Key to Survival

Chapter 3 Red

He lived with Flame in a cottage in an isolated nonChroma zone far from anywhere. That guaranteed privacy, and Flame preferred it. She of course could conjure herself to Triumph City or anywhere else for company, so was hardly lonely, and Fifth wasn't ever lonely when with her.

Fifth returned from his visit to the Black Chroma Zone to find Flame waiting for him. He needed to immerse himself in the Black Chroma so as to refresh his nature. Otherwise his pure black color would slowly fade and he would lose his magic. He had Chroma stones, of course, but they were for emergency use.

He entered the cottage to find Flame standing just within the parlor, nude. She was lean and muscular, with small breasts and buttocks: just the way he liked her. Her most obviously feminine trait was her glorious red hair that cascaded from her head to her knees like a soft cloak. That was a signal: normally she wore it bound or braided. When she let it loose, she wanted love, sex, or some intense combination.

In a moment he was out of his clothing and clasping her closely. She could knock him out with a twitch of her body, but she preferred to have him take the initiative. He kissed her passionately, then swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom and the bed. He flung her down, landed on top of her, fixed his mouth to hers, and penetrated her in seconds. In a few more seconds he was jetting into her with all the backed-up passion of a week's separation. Her climax matched his; she was a Glamor, highly sexual, and able to have an orgasm as rapidly as any man. Unlike him, she could do it almost continuously, but this time once sufficed.

They lay together, clasped, savoring each other. "Love," he said belatedly.

"Echo."

That encouraged him. He loved her completely, and longed to marry her. But he was a mere mortal man, while she was a Glamor. It was a presumption just to entertain the notion. "Flame, you know what I want, and not just because you can read my mind. If I were to ask you—"

She laid a finger on his lips. "Negation at this time. But I have been thinking about it."

He did not know what this portended. If there was anyone who knew her own mind, it was Flame. Was she trying to let him down gently?

"Negation," she repeated, kissing him. "I do love you, Fifth, and find you a good man, and not just because you truly like my form. But there is a constraint."

Was there hope? "Question."

"Turn over."

He rolled over onto his belly. She bestrode him, her thighs outside his buttocks, her hands competently massaging his arms, shoulders, neck, and back. He loved the touching, but also understood that she did not want him trying to change the subject by stimulating her to further sex. She had something serious to say to him.

"We have been together five years," she said. "Mother sent you to me."

He remembered. How could he ever forget? Queen Gale had taken him for no-fault sex. She had been twice his age and full fleshed, not at all his type of woman despite her beauty and power, but she had made him deliriously happy in bed. He remembered the time she had emulated Flame, becoming lean-bodied, completely thrilling him.

That, he realized subsequently, had been why she sent him to her daughter: she had ascertained his preference, and acted on the knowledge. He still had a lingering crush on Gale, partly for the generosity with which she had treated him. She was a woman among women. And of course she had set him up with Flame, who was in reality what Gale had only emulated.

"Agreement," Flame murmured.

He was not embarrassed. He was long since accustomed to the way she read his mind, and would have wanted no secrets from her regardless. She knew that his passion for her was genuine.

"There is the problem," she said. "Is your love real?"

"Protest!" he said, horrified.

"Explanation: you love my form, but that is superficial. A serious relationship depends on more than form. Suppose there were another woman like me?"

"Negation. There is no other woman like you!" he exclaimed.

Her sure hands moved down his back and tackled his buttocks as she slid her body toward his feet.

"Supposition: if there were?"

"I love you. I know you. Why should I stray?"

"You believe that. But you have not been tested."

"Confusion." What was she getting at? "I want to be sure of you, Fifth. To know that another woman like me could not win you away."

"Another Amazon? I have no interest."

"But if you had interest."

"Beseeching," he said.

"Do not torture me with your doubt. You are all I want."

"You believe that now. But you can't know without additional experience."

"I don't want it."

"Deal: have month-long no fault sexual and social affairs with three other women I select. If you return to me thereafter, I will propose marriage to you."

"I don't need to—"

"You do. Deal."

She was determined. He hated this, but if it was the way to win her, he would have to do it.

