Message-ID: <5292eli$9710311114@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: Gold Diggers (NND) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller39@IDT.NET Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3458D14D.5D3@idt.net> _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents GOLD DIGGERS _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter One Amber seemed engrossed in a small, palm-sized magazine. It had a glossy cover. It read, “Amazing Tales of Galactic Wonder.” A rocketship streaked across a blazing, starlit sky. Somewhere in the far lower right corner a blue-green planet glimmered. She read on her belly. Her small, sexy bare bottom stuck up, divided into two plump creamy cheeks. Her legs were bent at the knees. Her feet sailed above her bottom in gliding circles. She was twiddling her toes. “Who’re those shits?” Amber said aloud. Jim looked up. But the girl was only reading from the text. He looked at her bottom. He grinned. She was a sweet girl. And quite smackable. “Amber, don’t swear,” Jim said in a loud, fatherly voice. It was bad enough, all he’d gotten her into. He didn’t need to be downgrading her language as well. Amber looked over her shoulder at him. It was small, bare. Like her bottom. Her face was elfin. She had big eyes. She looked at him. Then she stuck out her tongue. “And who’s that big shit?” Amber asked, gazing at Jim. She giggled. Then she looked back at her magazine. “Who’re those shits?” Amber said. She traced her finger across the text. Then she read on, but silently. “Who’re those shits?” Delta asked. “The planet is called ‘earth’,” the Mindserve answered. “Thanks, Cock,” Delta said. It always amused him to call him ‘Cock.’ The Mindserve was a walking encylopedia of knowledge, but it had no sexual organs. Johnnie, who took knowledge too seriously, asked, “What’s ‘earth’ mean?” They all stared out the Spaceport. “It means,” Cock paused. “It means ‘dirt’.” “Very imaginitive race,” Johnnie replied. “Bumpkinville,” Delta snorted. “Hey Johnnie, you know those cherry bombs in the back that we use to prospect?” “For gold? The A-bombs?” Johnnie said. “Yah,” Delta nodded. “We should do a flyby of those bumpkins’ planet... what’s it called, Cock?” “Earth,” the Mindserve replied. “Yeah, ‘dirt’,” Delta corrected. “We should do a flyby of dirtball there and drop two or three A-bombs. Start a dirtball war.” “Thermonuclear war. They appear to possess the appropriate technological level. Our sensors are picking up numerous H-bomb silos,” Cock said. “Whoa!” Johnnie said. “These ‘bumpkins’ have *some* planetary defense, Delt. Pull back or we’re the ones who are gonna get our backsides shot off.” “Nah,” Delta answered. “They only go up, then back down. No threat to us at all. But we could start a Thermonuclear holiday for them if we dropped a few cherry bombs. Wanna do it?” Johnnie considered. “I think, based on their technological level, they would have exhausted most of their gold supply too. Probably their diamonds, platinum... We’re better off sticking to their asteroid belt. It’s rich, undefended... they don’t even know what’s out there.” Delta laughed. “Wait’ll they get there and find its all dug up.” “They’ll consider that an important insight into life in the universe. Probably thank us,” Johnnie said offhandedly. “Yeah, we could land and be gods,” Delta mused. “We need to get what we’ve got home,” Johnnie said. “Pull back. I still don’t like all those silos.” “Shit!” Delta said. “Look, I’ll do a swoop, drop a cherry bomb, and *prove* to you all those missiles just drop back onto the planet, okay? Here...” Johnnie felt his weight alter slightly as their ship shot lower for a pass across the face of the planet. “It will disrupt their pace of technological advance,” Cock warned. “Oh, yeah.. we’ll postpone the coming of the Stone Age by a million years. Who cares?” Delta replied. “No watch, Johnnie.” Somewhere along the underside of their ship the snouts of A-bomb launchers appeared. “Delt, are you sure?” Johnnie asked. He blinked and a manifest of their cargo from the asteroid belt flashed onscreen. It was a good haul. They’d live free and easy on Betazoid for at least a week. “Watch,” Delta said. Johnnie arched his neck slightly and thought he glimpsed the downward glide of one of their cherry bombs. He saw it glint against the planet’s upper atmosphere and was glad to see his repair of the mechanism on the previous Cycle had been correct. “My child was touched!” a female voice screamed across the inside of the ship. “Look, I’m picking up one of their broadcasts,” Delta said. He gave a wry grin. “The Stone Age, Live!” he crowed. “It will cause her permanent psychological harm... permanent emotional scarring,” a composed