Spaced Out Too - part 3 of 3

Chapter Thirty

The private booth in Rex’s Roid Rage was of a simple and cunning design, adapted as it was from its previous usage as a large service elevator. The whole floor in its entirety moved up or down as was desired by its user between the Roid level and a lower docking basement, and had been used to transfer supplies to where the action demanded it to be. Rex had recently had it refurbished to be used as his own v.i.p. guest lounge, while still retaining its original utilitarian purpose if the need should arise, and it also allowed him to slip in and out unobserved for those odd occasions that demanded such sneaky behavior. Most times, though, he preferred to enter his fun palace through the front door, via a smaller personal lift that linked his special under-floor garage with the main spaceport, for the major ego boost that this provided. Inside this exclusive parking spot sat a rather stylish and very expensive looking top of the line black Betamanic Starburster cruiser with customized extremely wicked mega orange sun-slasher supernovae spiral stripes coolly coiling their way along its entire length. After all, what’s the use of having built up a wild and widely known rebellious reputation if you don’t occasionally flaunt it? Sitting quietly in the darkened recess, fully fueled and stocked with an ample selection of his favourite galactic gourmet delicacies, it waited patiently for another spin around the Western Outer Arm with its master, and was soon to be rewarded, though, it must be said, not quite in the usual manner that it had become accustomed. On the other side of this dingy subterranean structure, firmly secured behind double steel blended slam-a-lot automatic airlock doors and state of the art electronic peek-a-boo security, lurked his private zoo.

[Story note: Private zoos are now a thing of the past, or at least this is the official line anyway, having finally been banned by the Galactic Council when it became apparent that the line between newly emerging self-conscious life forms and proper fully cognitive sentient beings had become so blurred as to be beyond recognition. Indeed, it had lately seemed almost impossible to tell whether an internee was intelligent enough to know that it didn’t want to be locked up and gawked at, especially if it was unable to communicate this for any of a variety of debilitating reasons inflicted upon it, either intentional or otherwise. Therefore, to resolve the whole pseudo-philosophical mess it was decided that it was easier simply to do away with the lot. A new law was introduced into the council forbidding the acquisition, selling, and/or the keeping of such ‘specimens’, and it was quickly passed, enacted into legislation, and promptly weakly enforced with much pomp and circumstance. Only the rich and famous are now able to continue to hide their prides and joys away from prying eyes as they alone can afford to fund the hugely expensive clandestine expeditions searching the space lanes for new exhibits, especially on the far flung non-contacted outer rim worlds where the best undiscovered life forms reside. Rex Ramroid was just one such collector.]

It was with this craftily hidden load lifting platform that Rex and his goons were able to transport his new captives to the cells below without being observed by the punters outside, not that anyone in the Rage would have given a Fligmonian flying rat’s rancid pink hairy spotted arse in any case. It was just easier to do it this way. In his darkened corner Bruce became peripherally aware of what was occurring to his soon to be ex-shipmates thanks to his multi-detector sensor pack that included a pretty nifty set of x-ray goggles, and decided that the best course of action at that stage was to stay exactly where he was and play possum (or any other type of small furry mammal that came to mind.).

Having personally seen that the sleeping trio were safely locked away in their new accommodations Rex returned above deck to inspect their robot that was apparently dozing in the back of the cabaret area. Pulling an electro-prod out of its holster neatly tucked inside his knee-length jacket he gave Bruce a rousing zap. He habitually wore this discipline inducer as protection against the more corrupted and troublesome cyber slaves that he owned, and pushed usage of long past their recommended use by dates. It was also quite handy on the more work reluctant bio-based servants as well, those with whom he occasionally had need to either motivate or show his displeasure from time to time. However, the real reason he clutched his comfort rod when dealing with these upstart ‘non-living’ entities was that he was secretively scared of them, though he would never admit it to anyone, and the device gave him the ability to shut them down immediately when necessary, thus providing him with a heightened sense of power and dominance. As long as the battery lasted, of course!

