Key to Survival

Chapter 20 Impersonation

Weft, Havoc thought to his daughter. At the elevator.

Concurrence, she thought.

Weft and Ikon stepped onto the elevator, and it trundled slowly up toward the royal suites.

Havoc conjured himself into it as Weft conjured Ikon out. Havoc was now impersonating the robot. It was not hard to do, because Ikon had been crafted in Havoc's image and manner.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and the two occupants got out. They entered Ennui's office.

Ennui looked up. "Weft, there is a message for you from the machines."

Weft evinced surprise, though Voila and Idyll had seen this coming. It was a significant nexus. "Question?"

"A tour of their worlds. Ikon will guide you."

"Me? Why not dad, or sis?"

Ennui played her part perfectly. "The machines do not confide their strategy to me. Evidently they believe you have the kind of influence they desire."

Havoc spoke, as Ikon. "I am not programmed for this."

"They sent an itinerary," Ennui said. "The wormholes are aligned for these worlds. There will surely be guides."

Havoc shrugged. "So I am merely Weft's traveling companion, of no other significance."

"Affirmation," Weft said, spanking his rear. "I will need a man to stave off the boredom."

"Are you ready?" Ennui inquired.

"Qualification: so long as the first stop's a vacation resort with a hot tub."

"It seems it is."

"And not in a moral village."

They all laughed at that. But Weft had an objection: "I'm not going anywhere without my ikon, and I don't mean the robot. And I don't want it carried by a machine in machine territory. They could take him over and have it just like that."

Havoc, as Ikon, looked pained, but was silent. It was her decision.

"Iolo ifrit?" Ennui asked.

Weft pondered briefly. "Okay."

Soon Iolo arrived, as the six legged dog. This little scene was necessary because the real Havoc could not carry anyone's ikon. The ifrit would carry them both.

Then Weft took Havoc's hand and Iolo's paw and conjured them all to the programmed destination.

Havoc, as Ikon, could not conjure himself.

It was indeed a resort. Not just the site, but seemingly the whole planet. They stood on a plaza on a high mountain overlooking a lovely forest and lake. The air was fresh and sweet, and the temperature was comfortable.

A robot garbed as an ancient Earth bellboy approached. "Welcome to Resort World," it said in somewhat halting speech. Either the sophisticated humanoid robots were rare, or this was meant to be obvious. "Do you wish a guide to our pleasures?"

Havoc exchanged a glance with Weft. Maybe that was best. "Affirmation."

"Humanoid or other?"

This thing will volunteer to be our guide, Weft thought. Nix on it.

"Alive," Havoc said. "Weft doesn't need any other machines in her way." As Ikon he was protecting his territory. The machines would understand that. "Then you will need a translation unit." The robot produced two small boxes hung on light chains.

They put on the boxes. It was a reasonable request.

The robot pressed a button. An ostrich-like bird approached. It squawked. "Yes?" the voice box hung around its long neck inquired.

"These are tourists from the human culture who wish a guide."

"Welcome," the bird said.

The robot turned to Weft. "Is this satisfactory?"

Because they think you're a robot, she thought. I'm the real live human they wish to impress. But I think the ostrich believes you to be alive; the machines are concealing your nature. Then, to the bird: "Affirmation. Who are you?"

The robot faded back, its job done. "I am a tourist from Culture Ostrich." The bird paused momentarily. "The translation will render it into the closest approximation to one of your more familiar creatures."

"It did," Havoc agreed. "I am Ikon, this is Weft, and this is Iolo, our pet ifrit."

"A non-sapient associate?" Ostrich asked.

"Affirmation," Weft said, stroking Iolo's back. "He has his talents, and serves to guard us from molestation. He is friendly as long as nothing threatens us."

Ostrich squatted with knees that bent backwards and focused on Iolo. He proffered a wing for the animal to sniff.

"A greeting, Iolo. Will you protect me too, while I show your associates around the planet?"

Nice touch, Havoc thought. Then, to Iolo: Accept the overture.

Iolo wagged his tail. "That means affirmation," Weft said.

Ostrich straightened up. "We have similar associates. They are not sapient, but are sentient, and we value them."

Weft patted Iolo on the head. "He says you're aware but not smart," she told him affectionately. "Accurately enough. Good thing you don't understand."

