'Oh no,' groaned Renton to himself, 'I don't believe it. I'm still on that friggin' ship. And worse than that, I've been captured by those women. I cannot believe it. And oh shit, the thong-thing, they haven't even had the decency to take it off. And it's killing me. It's just sheer agony. Oh God, and so's my head! What's happened to my head? It feels like it's been hit with a baseball bat, like someone's tried to score a home run with it… And of course, that was it! That bastard with the matching kit. I remember now. It was when I was being chased…'
The woman with the voice was speaking again.
'You know if this creep doesn't wake up soon, we're gonna be in trouble. And I mean real trouble. Cristalina was right. Our dear delightful Bessie is gonna want to know who he is. And if we can't find out on account of how he ain't up and about, we're the ones who'll get it in the neck.'
'So give him a kiss, Angie,' said another voice. 'That should do the trick. He'll think you've got the hots for him. And that'll unfreeze him. No way it won't.'
There was a chuckle interrupted by a 'go screw yourself' from Angie. And then there was silence. The joke had run its course.
Renton realised he had to make a choice. He could do one of two things.
He could open wide his eyes and provide the relief that Angie so obviously desired. He could then submit himself to their attentions and to their enquiries and reveal some or a little of all that he knew. Or alternatively he could remain lying on the floor, his eyes closed and his body still. That way he could avoid the certainty of interrogation that accompanied option number one, and instead could continue to savour the delights of his present condition: a throbbing head, an aching body, an excruciatingly painful waistline - and, to complete this state of grace, a ready-to-run-over full bladder.
The first path was very dangerous. They would not learn a great deal from their interrogation. He knew so little of what was going on that they were bound to be disappointed. This would lead to other things, things like torture and pain. And then quite possibly to some sort of disposal process. They wouldn't be able to let him loose again. They would have to dispose of him, eliminate him, extinguish him… Oh, why beat about the bush? They would have to kill him. Yes, that was certainly very dangerous, not to say shit-scary perilous. He could end up a friggin' gonner.
But was the second path any better? Heck, all it would do is provide him with a splendid period of agony before, sooner or later, he ended up on the interrogation route. He couldn't lie here forever. And anyway, he doubted whether he could prevent the passage of water for more than a few minutes more. And they wouldn't fail to notice that. So path number two wasn't such an attractive route either. He would probably have to risk the emergence option. If nothing else, he could at least get out of his unbearable clothes. And that would be absolute heaven.
'So go to it, Renton. Face up to the predicament and open those eyes.'
As he did, the door of the dressing room opened and another of the blonde bimbos entered the room. Floating in behind her was the laughing policeman. And with him he had the pole he used for his timekeeping duties at the daily lunchbox event. The hologram at its end was in the shape of the number nine.
Renton was perplexed and mildly annoyed. Here he was with his eyes wide open and none of the four blondes around him had even noticed. Their attention it seemed was on these new arrivals. They couldn't take their own eyes off them.
'Hi girls,' said the new blonde, 'guess who's joining the party.'
'What?' responded the blonde nearest Renton. 'What did you say?'
Now, the girls' dressing room was a large room, and it was much longer than it was wide. Renton and his cohorts were at one end and blonde number five and her companion were at the other - just inside the door. There was nearly forty feet between them. But now there was less. As the new blonde responded to the question, she was walking towards them. And with her came the bulbous bobby.
'It's a way to wake him up. It's the pole.' She pointed to the constable's timepiece as if that made it clear. 'We can use it to wake him up.'
'What are you talking about?' challenged the girl on Renton's right - she who was called Angie. 'You out of your mind?'
The odd couple were now halfway down the room and were still coming. So was the unintelligible explanation.
'We can use it on his filtrum. Like they did in that film about the poet, the one with the funny nose.'
'The one with the funny nose?' asked Angie incredulously. 'What the fuck are you talking about? And anyway…'
Her question was never finished. She was now rising from her seat and reaching for her maser. In a fraction of a second, so too were the other three. But they had left it too late - all of them. The new member of the squad and her extravagant escort were now only ten feet away, and then no feet at all. And the first guard had now been engaged and her friend had been downed with a pole.