"Deal," he agreed reluctantly. "Meanwhile I will prepare for the coming war with the machines. There will just be time before the culmination."

"How can you know? You can't see that far ahead."

"I consulted with Voila, and Idyll, and Mino. They can see the future paths farther and more clearly than I can. There is time. Also, Gale has made a deal with a plant culture that enables us to triple our future paths seeing efficiency. But we must begin immediately."

"I must endure the caresses of another woman—tomorrow?" he asked, appalled.

"Today."

"Dismay!"

"You must give her your full attention, withholding nothing. You must love her to the extent you are able. She will be more than competent in such a relationship."

"Must I hide from her my horror of the relationship?"

"Negation. You can't hide anything from her."

He was sickly resigned. What a price she was putting on her commitment! "Who?"

"The Red Glamor."

He stiffened with apprehension. "She will read my mind and be furious."

"She has agreed. She will treat you kindly."

"And if I survive her, who else?"

"She will take you to the next, when her month is done." He shook his head, hating this. "Before I go to her, may I have you one more time?"

"Negation," another voice replied. "You are already mine, you black beauty." Her hands slid into the crevice of his buttocks and tickled his scrotum.

"Red!" he exclaimed, turning over.

"And my domain," she agreed.

Now he saw that he was no longer in Flame's bedroom in the cottage. He was in a strange room, surely in a strange house. "Where?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"My niche on Counter Charm. You can't escape."

And not just because of the location. He was truly in her power. "You know this was not my idea."

"Confirmation. It was mine." Her hands slid up his legs and stroked his penis, which stiffened immediately.

"Yours!" He had thought he was beyond surprise.

She moved up and bestrode his crotch, so that his black erection nudged her red cleft. "You are a handsome, talented, decent mortal man. I have had a fancy for you ever since you came on the scene."

"So you talked Flame into letting you have at me—in the name of testing my fidelity to her?"

"Affirmation." She took renewed hold of his penis.

"Unfair!" he protested.

"Question: what can you do about it?"

"I can refuse to—" He broke off, for as he spoke, she poked his member into her ready vagina.

"Yes?" she inquired softly.

"At least I can stop myself from—"

"Really?" Her channel expertly squeezed his member.

"Uh—" But he could not continue, as he was overtaken by an unstoppable orgasm. His member ejaculated into her with powerful surges, continuing long after what he thought was his limit.

"You're enhancing me!" he cried accusingly.

"Smart boy," she agreed smugly.

"You're using me."

"Affirmation."

"At least now it's done."

"Negation." Her channel squeezed his member peristaltically, evoking new sensation amidst the exhausted mass.

"You can't!" he cried desperately.

"I can." She drew him deeper into her, seeming to have suction, and his member swelled involuntarily. She was the Glamor of four-legged creatures, which included human beings, and she had special powers over their flesh. But this summoning was becoming painful.

"Request."

She paused. "Speak."

"Let me rest."

"Exchange."

"Question?"

"You are fighting me. This is not a valid process. You need to return to Flame because you truly love her after experiencing what other women have to offer, not because you fought those other women off. You must make an honest effort to love me, this month."

"But that would make me false to Flame!"

Her vagina resumed its manipulation of his penis. "Negation. She wants you to make that effort."

He tried to hold out, but she worked him up and uncomfortably soon extracted another orgasm from him. It left him gasping, as if he had run his limit and collapsed, and his member felt numb.

But still she did not release him. She started yet again. It felt as though she were dragging his member out by the root and grinding it into squishy pulp. He was helpless to stop it.

"Begging!" he gasped.

She paused again. "Reconsider."

"You are torturing me."

The process resumed. "Regret. Necessity."

"Reconsidering!" He took several breaths as her pause held him over the gulf, about to resume.

"It is no fault sex. I can do that with enthusiasm."

"Insufficient." She drew on him.

"What do you want?" he cried.

"Repetition: love me, no fault."

He realized that Flame must have known what Red would do, and approved. It was to be a real test of his love. He hated it, but had to do it. "Acceptance," he said brokenly.

Then at last she let him go, lifting herself off him. He felt wetness on his face and realized he was crying. Oh, Flame, you have put me into Hell.

"Negation," Red said, lying beside him, lifting his head and setting it between her breasts. "You fought well.

