Overdrive (8 page)

“Nope. You?”

“Nah. I doubt
whether there’s much that these depraved weirdo’s have done that I haven’t."

“Think you’re
quite the man about town, don’t you?”

“I like to think
I’ve experienced much that life has to offer”

Logan raised his
beer in salute. “I’ll drink to that."

As the
Debacherous
Weekend
neared the docking bay, a field sprung out from the Hedonist ship
to surround them. The field slowly contracted as the ship was brought in
through the docking bay field and quietly settled between two larger ships.

“Still,"
Tarquin mused, “I’m bloody curious though."

“Be as curious as
you like, just as long as we get Felix’s arse safely off this ship."

“You really think
he’s in that much trouble?”

“Yeah, I do. Why
else would he just up and leave without a word to either of us? And, oh. Let me
think for a sec. If you’re work place and colleagues had been torched for no
obvious reasons, wouldn’t that make you a bit nervous?”

“No need for
sarcasm Log. A simple yes would have done the trick."

“Just as long as
you understand that we’re not here for a holiday."

“Likewise.” He
paused and added with gusto “Bring it on son," with exaggerated bravado.
He finished by flashing a large grin at his friend. “Alright then, let’s get to
it." With that, he stood up and made his way to the storage locker. Logan
followed him out.

“Think there’s a
dress code on the ship”? Logan enquired of his friend. He had instructed his
coverall to take the form of blue jeans, a red shirt and a black thigh length
leather jacket. Tarquin was dressed in black leather pants and a black t-shirt
with “show us your arse” written on it.

“Nah. They’re
Hedonist’s remember."

At an unspoken
command from Tarquin, the
Debacherous Weekend
opened its hatch and
extended a ramp down to the docking bay floor. The two men descended to find
themselves confronted by a plump, rosy faced man dressed in a leather one
piece, five hard faced men wearing the unmistakable garb of security and one
large and menacing combat droid lurking in the background.

“Hello," the
plump man began without preamble. “My name is Walter. I’m one of the ships
activity coordinators," he said brightly. His overly large smile faded
somewhat when met with the blank stares of Tarquin and Logan. “I’m in charge of
familiarizing yourselves with the ship and introducing you to whatever
activities or mores your hearts desire."

Walter paused
slightly and went on in a slightly less enthusiastic manner. “It would, erm,
seem, that, ah, your ship was detected as carrying a rather excessive amount of
weaponry. As you know, we Hedonist do not value violence in any way, shape or
form. In fact, we abhor it."

“And?," Logan
prompted him.

“And,  um yes, I’m
getting to it." He paused to wipe away some non-existent sweat from his
brow.

“We cannot allow
you to bring any form of weapon on board. Unless," he added, a smile
returning to his face, “its for some form of masochistic pleasure. These men,"
he said, gesturing towards the grim faced security guards, “will ensure that no
such weapon is brought on board." He glanced nervously at Tarquin and
Logan. “Would you mind presenting yourselves and your luggage for inspection”?,
he finished hopefully.

“Yes of course.
We’d be happy to," replied Logan.

Walter breathed a
sigh of relief and his smile and jovial manner instantly reasserted itself. The
security guards moved to examine the two men and their bags with portable
scanners. Walter waffled on cheerfully. “You’ll find that every conceivable
pleasure is available on this ship for your delight and amusement. The
Hedonist’s value your privacy but if you’re interested in sharing, then many of
our guests receive great contentment from doing just that. I’ll be happy, to um,"
Walter’s voice faltered as the security guards began dropping assorted weaponry
found on the men into the confiscation container, “show you around," he
finished lamely.

“Goodness, but you
arrived heavily armed for a pleasure cruise. You do realize, of course, that
the safety of our guests is paramount, and no personal weaponry is needed,
thanks to our top notch security men here,” he finished by again gesturing
towards the aforementioned.

The security
guards, having completed their search of the two men, left, taking the combat
droid and a relatively large amount of confiscated weaponry with them. A
somewhat nervous Walter was left alone with Tarquin and Logan. “Security will
return your items to you upon your departure.” Attempting a bit of levity, he
continued. “You don’t seem to have much luggage left," said Walter, in
what he hoped was a jovial tone.

“It seems that way
doesn’t it”?, replied Tarquin.

“Well, um, yes.
Now then. Is there any particular sin or entertainment I can interest you in?”

“Not right now,"
said Logan. “We’re actually here to surprise one of our friends." He gave
Walter Felix’s description. “You don’t by any chance, happen to recall having
seen him?."

“No, of course not,"
Walter let loose with a nervous chuckle. “I love to be able to help you, but
this ship has over 20,000 passengers. I can’t be expected to remember all of
them, but I do remember the special ones." He grinned at the men in a way
that he hoped was ingratiating. “If you could provide me with your friend’s
name, I’d be happy to check for you”

“No thanks. Not
necessary. We can, I take it, check with the ship for passenger names?” inquired
Logan

“Of course. Unless
that passenger had requested anonymity”

Logan and Tarquin
exchanged a glance.

“Now then,"
said Walter, choosing to miss the exchange and clapping his hands in
enthusiasm. “Allow me to show you to your rooms."

Walter led them
through a foyer. Many attractive males and females were arrayed as if for
display. They were surrounded by a milling group of what appeared to be other
new arrivals. All smiled invitingly in their direction as the three men entered
the room.

“Any particular
preference? We cater for all sorts here. Male, female, bi, uni, hemof,
transplant, artificial etc." Walter looked slightly amused at the
confusion displayed by the two men. “You do of course realize that your ticket
comes with a companion for the duration of the trip."

