Sex, the Stars & Princess Simla

by Sally Hollister

  He had always been the great oak of her existence but she suddenly realised that he was just a man, like any other. Her heart broke for him, but the last thing this great man needed was her sympathy.

  “Old Earth Stands,” she said firmly, “and you are Old Earth.”

  He gave a rueful smile. “If only that were true.”

  “Who else will bring the Twelve Worlds together? Who else will defeat the Riaz and put humanity back on the right course?”

  “A Princess called Simla perhaps?”

  “Me?” she screeched, “You’ve gone senile! I’m Simla, the gadfly; Simla, the silly; Simla, the pointless.”

  “I have eight daughters,” the Great Father said, “from six wives. And all of them bear the title of Princess, but only you, Simla, are truly worthy of the title.”

  “Now you’re being silly. Perth’s smarter than me by a mile; York’s beauty queen good-looking and Malaga’s won Olympic medals.”

  “And I love them all, but none have your spirit, Simla. Why do you think I chose you to take the message to the Twelve Worlds about the aliens?”

  “To get me out of your hair? Or was it because Simla’s the only one that doesn’t have any real role in life. She’s no scientist, she’s no academic, she’s no artist …”

  “But she is a huntress, who never lets her prey escape. Whether your quarry is knowledge or a good meal, you will not be put down, you will fight on, you will achieve your goal. That is your strength, young lady, and don’t let me ever hear you demeaning yourself again.”

  Simla gave her father a defiant look. “So find me some prey, cause I’m not going to sit about on my butt for the duration of this war.”

  “Peace, child,” her father protested, “It would serve you right if I gave you a boring admin job, counting soldiers’ boots perhaps, but your friend, Dr Vilek, has asked for your help.”

  “Elfi? What can she want me for? I’m no computer jockey.”

  The Great Father stroked his daughter’s hair. “She’s one of our greatest scientists. She gets what she wants and she wants you.”

  Elfi was actually Chief Operating Officer of the Cross Science Research Institute which had its headquarters in a vast labyrinth of buildings on an artificial island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Simla had visited her there often and had no difficulty tracking down the petite scientist in her personal laboratory.

  She walked in, with Shap at her back, and discovered Elfi tinkering with another android which looked like a suspiciously smaller Shap.

  “Oh my God,” she shrieked, “you’ve made another one, I’m doomed!”

  “Quiet child,” Elfi barked kindly, fixing the chest plate back on the machine. “This is not another Shap, this is Remo.”

  Simla put a finger to her lips in a show of overacting. “Let me think, let me think. Shap is an abbreviation of Chaperone, so Remo must be short for … removal android.”

  “You’re not as stupid as you look, kid, but you’re wrong. Try again.”

  Simla racked her brain but couldn’t think of anything.

  “Let me give you a hint,” Elfi grinned triumphantly, “Remo isn’t actually a android, because he doesn’t have a neural net.”

  “No brain? That’s dumb.”

  “Not really.” Elfi walked over to her bench and put on a metal skull cap that was lying there. The minute she did so Remo came alive. He walked over to Simla and offered his hand.

  “Welcome, Princess Simla,” he said, “I am Remo. Have you worked out yet what that stands for?”

  “You’re working him remotely, so he’s a remote. Remo … remote.”

  “Correct. You’re not just a pretty face, kid.”

  Simla shook her head. “This is the dumbest idea I ever saw. What is the point in having a human brain running a mechanical body? This is not one of your best ideas, Elfi, I definitely think that age is catching up with you.”

  Elfi removed the cap and took Simla’s arm. “Coffee,” she ordered, dragging the Princess off to the Institute’s cafeteria.

  Over cappuccinos Elfi explained her thinking. “We’ve solved the armour problem and android soldiers based on Shap are going into production as we speak. Our problem is that though they make excellent killers, Shaps are not very good at strategic thinking and that’s what we’re going to need to win a war. The Riaz are not going to tackle our boys head to head in pitched battles so we need some smart thinkers out there. Humans are too vulnerable and Remo is my attempt to put a human brain in an armoured body on the battlefield.”