You can't defeat a Glamor." She pressed his wet face into her bosom.

Fifth couldn't help it. He wept into her ample cleavage, finding comfort therein. Red held him gently close until he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

He did not know how long he slept, but when he woke she was still there beside him, still cradling his head in the manner of a mother. Actually she was centuries old, vastly over qualified to be a mother.

"Or a lover," she agreed. She rearranged him and kissed him. "This time sex is optional."

"Appreciation." He kissed her back—and found her delightful. She was Woman Incarnate, perfect in form and understanding. "Love," he said, surprised.

"Exaggeration. But thank you."

Now he discovered his member responding. "Desire."

"Returned," she said.

He kissed her and stroked her, finding her full fleshed body to be highly evocative. He had always preferred the most slender women, but now he appreciated her fuller splendor. They proceeded in unhurried manner until he entered her of his own volition and spent within her without being magically evoked. "Delight," he said, relaxing.

"Returned."

"Acknowledged."

They lay beside each other for a while. "Apology," she said.

"Question?"

"For forcing you. I will not do it again."

"Conjecture: maybe it was for the best. I do need to experience other women, and I can't be sure it's not Flame's Glamor nature that attracts me unless I am with other Glamors. So I proffer appreciation for your participation."

"You're sweet," she said, kissing him again. "Naive, but sweet."

"Surely you will cure me of that," he said wryly.

"Agreement." She sighed. "It has been fun, and will be fun again, but now we have work to do."

He smiled. "What, no more sex?"

"Do you wish it?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then to work." She got up, dressing so efficiently that it seemed the clothing formed around her of its own volition.

He discovered his own clothing beside the bed, where it must have been transported along with his body. He found the lavatory, washed, and dressed. He emerged—and paused. "Confusion."

For there before him was a Gray Chroma woman, well formed but on the plump side. Her lustrous gray hair extended to her ankles in thick waves.

She saw him and smiled. "I am Stevia, very sweet. I am the Red Glamor's alternative form, when she prefers to be anonymous. Which is most of the time. You will find me harder to seduce."

"Denial! I am not trying to seduce you."

She approached him, her hair flaring more widely. "Then perhaps I will seduce you."

He stepped back. "Wouldn't that make me untrue to Red? This month I belong to her."

"Not in no fault." Now her hair actually extended toward him as if to enfold him.

"Is this no fault?"

"Negation," she said, smiling.

"Am I to work with you?"

"Affirmation." Now he remembered: he had seen Stevia on occasion when with Flame.

He simply hadn't made the connection. "Tell me what to do."

"Background: Gale—I believe you know her—recently traveled to a world of sapient plants, and obtained much information. But it is unorganized. We must organize it."

"Ignorance."

"The information is in the form of alien mental capsules designed for ready assimilation. We, being new to intercultural contact, find it to be not all that ready. So we must digest it somewhat, to make it available for the Glamors who will do the work. Black, Blue, Green, Air, Translucent, Yellow, White, Brown, Silver, Gray, Orange, and of course the more recent cluster of nonChroma. Most will remain in the background, but their work is vital."

"Observation: if Glamors have trouble handling it, I, a mortal, will hardly be of much help."

"Negation. There is detail work involved that you should be competent for."

He shrugged. "I will do my best."

She touched his hand, and a faint but evocative electric tingle passed through it. "Appreciation."

She got up and went to a cupboard he hadn't noticed before. She brought back a large pad of paper and a marker.

"You will make notes."

He smiled. "This is within my backwoods village technology." Then he realized. "By no coincidence."

"You will also classify." She indicated a table and chair he also had not noticed before, and suspected they had just been conjured. "Sit."

"Question?" But he did sit at the table, holding the marker over the pad.

"These species are of every living type. Gale encountered a plant culture. She or Havoc will likely handle other plant cultures. Red will handle six legged animal cultures. Deva—she's Yellow—will handle fish cultures. Et cetera. You will formulate lists of types that will serve as a general guide. If you are not sure, use question marks. This will be rather general at first."

"Willing. But surely Red would be far more competent to make these distinctions."

"Red will be otherwise occupied."

