GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 35

Zana and Rivqua burst into the control room.
   "Truck, what's going on? Where's Hoot Gaas?"
   The snow ape swiveled round on the sound tech's chair and let go a shrug. "Seems boss man has done a runner."
   The girls looked at their sound mixer a moment, breaths coming back.
   "Okay," said Rivqua. "You're taking it with impressive calm. Down there they're pretty worked up about it."
   "They practically kicked us upstairs!" Zana added.
   "Can't see the point in that." Truck dismissed it and leaned back on the mixing desk. "Here check this out, I can control the stage podiums from up here."
   "Of course we're worked up about it!" cried someone from the opposite side of the room. It was a guy with the head of a fish. "Hoot Gaas is never gone from here! And I mean never!"
   Truck looked at the fishy guy. "You gonna carry on like this all night? So the guy's not here, so what? He's probably just caught up doin' somethin' else!"
   "You're not hearing me! In no recorded occasion in the history of the Grand Galactica casino has Mister Gaas ever been absent from his post! Not on the busiest and most important few hours of the daily gambling cycle! It's a catastrophe! Allow me to spell it out for you! N-e-v-e-r!"
   "Quite a rare occurence then," said Rivqua.
   "Want me to spell out catastrophe!" Fishhead was beside himself. His scales shone in the pointed light of the control room. Rivqua shook her head kindly.
   "Why is it so important that he's here?" Zana asked. "Is he the only one who knows how to run things? Doesn't he trust the workforce? Like yourself?"
   "It's not that!" shouted Fishhead. "It's the sense of detail! The ability to see! Mister Gaas is blessed with extremely sharp eyesight!"
   "Now you mention it," Zana said. "He was bit of an owl."

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Someone shouted their name.
   "There goes our cover," said Rivqua, walking on. Zana chanced a look back over her shoulder. A couple of small males jumped and waved, straining at the leashes held by their huge females.
   "Blonde Plutoz!" one of them shouted. "We're coming to see you later!" The other one just howled to the skies like the half-beast that he was.
   "You're welcome!" Zana returned, adding quietly, "I think."
   A ripple of interest in the two artists swept through the nearby crowd, but it seemed to fade behind them as they hurried on.
   "Weird town," Rivqua said.
   "We've played some weird worlds, but this place has a tough atmosphere."
   "It's a melting pot. So many different species, different cultures, values, ways of doing things, they all come crashing down here, everyone set on cramming in a good time. It's a miracle the place keeps together."
   "The town's job is to keep everyone in as good a mood as possible for as long as possible."
   "That's the service everyone's paying for."
   "And we're a part of the peace-keeping good-mood force."
   "Part of the dream."
   "Listen to us, Rivvie, we're getting philosophical on our opening night."
   "We're philosophical every night. At some point. But this is special, I'll say that."
   The Grand Galactica front court was busy. Coaches rolling up, tourists coming and going. Limos and exclusive vehicles, one after the other. A busy porter saw the girls. He set down the suitcase and hurried toward them, pretty much shouting at them to take the staff entrance round the corner and head up to control immediately.
   "Okay, no problem," Zana replied. "We need a word with Hoot Gaas. Is he in the control room?"
   "That's just it, he's gone missing! Nobody's seen him. They're in crap state up there."

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Rivqua wiped dressing off her lip. "That's always a risk when dealing with lower intelligence, especially when it sits in the head of a huge insect-type alien with unresolved tough-nut issues. Whatever you say to them, chances are it'll be taken the wrong way."
   "That's when playing by ear comes in handy."
   "We got them going. Calculating interest on their losses should keep them occupied for some time. And in crippling disagreement."
   "We'll have to let Hoot Gaas know, just in case. He might want to lease a few more guard bots or something."
   "It's worth a mention. The casino's got expensive furniture."
   In just a short space of time the bright, throbbing machinery of Toss Vague-Ass had come alive. Slot machines flickered down glass alleys. Music thumped through open doorways. Silhouettes jived in there.
   Ahead of them, half a mile down the road, the Grand Galactica tower lanced toward the velvety darkness, like a sparkling crystal rod, linking the city with the universe.
   A police vessel glided past some fifteen feet over the busy boulevard, lightbar flashing slowly, as if to say, 'Yep, I'm here folks, watch your step.'
   "Vacuum-packed sprouts with legs," said Zana about the doormen. They seemed to be of one kind. A blue-skinned race of sapiens, genetically quirked-up to have double sets of rippling muscles all over. Apparently for the single purpose of guarding nightclub doors in the most intimidating manner possible. The concept worked.
   "Truck could whop any one of those guys, easy," she said.
   "That she could," Rivqua agreed. "And the mere sight of one might provoke her to prove it."

