisture with it and heightening her sensations.

Boralle moaned as it pushed its way into her body, stretching her, filling her, and then withdrawing until she whimpered.

"Oh, please...more..." She whispered aloud, surprising herself at her need.

The gentle but insistent touches to her clit stopped for a moment, then resumed, harder this time, exciting her to the point of insanity.

The TUNG had tilted her body now, raising her legs off the floor and taking her weight for her. She was open and ready, her juices moistening her thighs and the probe that had somehow moved with the tilt of her body.

She spared a thought for the incredible engineering involved. Her brain cells were now receiving messages that a hot wet mouth was suckling on her breasts—an experience like no other she'd ever felt.

She cried out as the mouth released one nipple and moved to the other, leaving the first wet and sensitive.

The pressure on her clit continued, as did the slow and gentle invasion of her pussy by the probe, which felt a great deal larger than any she'd experienced before. The designers of this TUNG unit deserved some kind of galactic award for technological competence.

She lay there, writhing a little, groaning a lot, and thankful that the crew quarters were soundproof.

The imaginary mouth continued its caresses to her breasts, suckling, nibbling, licking and tugging until she was ready to come just from that stimulation alone.

Bright flashes of light flickered behind her eyelids, but she couldn't have raised them to save her life. Her thighs were spreading of their own accord now, and the TUNG unit was generating impressions of hard hips tight up against her as the probe slid deeper into her body.