  “Can’t we make Shap smarter?”

  “Making war isn’t down to just knowledge. It’s weighing possibilities, setting goals, dreaming up tactics. These are things that android brains just don’t do very well.”

  Simla sipped at her coffee and mused. “You could make a man one and a woman one and people could fuck by remote control.”

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “Because I’m not getting laid and it’s your fault.”

  “Wouldn’t work anyway. We can create pseudo nerves but the feedback isn’t that great, so you’d get a pale imitation of real sex.”

  “Not good enough. So, where do I fit in with this? Want me to draw a logo for them or something?”

  “Oh no, much more grown up than that. I want you to test drive the Remo so I can use your neural patterns as a template for training the people who use them in actual combat.”

  Simla looked surprised. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the smartest person without attitude I know.”

  “Is that an compliment?”

  “The Remo is designed to be an NCO, a middle man between the computers that will be running the big war and the Shaps who’ll be doing the actual fighting. I need somebody without ego problems in that slot, and you’re it.”

  “No ego? Me?”

  “I never said that, but you’ve got the right kind of ego.”

  Simla made a face. “What does that mean?”

  “It means your ego doesn’t outrank your common sense. Drink up, we’ve got work to do.”

  They finished their coffee and returned to the lab. “Put on the cap and I’ll tune you in.”

  “What’s the range?” Simla asked.

  “Only about a kilometre, so you’ll need to be close to the action.”

  “He needs to look exactly the same as Shap, otherwise he’ll be targeted by the enemy.”

  Elfi raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “This has been tried before,” Simla explained, “Second World War here on Old Earth. The leaders of a tank group would have a command tank which was faster than the rest. They made them faster by taking off the gun and reducing the armor. The enemy knew right away that they were command tanks and blew the hell out of them. Poor guys had to put fake guns on their machines to survive. So Remo has to look exactly like Shap to blend in.”

  Elfi made quick notes on a pad. “Yeah, it’s not just visual either. The Remo will be issuing instructions by radio, so they could spot a commander by the volume of traffic. We’ll need to find a way to mask that.”

  “Snow them. Have them all broadcasting but have our boys filter out those frequencies.”

  “Smart thinking. We make a good team, Princess.”

  Simla put the cap on her head and closed her eyes. Her brain felt a sudden blizzard of static and then, suddenly, she was seeing the world through Remo’s eyes. “How do I control him? Move and stuff.”

  “Don’t think it, just do it. You don’t think about walking, you just walk. Don’t think about controlling Remo, you have to become Remo.”

  The new machine jerked and move forward. “It’s hard,” Simla complained.

  “You’re trying to drive it, like a car. Don’t think about it that way. Set an objective and then achieve it. Go to the door and open it. Don’t think about moving Remo’s legs to get there. Just think about getting there.”

  The Remo unit swayed dangerously as Simla tried to control it. “It�
��s totally unnatural.”

  “No, it’s not. You don’t order your own legs to walk you around.”

  “What I order my legs to do is none of your business.” But the voice came from Remo and made Elfi jump. She was even more surprised when the android moved towards her, gripped her by the waist and lifted her onto the lab bench. He moved between her thighs and said, “Give me a big cock, Elfi, and I will fuck the fair maidens of Old Earth.”

  “Ooh, you naughty android,” Elfi squealed.

  Remo pulled aside Elfi’s lab coat and inserted his clamped his metal hand between her thighs on her crotch. “Are you hot for me, my mistress?”

  Elfi blushed furiously. “Simla, behave!”

  “I am Remo and I shall be your android lover. I shall fuck you with my tireless electric muscles and my huge hydraulic penis till you swoon with pleasure.”

  Elfi decided to play along. “Oh but I am so small and your huge penis will split me in two.”

  “I will be gentle, my love. Come, kiss me.”

  The metal face had no discernible lips and so Elfi gave it the briefest peck on its burnished cheek. “If one of my lab assistants comes in they’re going to think I’ve gone mad.”