“Yeow!” Bruce yelped in pain and indignation, both of which felt to him to be a dash stronger than he was expecting. Then he pretended to slowly recognize the wielder of the rude stun-stick, as if just awakening from a long and pleasant cyber dream. “Ah, sorry, Mr. Ramroid, sir. I appear to have dropped off for a bit.” He goaded his embarrassment chip to provide a false covering of facial colour. Rex smiled a gleeful smuggish smirk, the sadistic part of his somewhat damaged emotive makeup being momentarily satisfied.
“Well, my metallic friend, I have some sad news for you. It turns out that your companions have abandoned you. They even left without even paying their bill. Again!” Here he tried to look extremely cross, though catching his image his image in a wall mirror he realized that he just couldn’t pull that one off properly and was coming across as looking plain silly, so he moved on. “You are solely on your own as of this moment, and since no android should be without a master, or so I’m led to believe, I now present you with a simple choice.” He paused for dramatic effect, and a quick breather, then continued. “Either work here for me, or . . . be sent to the cybernetic markets on Xena Alpha Gamma Seven where you’ll be sold off to whoever knows whom, or what. With your future completely uncertain, you may even run the risk of ending up as spare parts or scrap. Could happen, you know.” Once again he tried to look grave, though with about as much success as before. Giving up, he forged on. “I’ll give you a minute to make up your mind.”
“A whole minute?” thought Bruce, “A veritable age for such a spiffing pseudo-sentient entity packing what I’ve got up top!” He had to admit to himself that the latter part of the ultimatum did appear rather attractive, with all the sweet possibilities of release that it hinted at played out on his mind’s super sized psycho-screen in glorious mega-multi-d with both surround and invasive sound systems, all flipped through in three point six nanoseconds, max. He could have viewed it all even faster if he had wished, but he was enjoying the delicious possibilities way too much. He ran it all over again just for the hell of it, then decided , being a creature of programmed habit, that it was probably better to stick with the devils he knew than risk a possibly worse existence. So, that was that. His vast mind was made up, and all that was left to do was to deliver the awaited answer. All in good time though, as he didn’t wish to appear too eager and risk blowing his plan of rescuing Lisa. Oh, and the other two as well, he supposed. They were reluctantly regarded by him as a packaged deal, and he was the string that bound them all together. Now, what to do with the vast section of the minute that was left to him. A little light calculus should do the trick nicely, so just for the sheer giddy unadulterated thrill of it he computed Pi to ten gadzillion places, and then divided each place by the square root of the one before it. Oh, the sheer blissful joy of living! “There’s nothing like a good brisk multi-mental square rooting!” he intoned silently. After this, with nothing better left to do, he shut his higher functions down and piped elevator music through his head for the remaining fifty nine point three seconds.

Rex wandered around in front of the unmoving technoid fidgeting, squirming, and hopping from one foot to the other. He was very much not used to having to wait for anything, especially something as mundane as an android, though in this case since he had set the time limit he only had himself to blame. He still didn’t have to like it though, and the minute unbearably seemed to drag on by. What it might be pulling along he couldn’t tell, however, as he had his mind otherwise engaged on the very real possibility of acquiring another droid completely gratis, it didn’t matter a toss to him what the sliver of chronological measurement indeed was up to. He just wished it’d get on with it.

[Story note: Rex was in this particular neurotic and nervous state because Bruce had been programmed back at the space-line’s operations base and no one else could tamper with him, lacking the extremely savvy secret code needed to change the android’s affiliations. Not even the self-important owner of a large chain of Roid Rages. Boy, would they have ever kicked themselves had they found out that the super sequence was actually the pedestrian 1,2,3,4. Yet in all fairness there wasn’t an intelligent life form so gullible as to think that it could be that simple. That’s how the space lines got away with it, using reverse psychology parameters. This meant that Bruce alone could override and countermand his previous ownership input if he ever had the need to serve someone not connected with the astro-company in any way, and then only after his previous charges were no longer around to be looked after. This discretion then fell to the unit until further notice and retrieval.]

When the full allotted number of seconds were up a ‘bing’ echoed through his central core and he resumed normal functions. He effortlessly warmed up his ‘lie mode’, and marveled at how easy it was becoming. “Mr. Ramroid, sir, I have decided to stay and serve you with all my ability in whatever capacity you see fit. I must give you my central servo thanks. You have provided me with the chance of untold opportunities here in your excellent establishment. I tell you, you have no idea what an existence of boredom and drudgery I’ve had babysitting those drunken louts that I was previously shackled to. As I have no desire for any further needless travel and uncertainty, I am therefore indeed in your debt!” He only hoped that he didn’t sound too cloying. He needn’t have worried any, as the egomaniac before him couldn’t get enough adulation. Rex beamed. Another win! This day just keeps getting better and betterer!
“Good”, he patted his new acquisition on the head in precisely the way that Bruce loathed. However, the tin man kept his displeasure internal, took his instructions with faked gratitude, and set about his work as Rex’s latest personal butler. His new master even changed his name, though, as this embarrassing turn of events wasn’t to last all that long if he could help it any, it would be prudent not to ever let the mention of it see the light of day. Or even the darkest night, for that matter. Bruce’s ego chip was still smarting from no longer being able to call itself ‘A4’, and therefore it is probably wiser not to reopen old cyber wounds and thus compound the problem any further.