Renton leapt to his feet. He felt he should be lending a hand. After all, he didn't like these busty women. And neither, it appeared, did these newcomers. And that made them his friends. So it was time to have a go. But which one to go for?
The attacking blonde was now on top of the first guard and had almost subdued her. The policeman, having despatched the second with his pole, had then used it to disarm the third, whom he now had in a headlock. It looked like something out of a surreal cartoon.
That left guard number four: Angie, the one with her maser trained on the helmeted head of plod.
Renton leapt forward to restrain her, but she was just too far away. All he could do was alert her to his presence. And that caused her to do what he'd have done himself in the same situation. She swung around and trained her maser on Renton's head instead.
This didn't look good. But then something remarkable happened. Renton fell through the trapdoor.
That's not to say that he disappeared through a hole in the floor. No nothing like that. But he'd obviously knocked the release switch on his thong-thing, and its front had flopped open. And then a bit of him had fallen through - and not an incidental bit.
And it had won him a precious second. Angie's attention had been distracted in the most astonishing of ways, and she'd forgotten to discharge her gun.
That was enough for a trained Tickler. He was soon on top of her. And soon after that he'd divorced her from her maser - not in itself a tricky manoeuvre, given that she'd knocked herself out on the floor as he'd piled into her. But that didn't matter. He had won. And he was alive. And he'd live to fight another day!
And now it was time to help in the mopping up, in the disposal of the remnants of the bad guys. With the maser in his hand this wouldn't be a problem. However in the event it wasn't a requirement. His two new partners had finished it all themselves. There were no remnants left, just unconscious blondies littering the dressing room floor - like a carpet of jumbo confetti.
Renton immediately felt a bit of a prick. He did it without thinking as he tried to close the open trapdoor on his thong-thing. The new blonde was looking at him and he'd remembered his immodest not to say his indecent state of undress.
'But hey, wait a minute. She's as bad as me. There she is in her standard blonde-bomber kit: studded bra, leathers and loose swinging chains, but not a thing round her furry bits. Well, at least I've got a thong-thing on. I have made a bit of an effort.
'Hey, wait a minute, I know those furry bits. I'd recognise them anywhere. Christ it's… it's…
'Hello Renton,' purred Madeleine as she slowly removed her wig. 'I see we're still into our old habits then. Still looking in all the wrong places…'
'Madeleine!' screeched Renton. 'What the hell are you doing here?'
'Showing off my rude bits. But I think you've spotted that already. Mind, you're not doing too bad yourself. That's quite a conversation piece you've got there. And I don't mean your willy.'
Madeleine grinned. And then, as she looked into his eyes, the grin became a smile. This was the signal, the signal for Renton to remember who she w
as and what she meant to him. He stumbled towards her and took her in his arms. Then he kissed her. It was joy. It was perfect. It could have gone on forever. But then a new voice brought it to an end. Firmly but gently.
'I think that's right real pretty. I mean, I really, really do. But, my friends, we've gotta make oursel's absent hereabouts as soon as we can. Cos there may be a bunch more of these here light-haired horror-types arrivin' any time soon. An' that won't be good news, I can tell yer.'
'Boz. That's Boz!' exclaimed Renton as he disengaged himself from Mad. 'That's Boz. I know it.'
And then he looked at the laughing policeman, the comical constable who had now removed his head to reveal another: a great scaly thing with sparkling eyes and a million teeth. It was Boz alright. And Boz at the right time - again. Renton began to feel emotional - and it clearly showed.
'Aw, come on now, my famous friend. Plenty o' time for that there stuff later. But now we've gotta vamoose. An' I mean now.'
'OK, OK Boz,' stuttered Renton. 'But I've just gotta have a pee and… and well, I can't go around like this. I'll get molested. And come to think of it, Mad's in the same condition.
'We've got a hidey hole round the corner,' said Boz. 'An we can attend to all that sort o' stuff when we're there. But let's git movin'. Or else you're gonna have more than your tackle to deal with. An' I can assure you o' that.'
'Right,' said Renton. 'Sounds good to me. Let's get a move on.'
