The Voting Species by John Pearce Page A

made it difficult for
them to hide their gender, even if they saw any point in doing so.
Their skin and its tone were indistinguishable from slightly tanned
human skin. There was a meagre covering of fair hair below their
necklines, which the Professor observed had nearly evolved away.
All their faces were clear of hair and both sexes didn’t need to
succumb to the ritual of daily shaving. Their eyes were mainly
lighter coloured and set above higher cheekbones, the males had a
harder look than their females. For both sexes there were various
shades of a mop of brown hair on their heads that could be mistaken
for the creativity of any expensive salon back on Earth. They did
in fact look like the fittest of humans, who hadn’t let their gym
memberships lapse
    Denton’s dark
blue eyes narrowed from under his black hair. ‘Just for our dangerous curiosities Prof, what else is
going on? A view from you and the warriors would be most
appreciated. We may even forgive you for risking our
necks.’
    The little
man peered through his light blue twinkly eyes , set in a face made pinker by the sun over the jungle
they’d just fought in. His ruffled grey hair and beard contrasted
with his three younger charges, all now tanned. He was dwarfed by
Mick from the Origins Society who was broad even for his two metre
height. Atop which was a clean shaven head with hard looking eyes.
He and the fourth human, James Tubary, Denton’s friend and business
partner, had met before this adventure in an unarmed combat bout.
Both had received the training for this sport, but had learnt how
to kill should they get really grumpy. Tubary was a miniscule
average height by comparison with Mountain Mick, his fighting name,
but broad; his speed was his edge. He was always the man of action,
his hazel eyes often sparkling from under his tousled sandy hair
when danger threatened. Denton on the other hand preferred exercise
only for health objectives, and tried to use his brain to keep
himself out of trouble, he didn’t always succeed in this ambition.
They all looked on as Professor Anton Devereaux spoke.
    ‘ As I see it
the Admiral ’s working at a number of
levels, I can’t read him, which is probably why he’s Head of
Intelligence. He’s got to close the net on the bastards behind
Cyan’s problems. One chink in his black uniform is that he appears
to want intelligent aliens recognized as such.’
    ‘Why a chink?’
    ‘He has the Senate refusing to acknowledge
the existence of intelligent aliens!’
    ‘ Is he
ramming the genetics evidence from Planet 2374 down the Senator’s
throats?’
    ‘I don’t think so, he’s trying something
different this time.’
    ‘Any idea what?’
    ‘No, have you got any idea Boss?’
    Boss and the
other warriors shook their heads.
    ‘ As for Cyan,
only the gods know what else can happen there!’ lamented the
Professor.
    Denton
sighed. ‘That last come home order we received was about moving
from genetics into politics!’

 
    THUMPING THE TABLE
     
    ‘Here it comes Commander, this is a case of
the nuclear waste hitting the Cyan fan, a real explosion!’ The grey
alert eyes of Admiral Maltravers narrowed as he spoke to Commander
Kronstein, who allowed his customary faint smile to escape his thin
lips. ‘They’re even honouring us with a visit.’
    Just minutes
before, the Leader of the Senate along with the Senator for Cyan
and his legal adviser had demanded a meeting with the Admiral. They
had flown the short distance from the Senate to the Europa Military
base and barked at the nearest receptionist to take them to the
boardroom. Job done, the receptionist had to move herself rapidly
from the doorway, for fear of being trampled by these august middle
aged visitors. She just managed to get the customary formality of
an unnecessary introduction out of her panting lungs, towards the
two tall military men standing in their immaculate black uniforms.
The Admiral smiled from under his tidy short grey hair,