Rescue From Planet Pleasure (13 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Carmen Arellano held us close, and I surrendered to gratitude. Despite the odds, Jolie and I had found her. The years of guilt over losing Carmen evaporated, and I soaked in the heat and cheer of the moment.

Carmen let go and sat back. Her dark eyes pulled at us, shiny and irresistible as polished magnets. Her cheeks were flush, steaming with happiness. The white gown clinging to the curves of her physique did nothing to stifle her provocative vibe. Except that her hair was shorter—her tresses barely raked her shoulders—she looked the same as I remembered her. Sleek. Sexy. Seductive.

She helped Jolie and me get to our feet. “How did you guys get here?” Her voice was giddy.

Jolie and I took turns telling her about Coyote and the psychic portal.

“Coyote?” Carmen asked, brow furrowed, her eyebrows tilting. “Never heard of him. And how did he know I was here?”

“He knew the aliens had taken you, plus he can access the psychic plane,” I answered. “Have you had a dream or a feeling that someone was reaching out to you?”

“I wish I had, but no. I spent many days and nights praying someone would find me. Maybe that’s what Coyote heard, though I don’t understand how.” Her eyes turned from me to Jolie. “This portal that brought you here, is that how we get home?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

Jolie and I glanced at each other.

“Not sure,” I answered, trying to keep an optimistic tone. “Getting here was a one-shot deal, and we had to leave before Coyote could explain how to return using a portal.”

“Had to leave?” Carmen deadpanned. “I’m getting the impression there’s trouble back home.”

I went on to tell her about Phaedra, the vampire civil war, Coyote’s injuries, and Cress Tech. At the mention of Cress Tech, Carmen’s lips pursed angrily and her eyes slit. They were the reason why she was here. Jolie finished bringing her up to speed on events back home. Carmen winced and blinked as she took in this synopsis of our bad news.

She shook her head. “Phaedra? You mean a sixteen-year-old has the Araneum on the ropes?”

“Not just any sixteen-year-old.” I described her powers.

Carmen wrinkled her nose like she needed more convincing.

Jolie added. “Remember Phyllis and Natacha De Brancovan?” She drew a finger across her throat. “Both of them. Phaedra’s doing.”

Carmen’s eyebrows nicked upward.

“And that’s the other reason we’re here,” Jolie added. “To bring you back so you can help us defeat her.”

“How?”

Jolie shrugged. She pointed at me. “Ask genius over there.”

I also shrugged. “Coyote only said you were needed.”

“I don’t understand,” Carmen replied. “But that doesn’t matter unless we can get back to Earth.”

I studied the atrium. The immaculate floor was as large as a football field. The window we had flown through was about fifty feet up on the wall and was now covered by a pane of the orange crystal material. Dozens of doors stood equally spaced behind the balconies.

“Are we on D-Galtha?” I asked.

“You are,” Carmen said. “How did you know the name?” Before I could answer, she replied, “I know … Coyote.” She spread her arms. “Welcome to D-Galtha, which means in the local language: Planet Pleasure.”

Our surroundings gave me the creeps. “Planet Pleasure? Then why am I not feeling amorous?”

“Is this a prison?” Jolie asked, adding her heebie-jeebies to mine.

“Technically, Facility Two-Four,” Carmen said. “But in reality, yes it’s a prison.”

“Run by who?” Jolie pressed.

“The Nancharm.” Carmen cocked her head toward the distance. “Have you seen those red-and-yellow creatures outside? They run D-Galtha.”

I gave Carmen the once-over. “Planet Pleasure and you. I’m not surprised, but what’s the connection?”

Carmen replied with an uneasy smile. “There will be plenty of time to answer that question. But for now …” Her gaze ranged over our naked bodies. “Oh my, I never dreamt that you guys would arrive so perfectly—undressed.”

“It was unintentional,” I explained.

“Don’t be modest,” Carmen said. “To be fair.” She lifted her tunic and flashed us her toned body, the choice parts deliciously firm or delicately coiffed. She dropped the hem and started walking toward a door at the far wall. “Both of you look fantastic.”