"Then I will make the effort. But from what am I to judge? I am not good at alien mental capsules that confuse even Glamors."

She leaned forward, showing a fair amount of gray cleavage. Her hair whipped forth a gray tress, looped his head, and drew him in to her face. She kissed him and let him go. "Cute man."

Fifth fought to keep a straight face. That trick with the hair was something, as was the exposed curvature of her bosom, and so was the kiss, charged with the same tingle as her hands. She was flirting with him, and becoming more interesting by the minute. The Red Glamor had forcefully seduced him, but evidently was far from through with him; now her alternate form was starting over. "Show me how."

"Practice example." She closed her eyes, concentrating.

There was a swirl of color above the table. It coalesced to form an illusionary picture of a lean young woman with flaming red hair, standing before a cottage in a glade. A small gust of wind riffled her hair.

"Flame!" he exclaimed gladly.

"I am only an image, Fifth," she responded, meeting his gaze. "Classify me."

Oh. Disappointed, he made a note on the pad.

TYPE: Animal.

LEGS: 4.

HABITAT: Land.

CHROMA: nonChroma.

The Flame image looked down. "Better add sexuality," she said. "It can make a difference."

He added SEX: bi. That meant that her species had two sexes. "I hope we can practice it soon."

"Concurrence," she said, smiling, and faded out.

He looked at Stevia. "Impressive."

"Crafted example. The others are more difficult."

"I think I have the idea."

She concentrated again. This time a large green plant formed, in a forest of plants, with a single huge flower on the ground.

TYPE: plant, he wrote.

LEGS: 8?. For that was the definition of plants, which typically had eight major roots. But alien plants might be different.

HABITAT: Land.

CHROMA: nonChroma?

SEX: Bi. Though both might be in the same individual.

The plant extended a tendril toward him. He reached with his left hand to touch it. "We communicate via touch," it said in his mind. "And deliver information via sex."

"Question?" he asked, surprised in more than one way.

"Via packages of spores containing concentrated data."

Oh. He added a category.

COMMUNICATION: Touch, Sex.

"Appreciation." The tendril withdrew, and the picture faded.

He looked at Stevia. "Amazement."

"That is the culture Gale visited. They delivered a major package of informational spores to her, and this is what she relayed to me."

"All these animated pictures—via spores from a plant?"

"Affirmation."

"Question. If the spores are sexually transmitted, how did she obtain them?"

"I will recreate the scene, from what she told me." Stevia concentrated again, and the picture re-formed. This time a quite beautiful nude human woman was stepping onto the flower.

"Gale!"

Gale squatted over the flower's central stamen. She set her cleft over it, drew her nether lips wide open with her hands, and carefully worked the bulbous head of the stamen into her genital opening. The distension it required would have been painful for an ordinary woman, but she was a Glamor. When the whole of the anther had been taken in, leaving only the stout supportive column, she extended her legs and sat on the petals, with the bulb deep inside her torso. In a moment the flower quivered, and her body shifted slightly, as if something more was entering it. Her face assumed an expression of wonder and rapture, as of a marvelous sexual climax. Then the scene faded.

Fifth, who had once been Gale's no fault lover, was left with a painful erection. He was in one sense repulsed by what he had seen, but in another sense powerfully turned on.

Stevia looked at him. "Question?"

There was no point in even trying to deceive her. "Urgency." She pretended confusion. "Of what nature?"

He knew what she wanted, and it burst out of him. "Stevia, I know you are Red. I am supposed to love other women, so this form of yours is part of the process. I can love you without being false to Red. Certainly I can share sex with you. Please." He tore off his clothing and stood bare and erect.

She smiled. "A magic word." She came to him, her clothing dissolving. Her hair flared phenomenally to wrap around him, enclosing him in a soft cocoon. She wrapped her arms around his torso as they seemed to float in air. Her gray cleft seemed to catch the tip of his rigid penis, holding it at the brink of her hot slick aperture. "Do it."

Given that leave, he thrust violently, penetrating to full depth and spurting instantly as she braced and squeezed against him. He sent pulse after pulse into her before the edge softened. "Appreciation!" he gasped.

"Welcome."