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Time and opportunity were not to be wasted. The Blonde Plutoz picked the first best thing on the animated menu. A complete saucer meal. Looked pretty good from all angles. They ordered extra vegetables.
   "To go," informed Rivqua and watched the nimble robot fingers rattle over the keys. A comforting sight, she realized. A bit of analogue action amid all the technology.
   A short while later, two loaded paper bags sailed in from the kitchen, carried by a flying saucer drone that was modelled after the one on the roof.
   "Thirty-four and a half seconds, Number one!" shouted Number Three with obvious pride.
   "Refrain from speaking!" returned Number One from somewhere far back in the kitchen.
   The girls grabbed the bags and turned to the Ughurzoids.
   "Thank you very much, fellas. We look forward to seeing you anytime within the next eight weeks for our show. And anytime after that you can go do your debt-collecting. Bear in mind, the longer you wait, the greater the interest. Think good and long about that."
   The Ughurzoid displayed a grin. Couldn't have been anything else.
   "We'll see you at de Grand," was his cool reply, like a tough interrogator affording mild courtesy to suspects he's just twisted useful info out of.
   Rivqua and Zana came out through the doors and headed back down the boulevard. The desert air was still warm. Traffic had increased and the pavement was crowding up with nightlifers.
   They looked in their bags. Zana found something that looked crunchy. It was, and it tasted good. She said between bites, "If I'm not mistaken, I think we just said something that might cause a bad thing to happen."

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Rivqua explained. "If you wait another eight weeks, you can add interest. To your losses. Now that is something to think about."
   The Ughurzoids looked at each other.
   "Hey, dat's maddymatically smart!" one said.
   They looked back at the two girls.
   "You mean," began their leader. "Wha' you're sayin' is, de ting I oughta do is, I oughta wait wid wreckin' de Grand casino? 'Cause if I do, I can get back de money I lost, plus de extra money I lost, talkin' theory-tickally, on accoun' of de, whatcha call it, innerest?"
   Rivqua nodded. "You're on fire now, my friend."
   The big insectoid savoured this idea for a moment. His sideways-going mouth clicked as he ran figures through his mind.
   Looking back at Rivqua and Zana he said, "For a cuppla goirls of de most hideous race, you two ain't widout hope. Brainy-wise I mean. Gotta hand it to you. I'll be handin' it to myself after I rip my innerest outta de Grand." A chuckle with his buddies at this witty score.
   He carried on, "But for now, raht 'ere, let us buy you goirls dinner. Consider it like one o' dem tokens of poirsonal 'preciation, for dat dere li'l binniss tip. Go 'head, order anytin' you want."
   This went better than expected. Rivqua and Zana exchanged surprised glances, saluted their thanks for the offer and turned to the counter.
   The smile was fixed and bright. "I'm your happy saucer-burger bot boy! I am ready to take your order!"
   From back in the kitchen somewhere, sounding as if his head was inside a confined space, such as an oven, came a loud shout, "You will respond according to protocol! Do you understand!" Metal banged. Followed by an angry beep, like a yell of pain.

