1. Shar Divatt
His Supreme Excellency Maxwell Erjan Rhodes, OverLord of T’mor, Tertius Pilus of the Galactic Council, and Chief Executive of The Quadrat Trading Company, stood on a balcony gazing at the pasturelands beneath him. Only the whiteness of his knuckles betrayed the pressure he was feeling, and any observer failing to note that tiny symptom would have assumed that he was simply admiring the glorious view in front of him.
And glorious it was. Herds of boevobeest grazed the pastures beneath the Quadrat building, as the suns descended towards the distant Bedeserrit Mountains, the green-gold light of Alph, the larger sun, reflecting from the winding ribbon of the Calder River as it wound its way down to the distant, unseen, Ocean of Tranquillity.
To his left, Rhodes could see guests sitting out on terraces of the Golden Quadrat Hotel, doing what tourists to T’mor always did, sitting, relaxing, chilling. To his right was Lake Pentecost, upon which more tourists sailed their various craft, sails billowing in the gentle evening breeze. Others bathed in the warm waters near the shore, still more relaxed on the beach or played beach games.
T’mor was the nearest planet to paradise that mankind had ever found. Especially as it was the only known source of T’morian Elixir, the single most wonderful substance ever discovered.
T’mor was peopled by the Kenquilim, who had farmed it for millennia, and who were by far the most perfect example of the humanoid form to be found in the length and breadth of the civilised galaxy. Rhodes himself was of the Kenquilim race, so any observer from anywhere but T’mor was likely to be looking anywhere other than his knuckles.
For Rhodes was not, at that moment, actually wearing anything. Kenquilim were equally comfortable naked or clothed, and looked equally good in either state.
“Max! Daahling! Come to bed!”
A voice from within the room. The whiteness of his knuckles increased. The trouble with being from T’mor was that everybody wanted to fuck you, physically and metaphorically, and sometimes it was politically necessary even for the Overlord to play the game.
Rhodes needed this deal with Bellerophon V. Shar Divatt was part of that deal. Shar had come to T’mor to make a deal, return home with a good quantity of Elixir, and to have some bloody good sex while she was here.
Rhodes was astute enough to be equally accommodating to all comers. He strongly preferred female humanoids, male humanoids were fine too, but even female Bellerophonicans were a challenge. He turned back into the room, took one look at the lizard-like being in his bed, a second look at the three huge breasts with which he would shortly be smothered, and felt sick. All Kenquilim loathed reptiles, they had a visceral fear of them. And why did she have to smell so vile? Apparently other Bellerophonicans found it irresistible, and Shar appeared to believe that Rhodes saw her as some kind of goddess.
So Rhodes did the only thing he could. He gulped down a glass of water, to settle his stomach, and followed it down with about fifty thousand credits worth of the finest T’morian Elixir.
He looked again at Divatt. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. Look at those rippling muscles. Three breasts was 50% better than two! And now she smelled good….
An hour later, and Shar Divatt was by a parsec the most contented Bellerophonican in the galaxy, and Rhodes, who had managed to extract considerable enjoyment himself from the transaction, was seven hundred million credits richer.
More importantly, before Alph had risen again over Quadrat city, a battle fleet that could have reduced T’mor to a large lump of charcoal orbiting Alph and Beth was on its way back to the Bellerophon system, escorting a cargo ship loaded with produce, the most precious of which was a large quantity of elixir.
Such was the power of the Elixir of T’mor.
It had made the Kenquilim into one of the richest races in the galaxy, and Rhodes was the richest of the rich. A drop of Elixir, a bit of sex, and even a battle fleet from Bellerophon went home without firing a shot.
Rhodes smiled, as he settled down to his breakfast. True contentment was his. Lazily, he picked up his communicator, which had just played a tune.
His smile froze.
“Urgent. Come to Temple immediately. Miss Alia is missing.”
