A Space Oddity Too

"Yes indeed, ma'am!" we assured her. Knowing Em, it wouldn't have made any difference if we'd said no. She'd send us whatever.

"The Federation Government has had a missive." Em passed me a view-plate to read and Felice looked over my shoulder to share it. The contents read:

From the Secretary of BUGGAH THE KRUTCH (Interstellar Master Criminal)

To the Government of The Earth Federation, Greetings

We've got you by the pubic hairs, people! We have intercepted the luxury cruise vessel Star Bores and abducted the Princess Layla Landstroller. The Princess will be returned unharmed on payment of a ransom in gold ingots. Our demands are not unreasonable: a twenty-ton cargo vessel full will suffice. You will be notified in due course where and when the ransom is to be paid. The additional cargo from Star Bores remains ours for being very reasonable, so there!

Yours very sincerely,

[Illegible] Secretary to BUGGAH THE KRUTCH (Interstellar Master Criminal)

PS: BE WARNED! Do not be smartarses. Do NOT send any pies!

"What's this to do with us, Ma'am," I asked, "and why has the ransom note come here? Princess Layla Landstroller is a native of the planet Tattootit. Their authorities should deal with it."

"Ah, unfortunately she was coming to Earth on a state visit and the luxury cruise vessel Star Bores is an Earth-registered craft," Em told us, "Therefore she was within our jurisdiction and we had full responsibility for her safety." She sighed. "This is what comes of having a crew made up of men!"

"And has the abduction been confirmed?

"Yes, by the whole crew of Star Bores and a so-called bodyguard," Em said.

"What's this about additional cargo?" I asked.

"A cargo-carrier was linked to the Star Bores to save time and money. It contained two hundred thousand bottles of cloud-rum and other spirits." By the Great Black Hole! That would be enough to keep the whole gang pissed for a couple of centuries.

"What do they mean, 'Do NOT send any pies!'?" said Felice, "What do they think we are, the Earth Federation Secret Intelligence and Bakery Service?"

"Ahem!" Em passed us another view-plate. "There was a follow-up message."

This one read:

From the Desk of BUGGAH THE KRUTCH (Interstellar Master Criminal)

To the Government of The Earth Federation, further Greetings

With reference to our previous communication, please delete 'BE WARNED! Do not be smartarses. Do NOT send any pies!' and substitute 'BE WARNED! Do not be smartarses. Do NOT send any spies!'

Our apologies for any misunderstanding. The secretary responsible for this error has been admonished and thrown to the flesh-rending sea-monsters indigenous to our planet of refuge.** Oh yes, and we've still got you by the pubic hairs!

With very best wishes,

BUGGAH THE KRUTCH (IMC)

** A vacancy has arisen in the Secretariat of the IMC. Applications to be made in writing to BUGGAH THE KRUTCH (Interstellar Master Criminal).

An Equal Opportunities Employer

"Sounds like a strict disciplinarian," I observed, "Wonder what he'd have done if the secretary had made a serious mistake. I take it our objective is to rescue the Princess. So what action are you proposing, Ma'am?"

"We don't know if it was deliberate or just plain stupidity, probably the latter," Em told us, "but the reference to indigenous flesh-rending sea-monsters might give us a clue. Our astronomers have identified half-a-dozen planets within four hyper-space jumps range which could fit this piece of information. Any one of them could be Buggah The Krutch's hideout. I must emphasise, this is a top secret mission, information for you spies only—if we can recover Princess Layla before the news gets out, we'll be spared a lot of embarrassment. We are sending a Double Oooh agent and partner to each of the planets to investigate. You two will be going to a planet called Effluvia, the one we consider the most likely target. We have great confidence in your ability and Kew thought your combined talents were best suited to this place."

Oh-oh! So Kew thought our skills best suited for Effluvia. I wondered what the catch was. Poisonous atmosphere? Thousand-miles-an-hour hurricanes? Homicidal priesthood hacking out hearts with flint knives? Woman-eating plants? Whatever, if Kew recommended us it wouldn't be good for our health, or more specifically, my health.

"What do we know of this Buggah The Krutch?" Felice asked.

Shoving my misgivings to one side, I searched my memory for known bad guys then said: "I know the name but not much else. To date, he's been pretty much a small-time local gangster, hasn't given The Earth Federation any trouble. Always stuck to his own little planet."