  “Mad with lust, my sweet,” and Simla, via Remo, began massaging Elfi’s pudenda. She tried to resist but the android held her firm.

  “Enough messing around, Simla!”

  The android released the scientist and took a step back. Simla took the cap off and placed it back on the bench. “That was an interesting experience,” she gushed.

  Elfi jumped down from the bench. “For me too, you don’t know your own strength, or should I say, Remo’s strength.”

  “Sorry. Overcome by passion I suppose.”

  “Overcome by frustration more like.”

  “Okay, so what now? It’s difficult to get to grips with, but once you get the hang of it it’s fairly simple.”

  Elfi smiled evilly. “Oh yes, simple. You’ve walked a few steps and lifted a hundred pounds onto a bench. Put the cap back on and come with me. Bring Remo.”

  The two androids and Simla followed the little scientist through a maze of corridors till they came to an inner courtyard lawn.

  “Have Remo approach you threateningly,” Elfi ordered.

  Confused, Simla ordered the android towards her with its arms outstretched. Instantly, Shap jumped between the two.

  “Don’t stop, keep going. You have to fight your way past Shap.”

  This was much more difficult as it required coordination of all her limbs. She tried to have Remo duck by her guardian, but Shap quickly squatted and swept his leg through Remo’s and dumped his adversary on the ground.

  “Ouch!” Simla complained.

  “Sore butt?” Elfi asked, “The feedback circuits work better with pain than pleasure because pain’s a survival mechanism.”

  “No’ fair, Shap’s combat trained.”

  “What better way to learn. Go again.”

  Six times Simla tried to have the remotely controlled android approach her with murderous intent, and each time Shap knocked her swiftly on her ass. Finally she’d had enough. “No more, I’d do a better job myself, without that clumsy bunch of cogs.”

  Elfi nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.” She took a communicator from her pocket and whispered into it.

  “What have you got up your sleeve next? If it involves more of me getting a sore tush you can forget it.”

  “You’ve just confirmed my suspicions, that working by remote isn’t really feasible. It would take too long to immerse yourself in the experience.”

  “You mean I’ve been getting knocked around for nothing?”

  “Yes,” Elfi said smugly, “I thought it would do you good.”

  “Bitch!”

  “Now, now.” She eyed Simla with a critical eye. “You haven’t put on any weight have you? I was working from two year old measurements and this was made to measure.”

  “What on Earth are you talking about?”

  “This,” Elfi announced as two technicians wheeled in what appeared to be an ancient suit of armour.

  “More toys?” Simla asked wearily.

  “Powered armour. Put it on, the guys will help you.”

  Simla approached the armour warily and noticed that though it looked ancient at first glance, it’s smooth curves could only have been formed by modern technology. The technicians turned some keys and the back half of the suit swung open. She was glad to see that the inside was padded.

  “I’ll suffocate in that thing.”

  “No you won’t, the life support will kick in once it’s sealed up.”

  “Sealed up?” Simla sounded panicked, “How do I get out? Shit, Elfi, I’m claustrophobic.”

  Elfi ran up behind her and shoved her gently in the small of her back. “Get in, you cowardly Princess.”

  Simla stepped into the suit tentatively and held her breath as she heard the sigh of air when it was sealed behind her. As the catches snapped shut her eyepieces lit up with a view from the suit, her hearing kicked in and she could even smell the newly mown grass of the lawn.

  “Heyy, this is cool,” she said.

  “Better than the Remo?”

  “Dunno, haven’t tried to move yet.”

  “Take it easy. You’re still working with feedback so there’ll be a lag, but it’ll be quicker than the cap.”

  Simla lifted her right leg, bending it at the knee and the suit’s servos kicked in and lifted the metal leg that encased Simla’s human flesh. This was easy, she decided, and walked towards the nearest building. “Piece of cake.”

  “Give me a forward roll,” Elfi commanded.

  She hadn’t performed the feat since childhood, but ran across the lawn and did the tumble, even ending up with a leap as she straightened up. This was fun. She did another roll and another.

