GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 65

The elevator pinged and the two girls marched out and up to Fadda Bing's private reception area.
   "Inspector," said Zana with a cool nod, and dropped a cooler one to the secretary bot, "Miss."
   The robot stood up behind her desk and was about to introduce them even though they'd already met. The detective cut her short.
   "So, Fadda Bing dead, Mister Hoot Gaas gone. What's your take on this little collection of incidents, eh ladies? Got anything you'd like to say to me?" Fists firmly to his waist he bore down on them with sharp eyes. Both pairs. " 'Cause now'd be a right good time."
   "This is one crazy gig," Zana replied. "We got that to say. That's our take."
   "And that's the reason we're going to take off," Rivqua said, adding, with a look at the robot, "Formal cancelation should be coming through any minute."
   "I see," said the secretary, tilting her head with a jerk to mark offense. "Your manager has advised you to leave."
   "Yes. For reasons we all know very well and don't need to go into yet again. It's getting tiresomely repetitive around here."
   "Hold up," said the detective. He threw an eye at the bot lady. "This the money matter you were talkin' about?" She nodded in reply. The two girls rolled their eyes.
   "There's no crime involved here," said Zana. "At least not on our part."
   The detective's two heads turned to the secretary. "What does she mean by that? Have you got something to say?"
   The bot slammed a hand on the desk. "We're not guilty of any crime! The Grand Galactica cannot release pay to these artists because both Mister Bing and Gaas are not here to sign for it! Those are the rules, everybody abides by them, including the bank, and up till now they have worked flawlessly." While she spoke a soft bell rang out, indicating the arrival of mail in her computer.
   Shoulders rocking with laughter, the detective burst out, "Welcome to Toss Vague-Ass, ladies! Have you two rock people never heard the expression 'the check's in the mail?' "
   "No it isn't," said the bot.
   "Huh?"
   "The check's not in the mail. We don't do that anymore."
   The cop stared at the robot, before smiling back at the girls in full stereo. "Did I say welcome to Toss Vague-Ass? I did, didn't I!"

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 64

   "Ah. The rock stars, or whatever the flyin' heck you call these types. Funny, I met the pair on the boulevard last evening, now you mention it. Somethin' pretty fishy about them too, if you ask me." The detective's worn trenchcoat opened as he shoved a hand onto his waist and looked off in thought. He wore two slim black ties, one for each neck. The robot lady felt they were a nice match to the black straps of his shoulder holster. Stark over the shirt that worked so hard to call itself white.
   "I'm sorry, I did not ask you," she said softly.
   "No you didn't," the detective mumbled, returning from his brief distraction. "Yes, that Marlin guy did mention somethin' to that effect. Last ones to see him. Like I said, I need to speak to those two girly music types, heaven help me. Where are they?"
   "On their way up presently. I hope they are. I expect them to be. You see, I'm afraid we're in the midst of a slight disagreement. Technically it's an argument, I suppose."
   "I can believe that. What about?"
   "Money."
   "I'll be darned," said the detective, both heads looking at her with sparked interest. Like an angler peering over his flask as his float just took a bob up and down in the dark and trying waters.

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 63

   "We meet again," said the two-headed police detective, coming up to the secretary's desk, his pen and notepad already out. He flipped back a few pages and read what he'd written, mostly out of curiosity it seemed. "Let's see, last time I was here it was on occasion of Mister Fadda Bing's death. That was a strange one. Still working on that, in case you're wondering."
   He pushed back the fedora on his left head while the right one continued eyeing the notes. "And now you say Mister Hoot Gaas, entertainment boss, has gone missing? Since when?"
   "Since yesterday afternoon," replied the secretary robot.
   "Yesterday afternoon, eh? Hang on a sec, it hasn't been twenty-four hours. Yet it was reported ten minutes ago - by you. You know what that tells me? Huh? You overrode your civic code base! I could report you for that. You know that, don't you?"
   The robot's head bent down. "I know that, Inspector. I am sorry. But things are in a state of severe mess around here, if you only knew. I felt I had no choice. It will not happen again, I promise."
   She looked up at him, her artificial eyes softly pleading. "Please don't report me."
   The police detective looked at her with one head while scratching the nose on the other.
   "Okay I won't," he said. "It'll leave me with one less pile of pain-in-the-ass paperwork, but I guess I'll manage." He kind of liked his own wittiness there and smiled.
   The secretary missed it.
   "Did you speak with Marlin?"
   "Yes, I was down at casino control," replied the detective, straightening. "Curious fella, that. Something very fishy about him but I can't put my finger on it."
   "Did Marlin mention that our resident artists, the Blonde Plutoz, might well have been the last people to see him?"