They were drifting embraced within her ambiance of hair. He was done, but she did not let him go. He knew what that meant. "More?"

"You had your turn. Now give me my turn."

And of course he had to. Glamor women could climax as fast as men did, but did not always choose to. She had elected to make this a double session: first him then her. Considering his excruciating urgency, he truly appreciated her gesture.

He kissed her and squeezed her ample buttocks. She shifted her torso against his, so that her full breasts stroked his chest. Tendrils of her prehensile hair writhed in the crevice of his buttocks and insinuated their way into his anus.

That somehow reminded him again of the picture he had just seen, of Gale taking in the huge stamen, receiving its informational orgasm. That stimulated him powerfully, and his member swelled within her. Still, it was slow, for he had spent all he had in the prior effort.

"Satisfactory," she murmured, as her vulva kneaded his member. He was relieved that there was no hurry.

Thus, slowly, pleasantly, they worked up to her orgasm, which carried his along with it. He was privately bemused by the way her ample body encouraged his; there were indeed delights to be had with full-fleshed women.

"Pleasure," he said as they both subsided.

"Confession."

Uh-oh. "You showed that plant-sex scene on purpose!" he said. "To work me up."

"I am a lusty women, in any guise. It has been long since I've had a fit young mortal man to play with."

"Long?"

"A week."

He had to laugh. She was lusty indeed.

Her hair unwound, depositing him on the floor. He went to wash up again, as the juices of their couplings were on him. He was discovering that the Red Glamor really was fun in her fashion, demanding as it was. But he couldn't forget that she was really over 250 years old.

In due course they resumed work at the table, categorizing assorted alien species. They were of all types, and some were utterly strange, but rough classification was possible. His penciled notes overflowed the first page, and the second, and the third, but the work was getting done.

There was a picture of a snail-like alien creature, that slid rapidly along the smooth surface of its habitat.

TYPE: animal.

LEGS: One.

HABITAT: Land.

CHROMA: It seemed to be multi-Chromatic. Evidently that was possible, in this framework.

SEX: Unisexual.

COMMUNICATION: Light signals from antenna.

The picture itself provided much detail; evidently it had been crafted for this purpose, a spot introduction intended for clarification before cultures that were alien to it, as the human culture was.

Another was wheeled. Not a single wheel for traveling, but wheels everywhere, spinning independently like the workings of a large complicated clock. The wheels seemed to be made of bones or chitin. It wasn't clear what powered them, as they did not seem to be geared.

Two wheels clashed, emitting sparks. The sparks lingered, forming patterns in the air. On a hunch, Fifth put out his hand to touch the image. The motion paused, then resumed. "Greeting, beholder."

Then illusion image had oriented on his nature, through the contact, and was addressing him directly.

"Returned," he said.

"We are the Sparklers," the thing said, making a small explosion of sparks. "Vegetable, land-dwelling, no-legged, trisexual, communicating via spark patterns. We enlist your participation in the League."

The picture faded as Fifth scribbled classification notes. They continued with the next, and the next. It was going well.

Still, he was getting tired. "Progress?" he inquired as he completed the fourth page, with about 40 species total.

"We will overflow that pad," Stevia said. "There are thousands. I am selecting only those in our general sector of the galaxy, but we will be busy the full month."

"Commitment," he said with resignation.

"Bored already?"

"Negation."

"Try again."

"Clarification: the work is fascinating, but there are so many cultures that they are blending together in my memory, and I am tiring."

"Then it must be time for another entertainment break."

"Agreement," he said, for once more than ready for sex. He needed a change from this important but mind-numbingly detailed listing.

"My alternate is growing impatient," Stevia said. "I have had you too long. But I don't want to give you up."

"Your alter egos compete with each other?" he asked, marveling.

"We do. Each is a fully developed personality, with privileges and urges of her own. I will have to yield you to her, as I have had my bout of sex and it is her turn, but I will spoil you for her."

"Question?" he asked uneasily.

"Reassurance. This will be painless for you."

"Appreciation."

"Information: in the past, it was impossible for a Glamor to have sex with a knowing mortal."

"Question?" He had heard something of the kind, but assumed it was a confusion.

"Only if the mortal was unknowing could it be accomplished. That is, I could have sex with you if you did not know my origin, but Red could not. This was in fact much of the origin of my identity: not only for privacy, but to enable me to have a varied and continuing sexual experience. For example, I used it to seduce Havoc, when he was mortal."

"Interest." Fifth knew little of the king's mortal origin.

"As Red I could tempt him cruelly, but the more likely sex became, the less possible it was. Then when Havoc turned Glamor himself, he could no longer seduce innocent maidens, unless he employed the guise of Hayseed the Minstrel, a mortal semblance. Some of those maidens were eager to accommodate him, but could not."

"Question?"

"It was a literal repulsion. One maiden tried to mount him as he lay supine, but she floated above him, unable to touch him. She was most annoyed." Fifth laughed. "Havoc too, surely."

"Agreement."

"I do not wish to offend you," Fifth said carefully. "But—doubt."

"Then it is time for a demonstration. Requirement: close your eyes and believe what I have told you: that a knowing mortal was repulsed. Assume the place of such a mortal."

"Effort," he agreed, closing his eyes and schooling himself to believe. It was actually easier now that he had twice accepted the Red Glamor, once in each guise, as a person worthy of love.

"The bitch!"

He opened his eyes. There stood Red, gloriously nude. She was perfectly formed and thinner than Stevia, and that attracted him more. "Question?"

"Come love me, believer."

"Gladly." He stepped up to her, his arms reaching to embrace her.

He stopped, startled. His arms would not touch her. Neither would his body. There seemed to be an invisible barrier. "This way." She went to the bedroom and lay down on her back. "Mount me."

He did so, his penis eager. In fact he practically threw himself on her.

And did not land. He floated over her, not quite touching. "Amazement!"

"So it was," Red agreed. "We were all highly frustrated."

He slid to the side and lay on the bed next to her. "But there was no such effect with us before."

"Explanation: it was both physical and psychological. Physical on the part of the mortal, male or female, psychological on the part of the Glamor. Because we believed that sex was impossible, our magic formed the barrier, thwarting our conscious efforts. Once we realized that the problem was in us, it abated, and we have had no trouble since."

"But Stevia told me to believe."

"Diversion. The source of the repulsion is me."

"Can you end it?"

"Do you wish me to?"

"Affirmation!"

"Nice word. Done. Leap on me again." She meant it literally.

He did so, and this time landed, not concerned about hurting her because he knew he could not.

In fact her softly impervious breasts and belly cushioned his fall. They were immediately in the throes of it, proceeding to a swift and mutual culmination.

"Appreciation," he gasped.

"For the repulsion demonstration?" she asked mischievously.

He kissed her violently, no longer reticent about showing wild passion. Not only was she able to handle it, she enjoyed it. He was pleasuring her as much by his enthusiasm as by sex, the latter being thoroughly, perhaps boringly, familiar to her. "That too."

"You are learning."

Then they laughed together. Now he understood that she, too, got fatigued by the endless information they were classifying, and needed breaks from it for refreshing her vigor. That was why she had chosen to work with a malleable young man. His newness to her sexual ploys surely re-invigorated them for her.

They did not return to alien classification that evening. Instead Stevia—it seemed that the act of sex with one of her aspects returned him to the other—treated him to a wonderful banquet and more commentary relating to scandalous activities of other Glamors. She was a natural gossip. He hated to admit it, but he was fascinated.

Then she ushered him to bed, but this time did not hurry him to sex. He knew why: that would end her tenure with him, and it seemed she wanted to prolong it. This competition between the two aspects was itself a fascinating thing.

"Morning?" he inquired.

"Appreciation." She clasped him without sex, and slept, or seemed to. Fifth knew from his experience with Flame that Glamors could do without sleep if they needed to, but otherwise indulged in it normally.

In the morning, waking with a nocturnal erection, he found her facing away from him, asleep. He touched her, and she did not stir, though he was sure she was awake. He stroked her, and finally entered her from behind, slowly, so as not to disturb her. Her channel was marvelously warm and slick. There was something special about doing it this way, with a supposedly sleeping woman.

Then her buttocks closed on him, and she bucked back and forth, bringing him off. "Gotcha," she said.

"Got me," he agreed, jetting copiously. She had been playing another little game. He had half suspected it.

When they were done, she turned and kissed him. "Until next time," she said.

Then it was Red. For a moment he was afraid she would demand immediate sex, but she too wanted time with him.

"We have work to do," she said briskly. She soon had him cleaned, dressed, breakfasted, and back at the table with the pad.

They worked all day, with occasional breaks for meals and sex. Fifth lost track of which variant of the Glamor he was with; both were attentive, and a lot of fun in their diversions. They did not confine themselves to conventional sex; he soon learned variations that made him realize that Flame was relatively straight-laced. Still, it was Flame he loved; Red was alternate experience, not true romance.

Then something happened. They were detailing a tentacular alien, something like a squid in a shallow sea. It seemed purely routine. The creature extended a tentacle.

Fifth touched its tip. He felt a tingle, then the input of a neural signal. This was a special kind of communication. He focused on it, feeling the translation of the impulses.

"Human culture, a message for you. Keep the secret."

Fifth glanced at Red. "Grant privacy?" he asked.

"Best," she agreed. "This is different."

He returned to the squid. "Secret," he agreed.

"Make no recording. Bury it in your mind. Tell only the one who is concerned."

"There are two of us here," Fifth said, uncertain how much an illusion image could grasp. The communication was to him alone, but Red was reading his mind. "We both agree, to the best of our ability."

"Three cautions. First, the machines have spies in the realms of the living cultures. Some are in yours. These must be found and routed out. If all are caught, the chances of living cultures survival rise to fifty percent."

"We will tell our leader," Fifth said, shaken, for this revelation had the ring of authority.

"Second, the machines have a number of recruitment targets. I am second on their list. A member of the human culture is first."

"First among what cultures?" Fifth asked, shaken again. "In what area?"

"First in the galaxy. The machines will yield almost anything to achieve her cooperation."

"Her?"

"The female of your species. She can ascertain the near future. They ascertain the far future. Together, they can conquer the galaxy much faster, with less loss of resources. But if she joins them, the rest of us are doomed."

"Voila!" Red breathed.

"Third, the machines are sending an emissary to your culture. A robot. Her purpose is to persuade your leader to yield that female to the machines. She will be extremely persuasive.

"She?" Fifth asked, stunned again by the identification of gender. "A machine?"

"A robot crafted to resemble an esthetic human female. Be warned."

Fifth nodded. "We are warned."

Then the image faded. It was after all only an evoked recording, though its hidden message was astonishing.

Fifth and Red were left staring at each other. What had they stumbled into?

"Break," Red said.

"I think I am too shaken for sex at the moment."

"Fake it." She led him to the bedroom.

Soon they were clasping, but for once her evocative touch was not arousing him. "I can't."

She turned him to lie on his back, lifted his limp member and squeezed it into her as she lay on him. She kissed him. We may be observed, she thought.

Oh. So they would not discuss the matter verbally. What must we do?

We must finish our job of classification as if nothing happened. Next month you will go to Voila for the second stage of your romantic testing. You will embrace her and pass the warnings along. Then it will be in her hands.

But he was unsatisfied with this. It will be most of a month before I go to her. Actually he had not known until this time that Voila was his next stop. He wasn't easy about it, but knew he had no choice.

We can't wait; the machines might act in the interim.

She kissed him as if gaining passion. True. We shall have to notify her now.

How?

A soft hand touched his shoulder. I am here. It was Voila; somehow her touch conveyed her identity.

But he saw nothing. Then he realized that she was invisible. Glamors could do that when they chose. Red must have signaled her telepathically. No one was supposed to know she was here.

He continued kissing Red. He reviewed the recent contact in his mind, making it easy for Voila to read.

Appreciation. Until next month. And Voila's presence was gone.

They remained clasped, and after a while Fifth was able to recover enough sexual appetite to complete the act they had been faking. But he remained disturbed. It didn't help him to know that Red was similarly disturbed.

The attack of the machines was effectively already upon them. It was far more dangerous than they had anticipated. A hidden spy? Voila targeted for recruitment? A humanoid robot sent to corrupt King Havoc?

Mankind was in trouble. So was the rest of the living-culture galaxy.