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   "Dat's raht!" said the second. "Dat casino owes you money! Tinkin' 'bout it, every casino in town owes you money. But de Grand! De tables over dere are rigged! I'm tellin' ya! Gotta be! No one loses dat much. It ain't maddymatically plausible."
   "I tink it's 'bout time I got my money back," the first one said like he was explaining the obvious. "An' if dey ain't fort-comin' to a good customah, like yours trooley 'ere, we'll jus' rip de place apart, how's dat?"
   The others cheered, slamming claws together.
   "Okay okay listen!" said Zana quickly. "How about holding off a bit before you go in and rearrange any furniture. Like say, for eight weeks?"
   The Ughurzoid laughed a little, then stopped.
   "Why would we wanna do dat?" he snarled to her face.
   "Well, for the simple reason that an operation that size takes serious planning, right? I mean, you need blueprints, floor plans, a carefully worked-out schedule, a couple of destruction tests in a mock-up casino somewhere really far out in the desert. These things take time. You'll want to synchronize your watches. And pack some lunchboxes. A thermos of hot drink of your choice. We're off season, don't forget."
   "Perhaps I don' wanna wait!" he shouted, eyeball to eyeball. Zana leaned back, carefully puffing out through her nose, avoiding to highlight any opinion about his insectoid breath. With a cold calculating chuckle he added, "Besides, I kinda like de advantage of surprise, know wha' I mean? Takin' it as it comes."
   "But you lost it as it went," Rivqua said. "Have you forgotten? So you might want to consider the advantage of interest."
   "Huh?"

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 29

   "Details, sqoirt, we need details!" the second one blurted out. "What time, who's on, open bar an' so on an' so fort, et cettra an' likewise! An' don't try no wise guy stuff- wise goirl stuff. Jus' don' try nothin' 'kay?"
   "Shuddup! I'm doin' de talkin' 'ere!" shouted the first one out of the side of his mouth. "So dis new show you talkin' 'bout. De one tonite. Who's de act?"
   Zana and Rivqua exchanged knowing looks in a tease.
   "You ain't gonna believe this, doc," said Rivqua, adjusting her hair. "But you're looking at the act." Arms around each other's shoulders the girls offered a dignified bow.
   The Ughurzoids stared, their hitherto popping synapses drawing a blank thud.
   "Give them a couple of seconds," Zana said to Rivqua.  
   By now Number One droid had left the counter and moved around in the kitchen, wiping steel surfaces, smacking them angrily with his rag while murmuring that the whole place might as well collapse since all known forces clearly conspired against his running a saucer-burger establishment efficiently. After all, just look at what happened to Saucy Belle X3 up on the roof. Should have suspected something already then, he was saying. In the end it's all our's destiny.
   The Ughurzoid finally spoke.
   "How do you figure we're lookin' at de act?"
   "Because we're the Blonde Plutoz!" Rivqua replied. "And we're opening tonight at the Grand Galactica! Got an eight week run!"
   "Come on, you must've seen the flyers!" Zana added when he didn't say anything. "They're all over town! Pretty much."
   The big insectoid took another couple of seconds. He turned to his buddies.
   "De Grand owes me money."

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 28

   "Huh? Tickets for what?" The Ughurzoids looked at each other.
   "We missed a dino-rodeo or somethin'?" said one.
   "Nah, she's talkin' 'bout de stock-craft races in Toss Ovals," said another.
   "Dat was last week!"
   "It was? Woah, was I out of it or what?"
   "You was."
   "Shuddup and let me tink!" said the first. "What did we miss?"
   "You don't hafta tink! Jus' ask de goirl."
   "What goirl?"
   "Dat one dere!" A bristly claw pointed at Rivqua.
   She smiled them all a good one. The first Ughurzoid leaned in close, his head twitching this way and that as he studied her face.
   "You know 'bout some tickets, huh?" he hissed like he'd just cornered a back alley snitch. "An' jus' wha' kinda tickets we talkin' 'bout 'ere?"
   Zana drew closer to Rivqua. Safety in numbers. They could see both their reflections in his large bulbous eyes.
   "This is better than the mirror in the hotel bathroom," Zana mumbled, taking the opportunity to wipe mascara fragments from under her eyes.
   "I'm pleased to tell you, doc," Rivqua said, unmoved by his in-their-face force. "They're for a new show."
   He backed off a tiny bit. The big globe eyes studied her.
   "You on de flatlands wid me 'ere? New show?"
   "Yessireebob. Totally on the level, guv'nor. Starts tonight in fact." She glanced at her bracelet timepiece.
   "No kiddin'? Starts tonite? Dis nite we got raht 'ere?"
   Rivqua nodded like a game show host. "Youbetcha!"