Iolo wagged his tail again, responding to her manner. If I did, I'd chomp your lovely ass, he thought. For of course the ifrit had full human intelligence. He was mainly Voila's friend, but got along well enough with her siblings.

"But if you're a tourist," Havoc asked Ostrich, "why are you serving this dull duty?"

"My tourist time expired, and I wished to stay longer. This is the mechanism. I may remain as long as I am useful, and actually I am a sociable creature, so it's no burden."

"Understanding," Havoc said.

"I am reasonably familiar with the features of this world, and the mechanisms of transport," Ostrich said. "I can reach a robot quickly if there is need."

As if the machines weren't constantly observing every aspect of what went on here. But of course the forms would be honored, summoning a robot for assistance as if that were necessary.

"Give us the standard tour," Weft said.

"I will. Do you wish to meet or avoid other tourists?"

This was interesting. "Meet," Havoc said.

"This way, then. We will join a tour group. We can separate from it at any time you wish."

The group was boarding a floater. It consisted of assorted alien creatures, some doglike, some catlike, some piglike, goatlike, bearlike, and some not quite parallel to anything Havoc was familiar with. All were standing on the floor with two or more legs, all were breathing air, and they were of approximately human size.

A doglike one gazed at Iolo, but Iolo shrank behind Weft as if nervous. "Sub-sapient," Weft said in explanation.

The doglike creature turned away, perhaps embarrassed.

"This world is dedicated to a particular type of living creature," Ostrich said. "Sapient bi-gendered warm-bodied land walkers breathing oxygenated gas in a certain gravity and temperature range, utilizing primarily visual and sonic perception and communication, reproducing via sexual congress. Other tourist worlds handle other types. Do you wish to converse with others?"

"Affirmation," Weft said rebelliously. She faced the group. "Greeting. I am Weft, a human being, in the company of a man I am interested in, and a pet animal. The machines invited me here as part of their effort to persuade me to grant them something they want. But I don't like or trust the machines. Why are the rest of you here?"

Havoc, as Ikon, winced openly, but did not speak. Of course the machines were picking up on everything that happened here. She was playing a dangerous game. But she knew she could get away with it, via the near future paths.

A goat bleated. "Bravo!" his translator said. "I agree precisely. But I want to survive, myself and my culture, and the machines have overwhelming force and lack conscience. So we must consider dealing, though it smells of spoiled silage."

"Agreement," a pig snorted. "We have rooted assiduously, but have been unable to find a weakness in the enemy. Faced with a choice between cooperation and obliteration, we must reluctantly consider the former, though it tastes of swine manure."

The others indicated agreement. Havoc realized that the machines didn't care what the tourists said, knowing that any dialogue would most likely reinforce the grim alternatives. All of them were in the same situation. The tourists did not have to like the choices, just recognize them.

The floater moved rapidly across the landscape, and soon came to a magnificent mountain featuring a grand bright waterfall. White vapor wafted up from its base and passed them in warm clouds. It smelled faintly sweet. "This is named Mating Falls," a speaker on the floater rail said. "There are chambers behind it where couples can pause for a time. The fumes bear assorted facilitating pheromones."

The machines weren't even being subtle. They were using the sexual element to soften up their targets.

"Let's do it, Ikon," Weft said enthusiastically.

"Needless," Havoc said. "We don't want to interrupt the tour."

But it seemed that the other tourists were all couples, and were affected by the fumes. They elected to accept the pause. Havoc felt the urge, but had to pretend he didn't, because it would not have affected a robot. No—he had to emulate a robot emulating a living man, so should after all act turned on. The true Ikon liked sex as well as any living man, as his session with Gale, Monochrome, and Shee had demonstrated. So Havoc patted Weft's pert bottom, giving the lie to his demurral.

The floater moved behind the falling sheet of water and nudged to a landing slot. The tourists walked off and sought separate chambers. Weft dragged Havoc to one. As a Glamor she could have resisted the impact of the pheromones, but as a woman who had loved him desperately all her life she regarded this as an opportunity.

It turned out to be a well appointed room, with a lockable door, bed, toilet annex, and a display of assorted foods: vegetables, roots, seeds, hay, pine needles, and lumps of mottled odoriferous substance. "I wonder what creature eats that?" Havoc remarked. As a robot he would not need to eat, so he did not try it himself.

