“Come on, being named Bob-Six, be not as humans say, ‘pooping in party,’” Jikilenga suggested with his usual fixed dolphin like grin. The girls giggled again at Jikilenga's malapropism.
Bob-Six unwrapped the bullet-shaped, foil-covered wax and looked around as if unsure what the social norm was for taking a drug via a place most beings considered taboo or just a bit dirty. Bob-Six wore no pants; just a simple vest for carrying stuff and for style. He had no external genitalia, so there was no need.
“Oh, for Tarcacks sake! Just take it already! We're all adults here. Here, you want us to cover our eyes like schoolgirls?” James said mockingly, covering one eye while awkwardly trying to hand the joystick back to Peter just as another cork popped. Monica and Oscar looked at each other mischievously, covered their eyes with their hands, and chanted...
“Do it!”
“Do it!” the others joined in.
“Do it!”
“Do it!”
“Seriously, are you all are a bunch of juveniles?” Peter frowned as the champagne dribbled over his hand from the foaming bottle, but he turned his head, covered his eyes, and grinned with the rest of them.
Bob-Six shrugged his shoulders, unpeeled the wax bullet, and did it.
“Are there any stimulants over there, or sense enhancing drugs?” asked John. All eyes turned on him, curious, while Peter handed out glasses of champagne. “Perhaps someone should remain sober and alert,” he pointed out. “I'm not much for getting intoxicated, myself.
“I see that Floyd is not here. Shouldn't your botyguard be here, Peter?” John said.
“Uh—I've got Floyd working on something; he will join us later. But you are right, John, someone should remain alert and reasonably sober, not that I plan on becoming completely smashed. I just want us all to have a good time tonight, but I advise showing some restraint. Try to remain vertical. We could run into trouble. In fact, we probably should cancel this outing, but that’s one of the reason I chose Johns former restaurant as he should have friends there. I've also brought some anti-intoxicant patches, just in-case anyone needs or wants to sober up in a hurry. I'm not a total idiot...some parts are missing,” and he broke into giggling.
“Whoa!” he said looking at the joint smoldering in his hand, “good stuff!”
“Flox-shit, Captain! How old are you? That jokes like a million years old!” John added.
“Here you go, John,” Monica said, flipping John a nostril injector as she lorded over the intoxicant cabinet. “That’s Cokand. It's a base of old Earth cocaine, stimulants, B-vitamins, Taurine, atomized wheat-grass extract, and all kinds of disgustingly healthy stuff. Slightly intoxicating, but stimulating, and really not very fun at all, being-that-is pooping-in-our-party.” Monica and Oscar put their heads together and giggled again.
Peter and company had just enough time to drink another glass of champagne and finish their smoke before their limo-shuttle arrived at the Supernova.
As they all piled out of the shuttle; Bob-Six looked a little unsteady on its feet.
“How are you feeling, Bob?” Oscar inquired, grinning.
“I am feeling most strange. I am feeling warm all over, light like balloon, brains fuzzy, have slight urge to be mating.”
“Yep, sounds like you are feeling your joy wax!” Oscar said laughing.
“I too am feeling slightly intoxicated, but Jikilenga can handle his Titunda,” the Vookin said. “I am wondering if server will be Vookin female. I would most like opportunity to mate with female. Jikilenga not having any Mooshaka in long time. Now have money, Vookin Female find Jikelenga most appealing. Not able while unemployed and in jail. Will we be visiting places of dance and possible mating tonight?”
“What’s Mooshaka, Jik?... Oh, right, I can guess. I'll ask about dancing later. I wouldn't mind shaking the old money maker, and getting some strange myself,” Monica said, glaring at Peter.
“Jikilenga not teaching you Vookin dirty words! This being be embarrassed.”
“I think I figured that one out. Well, I, for one, wouldn't mind some Mooshaka tonight,” Monica said, glancing at Peter again. He resolutely stared ahead pretending to ignore her attempt to provoke him.
“No, that's wrong use. If you are seeking male memberings that would be Tai-ka, in Vookin-- Oops, Flox-excrement! I said not teaching you Vookin dirty words” Jikilenga said. All the humans laughed.
“We need to get another fish in you, Jik. We want to know all the Vookin dirty words! You're funny,” Monica said, sliding her arm around Jikilenga’s vast bulk.