The Boss retired to the bar where he could survey his domain and relax with a self-congratulatory drink. After a while the intercom beeped, and the gargantuan bar keep took the message from the zoo keeper below. He passed it onto his master in his customary mono-syllabic speak, then leaned back and watched as Rex rubbed his hands together with glee and emitted a loud “Goody!” He hopped off his special private bar stool, one that no one ever had the inkling of sitting on under pain of being evicted the wrong way out of the Rage, presumably to die horribly in the vacuum of space while others gathered at the port holes laughing at the frantic last struggles of the transgressor, and trotted back to his booth to take the floor down to the basement again. It sure was getting a real work out that day!

Meanwhile, down in the dark hold things were not going at all so well for the recently imprisoned. One by one they were rousing slowly from their enforced sleep, with all the pain and confusion that accompanies such an unsolicited experience. Bob was the first to stir, being an old pro of the whole terrible situation. When he finally found and collected his bearings, that ended up had been whimpering behind an overturned wooden crate, he got himself together as best he could and bitterly cursed the cruel irony of no longer having any of the anti-hangover pills he normally used that would have very much eased the major medical inconvenience that he was now suffering. The ironic part being that it was that these very same miracle tablets that would not only have taken care of his intense internal discomfort long before he had even become aware of his dire predicament, but were also responsible in no small part for him being placed, somewhat indirectly it must be said, in this unenviable position in the first place, so far from home and in such a fragile and vulnerable state just for added insult. And annoyed. He was bloody well miffed indeed, mostly at the two main suspects responsible for this rather sad state of affairs. They were, in descending order of culpability: 1) Himself, for falling for such a low cheap trick, and 2) His supposed friend and fellow Rigillian, who obviously pulled this childish practical stunt totally out of the blue, so far from left field that it bordered upon the ultra violet. They were having such a good time too. Why did his long time mate have to always go and spoil it? Why, oh mighty Plexagon, why?! Having plenty of thinking time available he decided to try and work through Rex’s possible reasoning for a motive, in order to be a step or two ahead when they would soon meet again.

As he struggled to sit up he sifted all the relevant facts, at least the ones he could get his shaky hands on, and tried to piece together the sequence of events as he last knew them to be. It all began with meeting Rex in the lounge. Okay so far. No surprises there. It was his joint after all. Next, he introduced Lisa and Zed. A little more concerning perhaps, but still nothing to write home about. Then the whole group went into Rex’s private side cabin to continue the party. Cozy, yet no detectable problems either. Inside there were some naked dancers doing really wild things, all of which seemed absolutely fine and worry free. He lingered a little too long over this memory until the action part of his brain teamed up with his moral lobe, as tiny as it was, and kicked his sleaze cortex in its hypothalamus, moving things along again. So, essentially, not a trait to be proud of, but no biggie either. A droid later brought in another round of really nice looking exotic drinks and he recalled feeling compelled to empty his into alcohol processing system like there was no tomorrow, yet this was so not out of the ordinary as to make no matter nor warrant further analysis. He tried to go further along the time line but hit a blank, built in the shape of a large brick wall. He backed up and tried again. He hit the massive mental obstruction once more. Repeatedly doing this started to give his thumping headache an extra lease of life so he abruptly stopped. Then it hit him. The answer, that was, not the wall. Of course! The drinks had to have been spiked! That old chestnut! Hurriedly he checked his clothes, just in case, and found with relief that all seemed to be in order. Next he made a quick visual sweep of his still slumbering companions and found the same to be true. It couldn’t have been that then. His thankfulness on that score really out did itself, though it was to prove yet again a tad premature. Surely it must all be some kind of joke! An immensely unfunny, though elaborately executed, piece of humour perpetrated by a guy who was as amusing as a blow to the gonads. Your own set, obviously, since a smack in anyone else’s, either accidental or otherwise, can still raise a tatter of titillation in some of the more base types. Yours truly among them! Suddenly it became clear, to him at least. This was simply the next episode in their endless round of pointless practical pranks. He knew that he was a bit behind in his bar tab from all the Rages he had frequented, then skipped out without paying, and thus owed Rex a small remuneration as a result. Probably enough to buy a small resort planetoid in a nice galactic neighbourhood. However, to be fair in this matter, his astral buddy had never minded about this mini-matter before and, more importantly to Bob anyway, had not shown the slightest bad grace of pressing him for any form of recompense. It was all part of the fun, the thrust and parry of the game of life. Surely? Yes, that had to be it! Rex was just playing the board, albeit a tad roughly this time round, and it was his turn. Good one, mate! Now, if he’d get a wriggle on and come down to let them out Bob could get on with his shot and all would be well. After all, this was taking up good drinking time, for quarks sake, and he felt that a self prescribed dose of ‘follicles of the canine’ was medically indicated. Urgently!

