Gaga For Dogface, Part 2 (544 hits)
Category: Science & EnvironmentalRating: 0.66 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by X54 (View user info) at 2008-09-20 16:05:13 EDT
(Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/118505 In which Sam Wire, Surface Technician, meets an irresistable alien woman who, believing him to be the savior of her people, fucks his brains out.)
Part 2
Sam woke with the sun like a welding torch in his eyes. "Samwire," said Shayla, shaking him. "Your machine is calling you."
Professor Sheehan's voice came over the radio. "Wire," she said, her irritation coming through loud and clear. "Pick up, over!"
Sam staggered naked to the radio. Leaning for balance against the cold metal of the landing craft, he urinated blissfully and croaked into the microphone, "Wire here."
Professor Sheehan responded with a torrent of abuse, but all he could think of was water. Finished relieving himself, he searched for his canteen. "Say again, over," he rasped.
"I say again: proceed immediately to these coordinates. Prepare to copy. Hurry up, dammit!"
Sam started to laugh at the professor's impatience, but a sudden brain-spike ruined the humor of the moment. "Potable alcohol, my ass," he moaned.
Finished with the coordinates, he returned to Shayla. Sheehan droned on about "inadvertent contact with the indigenous population" and "a gold mine for research."
"I have to go," he told Shayla as he pulled on his coveralls.
"What about your promise?" she said. "To fulfill the prophecy and restore to us that which is rightfully ours?" Sam's heart leapt as she unwrapped herself from his blanket.
"I'll come back," he said. "You don't understand. I'm already on probation with the union. One more complaint and they'll bust me down to Second Class." He coaxed her off the mattress, gave her the blanket to keep, and began flinging equipment helter-skelter into the landing craft.
Sam started the landing craft, then doused the remnants of the fire while the engines warmed up. Shayla disappeared into the forest. "I'll be back," he called out hopefully. Not until after take-off did he realize his laser pistol was missing.
"Jesus, Wire," said Sam. "How the hell are you going to explain this one?" He thought about turning back, but decided it would be pointless and would only make Professor Sheehan suspicious.
Professor Sheehan's coordinates were in the middle of an ancient, abandoned landing field. She and her assistant had left Sam's position two days before to recon the field. An anthropologist at the Academy of Extraterrestrial Research, she specialized in primitive cultures disrupted by human contact during the Andromedan Invasion.
The landing field was a vast swath of barren land carved from the surrounding forest. Sheehan had come to study the planet's indigenous people who still lived at the landing field a hundred years after the last cargo ship had left. Scores of blackened ruins marked the old warehouses, probably scuttled by the military during the evacuation. A few were still intact--overlooked, no doubt, in the haste and confusion of the retreat.
Also still intact was the control tower, thrusting 250 feet above the center of the field. Around the base of the tower, a few dozen Indies were arrayed in a shambolic semblance of a military formation. As Sam descended, a team of ground guides equipped with bright pink signal flags ran out, twirling and prancing in a ridiculous parody of some old landing procedure.
The dancing ground guides escorted him from the landing craft, past the cheering formation to the control tower. Five men dressed in camouflage fatigues and parade helmets met him at the entrance. Though better groomed and dressed, these Indies appeared identical to their counterparts in the forest.
Seating him in a rusty desk-chair attached to two poles, four of the men hoisted him to their shoulders and carried him to the stairs. The fifth sang a cadence to keep the porters in step, one that Sam recognized from his own military service years ago:
Don't put me through the wo-ormhole
on my way to wa-ar.
Send me on a sleeper ship
with'n Altairian who-ore.
By the time they reached the top, the porters were exhausted. One of them stumbled as they entered the control room, sending Sam sprawling to the floor. He found himself at the feet of a man wearing slippers with mechanic's coveralls. The man shouted; two guards grabbed the offending porter. They dragged him, screaming, outside onto the balcony and hurled him over the railing.
"Welcome," said the man. The porter's scream ended with a muffled thud, like a period at the end of a sentence that deserved an exclamation. "I am Raj, leader of the Guardians of the Holy City of Plenty."
Sam scrambled to his feet. Raj was taller than he by a full head and stood ramrod straight. Along with the coveralls, he wore a battle vest and an officer's dress cap. He had the same dog-like face as the others, but it suited him and he looked quite handsome, with a close-cropped gray beard and dark, flashing eyes.
"Nice to meet you," stammered Sam.
Professor Sheehan stepped forward. "Raj," she said sweetly, placing a hand on Raj's arm. "This is Sam Wire, my surface tech. Could I have a word with him in private?"
Raj clapped his hands and the room emptied. He smiled at Sheehan before closing the door behind him, flashing his pointy teeth.
"Isn't he wonderful?" said Sheehan.
"Wonderful?" cried Sam. "He just threw a guy off the balcony!" She seemed in an uncharacteristically good mood, especially given the morning's radio exchange. There was something else, too. In place of the usual drab work shirt and baggy trousers, she wore a thin, sleeveless blouse and shorts.
"He wanted to impress us," replied Sheehan. "Discipline is quite important to them." Her gray-streaked brown hair, normally pulled back in a tight bun, was brushed out today. As she raised her arm to push back a loose strand, Sam noticed with a start she appeared to be bra-less. He searched for the tell-tale protrusion of a nipple that would prove him right.
"Wire," she said, pointing to her eyes. "Up here."
Sam smiled, pondering the implication of her change in demeanor. "You look very nice today, Professor." He glanced with mock nonchalance at the door through which Raj had just left. "Is there some special occasion?"
Horace Parnell, the grad-student, snorted from where he sat atop a rusty, metal desk.
Sam's eyebrows jumped. Stifled though it was, Parnell's outburst was a departure from his usual obsequiousness. Professor Sheehan's face reddened.
Sam braced himself, but before she could let loose Parnell piped up. "This expedition is compromised," he said in his whiny voice. "How can you expect the natives to behave naturally now?"
Sam gaped at the skinny little man with the wispy, blond goatee. Was he nuts? Sam sidled away, hoping to avoid suffering collateral damage.
But Sheehan's response was measured, almost defensive. "The natives have been anticipating the return of what they believe are gods. Their behavior now will be just as valid and far more interesting."
"That's bullshit and you know it," shouted Parnell, leaping to his feet.
Cringing, Sam stepped outside and peered over the balcony. A dark splotch marked the porter's point of impact far below. How much influence, he wondered, did Professor Sheehan have over Raj?
"Imagine going back in time to study our own primitive religions," said Sheehan. "How fascinating would it be to study the Christians' reaction to the return of Christ?"
Amazingly, she still seemed calm. Sam knew it couldn't last. Parnell had to be stopped--he looked on the verge of tears. Sam waved to catch his attention, motioning for him to shut up.
"Oh, please," bawled Parnell. "It's obvious why you want to stay here. Even Wire saw it. You're gaga for Dogface!"
Sam froze. The room fell silent. Parnell sniffled. Sheehan's face took on its familiar wrathful expression. She seethed, "You're finished." Striding to the door, she turned back and hollered, "You're both finished!" The door slammed shut behind her.
[To be continued...]
User Reviews
Submitted by 200killerwasps (user info) at 2008-09-21 07:41:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
-2 because my gay French teacher shares the same name.
Eeeeurgh! He'd always do the gayest stuff in French classes; you know touching as much as he could, getting us to touch ourselves while he directs us in French, having us crowd around him and whatever; there's tons more to say about him.
I think.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2008-09-20 17:34:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
douglas adams
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-09-20 16:26:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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