Lawrence - And food, . . . Oh my

I stepped out of the Transporter booth into the bright morning light. The Gravity felt somewhat heavier than what I considered normal. The temperature was definitely on the hot, muggy side. I noticed a young man waiting respectfully to greet me, so I gave him my full attention.

"Good morning, Mr. Young. Welcome to Caribbia. I'm Jack Hill, the embassies undersecretary, and your assistant. We hadn't expected you till late tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes . . . well, something came up, so I had to leave early."

[You meant to say; it was to keep something from coming up,] Imp chuckled.

Ignoring Imp's perverted sense of humor, I paid courteous attention to Jack. He seemed like a pleasant young man, excepting a clothing fetish, about one point eight meters, and eighty-two kilo's, blonde almost white hair and a golden brown complexion. His smile seemed slightly impish on his otherwise pleasant face. I put him at around my age, possibly a few months less.

"As you say, Sir," Jack said, with a twinkle in his eye. I wondered if Miss Lushbt had sent a message through, advising of my change in plans. If so, just what had she said?

"Your suite is not quite ready. Perhaps you would care to join me for breakfast?"

"I'd be delighted," I replied. In my haste to leave, I had skipped lunch, and it was more than time for dinner according to my stomach.

The breakfast was amazing. On Draco things had always been quiet and reserved, funereal you might say. Here it was more like a festival. Nowhere did I see a uniform. Sarongs or bright shorts and loud open front shirts seemed the self-chosen uniform here.

[Who was out of uniform?] Imp pounced on my thought.

Most of the women wore a skimpy halter, or a bikini, top, a few . . . just a tan (until I became acclimated this caused me no end of trouble). A sarong typically completed the outfit. Whatever the personal choice of attire, nearly all had chosen loud, bold, colorful clothing.

And food, . . . Oh my, it was laid out at a long table. There were bowls full of all kinds of fresh fruits. Stack after stack of many different varieties of steaming bread. I saw cereals; hot and cold, quivering mounds of yogurt, and all sorts of delicacies from the sea. And obviously—hot fluffy omelets drenched in melted cheese, stuffed with the ubiquitous pork sausage. (It seemed that no matter where humans traveled to in the universe; chicken eggs, pork, and coffee beans always followed.) I could have gained two pounds just looking at all of the choices. Luckily our health benefits include antiobesity shots if we wanted them, also immunization for just about anything on any planet.

"Around here the Ambassador doesn't need to put on a show for the natives, so he doesn't. He enjoys life, and he expects us to enjoy it also. I think you'll like him from what I've heard of you. He takes life in big bites," Jack observed.

Stepping on a nearby chair, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled. "This is our new Senior, Larry Young when you get a chance stop by and say 'Hello."—stepping down he said, "You're introduced—let's eat," as he headed to the table.

We piled it on as if this was to be the only meal of the day. "To do this justice will take a while so let me brief you now," and interspersed with introductions and the other necessary pauses to consume such a culinary feast he proceeded, "Caribbia is different from most other worlds. Unlike most of the worlds, there was no native human population when we arrived here."

That was something no scientist had an explanation for, theories galore, but nothing that matched all the observed facts. On virtually every Terran type planet the imperial scouts had landed on we had found a human type population. Human to the point that interbreeding was the norm, not the exception, and frequently similar mythologies. As a child in church I had been taught that God had created man in his image, that worlds without number had he created—whatever the case, I knew the scientific jury was still out. Bemused by everything that had occurred on the last day, my mind started wandering, and I forced myself to listen to Jack.

"We found virtually no native life forms at all—just a few of the lower level algae's, a variety of Medusa, simple ferns and the like. Our ecologists had a field day, they ran several large capacity computers into complete-breakdown to get the answers, but the results have been impressive—a world of imported beauty and ecologically balanced life.

"It all adds up to a perfect vacation spot. We have a gravity rating of point-nine-nine Gee and no axial tilt, a mild G class sun like old Sol. The landmasses are limited to small islands with the biggest, about the size of Australia on Terra, being owned by the Disney Company. There is no moon, so we don't have to worry about tides, other than a negligible solar tide. Temperature wise we have very little axial tilt, so there are no seasons, or rather just one and it is perfect for a tropical paradise. The nights here were made for lovers, the Milky Way is big and bright, and the sky is crystal clear. We have no major mineral deposits, the only major occupations other than tourism is farming—primarily on several huge islands near the pole and, energy production; the purification of heavy water for fusion cells, which is our only major export. So other than the tourist trade and service and support for the local population, that is it." After breakfast, Jack showed me my residential suite suspended over the ocean on stilts. Large open windows let the breezes cool the rooms naturally.

My office, on the second floor from the top, was in a monolithic tower, anchored to the bedrock of the planet itself. It was attached to New Hawaii, the largest island; excepting the one Disney had developed, by a bridge—creating an illusion that the Imperium was not a part of this world. Its presence dominated the horizon, towering fifteen stories above the ocean. It was a fair walk from the multitude of Empire supplied residencies scattered around the bay and the monolith. However, I could appreciate the separation and noticed most of the personnel used the walk as a chance to socialize with their fellows.