“Just so you know, Jikilenga needs at least six Titunda before he is to feel most happy, and doing Vookin dance of joy”
“Sounds like he’s bragging or offering a challenge. I'd like to see the Vookin dance of joy; all that blubber jumping around has got to be something to see! What do you think, Oscar?” Monica asked.
“Guess we will find out, won't we, big boy?” Oscar said, grinning while she poked Jikilenga in his belly.
“Please, do not be doing anything juvenile like trying to match drinks for fish, you three!” Peter admonished dourly.
They arrived at the Supernova and John made small talk with the hostess and found out that business was down since he had left, but she assured him their new chef was very good and making new converts every day. They were soon seated in a private room where they could still see the main dining room. They were close to the kitchen without having to listen to the shouts and clanks of normal kitchen bustle. The restaurant’s namesake was in a large holograph of a sun’s last few hours—going supernova in the center of the room. It bathed the room in a romantic pink glow.
John informed them it was an homage to an ancient famous Earth author and his books. The large picture window behind them showed a large portion of the planet below and several of Hyak’s moons. The whole atmosphere exuded style, elegance, and expense. They even had sentient creatures as servers, unusual when most restaurants used robots. The hostess provided menus for everyone.
“Enjoy your dinner, beings. It’s nice to see you again, John. Love your new look; it's totally Farzookian!” the cute female hostess said.
“How did she know it was you?” Monica asked.
“Besides telling her it was me...” John turned to her smiling and made the same gesture he had made when they had first met; a sweep of his hand down his imposing frame as if to say, ‘Look at me.’
“So, where's your little buddy, Oscar? Uh, I mean I know where he is, but he's been awfully quiet lately; I mean silent. He asleep or sumpin? Usually, he's talking a mile a minute,” James asked puzzled.
“I sedated him before this party—I like the little prick, he's part of me. We've been together for five years now, but he can get really annoying sometimes. He has a one-track mind, especially since I'm not getting as much sex as he’s used to, so these days he’s complaining...a lot. I was finally sick of listening to him whine.”
“That mus be ver difficul for ooo,” Bob-Six mumbled, listing to one side.
“Oh, it is! You know how hard it is to try to sedate something that's intelligent? He can see it coming and what I intend to do by reading my mind and vice versa; although, mostly all he thinks of is sex! Between the writhing, flailing, and screaming bloody murder, it took me almost an hour to get a local anesthetic in Heshe. Anything else would knock me out too,” Oscar sighed.
John and Peter snickered at the mental picture of Oscar wrestling her penis while trying to sedate it.
About this time, their server showed up, a Meloovian. Bob-Six sat up straighter in his seat; or at least he attempted to.
“Good evening, beings. Welcome to the Supernova. My name is Rex. I'll be your server this evening. May I get you something to drink to start your dining experience with us? We have several drink specials tonight; a Supernova Slammer is the house specialty, made with Pouklet Liquor, and Silin Bourbon, with a splash of Hodin Bitte―”
“Fuck those pussy drinks! Bring us tequila shots! Woo-h
oo! “nother ficshy for Jik” Monica interrupted him, slurring her words.
“Hey! Slow down there, Space Princess. We have all night,” Peter said.
“Any other orders you want to give me...lover? Butter your roll? You may be Captain, but you’re not my boss,” Monica said with an edge.
“Monica, I'm still not clear why you are angry at me but try to have a good time tonight. Please if not for me, then for everyone else so they can have a nice night out? Tarcacks halo! We need to talk!”
Her eyes softened, “Alright then. I still want a tequila,” she said, petulantly.
“May I also suggest a Garvon 6 Chateau de Torquemada 35, as well?” asked Rex with seeming disapproval.” It's a medium-priced Sauvignon Blanc grown from Earth grapes on Garvon, and it’s an excellent choice that goes with most cuisine; or would you like to see the complete wine list”
“Why not? That one, Rex. Tequila shots for the ladies, and for the rest of you?” Peter inquired.
“A glass of seawater please and another Titunda,” Jikilenga replied.
“I prefer bourbon shots, myself,” said James.
“Bob-Six ist good for nooow,” Bob-Six said, his head lolling around a bit.
