Galaxy Jane. Ron Goulart
to scowl, hands on hips, at Summer and the young woman. “Now, in my book gatormen are the scum of the universe. To me they’re only one step above lizardmen, who are known far and wide as the sludge in the booptube of humanity and—”
“Hold it, schmucko,” growled a lizard commando in full regalia. “I’m passing through on me way to the 19th Annual Purebred Aryan Lizard Conclave out on the planet Barafunda. Your ethnic slurs don’t sit well with me nor—”
“Whyn’t you let me speak my entire piece, blockhead,” said the spacesailor. “I was about to explain that, while I wouldn’t wipe a grout’s toke with your average gatorman, I have an affinity for anyone who’s had the wisdom to have him or herself tattooed at some juncture in life. Tattooing, if I may wax eloquent about my hobbyhorse for a bit, is a much maligned art-form in this benighted corner of the universe. Therefore, anybody what belts not one—” He held up his tattooed fingers as he ticked them off. “Not two—but three handsome walking examples of the tattooists’ art, I am—”
“Scram,” suggested Vicky quietly.
“Whoa now, sister,” said the sailor with a scowl. “No beanpole of a bimbo can tell Mr. Spaceshipman Easy to fire his rockets and—”
“Gents,” said Summer to the spacesailor and the commando, “unless you want to join this unconscious trio of art specimens, I suggest you cease blabbing and get the hell out of our way.”
The lizard man said, “We space commandos, kiddo, don’t take orders from middle-sized ginks who—”
“We really don’t have any more time to stall around,” said Vicky near Summer’s left ear. “I’ve spotted a couple of those darn Port Security cops starting to push their way over here. Let’s make a dash for our ship.”
“Okay, you start and I’ll settle with these two louts.”
“No need for that, Mr. Summer. Scoop can handle them.”
“Scoop?”
“Scoop/ 104P- I K. He’s my camera robot—well, our camera robot actually,” she explained. “Except he’s sort of special, customized and all. My father gave me Scoop when I graduated from—”
“All we need is a regular everyday cambot on this—”
“What’d I tell you, angelcake, about teaming up with this superannuated yawp?” A large mechanical man emerged from behind the pyramid of baggage. “He can’t even dodder across the port without—”
“Scoop, dear, would you take care of these annoying
gentlemen?”
“A snap.” The robot was chrome-plated, trimmed with glittering semiprecious stones. His head, based vaguely on that of a handsome humanoid, had a camera lens mounted above his two gleaming ruby eyes.
“What’s the flaming big idea?” demanded the irate sailor. “Our squabble is with you two, not this tool of—”
“Couple of snurfheads,” observed Scoop as he raised his right hand and pointed a metallic forefinger at the spaceshipman.
Zzzzzittttzzzzzz!
A thin beam of intensely green light jumped from the tip of the robot’s extended finger and hit the illustrated forehead of the spacesailor.
He flapped his muscular arms twice, rose up on his toes, made a low yowling noise and then fell over backward into a faxpaper newsie.
“Wuxtry! Wuxtry!” yelped the kid-sized newsbot.
The lizard commando swallowed, tipped his helmet and said, “Nice meeting you, one and all.” He pushed away through the bystanders.
Scoop rubbed at his gleaming chest with the fingers of his right hand. “What say, sugarbunch, we leave this antiquated newzhound here and catch the—”
“Now you can escort us to the Hollywood II docking area,” requested Vicky, “before yonder cops reach us.”
The robot’s disappointed sigh rattled various components within him. “Here you’ve got one of the journalistic lights of the whole snurfheaded universe working for you and you prefer Summer, who’s been obsolete since—”
“Scoop. Now.”
After letting a smaller sigh escape, Scoop stretched out both arms. He slipped one around the young woman’s waist, the other, gingerly, around Summer. “Hold on to your rug, granpappy.”
The mechanical man rose right up off the floor, leveled off at an altitude of twenty-five feet and flew them swiftly away from the scene of the altercation—just in time to miss the arrival of the green-clad security officers.
Leaning across Scoop’s wide, highly polished chest, Vicky said, “Gee, Mr. Summer, I hope you don’t mind this. What I mean is, you don’t think I’m showing off, do you?”
“Not at all,” he assured her.
Chapter 4
The incredibly beautiful auburn-haired android smiled a dazzling smile and pulled up her Lycra tunic. “If you’ll just look here, Mr. Summer,” she requested.
Summer was just stowing his luggage in the wall bin of his compartment on the Westwood Deck of the immense Hollywood II spacecraft. One of the things he’d unpacked just before doing that was his palm-sized bugsniffer. “Be right with you.” He grinned in the direction of the stunning andy’s entirely believable breasts.
Built into her smooth, evenly tanned midsection was a rectangular vidscreen. “Let me ask you for your frank and candid opinion,” requested the gorgeous mechanism. “You’re a man known for his integrity and perception—or at least you used to be. We’re wondering if this method of indoctrinating new passengers aboard the Hollywood II strikes you as being gauche.”
Crouching, Summer swept the detecting gadget over the trim of his floating hydrobed. “Gauche isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
“Tell me which word you would use.”
“Cheesy.”
His compact bugsniffer made a small pinging noise. There was an eardisc stuck to the underside of the neowood bed frame.
“That’s ours,” explained the android, blushing slightly. “As I told you, Mr. Summer, I’m with Public Relations. We don’t always see eye to eye with Internal Security.”
Nodding, he ground the listening device under his boot heel. “You have a vidtape to show me?”
“Yes, it’s entitled So You’re Going to Travel Through the Limitless Infinity Of Space Aboard the Fabled Hollywood II!”
“Catchy.”
“You’re being sardonic.”
“Yep,” he admitted as he continued checking out his compartment.
“Installing the viewscreen here”—she gestured gracefully to just below her breasts—“was PR’s idea,” she said. “There was some debate about which location would be the most effective. You’d be surprised what a variety of portions of the female anatomy are considered provocative. Trying to arouse the interest of the variety of guests we get from sundry planets and—”
The bugsniffer binged.
“Another one.” Summer removed a wafer-thin mini-cam the size of a trubux coin from behind his wall mirror.
“Really? That isn’t one of ours.”
He held it between thumb and forefinger. “Looks like the brand the Barnum Drug Bureau uses.” Dropping it, he stomped on it with his heel.
“Oh, them.” She shook her blond head forlornly. “I thought those awful rumors had been laid to rest.”
“Rumors about what?”
“You know, drug smuggling