Caribbia was an exception to the rule as there was no native population, so rather than just provide the interface between the local planetary government, we became the local government, which makes some sense. I mean why create a unique organization when it was so easy to adapt the existing one. However, Ambassador D'Natng unlike so many other ambassadors', when given the same opportunity, actually followed the Imperial example and tried to interfere with the local population as little as possible. We had a larger than usual contingent of Imperial Marines here as they were also the local police.

My Com, which was running Office MMMDCCCLIX, was filled almost to capacity with E-Mail accumulated during the interval when there had been no Senior Secretary. Primarily I acted as a filter trying to send those items, that must be seen, to the ambassador and disposing of the rest in whatever manner was appropriate; reject, approve, return for more study, pass to another department, etcetera. My goal was; to not bother the ambassador, which in direct contrast to old Harump, the Draconian ambassador, was just what Ambassador D'Nating wanted.

For almost a month I worked my tail off. Jack was practically a quivering mass by the end. Even his assistants, a bevy of bronzed beauties, was having trouble getting a rise out of him—no matter how they teased him. However, by that time I had him so trained that he rarely sent items on needed to be sent back or to other departments and was taking the initiative to approve some items on his own.

Finally, I was in a position that I could play spy again. I started making plans. Poor Imp had done nothing for weeks and almost no laughs.

One morning as we were wallowing in breakfast, Jack surrounded with his usual harem, most of whom were still too much in awe of my title to tease me, as they did Jack. "Jack you've got the hot seat today, I'm going to do some island hopping and see personally just how things really are around here."

Michelle, my secretary who was devoted to Jack and him to her, (although he wouldn't admit it) was present. Michelle was especially stunning this morning dressed in a bright red floral print wraparound skirt that almost went around her. A long golden thigh thrust through the slit. Up top, Michelle was wearing just a tan with one white orchid perched magically over her right breast, the sight of which no longer affected me, or at least no more than a stunningly beautiful woman would have at home or Draco.

Michelle looked utterly feminine, especially when she stared hopelessly at Jack. Unfortunately, Michelle had been around me long enough to know that she could safely bark all she wanted and I wouldn't bite.

Today Michelle had been more than usually fearless in her innuendoes, which Imp loved at my expense. I had an epiphany and turning to her I said, "Michelle, why don't you come along and show me the sights," and I leered at her, my eyes raking every inch of her body.

Michelle gasped and backed into Jack's waiting arms, looking for protection. He gently enclosed her and pulled her tight, a fiercely protective look on his face.

"On second thought Jill," she was Jack's, conservatively dressed, highly efficient, blond assistant, "why don't you take me around. I think Michelle has something better to do today."

Michelle blushed and looked at Jack, then tried to pull away—just as a super-saturated solution will instantly crystallize if you but add a seed—Jack's arms tightened to bands of plasteel as he accepted his fate. "You are not leaving me ever again! You see, I love you too much to let you go," His voice was velvet-covered plasteel fading to simple entreaty.

Michelle looked deep into Jack's eyes and lost herself in them. His bevy of beauties, realizing just what had happened, quietly broke up with soft words of congratulations to the new couple.

"The two of you have the week off. I'll have housekeeping move Michelle's things into your suite," I said softly.

Jack looked panicky then blushed as he turned to Michelle, "I want you for the rest of my life not just till it's not convenient—Michelle, will you marry me?"

"Of course!" Michelle said, "I'd never expected anything less of you," she finished with pride, a possessive tone in her voice.

I turned to Jill, "Then we should get to work, to expedite the paperwork. Come along you two, if you are sure this is what you want?"

An hour later Ambassador D'NaTing—who could act decisively …if he had too—waddled out to preside at the chapel, situated by the edge of the bay. Michelle was radiant. The white orchid set off the beautiful golden glow of her skin. Jack who, for some reason, had worn dress whites this morning looked regal. They both looked virginal, and a little scared, although Michelle was displaying two subtle flags that she was excited.

I had no doubts that they both were virgins, even if the SADS immunization 'should' keep one from catching the virus. Once you had SAD'S all they could do was make your death more comfortable. Nowadays everyone was cautious about his or her sexual partners. Maybe that was why the flaunting of the body had moved out into the public as a reaction from the era when you hardly dared shake hands because so many people had SADS.

I mean—well take me as an example. I'd been with few women—thinking back surely no more than . . . well . . . none?

By the time the ambassador reached, "Till death, do you part," there was hardly a dry eye among us. Most couples just moved in together, so a real wedding was exceptional.

I turned to hand Jill another tissue. "We have a couple of hours of celebration left, how about a swim?" I asked Jill.

"Did you notice," Jill said dreamily, "when Jack said 'till death, do you part, was too short a time for true love? '" I looked sideways at Jill for a moment—curiosity glinting in my eyes—then when she did not elaborate further said, "Come on let's hit the beach and relax for a bit."

"All right . . . Race you!"