“As do you,” Jolie replied, grinning.

“How much of our superpowers do we have?” I asked. “We can’t see auras but we can levitate. How about you?”

“We retain our speed and strength,” Carmen replied, “but don’t use them unless you have to. Let’s not tip off the Nancharm about what we can do.”

A door slid open in front of Carmen. We passed over the threshold and into a hall. The walls were painted in pastel hues, a blue carpet covered the floor, and bright flowers (at least I thought they were flowers) stood in vases on console tables. The colors were a welcome relief from all the orange in the atrium.

“These are my private quarters.” Carmen continued through another doorway and into what resembled a luxury hotel suite. A young woman in a silken robe lay asleep on a chaise longue.

I raised an eyebrow.

“That’s Juanita,” Carmen said. “My chalice.”

“One of the women you were kidnapped with?” I asked.

“No. None of them are on D-Galtha.” Carmen’s expression took a sad cast. “Truth is, abducted women seldom survive, wherever they are sent. They might live in opulence but they go mad with loneliness and either waste away or kill themselves.”

“There’s another alien home besides D-Galtha?”

“Hundreds,” Carmen replied.

“And Juanita?” I asked.

Carmen gave her a sanguine look. “I didn’t ask for chalices, but the Nancharm brought them to me anyway, knowing that I need the sustenance.”

“There are more?”

“The other three are in their rooms.”

“And you? What’s kept you from losing it?”

“Two things. One is the hope that I will be rescued, and here you are. And two, I have an important job.”

“Job?”

A chime interrupted.

Carmen said, “This way,” and ushered us back to the atrium.

One of the Nancharm waited for us, large white eyes glaring from its cylindrical head, with a small gray box sitting on top like a cap. A hover scooter floated behind the creature, and on the back end rested a wire crate with our clothes and belongings … including our pistols.

The creature’s dreadlocks began to undulate and a moment later, a surprisingly dainty voice emitted from the box. “Carmen, I trust your friends are doing well?”

Carmen slapped my naked butt. “Go on,” she whispered, “pretend you have manners.”

I acted like I was tipping a hat, as coyly as I could considering my junk was on display. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

Jolie did a little bow.

“This is Doctor Moots.” Carmen spread her arms to encompass the building. “This is her research laboratory.”

Her?
I studied Moots the way I would an exotic zoo creature. Her torso looked smooth and hard, and her body articulated in sections like an exoskeleton. Her thin arms and hands were coarsely textured and swayed in graceful sinuous movements. But I saw no evidence of female parts. She seemed to communicate through her dreadlocks and used the gray box on her head as a translator.

She crooked a finger, and the scooter drifted around her and toward us. “I brought your ornamental coverings and toys.”

“You mean our clothes?” Jolie asked.

“The Nancharm don’t understand human modesty.” Carmen glanced at me and pointed to the crate.

I took the crate and placed it on the floor. “Isn’t she curious about why we’re here?”

Moots’ cluster of dreadlocks spread like the tentacles of a sea anemone, and after a short delay, her voice emitted from the gray box. “You are guests of Carmen, no? To help with our research, no?”

“Of course,” Carmen answered.

Planet Pleasure research?

Moots waved her spaghetti arms. “I do wish someone would tell me when new specimens arrive.”

Specimens? That didn’t sound good.

“Next time,” she continued, her voice cross, “please advise your friends not to wander off the Path of Conformity. I get charged by the Safety and Aesthetics Patrol every time they return a specimen, and my anal chute is already taking enough of a pounding from the Budget Oversight Committee.”

The hover scooter lowered to the floor, and Moots glided onboard. “We’ve dawdled enough for one day.” The scooter lifted and floated to a door that scrolled open on the side of the atrium. “We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow. Be ready.”

***

Chapter Twenty

Moots drove her hover scooter out the building and onto the paved apron outside. A door on the ground swung upward, and she floated down the opening. The door closed after her.

