I FIND LAURA IN QUESTIONABLE
COMPANY
Well, to cut a long
story short, there I was in the harem of the Emir of Mars’s younger
brother, surrounded by adoring femmes, while my two fellows from
the Club made themselves scarce. “Darling,” Laura trilled,
reclining in my arms, “I do confess, I am so touched! Hic.”
“I know, my dear, but
we can’t stay here.” I quickly outlined what I knew. “Miss Feng
thinks the evil vizier is conspiring to build resentment against
the oppressive and harsh autocracy of the al-Matsumoto clan, and
intends to use it to foment a revolt.”
“But the
al-Matsumotos aren’t harsh and autocratic!” complained one of the
ladies, a cute blond bimbettebot in filmy harem pants and tank top.
“They’re cute!” The room descended into giggles, but I frowned, for
this was no laughing matter.
“They’ll be harsh and
autocratic by the time Ibn Cut-Throat’s spinal crab is through with
Abdul! Dash it all, do you all want to be decapitated? Because
that’s what’s going to happen if the vizier seizes power! He won’t
have any use for you—he’s the chief eunuch! He’s an ex-man, and his
special power is chopping off heads! He probably thinks
testosterone is something you catch from sitting too many
exams.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can
fix that,” a dusky six-armed beauty
informed me with a flick of her aristocratic nose. “I didn’t study
regenerative medicine for nothing.” Her arch look took in Laura.
“Why don’t you just take yourself and your tin-plate tart and leave
us to sort out the matter of succession? She was only going to go
down hard in the talent-show round, anyway.”
“Pip-pip!” called
Toadsworth, sailing from one vaulted side chamber to another in
pursuit of a giggling conical debutante, a silk favor knotted
around his monocular. “Party back at my pad, old chap! Bring a
knobbly pal! Inseminate! Inseminate! Bzzt!” I looked away before
the sight of his new plug-in could scar my retinas for life. You
can’t take these clankie stallions anywhere in polite company, they
can’t so much as wink at a well-lubed socket without wanting to
interface with it—
“She’s right,
darling, we must be going.” Laura laid her elegant head on my
shoulder and sighed. “Oh, I do declare, my feet are killing me.” I
scooped her up in my arms, trying to see over a faceful of
frills.
“I’ve missed you so
much,” I told her. “But what are you doing here
anyway?”
“Hush”—she kissed me,
and for a moment the world went away—“my brave, butch, bullish
Ralphie!” She sighed again. “I was going to hold out until after
the race! But I had just checked into the Hilton when I received a
telephone call saying there was a gentleman waiting to see me in
the lobby.”
Jealousy stabbed at
me. “Who was it?” I asked, cringing and glancing away as Edgestar
rolled past, having transformed himself into a tentacularly
enhanced chaise for the amusement of the blond bimbettebot, who
appeared to be riding him around the room using his unmentionables
as a joystick.
“I don’t remember,”
she said dreamily. “I woke up here, waiting for my prince—you! I do
declare—but Toshiro said he was arranging a surprise, and there’d
be a party, and then it all went a little vague—”
I can tell you, I was
freezing inside as I began to realize just how disoriented she was.
“Laura, what’s gotten into you?”
“Not you, not
lately!” she said sharply, then lapsed back into dreamy
incoherence. “But you came to rescue me, Ralphie, oh! He said you
would. I swoon for you! Be my love rocket again!”
I saw a small silver
receptacle on a nearby table, and my heart sank: she’d clearly been
at the happy juice. Then I sneaked a peek at the sockets on the
back of her neck, under her hairline, and gasped. Someone had
planted a hedonism chip and a mandatory override on her! No wonder
she was acting out of sorts.
I plucked the ghastly
thing out and dropped it on the floor. “Laura, stand up!” I
cajoled. “We’ve got to be leaving. There’s a party to be going to,
don’t you know? Let’s go.”
“But my—” She
wobbled, then toppled against me. “Whoops!” She giggled.
“Hic.” I might have pulled the chips
out of the fryer, but my fish was still thoroughly
pickled.
I hadn’t expected
this, but Miss Feng had insisted I take a reset pill, just in case.
I hated to use the thing on her—or rather, Laura hated it, and this
invariably led to a fight afterward—but sobriety is a lesser evil
than being trapped in a castle run by a mad vizier and subjected to
mood-altering implants, what? So I pressed the silver cap against
the side of her neck and pushed the button.
Laura’s jaws closed
with an audible click, and she tensed in my arms for a second.
“Ouch,” she said, very quietly. “You bastard, you know I hate that. What’s going on?”
“You’re on Mars, and
we’re in a bally fix, that’s what’s going on. This Ibn Cut-Throat
fellow’s a thoroughly bad egg. He’s sneaked a spinal crab onto old
Abdul, I think he picked you up because he wants a handle on me,
and doubtless that’s why the rest of the Club’s all here—we’d be
first to notice a change in our boy Abdul’s behavior, wouldn’t we?
The cad’s obviously set up the sticky wicket so he can bowl us all
out in one inning.”
“Dear me.” Laura
stood up straight and took a step away from me. “Well, then we’d
better be going, darling.” She straightened her attire and looked
around, raising one sculpted eyebrow at my dishev elment. “Do you
know how to get out of here?”
“Certainly.” I took
her hand in mine, and led her toward the central gallery. “I’m sure
there must be a way out around here somewhere . . .”
“Over there,” offered
bin-Sawbones, pointing. “You can’t miss it, head for the two
hulking eunuchs and the evil vizier.” She pushed me hard in the
small of my back. “Sorry, but business is business. When you’re
trying to marry the second-richest man on Mars, you can’t afford to
be too picky, eh?”