They're weird and wonderful!

Check out the new page with info on some of the characters in our crazy Blonde Plutoz' universe!

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 27

Rivqua and Zana turned. There stood a group of Ughurzoids. An exceptionally ugly race with spiky, hard-shell bodies and great big insect heads. Antennae wobbled. Mouths moved sideways. Long strings of lime-coloured dribble dangled. Looked like any bunch of hungry good ol' boys.
   "Hi ya fellas," said Zana cheerfully.
   "Hi ya nothin'," said the nearest one, ignoring her. "Say, hows about openin' another till? Number Four not workin' tonite or what?"
   "There's no need for another till!" Number One shouted. "Ladies! Will you please place your order! You have thirty-seven seconds from now!"
   Zana smiled at the insectoid giants.
   "Sorry for the hold-up. We were just telling them how cool this place looks, with the big retro flying saucer job up top and all. Don't you think it looks cool?"
   Behind the counter the team leader gestured in robotic hopelessness. Number Three had given up on the ceiling. He didn't get it. He stood grinning like sunshine, finger at the ready over the till.
   "Don' knows 'bout dat," said the Ughurzoid slowly, staring down at Zana. "But I do know dis, dat lookin' at you raht now, it's too bad we can't say de same ting."
   The Ughurzoids burst into laughter. Sounded like a vat of sloppy porridge being stirred.
   Number One banged his fist on the counter.
   "Your thirty-seven seconds starts now!"
   Rivqua took a relaxed lean against the counter.
   "So, got your tickets yet?" she asked the cumbrous beasts.
   Number One threw up his arms with a frustrated beep, pleading face lifted to his cloud-based programmers.
   The younger droid took one more shot at the ceiling.

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The team leader stared at Zana with robotic contempt.
   "You have thirty-seven seconds," he said and swivelled to leave.
   "Wait, please," Rivqua said. "I'm curious. What's holding it in place? Locked tractor beams running through the floodlights?"
   The droid turned back with a hiss of air pressure, like an irritated sigh.
   "If you absolutely must know, it is held aloft by means of a simple steel pillar! Not counting for the initial problem of gravity itself, tractor beams wouldn't hold for the winds we get out here. We do have a light-bending envelope around the pillar, which is why you can't see it. Now, if you would be so kind as to place your order for your own edible and nutritious flying saucer at this time we would be grateful. You have thirty-seven seconds."
   "That's my sister for you," Zana informed in a mock whisper. "Always asking the exotic technical questions."
   Rivqua had a thoughtful look going.
   "Light-bending envelope, eh? Artificial invisibility. What do you think, Zana? Truck would be into that. She'd wrap one around each of the Bandroids."
   "I must insist upon expediency," said the team leader, exasperation heating up. "Please place your prompt order with Number Three here, who is currently standing by and willing to receive it, and you will be served in thirty-seven seconds or less."
   "I'm your happy saucer-burger bot boy, ready to take your order!" agreed the radiant robot kid.
   "Cease this nonsense!" shouted Number One at him. "Adhere to protocol!"
   "Yes, Number One. But look! A line is forming! My figures are sure to pick up!"
   From behind the Blonde Plutoz came a loud crackling rumble of a voice.
   "Yeah, hows 'bout makin' de order aw-ready!? Dere's a line formin' back 'ere!"