“I’ll stick with the wine, Rex, thank you,” Peter said with a smile.
“Me as well,” John added.
“Very good, being,” Rex closed one nictitating membrane to Bob-Six and left to fill their orders.
“UUUU see DAT? Server winked at me! Ist wanting Bob-Six for mating, I'm sure!” proclaimed Bob.
“Could you at least wait until dessert before you start humping our waiter?” Peter said with a laugh.
“No laugh at Bob! Sleen on Scieeence Channel; one Meloovian slipping sliding eye membrane at another says available for sexing,” the inebriated Meloovian replied, drooling out of its sphincter hole mouth a little.
“Well, good for you, Bob! Looks like someone's maybe getting laid this evening. Might want to sober up a little first, ya think?” Monica said, giggling.
John and James looked at each other uncomfortably and pretended to study their menus.
“As the ex-chef, I don't want to push anything on you, but may I make some suggestions?” John asked. “Are you all adventurous eaters, or do you only eat the conventional fare of your respective races?”
“I've eaten all kinds of things; Andorian marinated worm skins; Griffoons Hijazasd. As long as it doesn't smell too foul, I'll try most anything,” Peter said with a grin.
“If it looks good, I'll eat most anything. I've been poor most my life, and I've learned to not be picky. The fanciest thing I've ever eaten was Falovian Lobster, and that was leftovers off of someone's plate during a short job as a busboy,” James added.
“Ew! Well, I'm very adventurous! A lot of my well-healed clients were very rich, and I was often a dinner companion as well as courtesan. Of course, they wanted me to eat anything they claimed was a penis, testicles, sperm, roe, ovaries, of any creature, alien or otherwise. Most claimed them to be some sort of aphrodisiac. Not that I ever needed one! I've eaten just about everything weird, or disgusting under the sun,” Monica said jauntily.
“Yeah, I'll bet you'll put anything in your mouth, uberslut! He-he-he!” Oscar said with a snicker.
“Oh, you!” Monica gave Oscar a hard elbow to her side, “Like you should talk, Puta de Madre!” They both broke into peals of laughter.
“Humph! Anyway, Garvon-6 deep-fried Choatal air bladder is delicious, and my Faloozian insectoid larva in an Earth cherry chipotle sauce is a signature dish of mine and is to die for. The Hyak I version of your Earth mollusks, called Jipions, are eaten raw, and considered tasty to all the ten races when they are in season,” John told them.
“Jikilenga is liking most anything called 'seafood' by you, but has had your Earth chicken, beef, pork, and fish. I like most Earth-food; except for liver, which is tasting to this being like ass-end of Flox.”
“Where you eat Flox rear-eend, Jik? I eating anyting vegetative, ang thrive on a-ancient ven-vener-ra-rairable earth-food; Top-Ramen,” Bob-Six slurred.
Rex returned with their wine, and drinks and proceeded with the ancient ritual of opening the wine and serving it.
John ordered the appetizers he had suggested for them.
“Oh, and some sautéed Okit-wood fungus for my vegetarian friend here,” John said with authority.
“Would you like to order dinner now, or should I come back? Rex inquired.
“Are we ready?” Peter asked as he looked around at everyone.
They were, and they did with a little help from John. In no time at all, the appetizers arrived and conversation was replaced by the sounds of crunching, slurping, an occasional yummy noises, and exclamations of delight. John had not lied—it was all delicious.
“Hello, John, so good to see you again. We miss you tremendously,” a smiling human, dressed expensively said as he walked up to their table. He reached out his hand and shook John’s. “Your replacement is exceptional, of course. You picked him to succeed you, but no one can replace your certain…touch and style. I'll never forgive you, you son-of-a-pestilent-Flox, just so you know.”
He was smiling to show he was joking as he continued, “Everything will be on the house tonight, of course, since you’re―” John cleared his throat loudly and shook his head, “Uh... enjoy your meal... excuse me,” he continued, speaking to the rest, “my name is Constantine de Uber, restaurant manager. Enjoy your meal. Feel free to call on me if anything is not to your liking. Bon appetite!” he included before he walked away.
