Black Swan Planet

by James Peters

“I’m looking for someone I know. His name is Nicholai.”

  “Nicholai? You know Nicholai?”

  His eyes scanned me and Marco, then he raised a finger in awareness. “Wait a minute, you, here with dat’ monkey. I know who you are!”

  “What? You know who I am? How is that?”

  “Nicholai. He told us all the stories o’ da’ man and da’ monkey. You’ Raka, aren’t you?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Raka the Monkey-Fucker!”

  “No! Just Raka!”

  The thin man called to a man nearby. “Hey James, come ‘ere.”

  “What is it, mon?”

  “Guess who dis is. Go on, look at ‘is face and ‘is friend here.”

  James studied me and Marco for a moment. “No way! Raka the Monkey-Fucker?”

  The thin man gasped, “Yes! You a legend aroun’ here! Nicholai loves to tell da’ story about you and what you did on dat’ ship. But I thought you was dead?”

  “Not quite. I want to go on record as saying I never touched that monkey.”

  As I did, Marco pantomimed a scene of me ravaging.

  “You sick bastard!” the thin man said, then laughed. “Nicholai was tellin’ da’ truth all along. And now you are here, with yo’ lover.”

  “Does Nicholai know you are here?” James said.

  “No, at least not yet.”

  I shook my head and rubbed my brow. This conversation gave me a headache.

  “We can’t keep ‘im waitin’. Follow me!” James said. “He’ll be glad to see ya’. He’s told that story so many times, about you and da’ monkey. Nobody really believed ‘im, but now, here you are with a monkey! Raka the Monkey-Fucker, in the flesh!”

  “Listen, it’s just Raka,” I said, as a stranger passee by us.

  “Are you Raka? You a legend, mon!” The stranger said. “Hey everybody, look who it is!”

  Folks turned their heads toward me as the stranger yelled, “Its Raka!”

  The crowd replied in a thunderous roar, “The Monkey-Fucker?!”

  My head started to pound. “IT’S JUST RAKA!”

  I double-timed my walk as I did James naturally sped up too. “Where are we going?”

  “Black River Rumworks. That’s where Nicholai is. He runs da place. Him and da Commander.”

  “Commander?!” I said, as the thought of an Imperial Commander being here raced through my mind. This couldn’t get any worse.

  “Yep and dat Commander has a mean streak.”

  I started to hyperventilate. A Commander from the Empire?! “What is this Commander’s name?”

  “Commander Meow Meow.”

  “Commander what?” I said.

  “Commander Meow Meow. It’s his long-haired tabby cat; dark stripes with white paws and tummy. Nicholai loves that cat, and nary goes anywhere without him.”

  I sighed. My voice came out as a squeak. “A cat. That’s nice.”

  “I wish it was. The Commander is mean. Da’ meanest cat I’ve eva’ seen.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We worked our way around a winding path until we saw a massive stone fence. As we continued, the path led to an impressive gate, centered between two stone pillars at least fifteen feet tall. The gate closed tight, and I assumed locked. We neared and heard barking.

  A guard with a military-style rifle stepped out from behind one of the columns. “Stop where you are. State your business here!” His voice sounded more British than Jamaican. Another guard stepped out from behind the opposite column, his rifle pointed at my head.

  “It’s okay, mon!” James said. “We’re here on official business to see Nicholai. Take a look a’ dis mon and ‘is compan’yun. This is Raka!”

  The guards lowered their guns slightly, looking at us. “Raka the Monkey-Fucker?! Why didn’t you say so?”

  “IT’S JUST RAKA!” I screamed.

  “Unlock the gate, Bud,” The first guard said. “We have a celebrity here. Nicholai will be thrilled to see you. He always said he assumed you died. Heroically, but dead none the less.”

  A wave of warmth come over my face. “He said I died heroically? Seriously?”

  The guard reached out and shook my hand vigorously. “My name is Thomas; I’m one of Nicholai’s special guards. Allow me to lead your way. It’s such a pleasure to meet you! Nicholai always said that Raka the Monkey-Fucker gave his life, saving the others; out of love for the monkey. A true hero’s death; a sacrifice for love. Sorry.”