His Supreme Excellency Maxwell Erjan Rhodes, OverLord of T’mor, Tertius Pilus of the Galactic Council, and Chief Executive of The Quadrat Trading Company, stood on a balcony gazing at the pasturelands beneath him. Only the whiteness of his knuckles betrayed the pressure he was feeling, and any observer failing to note that tiny symptom would have assumed that he was simply admiring the glorious view in front of him.
And glorious it was. Herds of boevobeest grazed the pastures beneath the Quadrat building, as the suns descended towards the distant Bedeserrit Mountains, the green-gold light of Alph, the larger sun, reflecting from the winding ribbon of the Calder River as it wound its way down to the distant, unseen, Ocean of Tranquillity.
To his left, Rhodes could see guests sitting out on terraces of the Golden Quadrat Hotel, doing what tourists to T’mor always did, sitting, relaxing, chilling. To his right was Lake Pentecost, upon which more tourists sailed their various craft, sails billowing in the gentle evening breeze. Others bathed in the warm waters near the shore, still more relaxed on the beach or played beach games.
T’mor was the nearest planet to paradise that mankind had ever found. Especially as it was the only known source of T’morian Elixir, the single most wonderful substance ever discovered.
T’mor was peopled by the Kenquilim, who had farmed it for millennia, and who were by far the most perfect example of the humanoid form to be found in the length and breadth of the civilised galaxy. Rhodes himself was of the Kenquilim race, so any observer from anywhere but T’mor was likely to be looking anywhere other than his knuckles.
For Rhodes was not, at that moment, actually wearing anything. Kenquilim were equally comfortable naked or clothed, and looked equally good in either state.
“Max! Daahling! Come to bed!”
A voice from within the room. The whiteness of his knuckles increased. The trouble with being from T’mor was that everybody wanted to fuck you, physically and metaphorically, and sometimes it was politically necessary even for the Overlord to play the game.
Rhodes needed this deal with Bellerophon V. Shar Divatt was part of that deal. Shar had come to T’mor to make a deal, return home with a good quantity of Elixir, and to have some bloody good sex while she was here.
Rhodes was astute enough to be equally accommodating to all comers. He strongly preferred female humanoids, male humanoids were fine too, but even female Bellerophonicans were a challenge. He turned back into the room, took one look at the lizard-like being in his bed, a second look at the three huge breasts with which he would shortly be smothered, and felt sick. All Kenquilim loathed reptiles, they had a visceral fear of them. And why did she have to smell so vile? Apparently other Bellerophonicans found it irresistible, and Shar appeared to believe that Rhodes saw her as some kind of goddess.
So Rhodes did the only thing he could. He gulped down a glass of water, to settle his stomach, and followed it down with about fifty thousand credits worth of the finest T’morian Elixir.
He looked again at Divatt. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. Look at those rippling muscles. Three breasts was 50% better than two! And now she smelled good….
An hour later, and Shar Divatt was by a parsec the most contented Bellerophonican in the galaxy, and Rhodes, who had managed to extract considerable enjoyment himself from the transaction, was seven hundred million credits richer.
More importantly, before Alph had risen again over Quadrat city, a battle fleet that could have reduced T’mor to a large lump of charcoal orbiting Alph and Beth was on its way back to the Bellerophon system, escorting a cargo ship loaded with produce, the most precious of which was a large quantity of elixir.
Such was the power of the Elixir of T’mor.
It had made the Kenquilim into one of the richest races in the galaxy, and Rhodes was the richest of the rich. A drop of Elixir, a bit of sex, and even a battle fleet from Bellerophon went home without firing a shot.
Rhodes smiled, as he settled down to his breakfast. True contentment was his. Lazily, he picked up his communicator, which had just played a tune.
His smile froze.
“Urgent. Come to Temple immediately. Miss Alia is missing.”
On the other hand I am going to love bathing in Lake Pentacost 
Do you see any herds of boevobeest grazing anywhere? 