Carmen stared blankly at where Moots had disappeared.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Moots mentioned something about research and specimens. What research?—”

“… And what specimens?” Jolie pointed at herself. “Us?”

Suddenly glum, Carmen’s let her shoulders droop. Witnessing her spirit sag caused a sharp pit in my gut.

“It will probably be best for me to start at the beginning.” She gestured to the crate with our belongings. “Get dressed if you want.”

Jolie and I plucked our clothes and began to put them on. Carmen gazed in our direction, but the distracted look in her eyes revealed her mind was elsewhere.

I pulled on my pants, feeling more at ease because I was no longer naked. “I know the aliens had trapped you in suspended animation and teleported you off Earth.”

Jolie had her panties and tank top on and was slipping into her jeans. “And you’ve been here since?”

Carmen shook her head. “First I was sent to a processing center with all kinds of weird creatures—both in and out of cages. Then I was pinballed from planet to planet until I got here a few months ago.” She named the places she’d been, using awkward sounds like grunts, whistles, and clucks.

I asked, “Weren’t you considered contraband?”

“As if that made a difference. The penalties against interplanetary smuggling are a joke. Smuggling contraband out of a quarantine zone like Earth is illegal. But once contraband is in circulation, trafficking in it is not against their law. Figure that out.”

I buttoned my shirt. “I thought the Galactic Union put Earth under quarantine because humans were too warlike and a threat to the rest of the galaxy.”

“True.” Carmen pointed a finger in emphasis. “The quarantine was put in place to keep advanced technology away from humans. Compared to the rest of the galaxy, humans are still in the Stone Age, and the Union aims to keep it that way.”

Jolie smirked. “So we’re a danger?”

“Don’t get carried away by that thought,” Carmen replied. “The Nancharm are the bad asses of the Union. They want something, they take it. This planet used to belong to another species, a rather advanced one. The Nancharm offered a deal, which the inhabitants refused.” She turned her eyes toward the door and the sky beyond. “You noticed the planet’s ring. That’s what is left of them. After demolishing their cities, the Nancharm blasted the debris into space as a monument to the victory and as warning to everyone else.
Don’t fuck with us.
And in a touch of irony, renamed this planet D-Galtha: Planet Pleasure.”

I slipped on my boots and reached for the magnum revolver. It lay in the crate beside Jolie’s pistols and our ammo. I swung open the cylinder and checked that the cartridges remained chambered. I snapped the cylinder closed and tucked the revolver back into my jacket. “Trusting souls, our hosts.”

“Moots called the guns, ‘your toys,’” Carmen reminded. “For good reason. Shoot one of the Nancharm, and they’ll reassemble your molecules into dung worms.”

“Thanks for the notice,” I replied. “I’m already in deep shit.”

“Why are you here?” Jolie was dressed except for her cross trainers, holster harness, and jacket. “You couldn’t be a pet. Not if you’re helping Moots with research.”

The building’s door scrolled closed. When it thumped against the threshold, the noise echoed in the cavernous interior of the building, sounding exactly like a cell door slamming shut in a prison. Carmen extended her arms and took Jolie and me by the hand. I felt the longing in her touch. Here we were, the three of us, so far from home with no idea how to save ourselves.

Carmen kept quiet, and I waited for the familiar, mischievous twinkle to appear in her eyes. It didn’t. She let us go and exhaled, her expression heavy with melancholy and anxiety. “I’m here as the Nancharm’s last hope.”

“What?” I asked.

“Two centuries ago, the Nancharm faced a rebellion from within the Galactic Union. They barely beat the rebels, and the slim victory shook them up. As a result, the Nancharm males altered their genome to hone their warrior characteristics. Speed. Intelligence. Sensory acuity. Strength. Ruthlessness.”

“I take it things didn’t go right,” Jolie said. Like me, she didn’t get into her jacket. She carried her holster harness draped over an arm.