Weft picked up a chunk and nibbled. "Oops—it's an arousal aid. Really turns me on." She dropped it and came to embrace him. "Let's get it on, Ikon." She began to work on his clothing. "Iolo, why don't you diffuse and guard our privacy?"

The ifrit started to vaporize.

I'm not the expletive robot! Havoc reminded her.

The machines don't know that. They know that Weft and Ikon are having an affair.

"That's just enhanced protein," Havoc said aloud.

"As if I need a pretext." She got his shirt off and started on the trousers. "Now show some interest, or I might get the notion your programming has been corrupted."

She was teasing him cruelly. If she bared his member and it wasn't erect, the spying machines would know something was amiss, and investigate.

Meanwhile Iolo was sublimating, and was practically gone as a solid creature. His vapor was spreading throughout the chamber and leaking out beyond it.

And you're not Weft, Havoc thought. You're the Red Glamor impersonating her.

Oh, you promised not to tell! She loosened his trousers and reached in to make sure he would be erect before showing his member. Her hand grasped it and kneaded it expertly, forcing a swift response.

"You make a persuasive case," he said as his trousers and undershorts dropped and he stood with a resplendent erection. "I have desired you from the moment of my manufacture."

"Well, I'm a desirable creature, and you do strongly resemble dad. That is of course why I'm attracted to you, as the obscenity machines knew." Her own clothing seemed to vaporize. It was a thing a Glamor could do.

She drew him down on the bed with her. "Make wild mechanical love to me!" Simultaneously she sent a wicked thought: How does it feel to fuck your daughter, Havoc?

"My love is not mechanical," Havoc said primly, defending his assumed identity. But the fact was she did perfectly resemble his daughter in every physical respect, and in most of her manners and expressions. That put him in a dilemma. Verbal gamesmanship aside, he had never done anything with Weft, Flame, or Voila that was not strictly paternal. Yet Weft had come on to him almost since infancy, and she had become possibly the most beautiful young woman of Charm. As a woman, she was highly desirable.

Also, he had to acknowledge, as a daughter. Even when she was thirteen, freshly developed, and he was bidding her a good night's sleep. She had arranged to flash him with her body on occasion, breasts as she reached down to pick up something from the floor, thighs as she sat down, smoldering glances. And with her passionate mind, sending him feelings of utter abandon heavily tinged with eroticism. Herself floating amidst vapors, her clothing evaporating, her legs spreading to show her genital region in preternatural detail, opening like a blooming flower. He had gotten erections which he hoped she never realized, while pretending indifference. He was after all her father, alert to her childish games. Yet a buried part of him knew that she did realize, and felt a muted victory. She knew she couldn't have him physically or emotionally, but she could make him react despite his resistance. It had gotten worse as she advanced through her teens and learned the arts of seduction. He was the only man of any age she had not been able to seduce at will.

And if the two of you had been caught in a vortex leading inevitably to Void, with no escape, what would you have done with her? Red demanded mischievously.

I'd have clasped her, he admitted.

And she would have given you the wildest physical and emotional sex you could ever have, buttressed by her pure love for you.

Sometimes he had wondered whether it would be feasible to do what Gale suggested, and take Weft no fault to some private place for an hour, a day, or a month of abandonment, exhausting their suppressed mutual attraction in an unfettered inferno. To get it behind them, so that Weft could go on and find her own man, her illicit passion exhausted. It would have been fun—extraordinary fun—and might be effective.

This is new to me, Red thought. Why didn't you?

Several reasons. If he had done it with Weft, Flame and Voila could have been jealous. They did not advertise them, but they had passions too. They might then make their claims, which would be difficult to deny. It was not actual sex they wanted, but equivalent attention. There was also the publicity: news would have gotten out, and he would have been branded a perpetrator of incest. And, worse, it was possible that if he yielded once to Weft's temptation, it wouldn't burn itself out, and he would find himself truly in love with her. That was a love he could not afford, for she was possessive, and would act to restrict his other associations. She was a stronger Glamor than he was, and her will would govern. Sex with her would be dangerous because of the chance of its leading to the sheer disaster of love.

Understanding, Red thought. Now I must agree. You can't touch Weft. It could cost you Gale and your mistresses, and be completely unfair to them. They love you unpossessively, and are all outstandingly worthy women.