A feminine moan behind him alerted to the fact that Lisa was finally coming to, and he turned to help her sit up. “What happened?” she enquired, holding her head with slightly shaking hands. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck!”
“We are currently the victims of some weird trick being played upon us by our former host but don’t worry, we’ll be out of here soon.” He hid his own apprehension almost convincingly.
“Look very closely at my face,” she countered with slow words heavily laced with deliberate underlying tones of anger, “and you will notice that I’m not laughing!”
Bob hugged her to him, as much for self-preservation as concern for her mental wellbeing due to her noticeable rapidly worsening mood, and peered over her shoulder to the bundle of humanoidity that had given up the struggle of recuperation, succumbing to its original drugged state, and was snoring happily away near the back corner of the cage. “At least Zed won’t be taxing anyone’s buzz at the moment”, he thought thankfully.
A few moments later she pushed her body away from him and with tears streaming down her face spluttered “I can’t take this anymore! I’ve had enough and want to go home! Now!”
Bob clutched her back to him again, this time with genuine concern that, though he would never admit it to himself, bordered upon that sticky emotion they called love, and held her tight until he felt her resolve dissolve into a wracking flood of sobbing bosom heaves. A while later they eventually ended and she calmed down a mite, regaining some of her former composure. He gently took her face in his hands and kissed her tears away. A queasy feeling gnawed at the pits of both of his stomachs which seemed to have nothing to do with the lack of food and alcohol that he was being forced to endure, and eventually he realized the culprit  was guilt for placing her in this undesirable predicament. He swallowed hard.
“I don’t think that’s quite an option at the moment”, he reluctantly admitted. He was saved serious physical injury purely by chance and good timing.

The rumbling sound of the descending lift interrupted any further tender moments and conversation with its creaking cacophony. Bob braced himself for the certain humiliation that he knew was coming his way. However, on rapid reflection, it would surely be a small private price to pay to regain their freedom, and he was well prepared to take the bullet and cough it up for all their sakes. So, this was it! 


Chapter Thirty One                                           

Rex stood before them gloating. “How do you like my ‘penthouse suite’?” he jibed. Bob staggered to his shaky feet and rubbed his throbbing head. Obviously a little dash of ‘Ol’ Foul Play’ had been added to their drinks last night.
“Yeah, good one, mate!” Bob forced a half laugh, pandering to his captor’s ego. “You can let us out now, eh?”
“Oh, so sorry, but I’m afraid not, my old friend”, came the pompous reply. “You’ll all have to be staying in here for a bit longer yet.”
This shook Bob a fair bit. He could tell that the Rage Master was being unusually serious this time, and was determined to get to the bottom of this rather vexing situation. Rex wasn’t playing ball, at least not by their fairly loosely interpreted rules, and something was very much up. “Why not? You’ve had your fun”, he near pleaded, causing another twinge of mirth to rise in his antagonist.
“Oh, you are quite right, of course. I’ve had a chuckle or two at your expense. However, the best laugh is yet still to come.”
“But why? What do you mean?” asked a persistent and now totally bewildered Bob. Rex considered this for a briefly and decided that it would cause no harm to spill the beans a bit, so long as he didn’t have to clean them up. The enlightenment of his mega mooching mate might make for more good comic fodder. Besides, they couldn’t get away now so let the buggers stew for a bit. Spilt bean stew. Hmmm, yummy! It wasn’t easy being a big softy, and he felt that he would really have to work on ridding himself of this undesirable portion of his personality. Someday, perhaps. At the moment, though, he was having way too much fun!
“Let’s just say that I’ve had an offer from someone keen to speak to you, and it was far too good a deal to pass up.”
“Who?” Bob dreaded to ask the question, as he pretty much knew the answer even before it left his tormentor’s lips, yet he couldn’t help himself, for knowing what’s coming at you is the first step in getting out of its way, and this had been his mantra for many years.
“Why, Mr. Big, head of the I.G.B. of course!” Rex’s face showed genuine amusement. “Your name is like a virus all over the Special Mega-Spatial Commercial Channel. You must have been a very naughty boy of late”, he tut-tutted, then continued. “You know, I couldn’t have believed my luck when I saw you at the bar. ‘Of all the rot-gut joints, in all the seedy space ports, in this far end of the galaxy’, or something to that effect, as they say. Still, I guess that one of my Rages would be the ideal place to hide out in if one was on the run from less than savory characters all hell bent upon your capture. The problem this time, though, is that those pursuing you are paying a pretty hefty galactic credit for your apprehension and handover. You must have really pissed them off mega big this time! This is strictly business, you must understand. Nothing personal.”
“I’ll make it personal, mate!” Bob retorted, as he felt his legs going wobbly. Rex waved dismissively, as if to signal that the conservation had reached its ultimate end. This was a fine kettle of Genoloxine astrofish to be in, and one which Bob hadn’t made any allowances for at all. He simply didn’t see this coming.