"But now it looks as if he's decided to go big-time," Em added, "He's certainly developed some overblown ideas about himself." She tossed off a hearty laugh. "Interstellar Master Criminal my pussy!"

"And how do we recognise him if we find him?"

This time Kew sniggered. "You can't miss him. Apparently he looks like a hybrid between a gigantic slug and an even more gigantic manatee. He's said to possess the most enormous pair of tusks and these hold his mobsters in thrall. They worship the tusks more than the man... er, the monster... See them as his manhood...er, monsterhood... Strange people, strange practices..."

"So, he's hung like a walrus," Felice sniggered.

Em just glared until Felice stopped sniggering then said: "Precisely. Now, Kew can give you details about Effluvia."

"It's a slightly smaller than Earth-sized planet," Kew said, "atmosphere identical and the gravity is about eighty-five per cent of Earth's which should give you a slender strength advantage. But as most of the gangsters are likely off-worlders too, they'll probably have the same advantage. Now, Effluvia was colonised several centuries ago by some sort of back-to-simplicity movement and over the years the native people have regressed. They're now quite primitive by our standards—indeed, by almost any standards—mostly peasants dwelling in wattle and daub hovels and living on a near exclusive diet of unbaked beans and broccoli stalks [looked like I was right—the atmosphere might be a bit poisonous], perhaps with a tiny bit of fatty bacon every third Wednesday. It may be fear or superstition—think of the flesh-rending sea-monsters—but very few, if any, of the inhabitants go near the sea-shore. So Buggah The Krutch's gang could hide up there indefinitely and never be noticed.

"Because the place is behind the times, your Aston Martin spaceship must not be seen—Federation regulations on the protection of primitive peoples—oh, sorry, according to directive from the World Government (Do Not Cause Offence To Any Bugger Department) they are now to be referred to as 'developmentally disadvantaged indigenes'. Bloody bureaucrats—nothing to do all day but sit on their arses and think up verbal diarrhoea like that! Whatever, your ship has been programmed to land in an unpopulated area, about thirty or so miles from your destination, the place we consider to be the gangsters' most likely lair. You'll have to walk the rest of the way."

"Why?" asked Felice, "The gangsters must be using spaceships and air-cars."

Em harrumphed. "When was the last time you saw a master criminal obeying the regulations, Agent Lightener? You walk! Is that all, Kew?"

"One more thing, Ma'am," Kew replied, "I've got a little present here for Double Oooh Eleven." She took a small square box from her tunic and offered it to me. It had no discernable features save for a dial with numbers and an arrow. She waved her hand over the dial and a small aerial sprang out. The dial lit up and the device made a soft beeping noise.

I flinched. Oh shit! I thought, It's a pussy-disabling device. She's still out to get my pussy! Do I sound paranoid? Probably. When it comes to dealing with Kew, I need to be. I accepted the box reluctantly as if it would bite me.

"It's a programmed direction-finder taking you by the most direct route from your landing place to your objective. Try to bring it back in one piece, Double Oooh Eleven. Your pilot will, of course, be a Sweary robot." She gave me brief instructions on using the item and then a little smirk which said: "Not your pussy, Jaimie Pond, not this time." But there had to be a catch... didn't there? There usually was when Kew was involved. The thing was, what was the catch?

* * * * *

We left Em's office and travelled down in the lift. The robot attendant's eyes were still flickering madly as if he were trying to work his way around my scrapyard crack. When we reached the ground floor he said: "Have a nice mission, ladies," in a cracked falsetto. His voice followed us down the walkway, repeating the same words over and over: "Have a nice mission, ladies!" Talk about lax security—I think I may have blown one of his circuits.

I hailed an air-car and suggested that we go down to the official space-port and check our ship's inventory (what I really meant was to ensure that we had a Megacomf sex-sofa, the most expensive item of erotic furniture on Earth—if we're going into the jaws of death we might as well go in style, I always say).

We located our slim hyper-space jump craft and were greeted at the airlock by a very tall (and handsome, if the word can be applied to a heap of metal) robot. His whole body gleamed as did his bright ruby eyes.

"You're new," I said.

"Indeed I am, Double Oooh Eleven and First Agent Lightener." He gave a slight dip of his head.

Felice raised an eyebrow. "You know us?"

"Yes, miss, the positronic brains of all we Alpha-plus class robots are linked in a form of telepathy. What one knows, we all know. Your previous pilot has been very informative about you." With a note of pride he added: "I am an Alpha-plus class Mark II robot. We have had a number of important modifications making us superior to the Mark I robot. Madam Em was so pleased with the outcome of the Doctor Yes mission that she authorised the very best robot to be placed at your disposal, although I understand that the initial suggestion for my employment came from Madam Kew. You are probably aware that we Alpha-pluses are all nicknamed Sweary. Fucked if I know why but you may call me that if you wish."

Oh-oh! Time for my paranoia to start its warning beeps again. In the first instance Kew suggested sending us to Effluvia. Then Kew also recommended this Sweary. And she seemed to know a lot about Buggah The Krutch and the direction in which we might find him if Effluvia was his hideout. I was going to have to watch my shapely arse. With Kew being so helpful there was bound to be an ulterior motive and I doubted that my convenience or well-being came into it. Still, no harm in playing along until I could fathom what was going on. "Welcome aboard, Sweary," I said.

A hitch-hiker's guise in the galaxy

"I think I'll just go outside for a while."

Felice and I gazed bemused at Sweary. One of us said: "Huh?", the other said: "Run that by us again..."

"I said, I think I'll fuck off outside for a while," Sweary repeated.

We were in deep space, a few hours from our first hyper-space jump. Going outside didn't sound like a very good idea. My tongue ran away with me before my mind caught up. "You can't, there's no atmosphere out there." Stupid, stupid, stupid. My only excuse was that in the short while we'd worked together I'd come to see Sweary as almost human.

"I don't need atmosphere, Double Oooh Eleven..." he pointed out. I'm sure that if he had been human he would have added: "...you silly bitch!"

I saved him the trouble. "I am a silly bitch, of course you don't need air. But Sweary, why do you want to go outside?"

The big robot pointed to the Megacomf sex-sofa. "I know that you and Agent Lightener are love partners as well as being work partners and I sense that you are eager to test that item of furniture during your human mating ritual. Doubtless unclothed. In order to save you embarrassment, I will go outside."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Sweary," Felice said, "but it's only one degree above absolute zero out there."

"Immaterial. All we Robots R Us products are manufactured to operate outside in deep space. Craft sometimes need external repairs, you know."

"But suppose a passing meteor hits you," Felice persisted, "We'd be in real trouble then."

"I have checked. There is nothing of that nature within millions of miles of our current position. One of my many modifications is the ability to surround myself with a powerful force-field. I promise you I will do so the instant I step outside. It would take a meteor an eighth the size of the moon to dislodge me and if one that big came along we'd all be buggered. Anyway, this should be an interesting experience. It will be as if I am in the guise of a galactic hitch-hiker."

As he entered the air-lock, Sweary turned and said: "I will return within an hour of the hyper-space jump to set the co-ordinates. Until then, have a fucking good time, ladies." I'm sure he didn't intend that terrible pun.

Felice and I stared at each other for a moment and then simultaneously shouted "Yippee!" before hurling ourselves into a passionate embrace and kissing furiously. Our previous Sweary, star-ship pilot on our Doctor Yes mission, had moaned non-stop about our sex life and so this time we had been controlling ourselves. The new Sweary's modifications seemed to include sensitivity and discretion. Felice dragged me by the hand towards the sex-sofa. "Come on, Jaimie, we've wasted a minute already!"

"How about getting undressed first?"

"Oh hell," Felice groaned, "another thirty seconds wasted!"

We virtually tore our tunics off before joining hands again and jumping onto the Megacomf. The delicate, almost sentient silken material with which the sofa was covered immediately began to creep up and caress our naked bodies. I don't know who created this amazing fabric but she deserves to go down in history books as one of womankind's great benefactors.

I sat against one of the sofa's luxurious arms, legs parted so that Felice could settle between them, back to me. I reached around to hold her boobs and play with her taut nipples as I kissed her neck and teased her ears with my tongue. She wriggled back to press her lovely bottom against my pussy which was already very moist. She turned her head to kiss me, saying: "Jaimie Pond, you are perfect... and so's your pussy..."

"And so are you, my little bundle of red-hot space sex." I stretched one hand down so that I could rub Felice's pussy, soaking a finger in her juices so that I could comfortably caress her clit. She made the little yelping noise I always love to hear when I touch her sweet pearl. With my other hand I continued to toy with her boobs and nipples and she purred happily, squirming in an almost feline way. I continued to play with her most sensitive parts until she was panting heavily and came with a little cry.