He gazed at her, for the moment seeing the Red Glamor in the shell of Weft. As the Glamor of Human Beings she had a thorough understanding of human nature, and centuries of experience. The two of them had had sex many times, and she was another wonderfully responsive and unpossessive woman. She was the first one he had revealed his most private thoughts to, and her endorsement of his conclusion gratified him. "Appreciation," he said aloud.

But with me you can have that wild fling, knowing that not only will I keep your secret, but there is no danger of us falling in love. You can plumb me, speak love to me, exhaust your passion, and I will play the role throughout. I don't mind if you see me as another woman; we understand each other, have indulged before as ourselves, and will again as convenient. At the moment we both have other roles to play. I am Weft made safe. Then, aloud: "You may be a robot, but I want you to pose as my father, Havoc."

"Doubt," he said. "That would be incest."

"Technically no. Havoc and I are not related genetically. Only socially."

"Point," he conceded. This was for the benefit of the watching machines. Their grasp of human psychology was limited; they thought that Havoc and Weft lacked only opportunity to complete their shared hunger. Now the two of them could make a performance that would satisfy the machines that their purpose in sending the robot was being accomplished. That Weft was falling for the robot, and would increasingly heed him. So he might persuade her to get her sister to enlist with them. It was a fairly straightforward ploy, on the part of the machines.

"Do me, dad. You know we both want it."

It was a wonderful offer, on more than one level. Weft made safe, as she had pointed out. He really could indulge himself completely with her, without guilt. "Agreement!"

He clasped her and kissed her avidly. She met him more than half way. "I love you, dad. Do with me whatever you want."

"I love you, Weft." He kissed her perfect breasts as she stroked his head and writhed to get the nipples into his mouth. "But I want what you want."

"Truly?"

"Affirmation."

"Then let me—just a little." She changed position, got him on his back, and put her mouth to his member. "I always thought that if I could just get you like this, I could draw out your power and put it in me. Then I would be strong, like you." She took it in all the way.

Havoc lay there, astonished. Weft had once sent him just such a thought, when she was newly nubile and ferociously jealous of his passion for Gale. Red must have picked it up peripherally as she read his mental discussion.

Now she was doing it.

He let it happen. In moments she licked, squeezed, and sucked with such expertise that she evoked his climax.

His semen pumped out and down her throat in an intense flow. He felt her climax too; she was reading his feeling, modifying it, and sending it back female. She was swallowing all he had to give.

At last she stopped the stimulation and let him subside. "Now I am replete," she said. "Your essence is in my belly and I will never let it go. It will become part of me forever." And that was the rest of Weft's dream. She had believed that his substance would give her perpetual power, her female body governing his male essence. It was perhaps a foolish notion, but she had definitely had it.

"Now it is my turn, Weft," he said. He revved up his member again and got on top of her. He entered forcefully, as she desired, and penetrated the full depth of her. Her vagina closed tightly about him, squeezing him, manipulating him almost as aptly as her mouth had. Soon he ejaculated again, sending many more pulses into her. They overflowed, squeezing out around his member.

"But I want it to stay in me," she said, almost plaintively.

He knew what she meant. He withdrew, then put his member to her puckered rectum and nudged it in. This was a much tighter fit, and had to be navigated carefully. Then she released her sphincter, gladly admitting him. Once he was fully in her, he thrust again, repeatedly, until he jetted a third time. Now the liquid did not squeeze out; he continued the thrusting and the flow until he had put a relatively huge amount into her.

She kissed him almost desperately. "Keep it coming, dad! I want to fill up like a balloon!" Which was another of her teen images, to receive so much ejaculate that she swelled up, inflated with the divine elixir. At that age she had not quite realized that normal ejaculate was a very small amount. He might have spewed out half a cupful in all, which was more than any normal man could have managed, especially after the two prior efforts.

But finally he had to ease off. Even as a Glamor, he could not send out fluid forever. "Enough," he said, kissing her. "You don't want to wind up with all of me inside you."

"Awww. Then I'd be your mother. You'd have to obey me implicitly. I'd let you out only on holidays, supervised." She tried to close her sphincter, holding him in, and it was tight indeed, grasping him like a vice. It was a trick she must have learned from Ennui, who had once killed a man by holding him inside her while she bit his throat.