  “How high can you jump?”

  Simla went into a half squat and pushed down with all the force she could muster. To her own surprise she shot twenty feet straight up in the air. This was her undoing as, unprepared, she wasn’t ready for the descent, which left her once more flat out on the grass.

  “I hate you,” she croaked to a beaming Elfi.

  But the scientist was not abashed. “You’ve proved my point. We need people on the ground, not remotes,” she said, helping her friend to her feet.

  “And you couldn’t have your own people confirm that?”

  “Ah, but they wouldn’t carry the authority of the Halven Avenger.”

  “The who?”

  “That’s what they’re calling you on the street, the Avenger of Halven.”

  “Shit! Do I have to fight Shap again now?”

  “He won’t fight you, he knows you’re in there. I’d match you against Remo but, again, Shap’s the problem, he’d step in to defend you.”

  “Could a human being take on a Riaz wearing one of these?”

  “Possibly, but certainly not as effectively as Shap. Why do you ask?”

  “There seems to be a reaction from the general population against allowing androids to fight for humanity,” Simla explained.

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Maybe so, but that’s people. They want to fight their own battles. Okay, get me out of this tin can and put somebody else in it.”

  “Can’t, it’s made to measure for you and you alone. You can keep it. Oh, and I haven’t a clue how to get you out, not my department. See ya.” And with that she walked off and re-entered the Institute building.

  “Elfi!” Simla screamed, “You evil bitch!”

  But the scientist did not return. Instead Shap came forward and stood before his ward.

  “Can I assist you, mistress?”

  “Get me out of this damn thing.”

  “If I recall, the fastening mechanisms are located under your left armpit. Please raise your arm.”

  Simla did as she was told and Shap tripped the switch that allowed the suit to swing open. She stepped
out and wondered why she’d bothered. Being inside the suit, with servo motors taking the strain, was like being in a lower gravity environment. A moment ago, she’d been a supergirl and now she was just pain, old, Simla. She thought of having Shap carry it home, but that just seemed stupid. She climbed back in and had Shap seal her in.

  “Well, here we are then” she said to Shap, “the titanium twins.”

  “Actually, I am not formed from titanium, mistress, but an advanced blend of …” Shap tried to reply.

  “Oh shut up,” she said, loping off with superhuman strides.

  Despite her reluctance to play the heroine Simla was now sent on a morale-boosting tour round the weapons manufacturing factories of Earth. She insisted on being allowed to plan her own schedule and the performance she was expected to put on, and ended up with something even the hotshots of Jaip would have been proud of. If she was going to be called the Halven Avenger she’d play it to the hilt. To that end edited clips of the destruction of the Halven fleet were played into a huge holo cube and this brought the audience to a hushed silence. There were then some shots of the gigantic Riaz ship and comparisons between it and Elfi’s tiny Bullet, before a sequence of shots of the Riaz themselves. This usually brought on the catcalls and boos, till suddenly there was an image of Simla in her spacesuit, being towed through space by Shap. Again their size compared to the immense Riaz ship was emphasised. Simla had also had a special score composed to complement the show and now it rose to a crescendo as the holo cube exploded and Simla and Shap stood there. Simla was in her powered armour, tricked out to look more like a spacesuit. Giving the audience little time to recover after the explosion, several dozen actors, dressed as Riaz now flooded onto the stage from the wings. This was Shap’s cue to get to work and destroy the enemies of mankind, though it had been difficult to train him in the finer points of playacting. Simla, meantime, played her part by using her powered armour to leap about the stage and look busy. She made a point of never actually laying hands on a ‘Riaz as she didn’t want to be accused of stealing Shap’s thunder, but once the aliens all lay ‘dead’ she came to the front of the stage and unhooked her armour herself, this being an alteration she insisted Elfi make to the suit. She would then make her speech, vilifying the alien scum, extolling Old Earth’s past and encouraging the people to greater efforts in their work to defend mankind. For an amateur, it wasn’t a bad show.