After a moment’s rapid thinking he decided to play along and try to buy some time, at least until he could come up with a plausible way out of this mess. “Okay, you can have me, but at least let my friends go.”
“Oh, no can do,” Rex smirked deeply. “In actual fact, they want your dreadlocked buddy there too, though only the Great Omni-Plexis knows why”, he pointed to a still snoozing Zed, then continued. “Part of the package I suppose, so as to speak, and, as for your female companion, well, I quite fancy that she may make riveting entertainment in the bar upstairs.” He chuckled and did a little dance on the spot at the sheer delightful thought of it. Lisa took an understandable instant offence to his sleazy suggestion and lunged at him before Bob could stop her. As she grabbed the bars separating the two parties a low voltage current instantly flung her back into his waiting arms. Rex giggled gleefully.
“See? Such spirit. I think she will do very well indeed!”
“You’ll get nothing out of me!” she spat, and the spray of saliva quickly frizzled on the electrified metal. Rex gave her another smug smile.
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be the case at all. I’m sure that we can find something lying around that should loosen you up and adjust your attitude to the required level.” Behind him his goon squad snickered like a bunch of fourteen year old school boys, sending shudders down her spine. She instinctively grabbed Bob and hid behind him.
“You bastard!” Bob exploded in rare rage.
“No, no, that’s Mr. Rich Bastard now, thanks to you”, his jailer playfully admonished. “Now, I really must be getting back up top to attend to a few affairs”, he winked at Lisa, who visibly stiffened at the connotation. “I trust you’ll all be comfortable down here until you’re called for.” Bob glanced around the sparse cell and saw the off-coloured joke in his meaning. The entire decor consisted of a couple of wooden crates and several flea-bitten mattresses thrown carelessly on the floor, along with a container of water that was presumably for drinking purposes. At the rear of their new ‘home’ was another bucket with the reminder of all manner of foul odors wafting up from it, and one could immediately guess as to its purpose. As Rex turned to go Bob gave it one last old college try.
“But after all we’ve been through together! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” he implored. Rex rounded on him in a flash, his mirth suddenly packed away. “Hey, I don’t owe you a micro-credit! Quite the reverse and then some, as you very well know. Like I said, this is strictly business. Besides, I think it’s time to finally cash in your rather extensive tab!” If one thing could be said about the Boss it was that he was wealth crazy, and everything was money to him. He may at times have seemed to be throwing it around, but always there lurked a self-serving motive at the back of his mind.  Bob looked guiltily down at the floor, knowing that what he said was more than mostly true. But who could have guessed that the bastard was actually keeping score? Suddenly all those freebies were boomeranging back with a vengeance. Bob was grasping desperately at ever increasing shorter straws, and he knew it. Yet his freedom, and that of his friends, was at stake, and required an all out effort to secure a successful release. He powered on.
“But you have stacks of cash!” he protested rather lamely while getting the rapidly growing feeling that he was merely preaching to the pulpit.
“Ah yes, that’s very true and just how I like it!” Rex’s head began to swell with pride, so, as not to give his weak spot away, he took a deep breath, put his emotions in momentary check, and continued with his much delighted banter on the theme. “However, much like you and the demon drink, I can never get enough of the stuff. We all have our vices, as you well know. Money is power, and Daddy’s needing another buzz!” Bob abruptly averted his gaze to hide the abject defeat in his eyes, as well as avoiding the malevolent glow of victory in his opposite number’s. He was now aware that it was no good continuing this line of argument as not only was it not getting him anywhere, it was actually reversing his persuasive position at a great rate of knots. He needed to find a new way around Rex’s portly armour, and fast!  Then a nagging thought ran through his mind, distracting him briefly, and, recognizing it for what it was, he grabbed at it with both hands. It was his last straw, albeit not a great looking specimen, yet even so he was determined to hang on to it for dear life itself. Dragging it out kicking and screaming into the light of day he hoped to Hydragammel that he could use it to play for even just a little bit of extra time, though to what end he still was not yet sure. All he knew was that the longer he managed to keep the object of his vexation in front of him the more chance he had to weaken his resolve even a nano-meter. He ran with this premise. “What about our robot? Where’s Bruce?”
“Bruce?” Rex pretended to be genuinely vague on this puzzling subject.  “Bruce? . . . “Oh, you must mean ‘Chuckles’, my new drinks droid?”

[Story note: Oops! Sorry. Spoiler alert! Didn’t mean to let the moggy out of the bag. Apologies to Bruce!]

