by Rudy Rucker
“Happy hour,” said Duckie, opening the connecting door between the two rooms. The Realtors were working on a bucket of ice and a bottle of premium local bourbon.
“We jived those students pretty good,” called Chick cheerfully. “I told them we’re from Homeland Security, fighting the evil Hrull aliens. I signed them up as Hrull spotters and gave each of them a hundred bucks cash. Duckie told them it’d be a federal death rap to obstruct Jayjay because he’s working for homeland defense!”
“We’re problem solvers,” said Duckie, gliding into Thuy’s room, with two fresh highballs in hand.
“S’good,” said Kittie, slurping.
“I’ve never had hard liquor,” said Thuy, accepting her glass anyway. The bourbon had a festive smell and a jolly demeanor. It left a sharp bite in her throat and a warm glow in her gut.
Out on the great lawn, fifty Crown of Creation Church parishioners had bussed in to defend the Sleeping Savior. The Crownies were holding hands to form a human chain in front of the inn. It felt weird to have these be the people on Thuy’s side.
Meanwhile, the bearded boy and the long-haired girl had gathered twenty or thirty like-minded companions. It turned out that—surprise!—they weren’t buying the load of crap the Realtors had shoveled onto them.
“And the kid in front has a frikkin’ noose!” exclaimed Thuy.
She was glad she still had the stonker gun hidden in the wheelchair’s seat. She found herself wondering how many people she could kill before the power ran out. That’s the kind of mood she was in.
A shouting match began beneath the streetlight outside the inn.
“What bullshit,” said Chick, joining Thuy at the window, drink in hand. “The South is nowhere. What the fuck difference does it make if our clients siphon off some gnarl? What gnarl?”
“Don’t be shallow,” reproved Duckie. “Charlottesville has a rich history. President Thomas Jefferson himself designed the rotunda and the great lawn.”
“BFD,” said Chick. “I say we hop back to Yolla Bolly before these country-fried hippies string us up.” He glanced over at Thuy. “Hubbie still on the blink?”
“He did a lot today,” said Thuy shortly. She’d decided to make their break for freedom before they went back to the Yolla Bolly Peng ranch—no matter what. But for now she kept up a smile. “Maybe if Jayjay rests a little longer, he’ll be ready to go again.”
“Sounds like my husband,” said Duckie with a snicker. “He rests a lot.” The whiskey was hitting her. Thuy could practically see the cracks forming in her plastic face.
Chick shook Jayjay’s foot. “Up and at ’em, runemaster! How about you teek a shot of bourbon into his stomach, Thuy? That’ll put hair on his chest.”
She ignored him. Teeping Jayjay on the bed just now, she’d discovered something wonderful. He was so drained and so deeply asleep that once again Pekka and the Pekklet had stopped watching him. Big Pekka was tending to the rest of her farflung empire, and the Pekklet was napping or maybe scratching around the subdimensions for food. They’d be checking back, of course, but right now Thuy had her shot.
She shooed Chick and Duckie from her room and slammed the door. Kittie grasped how things stood. “Let’s teleport out of here fast,” she proposed.
“Let’s go out to the fire escape,” said Thuy. “Remember that teleportation is blocked in here.”
Jayjay stirred in his sleep, moving naturally for the first time since last night. The room picked up on this and responded.
“Don’t let him reprogram us,” teeped the creaky floorboards. “We don’t want to be slaves.”
“Maybe I should let those students hop in here,” threatened the inn’s faintly sour air. “We’d all be better off with Jayjay dead.”
“Just give us two minutes,” teeped Thuy, her mind seething with plans.
Down in front of the inn, someone fired a gun.
The motley crowd of students were confronting the Crown of Creation posse. Screams, thumps, and more gunshots in the dark. A fresh troop of Crownies arrived. An equal number of angry locals came teleporting to the lawn—and broke through the Sleeping Savior’s defense line. Footsteps thudded on the porch; massed shoulders crashed against the inn’s locked door.
Kittie and Thuy loaded Jayjay in his wheelchair and hurried down the third-floor hall to the window.
“You can have this,” said Thuy, pulling the stonker gun from under the wheelchair.
“Awesome,” said Kittie, taking it.
Downstairs the front door gave way with a sharp crack. Whoops and yelps sounded up the stairwell.
