Hotel Andromeda

by Edited by Jack L. Chalker

  “Yes, ma’am. Any specialization?”

  “No! Just get one up here!” She blew her nose noisily. “And hurry.”

  “Of course.”

  “Excuse.” The orange Ipsilonian was still standing there. “Rum, plish.”

  Lekvich Tor felt tears of frustration forming in his eyes. What did this creature want from him? If only he had paid more attention to languages during training. Was a rum plish an exotic drink? He had a sudden hysterical image of the Ipsilonian sitting at a table in the Andromeda bar, a pink drink with a parasol in at least three of its six paws. Then he imagined the Ipsilonian keeling over. The screams. The lawsuits. The unemployment office.

  “Ah, Ambassador Syxxxch, there you are.”

  Blonde and immaculate Terralynne Stag, the assistant night manager, hurried up and took one of the orange fur paws in her hands, shaking it energetically. “We’ve been waiting for you, ma’am. Your translator has been delayed. I’m so sorry.”

  She smiled brightly at Lekvich Tor, a smile containing absolutely no recognition but an endless supply of professional goodwill.

  “Rum, plish,” said the Ipsilonian.

  “Yes, of course, we’ll see to your room immediately.” Before Lekvich Tor could raise the issue of his missing supervisor, Terralynne had swept the ambassador away toward the main desk and reception area.

  Bzzzzzt!

  Lekvich Tor snapped to. “Hotel Andromeda, concierge.”

  “This is room 3975—”

  Lekvich Tor saw that he was talking to someone in the water wing. No wonder the voice sounded so muffled and peculiar. The water-breather was using a voice synthesizer.

  “How can I be of service?” he said quickly.

  “Our fenestres—ah, portholes—are opaqued again. We posit algae as the culprit.”

  “I’ll call Amphibious Housekeeping immediately.”

  “Much gratitude.”

  Lekvich Tor hung up and saw four call lights flashing pink and blue and green and red on the console. He hadn’t even noticed them. His purplish skin began to shine with perspiration. He reached for the nearest light but a scaly green hand with claws enameled in bright orange intercepted him.

  “Hello there.” The voice was husky, insinuating, slightly slurred.

  Lekvich Tor looked up into the face of a Saurian matriarch from Telos XVI. He had never expected to see one at such close range.

  She was twice his size and width. Her jaw extended a good five inches in front of her forehead and her smile—if that’s what it was—revealed rows of needle-sharp white teeth. Her dark eyes were split by a red pupil and she appeared to have no eyelids. Rubies set in golden studs dotted her eye ridges.

  Lekvich Tor fought back a shudder. The guest is always right, he thought. Always.

  “When do you get off?” the Saurian said.

  “Beg pardon?”

  Her smile widened—a terrifying sight. “You’re very attractive for a humanoid. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Never,” said Lekvich Tor. In fact, before he had been recruited for this post from Vladimir’s Folly, no one had ever paid much attention to him at all.

  “Mmmmhmmm.” She nodded languorously. “Love that purple skin.”

  Lekvich Tor had an awful feeling that he knew exactly what this Saurian wanted. He blushed. He looked away through the view portals at the stars but there was no help coming from those distant points of light. He took a deep breath. “Ma’am, may I direct you to our Pleasure Services Department? We have the very best selection of live professionals, robots, or virtual experiences to be found in six quadrants.”

  “But I like you.”

  Lekvich Tor gulped. He had heard rumors of the Saurians’ mating techniques and he had no intention of learning whether or not any of those rumors were true. “I’m very flattered,” he said. “But I’m on duty.” He pointed to the wall clock behind him. “All night.”

  “Don’t you ever get a break?”

  “Uh, no. Never.” Ranee, where are you? he thought. Where is the Security Force? Where is my mother?

  A robot security drone rolled by and Lekvich wanted to call out to it but something kept him from doing so. He musn’t insult the guest. He looked around the lobby at the endless flow of people, desperately hoping to catch the eye of some functionary. He could always press the Security button, but he had not yet been told what would happen if he did so.