Carmen nodded. “They had made a deal with the devil, a devil they didn’t know even existed. It took three generations for the unintended consequences to become apparent.”

“Which are?” I asked.

“The Nancharm men lost their mojo.”

Their predicament sounded so ridiculous I snorted. “Seems like an easy fix to me. A trip to the drug store for the right meds.”

Carmen started back to her quarters. “Exactly, but it’s not an issue with faulty plumbing. The problem is here.” She tapped her head. “Or with the Nancharm …” She touched a spot below her neck. “This is where their brains are.”

“Basically,” I replied, “the Nancharm men can’t get it up, whatever ‘it’ is?”

“That’s correct.”

When we passed through the threshold, I estimated the size of the door, human-sized and too small for the Nancharm, and commented, “At least you get privacy.”

Carmen frowned. “They can come and go as they please. You’ll see.”

We entered her suite. Juanita was gone. At the moment, my guns seemed useless. I hung my jacket, with my revolver still inside, over the back of the loveseat.

Jolie followed my example and dropped her jacket and her holster harness close to mine. “You still haven’t told us why you’re here.”

“Apparently, I put off some kind of a sexual vibe.” Carmen at last grinned. “The aliens really get off on us Earth women. You know how dogs and cats can pacify people, somehow read your mood? Earth women have the same gift, only more so, which makes us quite valuable. And me? Apparently, I have the extra-special touch.”

She led us through another door and into a kitchen with a sink and cabinets on one end and a bar on the other. The counters and ceiling hooks glittered with shiny utensils like a display at Williams-Sonoma. My gaze ranged to the bar and its rows of bottles: scotch, rye whiskey, bourbon, vodka, gin, and tequila. All in my favorite brands. The possibility of a good cocktail smoothed my worried edges.

Jolie ran her fingers along pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and made them clatter. “What do you cook?”

“The Nancharm import all sorts of grains, fruits and vegetables, meats, fish. We grind our own flour to make bread, tortillas, and pasta. Keeps us occupied and breaks up the monotony.”

She proceeded through yet another door and into a dining room with a massive wooden table and five matching chairs. The interior was decorated in Tudor-style: lush carpets, dark paneling, heavy wooden beams, and wrought iron fixtures. Still no sign of Juanita. A man’s sport coat rested over one of the chairs. Carmen had mentioned she had other chalices and perhaps the coat belonged to one of them. If so, who? And why a sport coat?

Before I had a chance to ask, Carmen said, “Owning an Earth woman is a big status symbol. My first owners—”

Owners! Carmen as property? Reduced to chattel?
I suspected that of course, but I hated to hear it. My stomach churned, and I wished for a martini to wash down the rising bile.

“—were the Wah-zhim,” she continued. “They look like pygmy elephants, only with a trunk on either end. One is a nose, the other prehensile junk—”

“Even the females?” I tried to form a mental picture.

“Yes. Imagine the possibilities.” A long-absent gleam finally sparked in Carmen’s eyes. “The Wah-zhim love to play with both ends during sex.”

“And you helped?” Jolie’s voice trembled with disgust.

“No big deal.” Carmen shrugged, still amused. “It was like being a large-animal vet. Quite fascinating. These guys were really into daisy-chain orgies. After I showed them positions from the Kama Sutra, modified of course, I about went deaf when they trumpeted with pleasure. The Wah-zhim thought they knew everything about sex until I came along.”

“Your contribution to cosmic harmony,” I added.

Carmen didn’t linger in the dining room and we followed her to yet another door, this one larger than the other and made of smoked, faceted glass. “But the Wah-zhim aren’t only about sex, they are also gifted inventors. You noticed the flying saucers?”

Jolie and I nodded.

“The Wah-zhim make those.”

“Where do the Nancharm fit in?”

“They heard about my reputation as an ‘arousal facilitator,’” Carmen made air quotes, “and were so desperate for a solution, they confiscated me. My Wah-zhim owners weren’t too happy, but what could they do? If they complained, the Nancharm would use megaton particle slammers to smash them into cytoplasm jelly.”