  He paused to wipe a tear blooming from his eye. “Regardless of who or what you like to fuck, you saved Nicholai’s life, so you’re a hero to us. None of this would be here.”

  The guard motioned for us to follow. “Without Nicholai, this plantation wouldn’t exist.”

  He pointed to the left. “The beautiful green fields of ganja, bending gently in the breeze.” He pointed off to the distance, to the purple hillside. “Miles of purple poppies, producing the strongest opium known to man. Nicholai built that, and all the money that it brings to us. We have running water, electricity, and telephones now! Nicholai built that, and you saved Nicholai, so you are always welcome here!”

  We approached a sprawling white stucco building with a huge raised gazebo out front. Inside I saw a bronze statue of what looked like a man standing up, but the shadows and distance didn’t allow me to make out any details. It looked as if he held something. What is that?

  I decided to ask a few questions. “So this place is called a rumworks. Is any actual rum produced here?”

  “Absolutely. Some of the finest rum in the world. We grow sugarcane right here, and distil it down. We make dark and light rums here. Nicholai makes a special recipe rum that would knock the fins off a shark. Not sure what goes in it, but I’m sure it’s more than rum. That rum will make you see angels!”

  “You think he spikes it?” I said, assuming the answer.

  “Without a doubt. I think he puts some of his happy drops in it. Nobody knows exactly what goes in the happy drops; my guess is a mix of opium and ‘shroom juice.”

  “Nice. That would make you see angels. If not devils.”

  We approached the gazebo and statue, the harsh shadows still making it difficult to make out what the statue depicted.

  “I see you looking at the statue. Do you know who that is?” Thomas said.

  “No. Nicholai perhaps?”

  Thomas let out a boisterous laugh. “Nicholai may have an ego, but wouldn't build a statue to himself! This is a statue of a hero!”

  We stepped inside the gazebo, and I moved into the shadows. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the statue of a naked man, standing upright, with a monkey’s ass in his face; the monkey upside-down, looking toward the man’s genitals. The face of the man, wrought in a wry smile as if he really enjoyed this, then I recognized my face, forged in bronze. Thinking positively, the figure did have the body of a Greek god, and muscle tone I could only dream off. My gaze turned downward toward the inscription: Raka the Monkey-Fucker inscribed in huge letters, followed by a smaller inscription of He had his way with animals.

  My jaw dropped and I stared. A familiar voice snapped me out of my trance.

  “Sweet goddess of tits and ganja! It’s you isn’t it, mon? Raka the Monkey-Fucker in the flesh!”

  Nicholai ran toward us, his excitement unmistakable. “I thought you was graveyard-bound!”

  I turned fully to take in the vision of Nicholai. He donned a purple suit with wide white stripes and thick collar, his fingers adorned with heavy golden rings, and wore a feathered hat with all the colors of the rainbow. His dreadlocks hung below the hat, to the middle of his back, and he wore sunglasses adorned with emeralds. He carried a walking stick made of inlaid teakwood with a massive ruby capping off the top. A long-haired tabby cat, wearing a diamond-encrusted collar, slinked around his legs: The Commander.

  Nicholai’s eyes widened. “How did you get here, you ol’ Monkey-Fucker?!”

  “Boat.”
<
br />   Nicholai laughed. “Boat! He says boat. Last time I saw ya’, you was fallin’ to yo’ death, and you say boat. Come here!”

  Nicholai grabbed and squeezed me tightly. “You saved Marco, me, and Maven. We was doomed, but you saved us!”

  The Commander hissed at me.

  My head spun. “Uh, about this statue?”

  “That’s for you, mon. You a hero!”

  “But…”

  “You don’ need ta’ thank me, Raka. It was da’ least I could do.”

  “But everyone is calling me ‘Raka the Monkey-Fucker!’”

  “It’s a street name, Raka. Everyone here has a street name.”

  “But I don’t want to be Raka the Monkey-Fucker! You said I was a hero, why not Raka the hero?”

  “Sorry Raka, but if there’s one t’ing I learned from Goat-Sniffer Jones, it’s dat’ you don’ get to pick yo’ street name.”

  Nicholai turned to Marco. “And you, Monkey-Mon! It’s been so long since we done smoked da’ pipe togetha’. Where you go, Monkey-Mon? Did you make it to Hollywood or NASA?”