  “Well, I can wait.” The Saurian looked as though she were planning to lean against the console all night.

  “So there you are!” a high voice cried.

  A Saurian male half the female’s size came hurrying through the crowd toward the concierge desk. He wore a shimmering cloak woven from the rarest full-spectrum textiles and had a diamond stud embedded in one green and scaly nostril. “There you are,” he said again even more shrilly, “I can’t turn my back on you for a moment.”

  The female rolled her dark eyes and turned to face her accuser with a condescending air. “Raoul, calm down, dearest. You’ll have a stroke if you don’t relax.”

  “Don’t try to get around me, Celeste. I know what you’re capable of.”

  She gave Lekvich a long-suffering look. “I’ve been waiting for you, darling. You know you always take longer to dress than I do.”

  “I thought you would be waiting in the cafe,” Raoul said, sniffing.”

  “I just paused to ask this charming young man for directions.” Celeste winked at Lekvich. He smiled wanly.

  “I know where the cafe is even if you don’t,” Raoul said.

  “Come along, now. Don’t dally. I’m hungry enough to eat a dozen mice.”

  “But, Raoul, your digestion.”

  “And don’t lecture me, Celeste. I said come along.” He took her by the arm and steered her toward the restaurant transport tubes. Celeste looked back over her shoulder and blew Lekvich a kiss.

  Numbly, he waved.

  Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

  The console! Lekvich gasped and dived for the nearest light.

  “Concierge.”

  “Lekvich, where have you been?” It was Ranee. He could have kissed her voice.

  “I was talking to a guest.”

  “You know the rules about two rings per call.”

  “Yes, Ranee, of course. Forgive me.”

  “Now listen to me, Lekvich. I’m on deck seventeen. I got captured by Wolf Rackham—you know, the maintenance chief—on my way down from deck nine. He says he has to talk to me right now. Think you can handle things a bit longer? I’ll be there just as soon as I can. How are you doing?”

  Lekvich looked at the rainbow of call lights blinking urgently and swallowed. “Fine. I think.”

  “Good. Hold the fort.” Ranee hung up.

  The fort was blinking at Lekvich in every color imaginable.

  “Hello, concierge, please hold. Concierge, please hold. Concierge, please hold. Concierge, may I help you?”

  “Yeah, I was just swimming on deck five when a robot came in and dumped a load of sand in the deep end of the pool.”

  “Are you sure?” Lekvich said. “They’re not programmed to do anything like that.”

  “Of course not,” the caller said. “But some kids were playing around with its controls—they probably reprogrammed it. There it goes again.”

  Lekvich could hear a faint splash and outraged cries.

  “I believe you, I believe you,” he said quickly. “I’ll contact Maintenance right away.” He hung up, buzzed Pool Maintenance, and reached for the next call.

  “Concierge.”

  “My Poltronian guppy isn’t doing well,” the caller said in a waspish voice. “I was just down at the kennel and I thought it looked a little pink. I don’t think you’ve got the right mixture of gases in its cell.”

  “Did you tell the kennel master, sir?”

  “Of course, but do you think he’d listen to me? I want something done about this at once.”

  “Sir, it’s really not my
job—”

  “I don’t care what your job is. If my guppy dies because of mistreatment I’ll sue this hotel!”

  Lekvich wanted to tell him to go ahead and sue: only a fool would bring a Poltronian guppy into an oxygen-rich environment. But he was also worried that this man might just make good on his threats. He sounded like a troublemaker. And trouble must be avoided. The guest is always right, he reminded himself once again. Always.

  “I’ll see what I can do, sir.” Before he could say more, the guest hung up on him.

  Lekvich turned to the next call. “Hello, thank you for holding.”

  “Is the null-g gym closed?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. Have you asked at the fitness center?”

  “Yeah, I tried there. The door’s locked. They told me to call you.”

  “Oh.” Lekvich Tor scratched his head. Why had they told her to call him? “Ma’am, I’ll have to get back to you on that.” He scribbled down her room number and went on to the next call.

