My Prize (19 page)

The voice of the announcer echoed around the large chamber, and Boralle's neatly heeled shoes clicked loudly on the floor as she crossed to the center of the chamber and stood on the small logo of the Olympiad—five intertwined couples making love.

A small microphone emerged from a depression in the floor just in front of her toes.

"Welcome, Major North of Earth, representing the Central Galactic Court. We are always happy to greet another lawyer."

A small mutter of laughter ran through the judges, who were seated in a semicircle before her. Their table was on a dais, so she was forced to look up to address them.

It was a deliberate move—contestants were not to imagine themselves in any way equal to those who would judge them. Frallien also had a well-developed social pyramid, sexual antics notwithstanding.

Boralle's temper soared. She clamped down on it.

"I am honored by your greeting and the hospitality of Frallien IV," she answered calmly. "The generosity of spirit which pervades these games is well known. Even by lawyers."

Thus having rebuked the judges for their small insult, Boralle considered the event so far a tie, and began her carefully thought-out Statement of Intent.

Each competitor was allowed a short time for this Statement. In it, they were supposed to explain why they were competing, what their planet and their people hoped to achieve, and to generally show that they would be a worthwhile contestant. They would also explain any of the more unusual sexual skills or requirements possessed by their race.

The only real requirement was, of course, that they could reach orgasm and could fit into the TUNG booth.

Needless to say, the Phrygians did not compete in the Olympiad.

This ceremony had turned into more political ass-kissing than any Statement of Intent, but Boralle had decided to use this to her advantage.

"My honored hosts, friends, colleagues and fellow competitors." Her voice was cool and resounded through the speaker system.

"I have been selected to represent the Central Galactic Court, a task which I am more than willing to undertake. I am deeply aware of the responsibility that my people have placed on my shoulders, and I hereby pledge to do my best to uphold it. I am also humbled by the honor done me and by the opportunity to visit this planet and participate in these magnificent games."

She looked around, noticing a few judges nodding in agreement.

"The wonders of Frallien IV are spoken of throughout the galaxy. The spectacle and magnificence of these games are revered throughout the galaxy. The concepts and beliefs of Frallien are recognized as admirable throughout the galaxy as are the fortunate inhabitants of Frallien IV themselves."

She bowed politely, and resisted the urge to rinse her mouth.

A round of applause greeted her words.

"I shall do my best to honor Frallien, my people and my ancestors during my participation in these games."

More applause.

"With the blessings of my people, I shall attempt to obtain my release in as enthusiastic a manner as possible. I hope to score highly, and in so doing show my regard for both my Earth heritage and that of Frallien."

Her voice rang out and stimulated more applause, this time coupled with a few cheers from several of her crewmates who had wangled seats in the public gallery high above the central podium.

"To achieve this, your Honors, I request a boon as an Olympian." Boralle knew she was within her rights to do this.

Many contestants made requests, some for little helpers, like a talisman or a charm. Others for special adaptations to the equipment based on their physical needs.

She had a special request.

"I have brought with me an icon, sacred to my family. I request permission to use it as an interface with the satisfaction booth. I will take my turn at the event
outside
the booth."

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then a murmuring broke out throughout the large auditorium.

"Do I understand you correctly, Major?" It was the voice of the head Frallien judge. "You wish to connect to the satisfaction booth with an icon rather than your body? You wish to attempt to register your Olympian Orgasm
without
touching the sensors?"

"That is correct, Sir, yes. The icon will transmit my arousal levels to the booth. I shall be near, but not directly connected."

"
Outrageous
." This yell came across the hall from the Magan contingent. "
Unacceptable
. We have no idea what might be in this
icon
thing. It could generate its own signal for all we know. She's cheating..."

"It's an icon. She's entitled..."

"Have her scanned for the truth..."

"You can't screw around with religious icons..."

"She could generate a false reading..."

"How the hell is she gonna score if she's not attached to a booth?"

The noise filled the large room, and Boralle's hands trembled as she clasped them behind her back. She let the sounds wash over her, prepared for this sort of discussion after she'd revealed her request.

Slowly, the pandemonium died down.

She cleared her throat.

"My Lords. Perhaps if you were to view the icon..." She waved her hand and two young Fralliens wheeled out a cart on which reposed the box in all its beauty. "With your permission?"

The judges leaned forward, curiosity written across their faces.

Slowly, with a theatrical flair she never knew she had, Boralle pulled her Pondo gloves from her pocket, slipped them on her hands, and raised the lid of the box. The spotlights, which illuminated her so clearly, danced over the broadsword as it lay on its bed of green silk.

There was a collective indrawn gasp as the jewels flared to life and the polished metal of the blade shone bright and true.

Boralle allowed them all a moment of awe before speaking.

"This, honored Judges, is the Spirit of the Glen. It contains no devices, no electronics or any circuitry that would affect the readings. Your scanners have already verified it. It is, however, able to collect my emotions and relay them. That is all. I would happily allow any kind of examination you care to make, providing, of course, it is handled with the respect due such an icon."

The judges collected themselves, closed their mouths, and whispered to each other. The rest of the gallery rustled and fidgeted, trying to catch a better glimpse of the sword.

To emphasize her point, Boralle turned slowly, allowing each portion of the room chance to view her 'Spirit'.

Rory had applauded her choice of names for the sword. She'd felt there was a certain symmetry, since it was in a 'Glen'that she'd first realized the breadth of lovemaking between a man and a woman, and now she was going to see if her lessons would bring her victory. And prevent a war.

It was a scary thought.

She was gambling a lot on the Frallien belief that icons such as this were an essential part of ceremonies, ritual and everyday life. It wasn't a sure bet, however.

The Magans, especially, seemed upset.