BRING YOUR GOOD TIMES!

...and your laughter too! Join us at PSB on Skånegatan 80 in lovely Stockholm tonight. Bandroids will be charged up and music will be hot (that's a stellar guarantee). We're looking forward to a great evening with you all! Engaging warp drive at 9 pm.

SHOWTIME!

Dear Aliens, join us tomorrow night at PSB, Skånegatan 80, for a great midweek show! Our fresh extended set includes new material! And folks, you have gotta hear this music! Even the Bandroids have gone and upgraded themselves with new face plates. How's that for robotic enthusiasm! So come on down, people! We'll have an awesome time together! Downbeat at 21.00.

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 62

   "This sucks!" Zana cried out, heading for the door. "This was supposed to be cushy gig! Eight weeks at the Grand Galactica? Who gets that? Sir Morris got us a great one! A residency! A working holiday! And now what, the whole thing has to go and blow up in our faces!"
   "It's a great gig alright, one of our best," Rivqua replied, still by the window. She glanced over at Zana. "The kind that takes more than a pretty face to get."
   "Sir Morris doesn't have a pretty face. He's old!"
   "I meant us."
   "Oh right. Yeah well, I guess that little practical detail didn't lessen our chances. In fact, probably made Sir Morris job a little easier. But what good is the cheesecake factor when everybody else drops dead! Or vanishes! And money freezes solid in an inexplicable black hole!"
   Rivqua sighed and stared down at her feet for a moment.
   "Give the three furries my very best," she said. "They were genuine fans, and such darlings."
   Zana pulled the door open. "Not for much longer they won't be."
   Rivqua picked up the key card and followed. "Guess I'll give Truck and the Bandroids the news."
   Just then the phone rang. They exchanged a look. Rivqua turned back and answered. It was the secretary bot.
   "I have called the police," she said.
   Rivqua checked her watch. "What about the four hours and a bit that's left?"
   "I executed a personal override. I shouldn't really, it's against the rules. But I did. It was strangely liberating. I'll be relegated to duties beneath my capacities as a result, I'm certain. But so be it. I inform you because the police will want to speak to you too."
   Zana threw up her arms. She'd been listening in.
   "Are the police on the scene?" Rivqua asked. "Hang on, where is the crime scene anyway? The guy's just gone!"
   "Come up to the offices, please. The detective inspector is exiting the elevator at this very moment."

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 61

Rivqua paced around the hotel room, stopping by the window at every lap for a look at the view. But the only far-reaching landscape her eyes could see was the disastrous situation they found themselves in. They had walked right into it, in good faith, which is the way one usually walks into disasters.
   Actually it was Sir Morris who had instructed them to walk into it. Having set up the deal and prepped the ground for them like any good manager - acting in good faith - is supposed to do. And that faith should have paid off, this being the Grand Galactica and all, centrepiece of the entertainment hot spot known all over the quadrants as Toss Vague-Ass.
   Right now Sir Morris was on speaker phone, in a moment's silence, thinking. Zana lay on the bed with a pillow over her head. She was singing quietly to keep her brain from overheating. One of their early songs. It helped a bit. Brought back memories of a simpler time, playing clubs in Megatopia City for a percentage of the door and an okay meal. How reliable and secure that seemed now.
   "Get out of there as soon as possible!" hollered Sir Morris, shattering the silence. "This is a total breach of contract! I'm shocked! You can't put on a show without being paid! Who knows how long these various managers remain absent, either by death or some sudden impetus to go fishing or whatnot. And the bank? I've never heard of such a rigid system. Dried concrete is more flexible!"
   "We're going to let a whole lot of fans down," Zana squeezed in before the second bridge.
   "And there's the state of the Star Bucket, don't forget," said Rivqua from the window. "We were supposed to get her repaired."
   "There's a fleet facility four hours north of Toss Vague-Ass," Sir Morris replied. "She'll make it there all right. I know the base commander. I'll see about a getting you an unplugged show for the crews, help the process along. I'm sorry, we have no other option."
   "I better go find the three furries," said Zana with a sigh and sat up. She flung the pillow across the room. "Give them an exclusive."
   "Oh no," Rivqua said, covering her face in dismay. "We promised to take them backstage tonight. They'll be devastated."
   "Start packing you two," said Sir Morris and rang off.