“So, we’re what John? Anyone? Celebrity’s? Bob-Six, you going to go for it with the waiter now? Looks like we're VIPs. That ought to get your swain’s juices running or whatever fluids flow for Meloovians when they get excited, or aroused,” Oscar exclaimed out of the blue, slamming down her tequila. “I was his first, you know!”
“Oh, God! I knew it! Not only are you a pervert, you're a cradle―uh, vat robber! He's only six, fer Tarcacks sake!” James exclaimed.
“Yeah, but he has the body of a twelve-year-old!” Oscar joked, “Come on, clones don't count age-wise. Once they are grown and implanted with memories and skills, they are considered adults. Except in, well, Alabama on Earth; especially if it's a cousin, I think. It was consensual anyway—wasn't it? Bob? Bob? Bob,” Oscar snapped her fingers under Bob-Six’s nose, “you are making me look bad here. Say something!”
“Oh, uh, surry, was thinkin ‘bout Rex; dose big, beautiful, black eyes; that tight, little tushie, its sexy, gleaming, gray pate! Oooohh! How I do this? Don't know Meloovian customs for sexing!” Bob said, pounding a fist on his forehead.
“Calm down, Bob. In my experience, all you have to do is ask. The worst they can say is no” Monica added.
“Oh, shee-it, boys and girls, I think that's the least of our worries,” John said, pointing past them toward the door. A stern looking, unsmiling, human female dressed in a crisp military uniform, bedecked with enough medals and gold braid to sink a battleship—a large sidearm strapped above her hip, approached their table. Two soldiers dressed in battle armor and holding very large guns flanked the entrance of their private dining room behind her.
“Oh, I think we are so fucked!” Oscar said in a tight voice.
“Eep,” squeaked James.
“Good evening, beings. My name is Captain Tolane. By the authority invested in me by Hyak II military, you are asked to come with me—peacefully—for questioning on suspicion of piracy and a variety of other charges. I ask that you come with me peacefully. Observing the surveillance tapes from the cruise ship, you do not seem to be particularly violent, and most likely will wish to spare your fellow diners any collateral damage. Hopefully? You can't escape. I have the kitchens blocked, and a small platoon waiting outside the entrance to this restaurant.”
“You seem pretty sure we are these pirates you're looking for. Why do you think it's us?” Peter said, feigning innocence.
“Come now, Ca
ptain Farlon! Without revealing my methods, we have been observing you for days. You have been exceedingly sloppy in concealing your whereabouts and identities. Perhaps you have mistaken paying off the station administrator as a guarantee of your safety. Your disguises are pathetic. Facial recognition programs are exceedingly sophisticated. We are ninety-nine percent sure you and your companions here are the pirates we are looking for.”
“Oh, me! Only ninety-nine percent? What’s it going to take to have you at one-hundred percent?” Peter inquired sarcastically.
“Stripping beings naked, scanning them from head to toenails, inspecting every orifice none too gently, employment of electrodes, genetic testing, judicious but fair beatings, usually does the trick, and makes for a positive ID. I suggest y―”
Her head suddenly disappeared in a fine mist of red, spraying all of them, followed by a crack.
“Down!” shouted Oscar. Responding to reflexes she forgot she had, she grasped the table with one hand and pushed it on its side, shielding them somewhat, sending the table settings and empty plates flying towards the kitchen with a horrendous crash.
“I said get down!”
Bob-Six sat with his mouth sphincter in a large 'o' of shock and surprise. Oscar grabbed Bob’s neck and slammed him to the floor. Two guards at the door had just had their heads slammed together with predictable results by Floyd. He dived and slid to the group joining them behind the inadequate shield of the table. Various energy beams sizzled overhead, rail guns pinged slugs off random surfaces, and they heard the crack of sonic guns. The barrage of deadly fire was now only coming from the direction of the kitchen
“Glad you could join us, Floyd! Here, everyone, take a sobriety patch,” Peter said, shoving patches to each one in the group.
“Lurking unobtrusively per your orders, sir,” Floyd stated.
“So, John, how sturdy are these tables? What are they made of?” Peter asked in a whisper.
“Stainless steel, I bought them for the look, but they are exceedingly sturdy. Certainly, never thought they would come in handy as shields. They might block most projectiles for a while, I think, but they were never meant for this.” John said quickly.
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