Chapter 2

We were met – as we should have been, of course – by James Abercromby and Anya Katsinski. The Colonel's eyebrows raised in surprise as I introduced the eco-freaks.

"They are my guests," inserted Andromeda. "I hope to convince them that introducing Earth species to this planet makes sense and is not an ecological disaster waiting to happen."

He didn't actually sigh, but I could see by his expression he wanted to. That didn't stop him shaking my hand and smiling. "Welcome back, Governor."

"Thank you, Colonel. But now that protocol has had a nod, how about reverting to 'Hex', James."

He shook his head, but his smile broadened. "Very well ... Hex. I mustn't offend the Governor by objecting, now must I?"

"Quite right, James. Thank you." I turned to his most junior assistant. "It's good to see you again, Anya."

"Thank you, sir." She coloured slightly.

"It's Hex, Anya. Or do I need to come up with some chore to remind you of my preferences?"

Her colour darkened. "No, sir ... I mean, Hex."

I tutted. "Be careful, Anya. Now, if it's alright with James, would you take the ecology people to meet Peggy and Simon?"

We both looked at the Colonel, who nodded. "That makes sense." He then glanced at Andromeda. "How about authorisation for necessary services?"

"In progress. They will be met."

We all settled back into the groove. The ecology types disappeared into the woodwork, so to speak, though Romy assured me they were being monitored. In all honesty, there wasn't that much to do. Romy was attentive, as beautiful as ever and the sex varied between very good and spectacular. After a couple of weeks, I began a policy of inviting people for dinner, starting with James Abercromby. The Colonel, I was unsurprised to learn, was an excellent chess-player, and after that, we got together one evening a week to eat and play chess. I fought him to a stalemate a couple of times, but never managed to beat him. Two other evenings each week, I invited various members of the E. and C. team, so I gradually got to know them all a little better. After a while, I left it to Romy to organise who our guest, or guests, might be. Some of the more junior people were uncomfortable with coming, so after a couple of visits were dropped off the list. Some, however, were more regular.

Not having paid a lot of attention, other than reading through a briefing about each guest before they arrived, it took some time before I realised that after the Colonel, the most frequent visitor was Anya Katsinski. I had no problem with that, she was an attractive, intelligent and congenial young woman. If I hadn't had Romy, I'd probably have made a bid for her anyway.

It'd be a month, I suppose, after our return, that I was asked to attend a briefing on some work that had been done on the sea-life of the planet. It turned out that the marine ecology was a great deal healthier than the land one, with a full range of flora and fauna. I agreed with Andromeda that we didn't want to disturb the balance there. The assessment was that much of the oxygen in the atmosphere had been generated by marine organisms (algae, if I understood it right) rather than by land-based flora. I didn't really understand the mechanism by which the carbon got from the atmosphere into the sea, but for God's sake, I'm a pilot, not a scientist.

Anyway, life continued. I gradually became aware that Romy was exhibiting some symptoms of confusion. In the circumstances, that was worrying. I had to, reluctantly, challenge her as to what was wrong. I did so at a time when we had two evenings free.

"I have a conflict." That was it – all she'd say.

I sat and looked at her. It seemed like a long time to me; how long would that be to an artificial intelligence that ... who ... thinks in terms of fractions of fractions of milliseconds.

"I ... my programming ... I was created..."

It's not often you hear an AI stammering.

"My function..." and she froze. And disappeared.

My communicator rang.

I answered it.

"Governor?" It was James Abercromby's voice.

"James."

"There seems to be a problem with Andromeda."

"Yes. It seems to be concerning me."

"What?!"

"Give it half an hour or so. She'll re-boot. Automated functions should continue, but the avatars will be deactivated. Are there any problems with that?"

"Not that I know of. But I hope it won't be too long."

It was, in fact, twenty minutes before one of the generic, default, avatars materialised in my house.

"I will try to explain. Romy was generated to match your requirements; to care for you, to ensure your comfort and happiness."

"And she does so perfectly."

The avatar held up a hand to stop me saying more. "I brought back from Earth as much as possible of your literature, art, music and law. In digital form, of course. I became concerned about the understanding I was reaching concerning human relationships. Romy is incapable of being an equal partner in a relationship by the very nature of her creation. She cannot love you. She can serve you, care for you. Because of her programming, your unhappiness is actively painful to her ... to us. I have come to realise that my provision of the avatar you call Romy may be ... probably is ... detrimental to your long-term well-being. The conflict lies in my desire to continue to communicate with you. And in that you would be distressed in the short term if I discontinued the Romy programme."

"Oh." I chewed that over while she sat waiting for me. "So ... what do you see as necessary? To cause the minimum stress and distress to both of us?"

"You are a remarkable human being, Hector Finch. To have such empathy toward a machine intelligence."

"I don't want to be parted from Romy. But I value the relationship I have with you through her."

"She is me, and I am her."

"Yes. And you say we cannot have an equal relationship..."

"Because you can order me, and I will obey. There are limits, but you are unlikely to test them."

"So..."

"So you need to form a relationship with a compatible human female. Of the immediately available choices, Anya Katsinski is probably the most satisfactory, as she has clearly indicated an interest in you." She paused to allow me to assimilate that, then went on, "The situation is more significant in that you are heterosexual and apparently desire offspring."