  Marco jumped around, pantomiming so quickly that I couldn’t make out half of what expressed. Nicholai watched him for a few moments and finally interrupted. “I’m sure you have all kinds of stories fo’ me, but first we need to celebrate! Let me arrange a feast, fit for a real hero!”

  “But—” I said.

  “Raka, you saved me’ life on dat’ shuttlecraft. Da’ least I can do it to throw a party fo’ you. We’ll break out all da’ best, you’ll see. Gimme’ jus’ a few minutes to ‘range thin’s.”

  He stepped away and whispered something to the guard as Marco followed him, holding his hairy hand up in expectation. I watched as Nicholai handed Marco a hand-rolled cigarette and helped him light it. Marco took a deep drag on it and held the smoke in as long as he could, then filtered the smoke through his simian nostrils. The chimp’s lips turned up in a relaxed grin as I watched him.

  “That stuff’s no good for you,” I said as the chimp replied with a one-finger salute.

  Nicholai returned. “I’ma’ gonna’ have my mon Thomas ‘ere take you two up to da’ big house. Any’ting you need, you just let da’ mon know. Anyt’ing at all. An’ Marco, you still be wearin’ those old chaps. I’ll send an expert leather-master over and ‘ave ‘im make you a new pair.”

  Marco’s eyes turned fierce and he pointed toward his chaps, then waved a very clear message of ‘nobody touches these’.

  “Monkey-mon, if you don’a want ‘em to make you new chaps, no worries, mon. How ‘bout he makes you a matching jacket?”

  Marco’s expression changed immediately, and he made a motion of buttoning down a collar and checking cufflinks. Thomas waved for us to follow him, and we did as he led us to the big house. As we walked, the scale of the house tricked my eyes; I expected that the walk would only take a few seconds, but as we continued, I realized that the house had been further away than it seemed. As we finally neared, it became clear; the ‘big-house’ earned its name because it mocked a normal building. The double doors at the entrance looked twice as tall as normal and, naturally, twice as wide. The windows appeared massive, so large I doubted that a single person could open them alone. Everything about the house was scaled this way to the largest extent possible, yet still be usable by human beings. Thomas directed us to the first of a pair of guest rooms.

  “Monkey-mon, this is your room. You’ll find everything you need; drugs, food, clothes, and Nicholai is trying to find you a female monkey companion.”

  Marco raised an eyebrow and gave a short pelvic thrust. “Now, Raka the—”

  “Just Raka,” I said.

  “Raka. Your room is across the hall here.” Thomas opened a massive door for me. “If there’s something you need, you just let me know.”

  My eyes took in the opulence of the room, landing on the four-poster canopied bed at its center; draped with a misty white fabric,so light and airy it looked like smoke. The wood bed had been so intricately carved, my eyes found patterns atop twisted patterns; leaves, vines, and flowers, but as I looked closer, I noticed that at the base of the bed the carvings represented Spring and as my gaze turned upward I could follow the changing of the seasons. I walked around and saw that each of the four posts represented a different area of the world. Someone had spent an incredible amount of time carving this artwork.

  I wandered across the room as Thomas took his leave, to a huge wardrobe equally as intricate as the bed, but in an oriental style. I pulled the jade handles back and found nothing but the finest clothing. The softest silks, smoothest cottons, and wools; nothing but the best. As I pawed through the offerings, I noticed the collection contained dozens of samples of each style, progressing from the smallest sizes to the largest in order. I looked at my dirty clothes and hands, surmising that I had to be too dirty to wear any of these clothes without cleaning myself first. I saw a doorway leading into another area surrounded by racks of white towels so thick I thought them to be pillows.

  This has to lead to the bath.

  I grabbed a towel and flung the door open. I released an audible gasp when my gaze fell upon a Jamaican woman bent over the bathtub, adding crystals and scented oils to it. As a big girl, bending over the bath like that made her butt stick out like the cushions on an overstuffed recliner.

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” I said.

  She turned around to face me, completely nude from the waist up. I double-blinked at the sight of her floppy breasts and quickly turned away. “I, uh, didn’t know…”

  “Don’t be shy, traveler mon! Come on in, I ‘ave your bath almost ready.”