“Help me get him through the window,” said Thuy. “Once we’re outside I’ll—”
“—call the Hrull?” said Kittie, reading her mind. “Are you sure that—”
“I figure they can escort us to San Francisco and I’ll find that the quantum-mirrored room at Seven Wiggle,” said Thuy. “And I have to try and get Chu back, too. And, to tell the truth, I’m—”
“—dying to see what it’s like inside a Hrull,” completed Kittie. “You’re a wildwoman, Thuy. A star.”
Footsteps were pounding up the inn’s first flight of stairs.
“Hey!” called Duckie, peering after them from the door of her room. “Where do you think you’re taking Jayjay?”
“Quack, quack,” said Thuy, giving the unsmiling Realtor the finger.
And then Kittie and Thuy were on the black-painted iron grillwork of the fire escape with Jayjay at their feet. The nightgray trees watched warily—maples, chestnuts, and dogwoods.
“We’re leaving,” Thuy assured her surroundings. “Please block the students from teleporting right onto us. We only need a minute.” And then she teeped the wiggly squeal of the Hrull whistle. For the moment there was no response.
The students had reached the second flight of stairs; the tops of their heads were coming into view.
“Back!” yelled Kittie. She leaned in through the window, stonker gun outstretched, and fired a wavery femtoray. The top steps of the stairs shuddered into ragged chunks that clattered down to the flight below.
The students paused, uncertain—and in that moment the fundamentalists boiled up after them. The hundred-handed mob wrestled itself to a standstill. Focusing her mind, Thuy teeped the Hrull whistle again.
And now, ah yes, something flickered in the dim sky. A blacker darkness covered the inn and the lawn. Lusky had been up there all along, waiting to become visible. An acre of wobbly flesh came gliding toward Thuy, the mouth a faintly glowing slit in the leading edge.
“Hrull!” wailed the student rebels and the Crownies, terrified in equal degrees.
“Not for me,” Kittie told Thuy. “I’m teleporting to Cruz. Luck, babe. You want the gun?”
“Keep it. I doubt Lusky would let it aboard.” Thuy smiled at her wise, jokey friend. “I’ll love you forever.”
“Just like Chu,” said Kittie, kissing her. And then she grew ghostly and was gone in a confetti of bright dots.
CHAPTER 9
LIVE SEX
Sitting on the edge of the fire escape, Thuy stretched one arm toward Lusky, keeping her other arm wrapped around Jayjay’s waist. She had to wonder if she were making a catastrophic error.
With a blast of warm, fishy air, the mothership manta ray’s red-glowing mouth bumped against the metal fire escape. Thuy got to her feet, levered Jayjay over the lip, and followed him in.
“Hurry,” teeped Lusky. “I’ll camouflage myself and fly away.”
Inside the manta, all was calm, with the space dimly lit by glowing traceries of magenta veins in Lusky’s yellow flesh. The warm, damp cavity was smaller than Thuy had expected. She sat on the ridged floor with Jayjay stretched out beside her.
Although Lusky was teep-blocking herself from outside viewers, Thuy could teep around the manta’s interior quite well. She located Chu and a humanoid female lying nude on bunklike ledges toward the rear of the chamber. The alien woman had three eyes, her skin was chartreuse, a
nd she smelled like Brussels sprouts.
A fleshy cone hung from the ceiling like a stalactite, shielding the dark tunnel of Lusky’s throat. It was like a person’s—what was the word?—uvula. The dull red uvula wobbled back and forth with the beating of the ray’s massive wings.
“Hello, Thuy,” teeped Chu. “I—I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
He sounded shy. Maybe he’d heard her imitating him when she said good-bye to Kittie. As usual, Thuy had been live on Founders—although, now, inside the Hrull, her teep to the outer world was blocked. But she’d be online again whenever Lusky opened her mouth. The ratings for this adventure would be huge.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she told Chu. He really was very cute. “I thought you might be in outer space by now. Somewhere like the—Hrullwelt? Is that where this green woman is from?”
“Glee’s from a planet called Pepple,” said Chu. “She’s a pusher for Lusky. Her boyfriend, Kenee, just died, I’m not sure why. I might replace him. But there’s one part about being a pusher that I don’t like.”