I couldn’t imagine the Nancharm kicking anyone’s ass. They looked harmless as Doctor Seuss characters. Then again, they had paralyzed Jolie and me and blasted us here in that flying umbrella cage.

I studied the room and keyed in on what was missing. Monitor screens. Televisions. Any kind of a computer, clock, or communication device. I was certain there was no cell phone service here; the roaming charges would be a killer.

Carmen stood with her back to the door. “The Nancharm reengineered the planet into a gigantic combination laboratory and resort. A romantic getaway to try and kindle some Nancharm whoopie. Planet Pleasure, remember? Among the men, I need to emphasize. Their women don’t have a problem. They’re the ones who brought me here.”

“In the hopes of a good boning?” I asked.

“That we all need from time to time.”

“Other than frustration, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, no Nancharm babies. The youngest are adolescents. They are a dying species.”

“Can’t they harvest eggs and sperm?” Jolie asked. “In vitro fertilization would be an easy fix.”

“Nancharm ‘ootz’—their word for spooge—doesn’t activate until it’s been primed by an orgasm. Unless the release of ootz is accompanied by bells and whistles, their men are just shooting blanks.”

“Why don’t men,” Jolie pumped one hand, “just watch porn and beat off into a cup?”

“First of all, the Nancharm don’t have or understand porn. But more importantly, their men have lost the urge.”

“Let me get this straight.” The explanation baffled me. “The Nancharm men don’t want to get their nut off? The whole point of progress and technology is to make it easier to get some tail.”

“It’s been bred out of their genetic code. They inadvertently made themselves warrior eunuchs.”

“Can’t they reverse the process?” Jolie cinched her eyebrows. “Monkey again with their DNA and reset the chromosomes?”

“They’ve tried. Only made things worse.”

“What can
you
do?”

Carmen stuck out a finger. “Figure something to make the Nancharm men go
boing.
”

“Do they even have penises?” I asked. “Not that I’m curious.”

“Oh, Felix,” Carmen replied, “you and your hang ups.”

“And after we put lead in their pencils? Will they return us to earth?”

Carmen turned somber. “I’ve asked Moots, but she doesn’t give an answer.”

“You save them from extinction,” Jolie replied sharply, “they should at least give you a cab ride home. It’s only simple courtesy.”

“You think? My one-night stands have ended with more civility.”

“Where are the Nancharm men?” I asked.

“All over. Why do you ask?”

“Right after we landed, we stumbled across buildings with Nancharm going back-and-forth. None of them looked like soldiers. In fact, they looked like bureaucrats. And I can’t tell the men and women apart.”

“Outwardly, they appear the same.”

“That might another part of the problem,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to hit on anyone who looks like me. They might want to go for cosmetic surgery. Moots could get implants.”

Carmen rolled her eyes. She reached for the brass door handle and pushed. The door opened onto a patio cluttered with furniture. The vista overlooked the pond and trees I’d seen from above when Jolie and I flew at this place. The pond was about the size of a baseball diamond with a waterfall cascading over rocks at the far end. A horseshoe of lush trees enclosed the pond and patio. Plants of all shapes grew along the bottom of the trees and to the edge of the pond, forming a tapestry of verdant greens, decorated with swaths of flower blossoms in a rainbow of colors.

Splashing and voices drew us. We walked to the edge of the patio and looked down on marble steps that led into the pond.

Four humans—Juanita, two men, and another woman—frolicked at the water’s edge, splashing and laughing. Their sleek, handsome bodies glistened invitingly. Curiously, they wore swimsuits.
Tiny
swimsuits, but large enough to cover their private carnival rides.

“Your chalices?” Jolie cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

I scoped out the view. “Rather nice back yard … and decorations.”

“Absolutely idyllic,” Jolie added. “Your personal Garden of Eden.”

“Don’t be too impressed,” Carmen replied. “A gilded cage is still a cage. A cage for lab rats.” She sighed. “Us.”

***