male voice intoned. “Her innocence is totally lost,” a woman, perhaps the host of ‘Stone Age, Live’ as Delt would have called her,” declared. For some reason the audience burst into applause. “We’ll be back after these commercials,” the host said. “You’ll be back,” Delta agreed, nodding. Johnnie watched as their first of their cherry bombs exploded. “Washington, D.C.,” Johnnie said, blinking, calling up a terrestrial name onto the viewscreen. “I wonder what sort of place that is?” “Was,” Delta said. They both watched the explosion. Another, some distance north, followed. “New York,” the viewscreen glowed. Then, after a moment, “Albany, N.Y.” All of the names glowed in both terrestrial alphas and their own language. Johnnie had muted the viewscreen sound so they wouldn’t have to listen to the barbaric pronounciations of the bumpkins’ cities. “Now, watch,” Delta said. He did a scan of the planet’s surface. “There, look? Their silos are starting to open.” “It’s a full scale assault!” Johnnie screamed. “Goddamit pull up, Delta! We’re gonna get major damage and I don’t want to have to repair half the sh--” Momentarily, Johnnie and Delta struggled for control of the ship. The Mindserve watched placidly. Delta, being the stronger, won. But he did glide the ship upward to keep his friend happy. After all, Johnnie was the one who oversaw all the mechanical work. Delta liked the way Johnnie made the ship run. Nice and smooth. And fast.” “Stunning,” the Mindserve said. Johnnie forgot the tug-of-war with Delt. He glanced across the viewscreen to see if there were explosions occupying the Mindserve. But there were only the mushroom residue of their own bombs on the planet’s surface, so far. “More,” Delta said. There was a slight tinge of awe in his voice. A backside sensor reading of the planet’s surface now showed the other side of the planet was opening up. Blossoming. With thermonuclear bombs. With launches. With upward trajectories. In two places. “China,” read the viewscreen. It displayed a map of the other side of the planet, picked up by the sensor scan, supplemented by maps sifted from unprotected planetside computers. “Russia.” “India.” “Packistan.” “Israel.” “Baghdad.” Bagdad seemed to offer something less than the standard thermonuclear response, however. Johnnie gave a slight grin when he saw that their ship suffered no threat whatever from those missiles. They seemed to have no nuclear warhead at all. “Baghdad believes in peace,” Delta said wryly. “They’re sending us flowers.” “Congratulations, Delt. You lit up the whole planet,” Johnnie said to his friend. “See?” Delta said. He nodded at the viewscreen displayed within their Spaceport. “You can tell already from the missile flightpaths. All those suckers are falling back to earth. Every one. Not a single one will touch us.” “Yeah,” Johnnie agreed. “Wanna monitor their broadcasts and see what they have to say about it?” “Not much,” Delta said. “They won’t be talking too much longer. So long, Bumpkins.” Johnnie felt the ship lift higher and faster. They were headed once again for Betazoid. “No ability to take along a living environment,” the Mindserve said. He was reading some Tech Level screens. “No thrust... No engines.” “See, Jonnie?” Delta said to his friend. “They don’t *have* any technological level. Look at the screens the Mindserve brought up. No engine capability whatsoever. They couldn’t go anywhere. They spent their entire existence sitting on that dirtball. The whole universe, and all they ever did was sit in one place.” “And look up,” Johnnie agreed. “They do have some radio telescopes.” “Wow,” Delta said wryly. “Okay, well, whatever. We bombed Bumpkinville,” Johnnie said. He seemed to have lost interest in the subject. Even the coming explosion wouldn’t be worth watching. The Longscans would have to pick it up for them. It was still half an hour away, and the sea-bornes, if they had any, needed another eight minutes, at least, judging from the data available on the viewscreen. They could be in the next solar system by then. “Betazoid,” Delta sat down in a chair. It lifted from the floor to accomodate him. Delta gave the chair a satisfied swivel. He liked being the Captain. He seemed to have forgotten their bombing run too. A morning’s lark. They had bombed ‘bumpkinville.’ It wouldn’t even be worth mentioning on Betazoid. THE END ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Other stories: type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Under “Quick Search”, type in: roller39@idt.net Press your “return” key. -Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 - JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -END OF story EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /