Lipstick Overkill, 3

CHAPTER THREE

Liberty Lovejoy, Intergalactic Space Babe, was looking at herself in the mirror and thinking for the jillionth time that she should get her cute perky little nose straightened once and for all. Cute and perky was what everyone else called it, of course. She looked at it and saw how it hooked slightly, fractionally, marginally to the right (or left in the mirror) and wondered how anyone could not notice.

She sighed, deciding for the jillionth time to leave it alone. Coming out of the bathroom, she found Robbi finishing off the last PB&J sandwich. “Gav get it right this time?” she asked.

Robbi nodded. “Spread the jelly just almost perfectly flat on the bread. I think he’s finally comprehending the geometry of the whole thing.”

“I’m so glad.” Liberty went back to her desk and sat down. “I’m sorry I’m being such a sludge.”

“I will gladly give you a swift kick in the butt if you think it’ll help.”

Liberty smiled thinly at Robbi. “No, I don’t think so. But thanks anyway.” She leaned back. “You think Gav could run this place?”

Robbi’s eyebrows shot up under her bangs. “Gav? Are you kidding? You remember how long it took us to explain chocolate chip cookies?” She shook her head, almost mournfully. “He’s in a sorry state already. I think if we try to get him to do too much more, his head’ll explode.”

Liberty laughed, really just a short burst of air escaping from her lips, as she tucked stray bits of her blonde hair behind her right ear. She turned to look out the window overlooking the bar, resting her chin in her hand. Her fingers curled back so her nails just barely grazed the top of her lips. It was a pose she struck often when she was thinking random thoughts. “I wonder who’s going to walk through that door and come to my rescue.”

* * *

“Rescue me from sad and lonely, weary and weepy wandering fools.”

With that intoned, Mumo downed the shot of Hyperallic Mussbrin, the last shot out of his last bottle. He sighed contentedly and slammed the empty glass onto the table top. “So, John Sebastian, how high on life do you want to get?”

Sebastian looked at Mumo soberly, which is to say Sebastian was sober and Mumo was not. “I think I’m good now. But I’d really like to see the place. I just can’t believe Liberty Lovejoy’s involved in the place.”

Mumo waved a hand in the air. “No, no no nonono..nnh. nho…” He had to take a deep breath to steady himself. “She’s not just simply involved. She owns the place. Gemmon got out a while back. Something about his mother getting sick and he didn’t have the right color towel.”

“Oh.” John thought for a moment. “So since she’s the owner, she’ll be there?”

Mumo got a twinkle in his eye, besides the one that the alcohol had put there. “I certainly hope so. I’ve wanted to meet her ever since she single-handedly liberated Puscha. Wonderful story, that is -- ”

“Which you’ll have to tell me after you wake up from passing out.”

Mumo’s answer was a very loud, very gravelly snore.

* * *

The grey-skinned refugees from the twelfth dimension began their search as any sane refugee from the twelfth dimension would: they dialed in their communications gear to tap into the closest radio and comm signals they could find, which in this case happened to be the news. Having just left the twelfth dimension, these beings carried with them a slowly dispersing energy signature that happened to work with elements in time and space to bring about fortuitous events. In our dimension it would have been called blind luck.

The vid showed a report from the outskirts of a crowd, the reporterette talking about how citizens from across the populated systems had gathered on the planet Delta Omega Gamma to protest the continued existence of a particular entertainment establishment on the former planet of Garva, a place they say is corrupting the community of worlds within a square parsec. Persons interviewed had ill things to say about a place so brazenly calling itself a Pleasure Palace, no matter the fact that renowned world-liberating heroine Liberty Lovejoy owned the place now.

Not being native to the twelfth dimension, and not knowing about the energy aura they were losing around them, the grey-skinned beings could not believe their good fortune.

The small grey ship made its way through the long dark night of space.

They began their search for Liberty Lovejoy.

* * *

Nightlife on Garva was limited to the areas that had artificial light, which meant exactly two places on the entire planet. Of course, there were only two places on the entire planet that were populated. The rest of the planet’s inhabitants had left long ago. Archeologists had yet to agree whether or not they simply died all at the same time or decided to take an extended vacation together. The only literature left behind seemed to have been a travel map (or an invasion plan). So the rest of the planet sat empty waiting for its residents to return (if they ever could), and two cities on the northern continent went largely ignored by the rest of the aged buildings left behind.

In the city of Nirvana (so named because after rooting around in dead cities all day, this was the closest thing to it), nightlife was just about to come alive. The stars were visible in a clear sky, brightly twinkling in whites, reds, blues… completely oblivious to the fact that they were even part of the nightlife at all. Residents (mostly archeologists and retired miners) started to appear on the wide main street known as Main Street. As the sky grew darker, thus allowing the stars to twinkle even more, the artificial light in the town grew just bright enough that people could still find their way around. And most of them were finding their way to the same place just before the sun was about to set on the city in the middle of nowhere that was home to one of the greatest attractions in the four corners of the universe: Liberty Lovejoy’s Pleasure Palace.