The base of his penis was squeezed small, while the rest was larger, the blood trapped in it, so it couldn't pass. But he revved up his potency again, becoming rock hard, forcing her muscle to yield slowly as his member expanded. Now it was a tapering column that was slippery with his own ejaculate, and he managed to pull out past her reluctant aperture.

Except for the head, which remained lodged. So he tickled her bottom with a finger. "No fair!" she cried, laughing involuntarily, relaxing for an instant so that he slipped through. This was a forced exit, like a rape in reverse as their wills collided. She truly did not want to let him go.

And Red was playing the role marvelously. She had evidently studied Weft and picked up on her traits. She had never done anything like this with him when being herself, but for Weft it was absolutely realistic.

He lifted himself up and looked at her lovely slender bare body. "I think you are swollen," he said. Actually she looked the same, but this was part of the game.

"Goody!" She sat up and looked at herself. "Yes, I'm bursting. I'm fat with so much of you inside me. It feels so great!" And that completed that little fantasy. Her interest in alternate forms, such as oral and anal, might have stemmed from her desire to evoke a huge volume of his substance and keep it, as could not be done vaginally.

He had called her possessive. This little scene had demonstrated it. She had taken him into her stomach for digestion, and into her colon for absorption. She didn't want any part of him to escape. It was the physical manifestation of an emotional reality.

"I think our time is up, for now," he said, for he heard a stirring outside the chamber.

"Yes. Iolo is back." Indeed the ifrit had been watching the last of their effort. The ifrits knew all about sex, having learned it from men, and participated when invited, though it was not their natural mode of reproduction.

Theoretically Iolo had been in the vicinity throughout, guarding their privacy. But they all knew there was no privacy here. The machines would have recordings of all of it. More important, Iolo had been on a mission of his own, distributing pseudo ikons. These had been secretly developed in the last five years; they had done their best to make sure the machines did not learn of them. The two regular ikons Iolo carried had remained on the floor when he diffused, but the pseudo ikons were formed of ifrit stuff.

They cleaned up, dressed, and rejoined the tourist party. It was hard to judge, but the other creatures did look well satisfied with the interlude.

"This is a popular stop," Ostrich remarked as he rejoined them. He had discretely remained with the floater.

"Didn't your female stay too?" Weft asked.

"She did. But she is conducting another set of tourists. We get together between shifts and make some feathers fly." He paused a moment. "Pheromones are everywhere. It is one of the attractions of this planet." It was a fair warning.

They boarded the floater. The next stop was a lovely array of gardens, with many wildly exotic plants. Havoc wanted to inspect them more closely, but again as a robot he would lack the interest.

"Havoc would really be interested in this," Weft murmured. "Weren't you crafted to resemble him, Ikon?" For in public he remained Ikon, her companion, not identified as the robot but as a separate man.

"I was," he agreed. "I do have a certain interest."

"As do I," she said. "As the Glamor of Bacteria. I'm sure there are some mixed in."

Having made their excuses, they stepped in among the plants, inspecting them closely. They were indeed fascinating in their variety and details.

There was a heated pool nestled among the gardens. "Tourists are invited to swim," Ostrich said. "The water is reputed to have invigorating qualities."

"But we lack swimming suits," Weft protested.

"This is an advantage of being among alien creatures," Ostrich said. "Others do not know your spot conventions, and are not curious about your anatomical details or your physical interactions."

"Good enough," she said, and stepped out of her clothing. Soon she and Havoc and Iolo and Ostrich were all in the water, along with most of the other tourists.

And of course the water was more than invigorating. It was sexually stimulating. They were drawn together to have another session, as were the others. Now Havoc was sure the machines were having some fun with them.

But Ostrich was right: who cared? He drew Weft in and penetrated her standing in neck deep warm water, surrounded by alien couples doing the same. Her body was evocative regardless, and the magic of the water enhanced the effect.

"Oh, dad, it's so great," she murmured, pressing her belly and breasts against him.

The ironic thing was that it was great. Her body and joy in the union enhanced the experience. He was sure now that he could never have risked doing it with the real Weft, because even the copy was supremely compelling. She was the perfect woman. Just not for him, in reality.