  “Thank you for holding.” His feet hurt and he was beginning to feel pressure in his bladder. Would Ranee never come back?

  “This is room 2360. We’re checking out and we’d like a robot to bus our luggage.”

  Lekvich almost sighed with relief at the routine request.

  “Right away, sir.”

  He notified the mech station and took the next call.

  “We’d like to reserve a table for dinner tonight.”

  “This is the concierge. You want to call the restaurant.”

  “Isn’t this the extension for the restaurant?”

  Lekvich swallowed an impatient retort. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, could you connect me to the restaurant?”

  “It would be faster if you dialed direct, ma’am.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  The next caller wanted a better room and Lekvich told him to call reservations.

  The caller after that wanted to know where the environmental control in his room was, and if it could decrease the gravity at all, and what exactly would happen to alcohol at zero-g.

  “You’re not planning to drink in zero-g, are you?” Lekvich asked in alarm.

  “Why not?”

  “You can’t do it unless you use a closed container and suction straw,” he said. “With a glass, you’ll just get floating globules, which will splash on the rug and stain the upholstery when you restore the room to normal g.”

  The caller giggled, said, “Sounds like fun,” and hung up before Lekvich could check the room number and notify Housekeeping and/or Security.

  For a moment the board was quiet Lekvich indulged himself in a hearty sigh and looked at his notes.

  Now, let’s see, he thought, room 5627 wanted me to call the kennel master about the guppy. Or was that room 5427? Horrified, Lekvich realized that he couldn’t read his own scrawl. Well, he did remember the guppy—he would call the kennel master first and worry about the owner later.

  But what about that woman who wanted to use the null-g gym? Had he already called about that? And the man who wanted to experiment with drinking in zero-g, or was it the woman who wanted to do that and the man who wanted the gym? Lekvich Tor rubbed the bridge of his nose where it had begun to ache. His head was swimming. He checked the clock: had it really only been three hours? It felt like three days.

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge,” said Lekvich listlessly. “Can I help you?”

  “Listen, you’d better get somebody down here right away,” a frantic voice said.

  “Where is here?” Lekvich asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “I mean, what’s your room number?”

  “Thirteen sixty-eight.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “It’s raining in my room.”

  Lekvich frowned. “Do you mean the pipes are leaking?”

  “No. It’s the environmental control. It’s out of whack or something.”

  Of course, Lekvich thought. The environmental controls. If it’s not that it’s the gravity. If it’s not that it’s the guppy. Or the Saurian with a diamond in his nose.

  “I’ll see that somebody gets to it, sir.”

  “Hurry, please. My portfolio is getting soaked!” Lekvich thought that it would be very nice to lie in a quiet room on a soft bed somewhere and have warm rain trickle down onto his body. What was this guy complaining about, he wondered. Why didn’t he just lie down and enjoy it?

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge.”

  “Lekvich, this is Ranee.”

  “Oh, Ranee, thank goodness. You won’t believe—”

  “I can’t talk,” she said. “I’m on deck thirty-five. Winnie Payne, the second assistant night manager, saw me with Wolf and hauled us both into a meeting. I’ll be back as soon as I can get loose.”

  Before Lekvich could say another word, she was gone.

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge,” he said hopelessly.

  “Ranee?”

  “I’m sorry, she’s not here.”

  “Not back yet?” It was Scadool, her mysterious caller again. He didn’t sound pleased.

  “I’m sorry, no,” Lekvich said, and thought: You don’t know just how sorry I am.

  Scadool hung up.

  Lekvich was beginning to get angry. Didn’t anyone believe in basic good manners anymore?

  “Hello again.”

  It was Celeste, the Saurian, leering over the console at him and waggling her ruby-studded eye ridges.

  “Where’s Raoul?” Lekvich said.

  “Oh, he’s still eating. I told him I had to visit the ladies’ room,” she said, and winked slyly. “Now are you certain you can’t take a break?” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in a mercenary way. “I promise you that you’ll enjoy many rewards, and not all of them on the physical plane.”