She snorted silently. No rassing wonder. If she wasn't touching the booth, they couldn't kill or maim her to take her out of the competition.

She watched a Magan representative whispering and gesturing to the judges.

He pouted as he was turned away. She hoped that was a good thing, but wasn't terribly familiar with Magan facial expressions. A pout could be a sign of joy, the beginning of a sneeze, or just a plain old pout.

She sighed and mentally crossed her fingers.

"Major North of Earth."

The voice intoned across the room over the sound system and brought the crowd's mutterings to a halt.

"We find your request to be unusual, but not without merit. We understand your attachment to your icon and respect your wishes to have it present during your participation in the contest. Therefore, you may be permitted to use your...what did she call it?" The judge leaned over to a colleague and whispered for a moment or two. "Your 'Spirit of the something-or-other'when you compete."

Boralle's heart soared.

"However, we have one caveat."

Boralle's heart plummeted.

"You may participate from outside the booth. But you must still be connected to the equipment. Therefore, we suggest a circuit linking you to your icon and thence to the booth interface. Do you accept?"

Her mind whirled. If she was connected in
any
way to the booth there was still a chance that the Magan sabotage could short out the system and kill her.

Of course, if she scored high enough she'd be all right.

She took a deep breath and put her faith and her trust in her own personal icon, Rory McAllen.
Now
it wasn't just about the games and Magus Prime—it was her life on the line.

She had no other choice. "I agree, Your Honor. I agree."

The room burst into applause and excited chatter as the audience eagerly discussed this very unusual development and all its ramifications.

Boralle simply stood quietly. The games had just taken a
very
personal turn.

If she didn't score highly enough, she could die.

If she didn't achieve an orgasm to end all orgasms, her life might end right there.

Still, she mused, it would indeed be a helluva way to go.

Boralle all but collapsed into Rory's arms as she shut the door to her quarters behind her and put the box carefully down on the desk.

"God, Rory..." She said, hugging him tight. "That was so frightening."

"What happened, lass? Did you convince them?"

"You weren't watching?"

"Watching? No. I had my own job, remember? Besides, how could I see you?"

Boralle sighed, realizing she'd completely forgotten to show Rory how to activate the communication screens.

Pulling away from his arms, she called up the afternoon's ceremonies and let him look.

Thoughtfully, he viewed the proceedings, chuckling a little at the Magan outrage and then sucking in a breath at the final decision. "Well, sweetheart, you did the best you could. I think we're still on the right track."

"How did you manage? Better than me, I hope," she said. She went back and hugged his wonderful chest which just seemed the only place she wanted to be at this moment.

"Well...yes and no."

"Uh oh. That sounds a bit hesitant?"

Rory ran his hand through his hair. "I did hear all about the Magan booths...I guess the Fralliens were none too pleased that their units were failing, but they had to accept the Magan substitutes since the Olympiad was so near and they didn't have time to make repairs."

Boralle nodded. This confirmed what she'd heard as well.

"I also found the system they used to generate the order of contestants." He looked a little self-conscious. "It was a mite technical."

"And?"

"Well, I tried ma best, sweetling."

"And?"

"It was a verra complex system..."

"
And
?"

Rory sighed. "The best I could do was get you into third place."

"
Third
? Rory...that means the first two competitors could be killed..." Boralle grabbed his arms.

"Easy, lass. I know that as well as you. The good news is that the first two are Cynerians."

Boralle relaxed a little at this news. The Cynerians were a highly intelligent race, very skilled at space travel, with some of the loveliest starships available.

They were also rather sexless, having focused more on the technical development of their planet than on their sensuality. To them, reproduction was of a higher value than just fucking for fun.

Which validated the commonly held theory that scientists, as a rule, tended to be rather boring and unimaginative in bed. Of course, that didn't include the Cyberpegoes from Altherin Major. Their prowess had been enhanced by technology and they spent a major portion of their year in the throes of orgasm. They were also banned from the Olympiad.

She sighed and Rory held her closer. "Don't panic, lass. We'll make it, one way or another."

Boralle wished she could be as certain as he was.

*~*~*~*

That night they lay together, cuddled spoon-fashion beneath a light blanket.

Rory had refused to make love to her, insisting that she needed to be rested and ready for the contest. He wasn't about to wear her out, he said, by spending the night where he really wanted to be, which was buried to the balls in her sweet cunny.

She'd pouted, but agreed that he was probably right. Damn him.

Just having his naked heat pressed to her back was turning her on and she knew her body was moistening in readiness for him. Would it always be like this, she wondered?

Would she always respond this wildly to his mere presence in her bed? She hoped so. She loved him so much.

Drifting into sleep, she smiled slightly as she felt his cock, hard and hot, nestle between her buttocks. He might talk up a very sensible argument, but he was as ready as she was. Her eyes closed on that thought and she slid into unconsciousness.

Boralle dreamed.

She was standing on sun-warmed tiles, her feet bare, and she was surrounded by plants the likes of which she'd never seen. Never even imagined.

The colors rioted around her, nearly burning out her retinas as she struggled to take it all in. The sky was as blue as she could ever remember seeing, and a lake lapped gently at the banks near where she was standing. The trees shaded a grassy lawn, which was hedged for privacy and bordered by the tile walkway on which she was standing. One tree in particular was enormous, with roots snaking into the water, and was covered in buds of a similar shade of blue.

One or two were opening, large spiked petals peeling back to reveal a golden yellow interior. It was spectacular, and she felt her mind awed by the beauty of it all.

"It's a very special tree."

A voice next to her made her turn.

A man stood there, dressed simply in silken robes. His hair was long and tied neatly back, and his eyes were a luminous turquoise, shining brilliantly in the sunshine.