“I shouldn’t worry about him. He’s been put to good use in the v.i.p. lounge. I don’t think you realize just how much he detests you, and I can’t say that I blame him. He’s accepted me as his new master now. I’d forget all about him if I were you, since you’ve got bigger and nastier problems coming your way!” He finished with an horrendous chortle that echoed all around the mostly empty bay. His sense of good humour flooded back with further thoughts of his new-found wealth swimming in their Olympic sized money pools behind his eyes. Then he gave another knowing wink to Lisa and she was about to have a second try at him but thought better of it at the last moment. Rex laughed again and felt a strange surge of pleasure in his loins brought about by his self-perceived power over her. All manner of emotions swirled through his brain, turning his face bright red with enhanced anticipation. Yet he grudgingly conceded that it would have to wait a while since he didn’t get to where he was by allowing lustful thoughts get in the way of serious business operations, his first true love. So he packed them all away to be looked forward to later on and concentrated on the matter at hand. Reluctantly tearing his visual receptors off her he stared directly into Bob’s instead, in order to hide his lustful embarrassment, and delivered the final verbal blow.
“Now, it’s been great catching up, but I really must be going. Plenty of things to attend to topside. Big things are afoot, and all that!” Turning quickly so as not to be suckered into any more meaningless conversation, he patted the dim witted beast guard on its scaly head, told it to look after his ‘nest egg’, and made for the lift with Bob’s increasingly rude insults assailing the back of his ears. If this place wasn’t just the centre of the universe!!

Soon things returned to near normality once more. The guard beast turned the lights down to near total darkness now that his master had left. He had no real need of their full services since he had very good night vision, and the blaring photon emitters tended to hurt his eyes after a while. Then he barked his usual “Shuddup!” and went to sit on his extra sturdy security station deck chair. A moment later he started to nod off again. This was perfectly allowable because, after all, while the power grid was active there was no way that his charges would be going anywhere without his knowing about it.

Bob sat down on a well worn piece of bedding, dejectedly glum by his own usually optimistic standards, and pondered possible ways out of this new mess. One by one he closely examined them, turning each individual candidate this way and that under his mind’s eye, rating its chance of success on a desperation scale ranging from the rare sublime to the more commonly encountered ridiculous, and then tossed the rejected applicant aside carelessly when it failed to measure up to even a basic pass mark. Finally coming up with a grand total of zero he shifted his already low attitude to the even more pessimistic side of hopelessness and decided instead to stare blankly at the floor. Lisa was beside him in a flash.
“What are we going to do now? Tell me you have a plan!” she beseeched, searching his face frantically for the slightest hint of the smile that would indicate a possible escape from their filthy internment. Seeing none, and being met with stony stolid silence, she physically felt the prospects of sweet freedom whop out of her and so flopped down, totally deflated, beside him in the gloom. Tears welled in her eyes as she hugged her knees to her chest, and began ever so slowly to rock back and forth.

After a while Bob stirred from his self-centered meditation and draped an arm around her shoulders. With nothing better up his sleeve he delivered the bad news. “I think we might really be in trouble this time”, he croaked.
“What can we do then? Anything at all?” she returned his concern like an unwanted Christmas gift, and well after the sales had ended.
“I guess we’ll just have to sit tight for now and hope that a slim chance opens up later that we can grab and turn to our advantage.” This wasn’t delivered with any discernible form of enthusiasm, and definitely not what she wanted to hear in any way, shape, or form. Fear was really starting to get the better of her normal ‘in charge’ persona, forcing her into unfamiliar and rather unfriendly territory. It demanded that she do something about rectifying this particular nasty imbalance quickly, and she visibly quaked at the prospect. Adrenaline flooded her lymphatic systems, kicking her ‘fight or flight’ response into top gear. Rallying her internal fortitude, she let her mouth lead the way.
“Just that?! Doesn’t sound at all too great to me!” she retorted, as if demanding that the refund for the above mentioned yuletide gift be in cash, even though the usually required store receipt had somehow become ‘lost’ in the festivities. Bob tried to put on a brave face but was having a great deal of trouble getting it to fit as it was currently experiencing an extreme dose of trepidation as well. Instead, he tried in vain to defend what was fast becoming an increasingly untenantable position even though deep down he hoped that they’d probably be alright in the end. A possible way out may yet turn up that could be put to their advantage. Perhaps. Not an overly persuasive argument in any of its forms, to be sure. The main problem with this serendipity-reliant line of thought was that he was having one hell of a time convincing himself of its merit, much less anyone else. Yet, to be totally fair, he had led a charmed life, having gotten out of some dodgy predicaments in even dodgier places, and when metaphorically dropped from a great height he had an uncanny cat-like ability to land on all fours. This had given him a healthy respect for Lady Luck throughout his seat-of-the-pants thrilling life and he secretly implored that she wouldn’t let him down this time when he needed her most, which was usually all the time, even though their present prospects did seem grimmer than a grim seller pushing a wheelbarrow full of grimmy grims down a very grimly lit street indeed. Yeah, that was it! She was just having a breather, and would be back on the job in next to no time. Please, please, please! This desperate thought seemed to cheer him up a little, and, as it eventually turned out, he was to be proved right yet again, though, as usual, due in no part at all to any of his own doing.