  Lekvich Tor felt the growing pressure in his bladder and began to despair. He was really getting uncomfortable, and this lustful Saurian was not making matters easier. He mustered his best and iciest manners.

  “I’m sorry, madam. I’m flattered, truly. But as you can see, there’s nobody here but me. I simply can’t leave the desk.”

  “What about a robot? Can’t you order one to come and sub for you?”

  “I beg your pardon.” Lekvich drew himself up to his full five feet and five inches. How dare she imply that a robot could do a job as complicated as this.

  “Now don’t get huffy,” Celeste said. “You’re obviously a sensitive and intelligent young man. How would you like a job as a personal valet? I’ll just talk to your boss—”

  “Celeste?”

  Raoul bore down upon them, eyes flashing. “I knew I’d find you here. You’re shameless, utterly shameless. I can’t turn my back on you for a second.”

  “Now, Raoul—”

  “Don’t you ‘now, Raoul’ me! So you had to go to the ladies’ room, eh? I can’t trust you at all. I might as well divorce you right here and now. Young man, can you provide me with some assistance?”

  “Sir?” Lekvich stared at him in horror. Was he going to be involved in a divorce suit on his first night on the job?

  Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

  The console was lighting up in a crazy array of colors, but as Lekvich reached for a call, Raoul interceded, grabbing his hand.

  “Are you deaf as well as stupid? I asked if you could provide the services of an attorney.”

  “Raoul,” Celeste wailed. “You don’t mean it. Please, darling, don’t kick me out. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  “I’m tired of your promises.”

  Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge.” Lekvich said desperately. “Please hold. Please hold. Please hold.”

  Raoul yanked on his wrist. “Well?”

  “Please, sir. Let go of me. I’ll request an attorney for you in a moment if you’ll just be patient.”

  “I’ve been patient long enough. You don’t know how I�
�ve suffered with this bitch.”

  Lekvich was tempted to tell him that he could actually imagine what a trial Celeste had been to him. But Raoul didn’t seem interested in commiseration, especially from Lekvich Tor.

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Please. I must answer the call,” Lekvich said. He pulled himself free of Raoul’s grasp. “Concierge.”

  “Quick, we need Housekeeping down here in wing seven.

  A water-breather tipped over his tank.”

  “Can you hold on?”

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge.”

  “I’d like to arrange for personality enhancement.”

  “Sir, you want implants, extension 75.”

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge.”

  “Which department handles tattoos?”

  “You want Dermatology, ma’am, line 89.”

  Bzzzzzt!

  “Concierge.”

  “This is room 842. Something’s wrong with our environmental control. In fact, everybody on this floor seems to be having trouble. We’re all floating around in null-g.”

  “Could you please hold?”

  “I’m getting tired of waiting!” Raoul roared.

  Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt!

  “What’s going on here?” a familiar voice demanded.

  “Ranee!” Lekvich Tor could have fainted with mingled relief and horror.

  His supervisor stood and glowered at him. “It’s absolute bedlam here and I’ve only been gone for half a shift.”

  “I’m sorry. Ranee.”

  She ignored him and turned to Raoul. “Sir, what seems to be the problem?”

  “Are you this young man’s supervisor?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’d like to report him for insubordination. And slowness. I’ve been waiting for him to provide me with the services of a good divorce attorney.”

  “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir. What is your room number?”

  “Eleven seventy.”

  “I’ll have a lawyer sent immediately. Do you prefer human or robot?”

  “Robot. At least my soon-to-be ex-wife won’t be able to flirt with one of those.”

  “Very good.” Ranee typed a command into the net and nodded. “It will be there in five minutes.”

  “Now, Raoul,” Celeste said. “Don’t get so excited. Think of your blood pressure.” She wound a meaty arm around her husband’s neck and tickled his cheek with one long orange talon. “Darling, you’re so attractive when you’re enraged.”