Mumo and Sebastian wandered in from the outskirts of town, having parked the Y’mo’yto at the well-organized and well-maintained spaceport. Really just a small building with a very large flat parking area, the spaceport was the only way in or out (legally, anyway) of Nirvana, Garva. Having lightened their wallet with a rather neat fee for parking, the two followed the crowd to what appeared to be the center of town. Sebastian noticed the streets were not maintained very well, dirt in the gutters and newspapers drifting along the walkways. He picked a newspaper at random and lifted it into the dim light of a streetlamp. The headline read “Crisis on Garva: Not Enough Rubber Bands”. Below that was an editorial in support of deodorants for the Zinn race, who had a great need for them. Sebastian dropped the paper, which continued on its way as if it had never been interrupted, and turned his attention back to the crowd they were following. The crowd was not quiet, but their noise was nothing compared to the sounds coming from around the corner. Mumo and Sebastian traded looks, wondering what was going on. Mumo muttered, “Sounds like someone’s not happy about something.”

They rounded the corner to find the source of the noise: a tempest of people carrying signs and placards, waving flags, banners… Sebastian could swear he even saw a couple of undergarments flying through the air. The signs had scatterings of prose that were either hastily or ignorantly constructed: Casino No, Don’t Gambel With Our Town, Poker Somewhere Else, Get Out of Our Town, Pair a Dice? Go Away! The signs were held by rather unkempt people - on some planets they would probably be called “rabble”. Sebastian noticed that only certain ones carried signs. Others had hand lamps, while others merely stood with the crowd and picked up on whatever chant was being chanted at the time.

Mumo watched the crowd as they grew closer. “Looks like the Protester Party is in full swing tonight.” He shook his head. “If only they realized the economic impact of the place. They just don’t understand. This is the only attraction on this planet worth paying for.”
Sebastian stayed close to Mumo, knowing that members of the rabble were less likely to bother him while he was in close proximity to a man who could put considerable pain in their lives. He didn’t really feel threatened by the crowd, but he also didn’t want to begin his evening with various cuts and bruises from ignorant rabble and then try to enjoy himself in the most famous pleasure center in the quadrant. Pain was not an pleasant pastime. “Well, don’t go trying to explain it to them now. You’re not the right person for it.”

They skirted the edge of the crowd without incident, except for the three-panel wire-reinforced undergarment that landed squarely on Mumo’s head. He stopped abruptly, seeing that his sight was no longer functioning properly. He lifted the fabric off his head and casually discarded it in a nearby waste receptacle, wiped his fingers off the shoulder of a nearby spectator who had apparently already had too much and was pretty much oblivious to everything, including the fact that he had just been utilized as a napkin.

Sebastian looked around one last time at the crowd, wondering what motivated them to gather in the street, braving the elements and law enforcement, and loudly vocalize their emotional distress. He wondered if they knew exactly what they were protesting. Then he decided that since he’d gotten past them unscathed, they didn’t merit any further thought. Further thought would probably give him a headache, and why go through that? He turned his attention to the endpoint of their journey. He knew it was their destination when Mumo said, “There it is. The Pleasure Palace.”

It was a large wooden building - wooden in appearance on the outside at least, with bright windows and neat green trim. The main level had a patio wrapping around the front and one side. The other side was taken up by a simple-looking brick building with a single door and no windows. A small sign next to the door read, “Through here for the entrance to the mines.”

Sebastian looked at the sign, then at Mumo. “Mines?”

Mumo nodded. “The original building was a dormitory for the miners who came to see if they could plunder the planet’s natural resources. When they found out the planet didn’t have any, they sold the place to Gemmon.”

“What’s down there now?”

“Oh, I think Miss Liberty turned it into a museum of some sort. Got to get some use out of a big hole in the ground.” He led Sebastian up the steps to the main entrance, where they were met by a rather smallish man with no hair. He held a hand up, stopping them at the door.

“I need to see some identification, please.” His voice was clear, but quiet. Sebastian almost didn’t hear it over the music escaping through the walls. “Something with a visual representation.”

Mumo pulled out a data card with his image on it and showed it to the little man without hesitation, almost as if he was expecting the request. Sebastian had to dig for his, having forgotten (again) which pocket he’d put it in. He finally pulled it out and handed it to the man, who gave both cards a cursory glance and looked at each of them. “Welcome to the Pleasure Palace, gentles.” He waved them through the door.

John Sebastian thought he'd dropped into the twelfth dimension.