  “M-my bath? But you…” I said.

  “I’m drawing yo’ bath. I’m your bath-maid, silly mon. I’ll wash yo’ back, I’ll wash yo’ front, I’m here to assist you in any way needed.” She smiled, raising her arms up in a motion for me to come to her, causing her breasts to swing out and pendulum back together, jiggling in every direction imaginable.

  I tried to cover my eyes, forming a makeshift visor with my hand. “Thank you, but I won’t be needing assistance.” I had tried to speak with firm authority, but it came out like a teenager hitting puberty.

  “You don’t sound so sure,” she said.

  I looked to the floor, and to the wall, then to the ceiling. “I’m sure. Thank you and please, uh, go somewhere else.”

  “Nicholai wanted me to take care o’ you.”

  “And you have. This bath looks wonderful and I can’t wait to get into it. Alone. Thank you, good day.”

  “But…”

  “Good day. In fact, the way you can take care of me the most is for you to take the rest of the afternoon off. Starting right now. I’ll tell Nicholai how you did a fantastic job. Now, scurry off, please.” I gave her a dismissing wave.

  She left with a sigh, closing the door tightly behind her. I flipped the door lock and proceeded to undress and slip into a wonderfully luxurious bath. The water felt perfectly hot, the oils had a scent of peppermint, and the salts softened the water. For a few moments, this seemed like heaven. I closed my eyes, for what seemed like just a moment, but the next thing I knew I was awoken by a knock at the door and the water had cooled considerably.

  I heard the now familiar voice of Thomas. “Mr. Raka?”

  “Yes?”

  “We are just about ready for the feast. Nicholai started to worry about you.”

  I threw my clothes on to join the party. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  ***

  I noticed a large crowd of people making their way into a wing I hadn’t noticed. I followed the crowd into a gigantic room where many rows of tables had been set up, every place set with the finest china and service settings, candelabras, and crystal. It took me a moment to scan the room for all the people and commotion going on. Finally, I saw Nicholai at a raised stage area at one end of the room. A table had been set there with service for only five: Nicholai at one end with a special setting
for Commander Meow Meow at his right side. Marco wore his leather chaps and now a finely fitted leather jacket. A female chimpanzee in a pale pink dress sat on the side, and a place had been left open, presumably for me, opposite Nicholai. Something about the setting reminded me of a perverted vision of the last supper.

  Nicholai greeted me. “You finally made it mon! I was starting to wonder if Rochelle had snapped yo’ back in two!”

  I cocked my head as I looked at him. “Rochelle?”

  “Yo’ bath-maid. Rochelle. She’s fine, ain’t she?” Nicholai said, smiling and winking at me.

  “Yes, fine,” I said, then turned to Marco. “Looks like you’ve made a friend here too.”

  Marco looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders, then he pantomimed at full speed. I gathered that they had a good time, but this chimpanzee had been stupid, clingy, and annoyed him. Apparently, Marco had a love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude.

  Nicholai nodded toward the female chimp. “Her name is Babs, short fo’ Barbara.”

  She heard her name, grabbed a roll from the table and flung it toward Nicholai, who caught it in his left hand with a deft snap.

  “Nice to meet you, Babs,” I said, greeted with a wet raspberry sound from the chimp.

  I turned back to Nicholai. “You put on quite a spread here. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

  “Trouble? Nah. Nothing’s too good fo’ you, Raka. You saved us all on dat’ shuttle.”

  He clapped his hands twice, and servants immediately carried covered platters out to the table. I took in the variety of foods; breads of all types, fruits and vegetables of every variety, rum drinks, and sweets. One of the servants set a platter in the center of the table and removed the lid, the contents slowly revealed itself as the steam cleared. I had no idea what I was looking at. Clearly a meat platter, the outside edge appearing to be strips of meat woven together to make a casing around something shaped vaguely animal, but with exceptionally long arms. As soon as they uncovered the dish, Commander Meow Meow strutted across the table and breathed in the steam from the dish, purring as his tail moved like a cobra to the flute. The servant pulled a piece of the meat casing off and offered it to the tabby cat. The cat sniffed, turning his nose up until the servant stepped away, then grabbed the morsel and ran off with it.