In due course the tour stopped at a restaurant. This was an open air establishment with an enormous array of foods laid out for self service, so that each tourist could select something compatible regardless of taste. He and Weft had an Earth-style potato salad and steak, with green wine, and all tasted authentic despite being crafted from kegs of amorphous protein. Iolo Ifrit had a dish of exotic leftovers and wine-flavored water. Other tourists were having things that looked like baked swamp bubbles, squashed reptile intestines, spoiled bat blood, and boiling ice cream.

They had changed clothing for the meal, and now Havoc was in a bright blue suit and Weft wore a matching tiara and gown with a very low décolletage. Her sculptured breasts were on perfect display as she leaned forward to gaze into his eyes. She wasn't even trying to seduce him at the moment, just being her natural seductive self, but he got a fierce erection. She smiled, knowing it. Her hand reached under the table to give his crotch a brief promising squeeze. It was clear that her appetite for his sexual attention had not yet abated.

It was time to change the subject. "You know that free access to this resort and similar ones will be perpetually available to you when Voila enlists," Havoc said earnestly, in his role as Ikon Robot.

"How do we know the machines will keep their word?" she demanded as she took another mouthful of salad.

"Assurance," he said. "Voila will have power, not because the machines will grant it, but because she will assume command of their future seeing. If the machines renege, she will know it before they do, and will prevent it. It will be a continuing deal. She and the machines really need each other for this project."

"Project?" she said sourly. "Wiping out every other living species in the galaxy?"

"Not necessarily. Some will make similar deals."

Weft shook her head. "You really should have my sister on this tour. Maybe she would listen."

"She won't come. None of the far future paths show her here." Havoc was guessing, but it seemed likely, because none of the near or intermediate future paths showed her here, and the war would be over soon, making it irrelevant.

"We must influence her peripherally, through her father and sister."

"Not her bother?" Weft was bitterly amused.

"He was approached. His response is in my data bank: 'Fuck off, rust bucket!' We suspect that is negative."

Weft laughed enthusiastically. Even Iolo seemed to smile.

"There is humor?" Havoc asked with a straight face.

"You wouldn't understand. It's not a machine thing."

"I might if you explained it. I have an empathy circuit now."

"Some other time. Meanwhile, please cease the solicitation. It makes it too obvious that your first allegiance is to your own kind."

"My allegiance is to you," he protested. "I am desperate to save you from destruction."

"Enough, rust bucket!" she snapped. "Time to rejoin the tour." For they had finished their meal.

They rose, and walked to the exit. Weft was on his left, because that lane passed by a hidden scanner that would have discovered that Havoc was not a robot. Their joint clairvoyance and near future paths seeing made it easy to avoid such little traps without seeming to be aware of them. The scanners were simple, unable to discover the difference between living people; there was no suspicion that Weft was not really Weft. The machines were so sure of their control here that they saw no need for more than minimal verification. Maybe that was normally sufficient, but not for Glamors.

The next stop was a broad beach. The sand was shades of yellow, and the sea was deep red, but the effect was pleasant enough. They built sand castles with blue palm fronds for roofs. Iolo dug an endlessly deep hole, providing them with a small mountain of available sand. The sand packed well, and soon they had made an edifice large enough for them to crawl into. Havoc followed Weft inside, seeing her sun suit fall away so that he was treated to the sight of her flexing bare bottom almost in his face.

He moved up and kissed the crevice, running his tongue into the slit. She paused in place, pushing her cleft back at him. "Oh, dad, you really know how to treat a girl!"

Then they were into another bout of sex, as he glued his mouth to her vulva and she came around to consume his member. Her wet orgasm quivered across his face as his ejaculate coursed into her throat again. It was as though the fluid was making a circuit through both their bodies, going around and around.

Sand dropped on them as their motions brought the castle down. They were half buried in yellow, with Iolo looking querulously at them. However, they took time to complete their orgasms before rising naked out of the wreckage and running to the water to swim and rinse off. Iolo dived in with them, swimming while they stood on the packed sea floor.

Even then, they couldn't quite stop. He kissed her breasts while she fondled his penis and testicles under the water. Soon he penetrated her conventionally and jetted forcefully.

"I think this whole shoreline is drenched in hormones," she said. "Not that I'm objecting."

"That explains it," he agreed. "We'd better get back to the tour."