Lisa, on the other hand, hadn’t noticed his newfound internal upbeatedness, and continued to ram home her point with a wickedly nailed finger to his chest. “Well, you’d better think of something real soon, buster! There’s no bloody way I’m going to end up as that prick’s plaything!” She stabbed her finger upwards through the air, just for a change of direction, towards the Rage floor above them, and emphasized the point by deliberately using a whole different major digit this time. Bob could do little to respond but grimace and pray for the torment to quickly end.

While their animated discussion had been going on they both had failed to notice that Zed had awoken from his drug inspired slumber, one in which, oddly for once, had been at the hands of an entirely different party, and was silently wandering aimlessly around the perimeter of their confines trying to get himself together without losing too much of the free buzz that he was still enjoying thanks to his much more sedate metabolism. There was no sign of concern at all upon his face, and this was due to the double fact that he was generally a bit slow on the uptake when sizing up any new predicament that he found himself in coupled with his relaxed and carefree drug induced disposition to danger. He was so chilled out that it was enough to fluster a Xuanian Zen master! When Bob finally became aware that his cosmic mate was now more or less in a near vertically stable state he called him over, sat him down, and with slow gentleness explained their current position. Zed listened carefully and respectfully, nodded occasionally where he felt it was appropriate, then got up and resumed his head clearing stroll. Bob, having been through this all before, watched him intently and steeled himself, knowing full well what was yet to come. Then he warned Lisa that, while there was absolutely nothing to worry about, she should just sit tight and do nothing other than cover her ears. A look of serious trepidation silenced any of her enquiries abruptly. He didn’t have long to wait. Once the full ramifications of their troubles had worked their way into his over endorphized brain Zed calmly walked over to an adjacent mattress, quietly sat down, got himself into a position of comfort as best he could, then let out an ear-splitting, bar rattling howl.

[Story note: The Globuzarian Lament Howl is a traditional response of the humanoid species from Globuzaria Gamma Seven (a small and fairly innocuously beautiful red/orange/green planet orbiting a single giant blue star in the Peri-Quaxel Sector of the Western Spiral Arm Sub-Branch), of which Zed was a far flung member, to any major form of bad news delivered to them without the precaution of issuing a proper sedative before hand. It was extremely loud, it was tunelessly off-key, and it contravened any regional Strategic Arms Limitation Treaties worth their salt. The origins and reasons for this anciently programmed psychological behavioural trait have long been lost over the dim dusty recesses of time, and thus are unlikely to ever become clear again at least for the foreseeable future. However, the persistence of this peculiar emotional self-defence mechanism ensured that, even though the occasional bulletin of misfortune continued to harass that particular bio-group, no one else in that system felt the need, nor desire, to bring such sad tidings to their attention if it could be at all avoided.]

Lisa nearly jumped out of her skin, and automatically engaged Bob in an impromptu death grip. Not expecting the full strength of her reaction he collapsed backwards, taking her with him, and it was several moments before they could entangle themselves. Unfortunately their ears continued to ring for quite a few more, rendering them temporally deaf to anything but the loudest noises. Another unforeseen effect of Zed’s wall of sound was that it roused all the other exhibits in the zoo, setting them off in a growing calamity of aural mayhem. This blast of super sonics also managed to squeeze itself into the ears of the guard, eventually waking him up. Grumpily he stomped over to the fire hose and doused everyone until the bray had settled down. Quiet returned, save for a periodic yelp or two, more an after thought than for any real reason. Bidding his customary “Shuddup!” he trudged back to his surveillance station and to beastly dreams once more.

After  he had expelled the last molecules of air from his overstretched lungs Zed wiped the accreted pool of spittle from his chin with the back of his hand, then looked around feeling both a tad guilty and foolish. A perfectly acceptable response for someone who has just performed this Globuzarian ritual to their best ability and yet cannot for the life of them remember why they had to do it. Then he turned his semi-glazed eyes to his sodden buddy. “Thanks mate! I needed a quick shower!” Bob dripped sarcasm mixed liberally with water. They looked solemnly at each other, then burst into uncontrolled laughter. Even Lisa was unable to resist the spectacle of their drowned rat appearance, and joined in the mirth. It’s odd how manic laughter can be a mental release when faced with abject terror. The key jangler stirred slightly at this renewed ruckus, but it wasn’t of a sufficient volume to raise his conscious level enough to leave the fantastic nightmare he was really enjoying. He mumbled “Shuddup” under his breath and got back to the fun. Once they had settled down again Zed became unusually serious. “Like, man, what’re we gonna do? I don’ wan’ ta end up a trophy in their weird line-up, man!”