Felice suddenly twisted in my arms, turning to face me so that she could push me onto my back. Her lips and tongue met mine and hands massaged my boobs and body so skilfully that it was quickly my turn to squirm and purr. Felice kissed her way down my front until she was between my legs where she quickly put her lively little tongue to good use. A pair of fingers sliding in made contact with my magic spot and I squealed aloud with pleasure. Withdrawing her fingers, she eased back my clit's hood and licked at my little nubbin as it appeared. That did it, I exploded with a loud scream and then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Felice began to giggle too and I folded her in my arms. "You ready for more?" I asked, stroking her tight and luscious little backside.

"Ever known me say no?" she laughed.

So we started over until the two of us were turning into soggy-pussied masses. I lost count of the number of times we came. And every time we tried to rest, the Megacomf sex-sofa would wrap us in sensuous tendrils, thrilling us until we made love to the point of total exhaustion...

It was close to hyper-jump time and Sweary returned from outside. As he stepped from the air-lock he remarked: "Fucking chilly out there." At first a fine coating of rime covered his huge frame although it began to evaporate quickly in the warmth of the cabin. Felice and I each took hold of Sweary's hands.

"Thank you, Sweary," I said.

At times I was sure that the robot's smooth metal face could register human emotions although this must have been my imagination. This time I thought he looked bemused. "You thanked me, Jaimie Pond. Why?"

"Because you're a gentleman," Felice told him, "Going outside so that we could have some privacy was... well, kind and thoughtful and deserving thanks."

"No human has ever thanked me before," Sweary said. Did I really detect a tiny crack in his voice?

Shaken not stirred

What can I say about Effluvia? Monotonous, dreary, tedious, humdrum... I could go on but you'd just get bored. For a start it was flat, at least where we had landed. Horizon to horizon, all points of the compass, it was flat. Probably the highest point anywhere would be a molehill, if they had moles on Effluvia that is. Then there was the vegetation, a type of short grass with hard bristly blades, uniform ochre in colour. It was as widespread as the flatness. There were a few tussocks rising to about an inch or two and I thought that in the distance I could see a couple of weary-looking, stunted bushes but they may have been an optical illusion. And the place was noiseless. If there were any birds or small animals or insects, then it was a public holiday and they'd all stayed home or taken a vow of silence. There wasn't much to see in the way of sky, either, just a blanket of cloud stretching from here to there and back again.

This was probably why Kew had recommended me for Effluvia. What was that ancient saying from centuries back? 'See Naples and die' or something to that effect. The same goes for Effluvia. Our resident mad scientist was hoping that I'd die of boredom. The back-to-the-simple-life pioneers who'd colonised this place must have been a rare bundle of fun.

"I think we should start moving before depression sets in," Felice said, "We'd better get a few simple rations together first."

"No need, Agent Lightener," said Sweary, tapping what would have been his lower abdomen if he was human, "Another modification is that I have a supply of miniaturised rations here, enough to provide simple meals for several days. Only sandwiches but they're shit hot so I've been told."

"Sweary, you are a wonder."

I switched on Kew's direction finder and it beeped at me as we set out. After we had trudged some five or six miles there was a break in the monotony of Effluvia's picturesque landscape. Firstly there was a small wooded area of dead-looking trees with dull grey leaves and then we came across a road or what probably passed for a road in these parts. It was a well-beaten track, straight and unwavering in both directions. The direction finder beeped happily so we took the way it indicated. We trudged on.

Eventually, after a few more miles, we arrived at a fork in the road and stopped for a breather. Our current road carried straight on while at right-angles to it was a road heading left. We checked Kew's direction-finder and it pointed clearly to the left. That then was obviously our path. This left-hand road appeared to be fairly straight and as far as we could see there was no dwelling place or storage barn or anything of that nature for quite some distance. The road did begin to ascend at some far point and we could see the shadows of hills further on. So it wasn't all flat—that was something to give thanks for. Felice and I decided to rest up for a while and have a snack before moving on. Sweary delved into his built-in kitchen and provided us with a delicious hot sandwich apiece. We thanked him and he said: "Fuck me! You've thanked me again—I'm starting to appreciate you young ladies."