The other new
arrivals seemed to be socializing quite pleasantly with their Hedonist
companions. More than a few appeared to be getting quite familiar with their
very friendly Hedonist companions while some, obviously in a hurry to start their
holidays, were already engaging in various sexual activities.

“Well, um, no,"
said Tarquin. He gave Logan, who was grinning like a banshee, a nudge in the
ribs.

“My, my,"
replied Walter. “You are very new to all this. Well, its not compulsory you know,
but I’m sure our companions here would be rather disappointed if you decide not
to choose.”

Tarquin kept a
straight face. “I think we might have to pass at this point. Perhaps later."
Logan wasn’t even listening, having been distracted by a buxom brunette smiling
winsomely at him.

“Well, if you
change your mind, let me know. Now if you’d like to follow me…” Walter trailed
off gesturing in the direction of a door guarded by two woman garbed in
revealing leather and armed with whips.

“Lead on. Come on
Log," said Tarquin grabbing Logan by the arm before he disappeared with
the woman he was eyeing up.

“Yeah, yeah.
Coming," a somewhat despondent Logan replied.

“What were you
saying about not being here for a holiday?."

“I was just
looking," said Logan defensively.

“Yeah, and I’ve
got 3 testicles”

“That must be
quite uncomfortable”

“Shut it”

Walter led the two
men past the two dominatrix, through the door and into a corridor bathed in red
light. Logan lit up a cigarette. A blue field sprung out immediately from an
innocuous nozzle on the ceiling to surround him.

Walter observed
this with a smile. “You will find the
Dirty Little Minx
to be equipped
with all the latest in field technology. We have many AG bars also fitted out
with various field generators to make your stay more interesting. Ah here we
are."

Walter halted in
front of an AG lift. The doors opened and Walter motioned to the two men to
step inside. The blue field from the corridor shut down to be replaced
instantly by one in the lift. Logan’s blue smoke field shrank to conform to its
new environs. Even so, Tarquin’s head entered the field briefly.

“Oi! Keep your
field to yourself”

“Blow it out your
arse big fella. You really should give it a go. Its not as if they can kill you
anymore."

Smoking had lost its
following by the mid 21
^st
century Earth thanks largely to
legislation forbidding smoking in any public place whatsoever. That, and of
course its major side effect – it killed you. The lid of the coffin of smoking
was firmly hammered shut when smoking in your back yard (if you had one) was
banned followed by smoking in your house unless you received special
dispensation, were extremely sneaky, or hailed from France.

By the 22
^nd
century, a cure for cancer had been discovered but by then, smoking was a lost
art form to all but a few, mostly diehards located in France. The French colony
world, Gitane, had been founded in 2240. It immediately declared itself
“smokers paradise” and started cultivating large crops of tobacco for its
residents and the slowly increasing off world demand. By now, any harmful
effects caused by smoking could be easily countered with basic medical
procedures, or, more expensively, by genetic engineering or GE’ing. Seven
hundred years on and smoking once again had a strong and no longer harassed
following numbered in the billions.

Logan had started
smoking 5 years ago to the disgust of Tarquin, who although was no stranger to
chemical body additives, for some reason couldn’t tolerate the habit.

Tarquin was
looking dubiously at Logan’s cigarette. “Yeah, but it makes you smell like an
armpit."

“Well, keep your
fucking great bonce out of my field then." Both men grinned at each other.
Walter, who was about to summon security, breathed a sigh of relief.

The portly
activities organizer shut one eye and consulted his AI. To purchase tickets on
a Starcruiser, passengers had to send full descriptions - including holographic
identification - to the ticketing agent, descriptions that the staff of the
Dirty
Little Minx
could then access.

“Gentlemen, you
both have suites on Electric blue - level 30. Mr. Pope, you’re in room 30216
and Mr. Compton-Burnett, right next door in 30217. You’ll find they are
luxuriously appointed but if you have any complaints, please do not hesitate to
call upon me.

Both Tarquin’s and
Logan’s AI’s registered receiving Walter’s Eddress and their room entrance
codes.

“You can also
access any information about the ship, or talk to the ship directly, via your
AI implant. The ship can also communicate verbally if you so desire, if fact, I
believe it wants to welcome you personally as we speak.”

A sultry, feminine
voice seemed to surround them in the lift.

“Welcome to you
both, gentlemen. I am the
Dirty Little Minx
. You may, if you so desire,
call me Minx. I am at your disposal.”

“Thank you Minx,"
said Logan.

“My pleasure. 
Firstly, I would like to familiarize yourselves with my general makeup. All
ships functions are regulated by me. My bridge is located on level 60 and you
are welcome to visit personally if you so desire. In fact, I’d love for you to
visit. I do retain a number of human staff – bridge overseers, maintenance and
engineering crew, and of course security. All droids on board are controlled
directly by myself."

“Reassuring,"
replied Logan, a trifle sarcastically.

The Minx, fully
capable of detecting such mannerisms, decided to ignore Logan’s comment.

“I am 5.5kms in
length, 2.2 in diameter and 2.3 in height. I am capable of accommodating 22,600
passengers and 3,000 crew. I have 60 levels. Levels 1-10 are designated
docking, storage and administration, levels 11-20 have the designation of
physical recreational pursuits. Levels 21-29 are devoted to bars whether they
be S&M or YV&COM."

“YV&COM?,"
Tarquin queried.

“Young vixens and
Crusty old men."

“Oh." Logan
was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

“Levels 30 through
50," continued the Minx unperturbed, are the accommodation sections, and
levels 51-59 are designated “Private pursuits."

“Dare I ask?,"
a grinning Tarquin asked Logan.

“Best not to,"
he replied. Logan put his cigarette out in the disposal unit provided. The blue
field disappeared taking any traces of smoke with it.