And with that they were gone. And so too was Renton's isolation on the Lollipop. Now his friends were here as well. And before long, he might even discover what they were doing here…
37.
The Lagooners lay scattered across the floor, life-sized rag dolls in white gowns - and in chains. All ten of them had been bound hand and foot with a fine selenium braid. And all ten of them had also been blindfolded. Their captors, it appeared, didn't want them to escape or to learn where they were.
They were there as well: five leather-suited blondes and a sixth in a glossy-red jump suit - Miss Cristalina. And at Cristalina's side was Bessie. And Bessie was in address mode. And as usual it wasn't to offer thanks. It was to offer an unwelcome opinion.
'This is all crap,' she intoned. 'And we're up to our friggin' necks in it. There's no friggin' way that it's gonna work. I just know it. No friggin' way at all. And fuck knows what time we've got left. Jesus! This is all gonna be one great friggin' fuck up!'
Cristalina responded to Bessie's outburst in her normal even tones.
'The antidote should start working in about ten or fifteen minutes,' she said. 'And then it shouldn't take more than an hour or so. It's just a matter of Miri and Clirita taking the readings and then doing a couple of calculations. Then we'll be there. We'll know where he is. And then he'll be ours.'
'Ours? What do you mean: "ours"?' screeched Bessie. 'Jesus, if this fuckin' nonsense ever works, he'll be mine. Understand? Mine. Not ours. Not yours. Not theirs. Mine, spelled M.I.N.E. Shit, you really are going out of your way to make me mad. You really are. And God knows why. Because you don't need to, you know. On account of how I already am. I'm fuckin' wild. Do you hear me, you cheap trollop? I'm fuckin' wild!'
Bessie paused to draw breath, but only for a second.
'God. Here I am with a pile of effin' zombies. And I mean, we're talking about real, bloody, abducted, effin' zombies. And for all I know, there's a whole effin' army of them just waiting to jump us. And all I've got to rely on is some harebrained effin' scam dreamed up by some blonde-haired effin' tart, that's as likely to work as a… as a whore with a sore. And then that'll be it! That'll be the end of everything. I can see it. I can just see it…'
And so she droned on, more and more abuse and then more and more filth. And never at any time, an acknowledgement that it might just succeed, that it might just give her all that she'd ever wanted - even though it would.
Cristalina knew this. Just as she knew that the barrage of bullshit would end. And it would end very soon - as soon as those goonies had stirred.
'And then just watch her.' She thought. 'Just watch her change. From that foul-mouthed fishwife to the most impatient of ingrates, impatient for action and then for her prize. Well, her prize for now. And then maybe for just a little while longer. But after that, after the diva has been dethroned, it will be mine, all mine. That's M.I.N.E., you fat cow. You know, M for Monstrous, I for Intolerant, N for Not-up-to-the-job, and E for ex, E for emphatically ex!'
38.
This was very clearly a special cabin. In the first place it was inordinately large. The bathroom was huge - bigger than Renton's whole cabin. And the bedroom was simply vast. Then there was the decoration. It was elaborate, not to say entirely tasteless. And it had just one theme: lust.
Everywhere there were scenes of passion, and passion in all its forms. On the walls it was mostly orgies, big orgies where the participants were either coming or had just arrived - but had not yet uncoupled themselves from those they'd arrived with. And every pairing had been rendered in the most remarkable detail, a study of extreme human intimacy through the lens of some extreme human intricacy. And with nothing left to the imagination, absolutely nothing at all.
It was the same with the painted panels on the bedroom ceiling. These depicted the wonders of exclusively female lust - from every possible perspective. No matter how improbable or how intrusive the view, the artist had achieved a series of images that were not only breathtaking but also anatomically meticulous. They must have been the work of a lifetime.
And that's what one would have needed to take it all in, to inspect every representation of rudeness in this most bawdy of boudoirs - from the miniature mosaics in the bathroom floor to the grand embroidered cover on the massive bed. They really were all over the place. And they served only too well to underline the particular purpose of this special cabin. For it was, for those who could afford it, a very private pleasure dome, complete with a wardrobe full of sex toys, sex aids and sex costumes - costumes designed to excite even the most jaded of partners.