They waded clear of the water. The other tourists were doing the same, evidently having suffered similarly intense stimulation. They kept falling into the erotic trap, but like Weft did not object.

The next stop was an amusement park. Here they got to ride toylike vehicles through assorted scenery ranging from high mountains to deep caves. Iolo accompanied them. And of course in the darkness of the Tunnel of Love Weft was on his lap, bare-bottomed, demanding an offering. She just never stopped—exactly as the real Weft would have behaved.

Havoc did not want to admit it, but he was beginning to think there was such a thing as too much of a good thing.

I read that! she thought. Just for that I want another filling. She lifted her bottom off his member, put her hand down to catch it, guided it to her lubricated anus, and dropped firmly down. There was nowhere for it to go but in.

Then she clenched rhythmically, milking him, taking in all that he had left to give.

Henceforth he would shield his thoughts more carefully.

You had better, she agreed, turning her face to kiss him hard on the mouth.

She wasn't just amenable, or even eager. She was demanding. Such a sustained barrage of sexual demand by a woman was new to him, and he wasn't sure he liked it. But he kept that thought strictly to himself.

At the end of a long day of sex and sightseeing, they retired to their hotel suite. Iolo had a nice mat on the floor. And of course they had to share a bed, and Weft was constantly on him.

Is this realistic, Red? he inquired almost plaintively.

Affirmation. This is exactly how she would be, given opportunity.

Point made. I will see that she never has opportunity. May we relax long enough to get some sleep?

And step out of character? But she had mercy on him, and let him sleep as long as he remained in close contact with her. Yet when he got a nocturnal erection in sleep, she took it in and worked it for another feeding.

They spent several days on Resort World, indulging in its assorted pleasures. Only Havoc's Glamor enhanced sexual ability got him through. He was relieved when it was time to visit another world. Indeed, he had learned the lesson: he was no longer tempted by the notion of a tryst with Weft. Red had served him well in that respect, truly wearing him out physically and emotionally. Exactly as the real Weft would have done.

They invoked the ticket, and found themselves standing on the roof of a monumentally massive stone building overlooking a buzzing beehive of machine activity. They were in a glassed-in chamber; evidently there was no air on the planet itself. Iolo was intrigued, sniffing the transparent wall.

"Awe," Weft murmured. "This must be a hub."

"Correct," a speaker in the chamber replied. "This is a central planet, where the campaign for this sector of the galaxy is coordinated. It is a staging site for thousands of space ships destined for the reduction of foreign cultures."

"Reduction," Weft said. It was not Havoc's place, as a robot, to maintain this dialogue. "Killing creatures."

"We do not refer to killing in an operation of this scale," the machines voice said. "It is destruction. These ships carry what in your vernacular are referred to as planet-buster bombs. Seeded planets explode and become gravel. In more extreme case, the host stars are seeded, becoming nova, taking out all life in their systems. Only rarely do we invade with small machines to take over governance of a culture, usually for optimal mining of its resources, and it is destroyed when those resources are gone."

"Horror! What did those living cultures ever do to you?"

"Nothing. They exist, therefore they must be destroyed."

"You are destroying whole cultures just because they are there?"

"Affirmation."

"But why?"

"This is the program."

Weft regrouped. "Why are you showing me this?"

"In your vernacular, it is carrot and stick. Positive and negative. Resort World is a carrot: something desirable.

Campaign Central World is a stick: something undesirable. We are equipped to destroy your culture, and will do so on schedule, unless the proffered deal is made. We wish to encourage you to facilitate your culture's agreement."

Weft looked at Havoc. "What do you make of this, Ikon?"

"According to my data bank, in medieval times back on Old Earth, when they had a recalcitrant prisoner, they might show him their torture instruments. He knew those instruments would be used on him if he did not cooperate. It was persuasive. This is that."

"Aversion! What else?"

"This is an either/or challenge," he said. "Normally those are suspect. There should be gradients, opportunities for compromise."

"Machines do not compromise," the machine said.

"False. They do what they have to to achieve their ends. Already they have offered to spare the human culture if Voila enlists. That's a compromise."

"It is either/or. She enlists, or you are destroyed."

"Not necessarily," Havoc said.

"This is not a proper robot response." There was a pause as the unit concentrated on the physical nature of the three of them. This time it could not be avoided; they had seen it coming. "You are not a robot. You are the living Havoc, king of the human culture."