[Story note: Such ‘trophies’, or Stasis Statues as they were more correctly known, were the usual method of punishment metered out to the I.G.B.’s most infamous repayment defaulters. They consisted of long term deep sleep booths standing upright into which financial transgressors were placed and then sent off into a set period of dishonoured dozing, sometimes for centuries, or even millennium, as took the bank’s fancy. They lined both sides of the entrance foyer of the main office in a sort of walk of shame, and the financial institution’s president, a certain Mr. Big, would periodically venture down to gloat over them when ever he felt that he was in need of some cheering up. Bob rightly guessed that there were two empty cases waiting with their names on them at the end of the line in this hi-tech debtor’s prison, and he was determined that it was a grizzly fate that they would avoid at all costs.]

Bob could only shrug his shoulders. He’d been over this rough ground before and didn’t care to revisit it, even if he had been in the latest terrain following hover suv. Strangely this seemed to satisfy Zed, who was well used to following his mate’s lead regardless of the dangers involved, and so turned his head instead to let a foolish grin put up squats on his face as he enjoyed the last of his ebbing buzz. Lisa, on the other hand, had regained her strength, composure, and, more importantly, her will to fight and felt that now would be a good time to let rip with another bout of raw and unbridled angst. She had waited patiently for her spotlight to return, and was determined not to miss out. Starting slowly at first, as if to feel her way, with a few trial sniffles she then worked up through the whole range from a short series of baby whimpers all the way to a crescendo of top of the line bosom heaving sobbing. Not anywhere near as loud as Zed had managed, it must be admitted, but it was enough to get Bob’s protective attention for one more time. She rightly felt that she was owed that much at least since she was fast losing her grip on what constituted the world of reality around her, and quite possibly her mind as well, and so expressed her immense displeasure to this sad turn of events in the only way she had left, with a flood of biblical strength tears. This had an immediate and adverse effect on Zed as well, harshing his previous mellow, and starting his own waterworks. It is a well known and interesting galactic tit-bit that emotion begets emotion, and Bob soon found himself sitting between the two spluttering fountains, an arm around each, and being showered from both sides. He even almost felt like shedding a tear himself. Certainly, at least, a lump came to his throat, though that could have been for an entirely different reason. Finally, when all was said and done, the flow of salty fluid had abated and they slowly disengaged, feeling just a little silly for individual reasons. There was no other recourse left open to them now other than to sit in the dank malodorous light-challenged chamber with even more deflated spirits and await their eventual unhappy fate.                          But first, there was to be a surprising interruption.


Chapter Thirty Two

In the next pen a mouldy old blanket was roughly thrown aside and an angry voice gruffly demanded “I say! What’s all this hullabaloo? A chap’s trying to sleep here, and I was having a choofing dream, blast it!”
“Who’s that?” Lisa called out excitedly, recognizing the accent to be that of the old English upper class from Earth, and thus totally out of place in their current environment. She felt the pangs of home-sickness start to stab hard, and was close to tears when a burst of activity mercifully distracted her. A strappingly tall, thin humanoid form wearing a faded and fairly tattered military uniform of Earth WW1 origin smartly got up and strode over to the intervening bars, carefully stopping at the minimum safe distance from them in deference to past well learned lessons. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he peered hard into the ever present darkness that enveloped them all. His demeanor changed in an instant once he made out the three figures sitting huddled before him. “Good heavens, a batch of new chums! I say, who the devil are you lot?” he excitedly enquired in a deeply resonant voice. Stirring in response to this unexpected barrage of baritoned bravado the trio slowly scrambled to their feet and stood for a moment quietly regarding this new amazing intrusion into their already interesting lives.
Apart from being afore mentioned well proportioned, he was also recklessly good looking, at least from Lisa’s point of view. His most striking visual feature was a rather over developed ‘handle-bar’ moustache that completely covered the top half of his mouth and was so out of scale with the rest of his facial features that, had he been subjected to a bout of adversity, it would have been quite impossible for the casual observer to tell whether his upper lip was being kept rigorously stiff as was socially required. Not that any watcher needed to have worried there though as such resilient reaction to danger ran well past any impeding biological protuberance, right to his very core. No, this elaborate facially follicled nasal decoration that he sported was merely for window dressing, albeit one worthy of the most extravagant department store. No problems upon that score. This guy was rock solid, through and through!

[Story note: The above mentioned term ‘sported’ may not, in all good faith, be deemed an ultra correct description for his use of the hairy appendage residing on his upper kisser, as it was simply another weapon in his vast biological armoury, (along with such other cranially situated features as short blond hair, pale blue eyes, noble nose, and chiseled chin. All in all, pretty dreamy), and there was nothing whatsoever playful about how he wielded it when necessity dictated. No, it was obviously there for business, and implied a pretty stiff trade indeed! This was underlined by the way he habitually tweeked and twisted the ends to lethal looking points in order to show all and sundry that if provoked he would come good on his promise, and give them a damned good bristling!]

 

[Author’s note: Stay tuned for the next exciting instalment of Spaced Out Too! Coming soon to a star system near you! Eventually!]