Pepple—hadn’t the Peng mentioned that place? But before getting into all that, Thuy needed to think about Jayjay. He was sleeping as deeply as before. She leaned over him, making him comfortable, teeping into his mental state. Thank God, still no Pekklet.
Suddenly the floor lurched and the sound of an explosion filtered in.
“The Crownies alerted your air force,” teeped Lusky, banking to the left. Her virtual voice came in pulses. She was flapping fast. “Even though the pilots can’t see me or teep me, they’re tracking my gravitational signature. Hang on tight while I try some moves. And get ready to push with Chu and Glee! We’ll want to teleport out of here soon.”
The manta heeled to the left, and did a loop. Breathing the warm soupy air as shallowly as possible, Thuy lay pressed against the membranous floor beside Jayjay, doing her best not to puke.
“I’m warning you right now that I’ll spit out Jayjay the instant that the filthy Pekklet takes him over again,” Lusky informed Thuy. “She’ll set Jayjay to casting runes against me.”
“Well, you can’t just drop him from the sky!” said Thuy sharply. Maybe she could get away with being masterful. “I want you to ferry us to Seven Wiggle Labs in San Francisco, Lusky.”
“We’ll talk about all that after we hop,” said Lusky noncommittally. “Right now I’m dodging jets.”
“Look, we don’t have to be inside you at all,” snapped Thuy. “We can perfectly well teleport to California on our own.”
“Except that your husband is too zonked to teleport himself,” said Lusky. “At least for now. Also you’re hoping for a nice ratings bump if you try and rescue Chu. Don’t think you have secrets from me.”
Thuy sighed and sat up. The damp heat was oppressive. It might have been more comfortable to strip down like Glee and Chu, but she didn’t want to be teasing the boy. It might make her look bad.
The space inside the manta’s mouth was like a low gothic chapel. In addition to the two pusher bunks by the throat, there were a pair of larger ledges near the front, perhaps for the absent Wobble and Duxy. Fleshy feeding tubes dangled in each niche. But the humanoid woman, Glee, looked emaciated.
“Glee just looks puny,” said Chu, in tune with Thuy’s thoughts. “She’s her normal weight; she’s tough, like beef jerky. Lusky feeds us as much as we like. She needs to keep her crew healthy.”
“Kenee didn’t look so healthy,” said Thuy. “He looked dead.”
“Kenee had a—a personality problem,” teeped Glee, getting in on the conversation. She was using a teep voice that carried a lilting, throaty accent. “Not really Lusky’s fault.”
The thud of another explosion filtered through Lusky’s flesh, and the great Hrull rocked heavily one side.
“Whoops!” teeped Lusky. “Time to push, guys! What if we skip California and go straight for the Hrullwelt?”
“Gaia needs us,” protested Thuy. “Drop Jayjay and me in San Francisco like I said—and release Chu, too.”
“Chu’s my pusher now,” said Lusky. “He wants to stay.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Chu. “I need to think about it a little more.”
“So, fine, we’ll go to SF,” said Lusky equably. “Start charging my pusher cone. You help, too, Thuy. Just try it this once. Once you have the full pusher experience, you might want to stay on, too.”
Chu and Glee focused their attention and began teeking at the ship, trying to move it with their minds. That’s all that pushing was. Thuy joined in. But, for the moment, nothing happened. The manta ray was too heavy for three people to move all at once.
“Don’t stop,” urged Glee. “Nothing is wasted. Our teek goes into the pusher cone.” She was referring to the fleshy uvula at the back of Lusky’s mouth.
Drawing on her mental visualization tools, Thuy saw the quantum jiggles of their telekinetic waves as orange and purple bands that wrapped around the wobbly, dangling pusher cone.
Glee’s three eyes were golden in her triangular green face. She had smallish breasts, wide hips, and a human-looking pubic mound. Thuy was ever so slightly jealous to see this alien female stretched out nude so close to Chu. Absurd to feel that way, but there it was. Maybe Thuy was a little jazzed to have a youthful admirer. Jayjay sure wasn’t doing much to make her feel sexy.
As Glee, Chu, and Thuy continued teeking at Lusky’s bulk, the pusher cone trembled and grew moist. Slime glistened on its surface; drops dripped to the floor.