SONG TEASER!

NEXT UP!

...and if that was not enough - tasters never are - there's this!

...return visit, Wednesday the 22nd, Pet Sounds Bar, full band, Blonde Plutoz at their best, unbelievable music, wonderful show, loads of fun - come join! 

LIVE TONITE!

ACOUSTIC SET TONITE - 9pm - Pet Sounds Bar PSB - Skånegatan 80 - T-bana Medborgarplatsen. 

What a way to spend the evening! Alien pop rockers Blonde Plutoz bring an unplugged yet totally connected performance packed with great covers and stunning originals in a pleasing, inspiring galactic mix perfect for a sweet summer's night on planet Earth.

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 60

   "By then the bank will have closed," Rivqua said, resigned to the fact.
   "The bank!" said the robot and looked up with a snap. "You went to the bank? Did Mister Hoot Gaas make an appearance there?"
   "He was a complete no-show," Zana said. "As was our advance, I might add."
   "Miss secretary, whatever-your-name-is," Rivqua began in explanatory tones, "we face a problem here. It's quite simple really. We can't work without our agreement being properly honoured! We play, you pay. See how nicely that works? It's the law of reciprocal action. Works all over the galaxy. Since you're not paying, why should we play?"
   "I fully appreciate the law of reciprocal action," said the robot, becoming defensive.
   "Who knows when Hoot Gaas will return?" Rivqua blasted on, having had it with this nonsense. "Perhaps never! Perhaps he's thrown in the towel for good. Bored out of his head with running a casino. And gone fishing instead. Or rodent trapping. He might be remodelling his tree house! Building a picket fence and using his cell phone as a hammer! We don't know do we? You see, the funny thing about all this is that we, the Blonde Plutoz, can go somewhere else and play - where they do pay! Imagine that!"
   "Hey, I'm imagining it like crazy," said Zana, arms out and looking at the bot. "Comes easy to me."
   "I am well aware of this," said the secretary with force rising in her soft voice. "The Blonde Plutoz are established and reputable enough to play in many places. Your position in the hierarchy of popular culture is the reason for your booking here at the Grand Galatica in the first place."
   Zana gave her sister an incredulous glance. "Hierarchy of popular culture?"
   Rivqua returned a dismissive shrug and took a step closer to the secretary's desk and drew up a finger into warning mode.
   "We have no choice but to speak to our manager, and I have a pretty good idea what he's going to say!"
   "And that's based on previous experience!" Zana added, before stomping off with Rivqua for the elevator.

GALAXY TOUR ADVENTURES - "The Grand Residency" - 59

The Blonde Plutoz took a slow walk back to the Grand. It wasn't meant to be slow, they just felt a bit sapped after the bizarre bank meeting. Aimless, is what they felt. Encounters with systemic madness does that you. And rock stars, any artists actually, are particularly susceptible to folly that makes a mockery of practicality.
   For the artist, being spacey and seldom making sense is okay. It's part of the job. But everything around them needs to function smoothly, efficiently, like a well-oiled machine. When it doesn't the artist gets completely lost in space. Free-floating, like a communications satellite way off its trajectory. Idling. Aimless.
   Such were the moods of Rivqua and Zana as they wandered down the boulevard. They were aliens in an environment more inhospitable than previously believed.
   In the daytime the shop windows seemed to take precedence over gambling joints. Fashion stores, diners, streetwear, shoes, luxury vehicles, robotics, furniture, beauty, all on taunting display on either side of the boulevard.
   Some of the stuff looked interesting. As it was, the girls badly needed an upgrade in terms of costumes. Female rock stars are heavy on the image license. Right now, though, they were down to window shopping. Sharing longing gazes at various desirables with the once-optimistic amateur gamblers who loitered along the sidewalk, occasionally leaning furrowed brows against the glass panes.
   Sense and purpose were way out of reach at the moment. Only because Hoot Gaas, a funny big owl, had decided to place himself out of reach. And nobody seemed to know why.
   "Any word from him?" Rivqua asked the secretary robot when they came up to the penthouse offices.
   "No," said the bot, shaking its head in a believable way. "I am worried and upset. If I don't hear from him in four hours and twenty-two and a half minutes I shall have to contact the police."