Free Dire Steps by Henry V. O'Neil

all ­people.”
    â€œNow that is a surprise. I heard you sent him out to rebuild your son’s brigade.”
    â€œReena did that. And she wasn’t nice about it.” They exchanged knowing smiles. “But something happened to him out there. Apparently the Orphans turned him back into a soldier. Contacted me himself, when he was due to come back to Earth and resume his former duties. Said he wanted a combat assignment.”
    â€œAnd instead you made him the warden of a gigantic space jail run by the inmates.”
    â€œHe’s a gifted infighter, and quite tricky in his own way. The corporate types out there are going to have quite a challenge, slipping things past him.”
    â€œUnless they arrange some kind of an accident, of course. It’s been known to happen.”
    â€œHe has my full protection.”
    â€œThat’s what I’m talking about.” Horace set his goblet on a low table. “You’ve really stirred things up lately, between this reorganization of the construction zone and the assignment of prized conquered planets to the Veterans Auxiliary. I’m hearing a lot of grumbling about you, and even a few veiled threats.”
    â€œI’m sure you stamped them right out.”
    â€œOf course. We’re about to become relatives.”
    â€œBut you disapprove of my actions.”
    â€œIt’s not disapproval, it’s disquietude. The war will eventually end, and giving our allies their share of the new worlds will create a great deal of good will.”
    â€œWe really should win the war before we start dividing up the spoils.”
    â€œBut that won’t work. According to that approach, every conquered planet would remain under military control on an indefinite basis. They could end up in anyone’s hands. That is, unless the leader of our government decided to give some of them to the organization that employs his daughter.”
    â€œYou do understand that we’re not actually winning the war, right? Things have been quiet for a while, but there are still vast numbers of Sims out there.”
    â€œHow strange. You see that as a negative.”
    â€œYou don’t?”
    â€œNo.” Horace rose, looking down through the floor at a mottled brown smear that went for miles. “See that? One of our most productive mining regions, providing the minerals that are so vital to the conflict. And so little of it would be available, without the proper labor force.”
    â€œSlavery’s not proper.”
    â€œWe call it servitude. And, proper or not, it is necessary for the war effort. The only reason some ­people think it’s not proper is because the servants are human. Just think how much more palatable it would be if they were something else.”
    â€œYou can’t be serious. The Sims kill humans on sight, always have. There’s no way you could control them.”
    â€œTheir leaders seem to do that quite easily. The Sims are an organized, hardworking species with great adaptability. And as for controlling them, let’s just say that here on Celestia, we’ve become adept at identifying crucial motivations.”
    A low series of chimes rang out, and a far door slid back without a sound. A young woman entered, dressed in a sleeveless pink gown. Her blond hair was arranged in delicate ringlets, and Olech noted her beauty as she approached. The sunlight from so many directions went through the sheer material of her dress, showing that she wore nothing beneath it.
    â€œSpeaking of motivation, I’d like you to meet Emma.” Horace beckoned, and the girl went to his side. He draped an arm across her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Enchanting, isn’t she? She was living in the gutter when my ­people found her, filthy, abused, starving. I imagine you feel we should have left her there.”
    Olech stared in surprise. “It’s been too long since my last visit. Is this