"Exaggeration," Havoc said. "I am king of Planet Charm."

"You will be a useful hostage against your daughter's commitment. Our study indicates that she will enlist to save your life."

"Dad," Weft said urgently. "Let's get the expletive out of here."

"They can't hold us, honey. I'd like to learn more about their military capacity."

"It is overwhelming," the machine said, echoing what another tourist had said. "As our captive, you will see it all. You would have no chance in battle."

"Doubt," Havoc said. "I want specifics."

"Dad," Weft said. "They are gathering an electronic net to prevent us from conjuring ourselves back the way we came. The longer we dawdle here, the tighter it closes."

"Maybe it can hold regular creatures," he said, evincing unconcern. "But we are Glamors."

"Dad—"

Then they verified a connection. A pseudo ikon had come to rest in a suitable location. Just in time, for the machines' net was almost tight. Red had been tracking it while he distracted the machine's attention by arguing.

Iolo had put pseudo ikons onto ships departing Resort World for other sections of the machines realm. Those ikons had had three days to get where they were going. With wormhole travel, that could be anywhere in the machines realm. The net blocked Glamor conjuration to any living culture world outside the machines domain, but not within it. They could go just about anywhere.

Mischief, Red thought. Now I find that the machines tracked Iolo's excursion and learned about the pseudo ikons.

They can't stop us from using them, but they have placed capture units in their vicinity. We can't go home.

That was mischief indeed! They could lead the machines a merry chase, but it would in the end be pointless if they were unable to cross into living territory. Their near-future paths seeing had not seen far enough ahead. The machines would be alert for them anywhere near the boundary.

But Idyll Ifrit's intermediate future paths seeing had reached this far. Now her planted message opened in Havoc's mind. This one. An ikon was indicated.

Havoc put one hand on Iolo and the other on Weft, ensuring their physical as well as mental linkage. He conjured them to that ikon. Because it was not full-real it served only as a beacon; they could not draw power from it. But Iolo carried physical ikons that would serve.

They were in a warehouse on a near-human-compatible planet. The air was not ideal, but as Glamors they could breathe it, and Iolo was naturally adaptable. Large travel-tainers of goods were stacked, ready for local distribution. Machines were loading them on floaters. These were non-sentient machines, mere tools for brute labor.

Havoc, Weft, and Iolo walked out of the warehouse, passing the laboring machines, and onto the living surface of the planet. Where were they?

The indication is that this is the origin planet, Idyll's recorded thought came. The one you are looking for.

No wonder the machines had not put an interceptor net around this one. How could unimaginative devices have anticipated that Havoc's real goal was their source world?

For on this world should be the answer to why and how the machines had revolted, killing their Makers and setting off in pursuit of the remnant that had fled. Actually he was suspicious of that history, because it had been too conveniently yielded by Shee's junk programming. Had it been put there for them to harvest? Voila had agreed that they needed to verify the situation first hand. If it turned out to be just a story, then what was the real history?

How much time do we have? he asked the recording. Before they track us and come for us?

A month. Perhaps more. That is the limit of my perception.

A month! How could the machines have made a mistake like that?

Because they want you here, the recording answered his presumed question.

Havoc stared at Weft, sharing the information. Even Iolo was taken aback. The machines were granting them a free run on their home world? To study and fathom the treacherous tragedy of their origin as a galactic power? What possible sense did this make?

They want you to know, the message concluded. When you know, they will let you go.

"I fear we have underestimated the deviousness of the machines," Havoc said. "They are recruiting us to their search for their Makers despite our opposition." Both Weft and Iolo nodded.

"We did not escape here," Weft said. "We were herded here. They believe this will forward their mission."

For here they should learn what the Makers looked like, what their fundamental chemistry was, and what their essential mistake was. How they had allowed their machines to turn against them and destroy them, fifty thousand years ago. For surely it could not have happened without a critically serious error of management. If it really had happened that way. If it had not, then what had happened?

And the machines wanted them to know, and to return to their culture and tell the others. This defied explanation. Because the machines had to know that they would never assist them in locating the fled remnant of Makers, if it even still existed after fifty thousand years.

Havoc shrugged, setting that mystery aside for the moment. "Well, let's get on it."

"Agreement," Weft said faintly.