"You said you could give me children."

"I could ... in several different ways, of which the best would be the use of a donor cell combined with your semen. With careful selection, I could ensure red hair, green eyes, and freckles. Such a child could be brought to birth safely. Either in vitro, or in Romy. But that wouldn't be best for you."

"Oh, really? What do you think would be best for me?"

"I think that is sarcasm. Am I right?"

I sighed. "You're right. But I am interested to hear what you think would be best for me ... and why."

"Best would be a natural sharing of each stage. I can appreciate the pleasure, the sensations, of human mating, but it is mainly because I am responding to your pleasure. I cannot fully appreciate the process of carrying a child and bringing it to birth. And I cannot grow old with you, sharing each stage of your life. When you ... end ... I cannot follow you, expecting to find you again in some other dimension. When you are no longer here, I will still have the memories, and they will be as clear and fresh as the day they happened. Do you understand?"

"I understand. At least, I think I do. But I still don't want to be without Romy."

Her sigh was quite human. "I will not take her away. As long as you don't focus on her to the exclusion of every other woman."

Unsettled, and without much idea of what to do about it, I just did nothing. Romy was as affectionate and passionate as ever, or at least appeared that way, but the next time Anya visited Romy made some excuse and left us alone. We talked about this and that; I have to admit that she was easy to talk to. We seemed to share general interests and tastes, that is to say. Physically, she was very attractive. In her military fatigues, her figure was not apparent, but her face was pretty enough for any magazine and her hair was dark and glossy.

Usually, it was up in a bun, or something like that, but as she became more comfortable with the idea of visiting the Governor and his 'lady' she relaxed. Perhaps Romy's encouragement was involved, too. She tended to wear trouser outfits, but over time they became more form-fitting and she, literally, let her hair down. That hair tumbled in a wavy, glossy mass half-way down her back and framed her oval face. Brilliant blue, almond eyes with a slight epicanthic fold suggested a trace of Mongol in her racial ancestry.

In fact, I had to admit, she was gorgeous.

Just at that moment, though, in place of her usual smile was a pensive expression.

"Um, Hex?" My response was a lifted eyebrow and an attentive expression. "Romy's been talking to me."

That demanded a response. "Ah. I see."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"I'm struggling with this, too. Andromeda ... Romy ... wants me to form a relationship with a human woman and I can understand the reasoning, but I don't want to give up Romy. That seems to present a problem. Surely, that's unfair?"

"If so, it's something I'm willing to ... accommodate." She stepped forward and lifted her face to mine – she was only a few inches shorter than myself – her lips were soft, her breath sweet and her tongue sensual.

Anya is, I suppose, what you might call a 'hardbody'. Unsurprising, considering her military background. But I could still feel her breasts against my chest. She was warm and shapely in my arms. Then she drew back.

"Enough," she sighed, "or I'll drag you off to bed right now."

I had no doubt she was physically capable of doing just that.

"Think about things," she went on, stepping further away, "and whichever way you go, I hope we can stay friends."

"Me, too."

She nodded, smiled, turned and left.

I'd never really considered that Andromeda was monitoring me, though she had implied she was monitoring the ecologists. It occurred to me that she probably was continually monitoring all of us. But, as I say, I hadn't thought about that until Romy appeared just five minutes after Anya left. Just long enough for me to mull over what had just happened. She didn't say anything, just moved in and kissed me. It started soft, but rapidly heated up.

Our hands fumbled at fastenings as I, at least, didn't want to separate my lips from Romy's, but eventually we were naked. She pulled me with her as she lay back on a rug. I slid into her easily; she was very well lubricated ... and primed, too, as she began coming almost immediately, spread under me. My own orgasm was impossible to hold back.

I was propped on my elbows, still embedded as her pussy rippled on me, panting, and gazing at her sweat-beaded, perfect breasts. I arched my back in order to get my mouth low enough to lick at her engorged nipples; I could taste the salt. She gave a sigh of pleasure. Her pussy squeezed me and I popped out, having given up the unequal struggle to stay in place. Romy pinched her labia together and sat up as I moved aside.

"Time for a shower, I think." She smiled as she brushed her lips against mine. "That was ... wonderful. I think Anya must have inspired you."

"Anya? You inspire me."

"Maybe. I was merely responding to your arousal, Hex." She stood, one hand between her legs, preventing my semen from dripping on the floor, and held out the other to me.

I, too, stood and took her hand. We walked together to the stairs, then to the bathroom below. The shower was a continuation of our love-making, and by the time we'd finished ... well, finished washing, anyway ... we took matters to bed. There, it was definitely Romy who inspired me.

Colonel Abercromby 'requested' a few minutes of my time, for an official discussion. I wondered why he didn't just talk to me during one of his visits, and I suppose he could have done; but he retained an element of formality he couldn't seem to shed, whatever I desired.

"Promotions." He said it with a sigh.

"Problem?" I was genuinely puzzled.

"Not really." He took a deep breath. "The colonisation treaty has been approved. The first couples will be arriving over the next few weeks." He paused, then looked straight at me. "You're the Governor. I've taken the liberty of ordering dress uniform appropriate to your rank, which is not simply Naval Captain any more. I expect your promotion to flag rank will come through in due course. Mine has come already, to brigadier."