“Hrull gel!” teeped Glee. The goo had an invigorating smell, like musk and cloves, a scent with a somehow purplish quality.
Galvanized by the odor, Glee stopped pushing and sat up. No matter, the teek accumulator was full—and now it discharged an illusionistic switcheroo of spacetime frames.
“All right,” teeped Lusky. “We’re over San Francisco. I’m going to circle in a holding pattern while you three enjoy your treat.”
“Drop your teep block,” Thuy told Lusky. “I want to see for myself.”
“No,” said Lusky. “I don’t want those planes to find me again.”
“Gel time!” messaged Glee. She was crouched beneath the pusher cone, scooping up slime from the puddle, smoothing the funky stuff onto the skin of her minimal breasts.
“What is it exactly?” Thuy asked uneasily.
“Health,” teeped Glee, smiling over at her, showing her pearly teeth. She stretched out her glistening green hands. “Try some, Thuy and Chu. See how it feels to be a real pusher.”
“The gel is a drug?” said Thuy, taking a careful step back. “From the Hrull mothership’s body?”
“I haven’t taken any yet,” said Chu, standing at her side. “After each hop, Glee gets some. This is the part about being a pusher that I don’t want. I don’t like doing things that make me lose control.”
“I’m with you,” said Thuy. “I bet that gel is totally addictive.”
“Gel is my bond to my pushers,” said Lusky, not really contradicting her. “You’ll love it.”
The three-eyed Glee grinned at them, but for the moment made no move. Thuy poised herself to kick the wiry alien girl in the stomach if need be. And Chu took a fighting stance as well. Useless Jayjay continued lying limply on the floor.
A deep laugh gusted up from the manta’s throat—and she sprung a surprise. Her great mouth puckered, forcing Thuy and Chu against the sulfurous green woman beneath the pusher cone.
Glee’s slime-coated hand massaged Thuy’s face, her slender fingers working the gel deep into the chambers of her nose.
Wow!
The gel was great! Thuy didn’t feel zonked, not even high—just really healthy. All aches and weariness drained from her frame; the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders was gone. She felt like she’d done yoga, taken a shower, and napped.
The mouth’s walls opened back out.
“You see?” teeped Glee with a sunny smile. “The gel is good.” She’d smeared it on Chu as well. “
There’s another effect, too,” she continued, slyly winking her third eye. “It makes you feel like—you know.”
Thuy knew. She was already feeling the tingle in her loins.
“Do you want to?” said Chu, looking at her with a sweet, tentative smile. “Please? I don’t really know how, but—”
Thuy cast a quick glance at Jayjay. He was lying there with his eyes closed. She was sick of being his coma nurse. He’d brought all this on himself, getting so high and yoo-hooing Pekka. She’d never felt so horny in her whole life.
But—Chu was an innocent kid. Fourteen. She thought back to her own self at fourteen, with her girlish dreams of dates and dances and the perfect kiss. The pumping and grinding of actual sex would have horrified her.
“No, Chu,” said Thuy, fighting back her lust. “It wouldn’t be good for you. You’re not ready.”
She was doing okay, she was taking the high road—but then Lusky teeped into her head and nudged her over the edge.
As if in a dream, Thuy undressed, laid down on Chu’s bunk, and began passionately kissing him, her visual field overlaid with the pulsing networks of Lusky’s veins. Glee sat off to the side on her own bunk, looking amused.
“Do it, Thuy,” moaned Chu. “I love you.”
With Chu urging her on and the gel throbbing in her cells, Thuy found herself unable to summon the will to stop.
They moved from kissing to fondling, and then to the real thing, Thuy on top, Chu on top—back and forth, in and out, the lovers riding volcanic waves of sweet sensation, kissing each other over and over again. Chu came once, twice, three times, and Thuy more times than that.
Perched upon the lovely boy, riding him down the stretch for one last orgasm, Thuy happened to glance toward her husband. Oh shit. Jayjay’s eyes were wide open, fixed upon her, fascinated. But his limbs were paralyzed again. The Pekklet was back in charge. No teep block could keep the Pekklet out. Jayjay opened his mouth and began to moan and hum, gently twitching his hips. Goose bumps sprang into relief on his skin. In that instant he seemed utterly loathsome.