It also came complete with a huge, multiple-screen monitor on one of its walls. Renton noticed it as he emerged from the bathroom, naked now, save for a small hand towel around his waist. Then he noticed Boz. He was no longer hovering. He was now out of his policeman-machine and back on his legs. And he was holding something in his arms. It was a livid green tracksuit and a pair of silver shoes.
'I reckon this here's about the best we can do, young man. There ain't what you'd call any regular like kit in that there wardrobe. An' anyway, I've seen a lot worse…'
Renton sighed. Boz had his normal togs on. Madeleine was now back in her own clothes - thank God. But he, Renton, the coolest of cool dressers, was going to have to make do with something a clown would have worn - and that had about as much chic as a runny nose.
'But so what?' he thought. 'I've got my friends back. And that's what really matters.'
And so he took Boz's offering with a grin, and dressed himself quickly. And as he did so, Boz spoke…
'OK pardner,' he opened, 'first things first. No pastis and no fish pie. We ain't got the time. They'll have to wait. Like 'til we've tracked down these goonies.'
'Tracked down these goonies?' queried Renton. 'What goonies? I don't understand. And for that matter, I don't understand anything. In fact, I'm about as confused as I can be. And that's pretty confused, I can tell you. Would anybody like to fill me in? You know. What you two are up to. What you're doing here. How you found me. All that sort of stuff. It really would help. And, who knows? It might even help me make some sense out of things - out of some of the things I've seen on this ship. And I could do with some sense. I really could.'
Boz chuckled. 'Yup, s'pose you could, ole buddy. An' there's jus' so much you don't know, you won't believe it. So I s'pose we'd better fill you in. An' as quick as we can. Cos as I said, we ain't got much time. So I tell you what…'
And here Boz turned to Madeleine.
'Why don't you enli
ghten our third pardner here, my dear girl. On account of how you gets all your words out a sight more quicker than what I does. An' anyway, I want to do some more thinkin', if you knows what I mean. So go on, chile. Tell him. Tell him what it's all about. Or least what we think it's all about.'
'OK, Boz,' agreed Madeleine. 'And I suppose I should start at the beginning. Else he's not going to understand anything, is he?'
'Nope,' agreed Boz. 'You gotta go right back to the start. You know, to when the goonies done give us this job. No other way o' doin' it.'
'The goonies gave us this job?' squeaked Renton. 'You mean we're working for those things? Those… I mean, do you know what they do? Have you any idea what they get up to…?'
'Not a lot,' offered Madeleine. 'But shut up and you might learn something. And as Boz has already said, we've not got much time. So let me get on. And don't interrupt.'
Renton was about to speak again, but Madeleine was already off.
'OK. Act 1 Scene 1. Boz gets a call. The Lagooners want him to come and see them about a job - about a detective job. And he comes. And he finds out what it is. It seems that two of them - two male Lagooners - have disappeared. They're not on the ship anymore. One went missing when they were doing a pick up at a planet called Tumara - a chap by the name of Gutto. And then the other went about three weeks later when they were doing another pick up at a planet called Deartlegaart. His name was Paulino. Well, this isn't just unusual, this is unique. Lagooners don't ever leave the Lollipop. It just doesn't happen. So they reckoned it must be kidnapping. And they wanted Boz to find out who was behind the kidnapping - and quickly. And they were prepared to pay for it. And I mean they were prepared to pay anything we asked for. And so we took the job. And, of course, we're still on the job. It isn't over yet.'
'We?' enquired Renton. 'Is that a corporate we? I mean, am I involved as well?'
'Oh yes, you're involved alright. In fact, you're more involved than we'd planned. But let me go on.
'Boz decided that he'd install himself on the ship and see what he could find. And that's why he did the laughing policeman bit. It was the only way he could get around the ship without being noticed. I'm sure it hasn't escaped your attention, but with the exception of Boz here, the entire population of this floating sex shop is humanoid. There isn't a single reptilian, amphibiad or insectal anywhere. It just isn't their scene.'
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