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.
Chapter 4 Magic Fire
By evening they reached the next village. They entertained the villagers as before, this time starting with "Early One Morning."
Opaline was of course the maiden.
Again the village girls were rapt. Hayseed was so handsome, and sang so well, that it was impossible not to love him, though his role here would be that of the unfaithful lover.