Brad Ferguson - Rhuum Service

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“Rhuum Service” by BRAD FERGUSON

Originally published in Hotel Andromeda, February 1994

Duplication or redistribution of this file in any form whatsoever is strictly prohibited.

ARVELOUS,” SAID CHAYLAIFA, his

breath finally coming back to him. He

was on his back, smiling; his tail was

comfortably wrapped around his left thigh, out

of the way.

The chosha was not smiling at all, but she

nodded agreement. “Excuse me for a moment,

Chaylaifa,” she said.

“Of course,” he said. The sha watched her

by the dim light as she left their bed and headed

for the bathroom. Nasu still cuts a fine figure, he

thought idly, particularly for someone of her

years. I chose well, so long ago. She is both

good company and a good friend ... and she still

provides this old warrior with a stout enough

ride, willing as she is to try new things —

“Chaylaifa?” came a small, high voice near

the foot of the bed.

“Ah,” he said. “Still with us, eh, my dear?

Ha! Come a little closer.”

She did. “I thought you’d forgotten all about

me.”

“Not possible. Did you doze off?”

“Just for a moment. It has been a long day.”

The thaka’thott rolled across the sweat-stained

sheets of the strongly built bed and snuggled

like a youngling into Chaylaifa’s pelt. Fehlorah

ran a paw through the matted fur on the sha’s

chest, her slightly extended claws barely grazing

the sensitive skin beneath.

“I am glad the Bloxx was delayed,” she

breathed.

“So am I,” Chaylaifa replied. “I had to

appear angry for the benefit of our agents here,

but I did not expect such a pleasant ... respite ...

on the first day of the talks.”

“A most welcome respite. It’s such an

exciting trip, isn’t it?”

“Are you glad I brought you, girl?”

“Of course, Chaylaifa! Ever so glad!”

The sha smiled. “Now just how glad might

that be?”

Fehlorah smiled in a way far beyond her

years. “Very glad, my sha. Has the chosha left

anything for me?”

Chaylaifa laughed softly. “You know she

has, little witch,” he said. He sighed in mock

exasperation. “How can such a one, small as

you, destroy me again and again, time after

time, endlessly? You’ll kill me yet, girl.”

“I kill you?” Fehlorah’s paw began making

its own, slow way down Chaylaifa’s ample

body, in the way she had so recently learned that

he liked the most. “More likely it will be the

other way ‘round; I’ll be crushed under you —

or between the both of you. A sad yet wonderful

fate indeed.”

“You’re much too spry to be caught like

that, Fehlorah.” He ran the tips of his powerful

claws along the stripe of grey fur covering her

spine, and the thaka’thott shivered as her

immature tail began twitching.

“You like that,” he said in a low voice.

“Very much,” she breathed. “And you?”

“What you’re begun doing down there feels

very good, my little love.”

“Now just how good might that be?” she

asked him, laughing, as Chaylaifa’s breath

began to hiss softly back and forth through his

teeth.

A few moments later the bathroom door

opened, throwing a bright golden light into the

room. Nasu stood in it, a silhouette.

“Come back to bed, Nasu,” Chaylaifa called.

“We’ve grown a bit impatient for you here — as

you might be able to tell.”

“Yes,” Fehlorah said, reaching out a dainty

paw. “Come to us, Nasu. Be with us.”

“I ... I think I might like to retire for the

evening,” Nasu said, knowing what was to

come; she had no wish to repeat the vileness of

it. “It has been a tiring day. I will sleep in the

room assigned to me — ”

“Nonsense,” said the sha, his tone suddenly

“Rhuum Service” by BRAD FERGUSON

Originally published in Hotel Andromeda, February 1994

Duplication or redistribution of this file in any form whatsoever is strictly prohibited.

harsh. “Come to bed, here and now. And turn

out that damned light; the one in here is quite

enough.”

“Chaylaifa, I — ”

He looked at her, his eyes holding her

completely. After a moment, Nasu looked away

and nodded.

“Excellent.” As Nasu seated herself at the

foot of the bed, Chaylaifa reached behind him

and retrieved a small box from the nightstand.

“What’s that?” asked Fehlorah.

“It is a Terran delicacy, love. They are

called ritzcrackas, and I am assured that they

are safe for us. Expensive, as is everything else

aboard this hotel, but I thought we might try

them. They are something ... different.” He

grinned widely, showing his fangs. “After all,

we have to fortify ourselves for the rigors

ahead! Ha!”

Fehlorah giggled and, reaching over the sha,

took a ritzcracka for herself and passed another

to Nasu. The chosha ate it, chewing slowly.

Fehlorah saw her reluctance and giggled again

as she turned to embrace Chaylaifa.

After a short while Nasu joined with them,

her unwillingness quickly evaporating as their

shared scent rose, engulfing her, trapping her.

The tastefully small brass sign on the door

of the suite read:

JACOBS & BURKE, LTD.

FACILITATORS

The reception area had been furnished by a

Centaurian designer known for her terribly

trendy and effectively audacious approach to

everything she did. Wallpaper and furnishings

had been designed to intrigue a wide variety of

senses, and fabrics had been chosen to appeal as

broadly as possible to those to whom touch and

smell were as sound and light. To prove that

price had been no object, there was an original

Sunday-edition full-color Calvin and Hobbes

hanging over the faux fireplace, which itself

radiated in a variety of spectra. The look and

feel of the room had instantly established the

credibility of Jacobs & Burke aboard Hotel

Andromeda, and that credibility had been the

key to everything.

The other half of the suite was hidden

behind a door concealed in the far wall of the

reception area. Between them, the partners

called it the Dark Side, and it looked as if it had

been decorated by trolls. The Dark Side was the

soundproofed and spyproofed office where

Jacobs and Burke actually did their work, and

no one else ever got in there. The partners

allowed the hotel’s cleaning robots into the

Dark Side only once every six months or so.

Even at that, they never let the robots do very

much, frantic that something important, some

significant scrap of paper, might be snatched up

and thrown away. The partners were also

terrible packrats. For example, one of the Terran

calendars on the wall was four years out of date,

but the partners left it hanging there because it

would be good again in only another seven.

Jonathan Lee Jacobs was sitting at his desk

in the Dark Side, his head in his hands. “I guess

what I don’t appreciate the most,” he

complained, “is that this crap always gets

sprung on us at the last possible goddamn

minute.”

His partner had not really heard him. Trudy

Burke was lying back in her reclining chair. Her

eyes were closed. She was very busy.

Jacobs grabbed his most abused pencil of

the day and began tapping a rapid tattoo on the

glass surface of his desk. “First I get absolutely

no notice that Bannister Investments is

exercising its option with us, this after we don’t

hear from those bloodsuckers for years, so we

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Brad Ferguson - Rhuum Service

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