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   "Why, you're just our happy saucer-burger bot boy aren't you!" smiled Zana with a motherly prod.
   A techno-giggle came out of the smiling face. "Yes, Miss. A happy saucer-burger bot boy," he repeated with another sound of fritzing circuit boards. "That's a keeper! Ready to order?"
   A larger android came gliding up along the tracks.
   "Is everything as it should?" he asked, scanning the situation. "An order has yet to be placed. Is there a query, issue, dissatisfaction? I must ask you to order. Thirty-seven seconds per customer is the limit. That time frame has collapsed. Your figures are taking a hit, Number Three."
   "I have a new designation, Number One!" the plastic kid grinned. "I'm the happy saucer-burger bot boy!"
   "Silence! You're nothing of the sort!"
   "It's really not his fault at all," Rivqua broke in, fighting laughter. "It's us. We took up his half-minute-plus with a time-consuming, thoughtless question about the flying saucer up on your roof."
   The larger android looked at her a second. He gestured upwards.
   "You're referring to the big one up there?"
   The young droid searched the ceiling once more, smiling.
   "Is it a real antique?" Zana asked. "If it is, it's pretty cool."
   The hot laser eyes seemed to cool a little. A sadness came into his voice.
   "A thirteenth century neo-Mofftillian personnel carrier. Military surplus. Beautiful machine she was. When they first started laying out Toss Vague-Ass she used to fly land surveyor crews around the desert. Alas, those days are long gone now. They decommissioned her, ripped her guts out and stuck her up on the roof like some mascot. Progress they call it, the insensitive animals."
   "Well, the thing does look like a burger," said Zana. "You can see their thinking."

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   "Love the old flying disc you have out there," Zana said to the android behind the counter. "Is it a genuine antique?"
   "Flying disc?" said the robot, tilting its head. Its welcoming smile stayed plastered. "Of course, Miss. A complete meal or just the disc? We have singles, double and triple layer, all the way up to quintuple layer. They're popular with customers with sideways-going mouths, like the Ughurzoids. Our range of condiments allow for over six-hundred combinations!"
   "Can't wait. What I meant was the big flying saucer sign you got hovering over the roof." Zana pointed upwards. The android gazed up at the ceiling, searching, smiling.
   The girls exchanged looks.
   "And that's including our range of sauces," the youthful android continued, head still upturned. "Which are made here, under the roof. Not over it. Customers are never wrong but in this instance you are."
   The fixed grin was disconcerting. Perhaps a fuse had blown. Even while he spoke the sides of his mouth stayed brightly up, producing only single smile lines in the flawless rosy cheeks.
   Rivqua stretched for a glance over the counter. The plastic youngster had no legs. His body went all the way down to the floor, attached to tracks that crisscrossed the whole kitchen.
   "You've never seen it, have you?"
   "Seen what, Miss?"
   "What I mean is, you're always here. Right here. Serving customers. It's all you do."
   "That's correct, Miss! And I am happy to take your order!"
   It was impossible for him to beam even more but somehow he did.

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Zana and Rivqua looked at each other. They had come across some crazy suggestions around the galaxy but this took the cake to a compromising peak.
   "No sir, we can't do that," Rivqua said. "That would be completely dishonest."
   "It would be a total distortion of the truth," said Zana.
   "A humongous fabrication," Rivqua went on.
   "A disastrous invention," added Zana.
   "A cataclysmic non-truth," Rivqua established.
   "A rabbit out of a hat," confirmed Zana. "With teeth."
   "A flat-out lie, so flat-out it'll leave burn marks in our mind and soul," explained Rivqua.
   "And it's sure to land us in trouble with the police. Right, Rivvie?"
   "I'll say it will. Wouldn't you agree, detective?"
   Zana nudged Rivqua, "Hey, isn't there this thing called perjury too?"
   "There is, and it ain't good."
   Zana crossed her arms. "In short, sorry, but we can't help you there, detective inspector."
   Both the cop's heads stared at the two rock stars like they were trouble in the making. His hand drummed against the side of the door.
   "Foreigners," he muttered in disgust. "Alright. But don't you leave town now. Enjoy the evening. Watch your step. And have a good show. I'll be talkin' to you."
   Under the hovering police vehicle the cushion of shimmering blue light brightened and the craft accelerated up the boulevard.