On the Planet of Tasteless Pleasures

by Harry Harrison

  "Bill," said Rick bulging his eyes with horror at his suddenly possessed comrade. "Arrrr! Why the devil are you talking like that?"

  Bill shook off the spell. "Sorry. The curse of the comix." He took in a deep breath. "Anyway, it's the truth, Doc. That is, if this is the same Irma." Quickly, he sketched out a description.

  The effect upon the King was incredible. He had grown paler and paler as Bill had told his tale, but now color was pumped back to his cheeks. He forced himself up into an only half-bent sitting position, his eyes glowing with some traces of renewed health and vigor. "Can it be? This is the very description of my precious, lovely Irma! You have indeed seen her."

  "And it's her that I'm looking for Doc. I am, as we say in the Troopers in our own comradely way, nuts about her! I'm not really here to help Dr. Delazny, not at all! I'm here to find Irma!"

  The King frowned. "I'm not really sure I want my daughter going out with a professional soldier — and one with fangs as well. No insult intended, young man. But what looks good stuck in the mush of a lion isn't exactly what I would call son-in-law material."

  "Look here, Crunchy! I could get rid of the fangs you know!" snarled Bill.

  "Arrrr! Bill," said Rick, agasp. "You'd give up Deathwish Drang's fangs for a woman! You really are in love, aren't you?"

  And Bill, in a sudden excess of self-pity and indulgent lachrymose romance, found tears streaming down his cheeks. "Yes, Rick! Even I find it hard to believe that a broken down old Trooper can find love at last. But someone out there, a woman in a billion, has broken through my hard-bitten training. You know, even The Galactic Troopers of the Empire can't stop love, Rick. I will go to the farthest stars, to the very ends of the Over-Gland to find her!"

  Rick shook his head. "This place has certainly had its effect on you, old friend! And not for the good, believe me. Can you believe that hogwash...! Oh well, I'm along for the ride I guess. Love will have its way — and I have got to find that Holy Grail Ale!"

  "You seek the Holy Grail Ale?" said the Baron/Doctor. "I've been looking for that myself! Great stuff, I hear. It might restore my depleted powers. You should have mentioned that before. I wouldn't have had you thrown in my dungeons."

  "That's okay," said Bill. "We needed the rest anyway, didn't we, Rick?"

  Rick shrugged. "I guess so." He turned to the King. "But you say that you have no idea where this Fountain of Hormones is either, Doc?"

  "Alas, it is a mystery even to my instruments!"

  "We met this dragon who said that it was south," said Bill.

  "All roads lead south in the Over-Gland!" Baron Barren beckoned to a pair of trolls. "Lackeys! Bring my stretcher! I would show our visitors my inventions!"

  Two gnarled creatures carrying a stretcher hurried up. Another helped roll the depleted Lord onto the top of it. He fell off noisily several times, making much commotion and many shrieks of rage. Babblings and scrabblings later, his constituents managed to get him balanced properly upon the stretcher, and began to haul him toward the door.

  "Come along, gentlemen. Do come along. Perhaps fresh brains will help me solve this particularly twisted puzzle."

  Now freed from their bonds, Bill and Rick found it quite easy to catch up with the Baron or King or Doc or whatever the hell he was, and keep pace.

  "That bird around your neck, Bill," said Baron Bar. "I hesitated to mention it before. But now, since we are old buddies, you will pardon my asking. But it is almost as odd as the cleft hoof upon your leg. Am I wrong, or is that not a symbol of peace, destroyed?"

  "You got it in one," Bill gloomed. "I have been stricken with the Grime of the Aging Marinator for killing the thing. I must find my true love, which is Irma, so that the spell can be lifted."

  "And the foot?"

  "Old war wound."

  "Most interesting. But hark! We approach the chamber, a former coffee roasting room, which I have converted into my laboratory. Yes, yes, my boys. Come into my lab and see what's percolating. Har-har. Don't get much of a chance for humor around these parts."

  "No," said Bill. "I guess not. Particularly if that is a sample."

  "You mean you think that there might be a hope of discovering the whereabouts of the Fountain of Hormones, there in your lab?" said Rick, scratching his head doubtfully.

  "Yes. In the years that I have ruled here, I have not abandoned my researches. No, only now I employ different tools. But no reason to babble on further fellows! Scritch! Pixindenda! Open those doors and take us through. Our guests are about to witness true wonder!"

  Bill, who'd had more than enough of true wonder lately, would much rather have witnessed true grain alcohol; but he had to admit, this crunchy old geezer was tickling his curiosity.

  Something behind that door was gurgling.

  Gurgling and gulping, squirting and chugging, bellowing and hissing. It was the oddest melange of liquid sounds that Bill had heard since he had almost drowned in boot camp.

  The doors to the laboratory chamber were large and solidly constructed of ironbound oak, and it was only with a great deal of grunting effort that the trolls managed to heave them open.

  They then came back to pick up their master and carry him through; Bill and Rick followed, their eyes opening wider and wider as they stumbled.

  "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Bill choked out.

  "You're seeing it all right," Rick answered in a very hollow voice.

  "What do you think?"

  "I think," Rick said stepping slowly backwards, "that I am going to leave."

  "Leave? You mean that thing bothers you?"

  "Bothers me?" Rick squeaked, then swallowed heavily. "I haven't had so much fun since the pigs ate my little sister."

  CHAPTER 15

  THE PEPTO ABYSMAL NIGHTMARE!

  "What the bowb is that?" Bill whispered, gulping rapidly.

  Rick could only gawk and gape, his face turning a curious shade of green as though afflicted with a sudden case of gastroenteritis.

  The chamber was large and high, and a full quarter of it was taken up by the Thing, not including the appendages and limbs and such that stretched down to the rudimentary control board. It was a mass of arms and ventricles and tentacles and the various organs — brains and such — that were visible through the translucent skin. As well as the usual eyes and ears popping out in unexpected places. There were also indefinable organs of various size and description, all buried in the multicolored translucent, stitched-together skin that stretched over it, or in some cases did not, exposing pulsing viscera or pumping giant hearts. In the very middle of the thing, a large eye a full yard across opened its lid and stared emotionlessly at the visitors entering its chamber.

  "Behold gentlemen!" croaked Baron Barren enthusiastically. "As you have no doubt surmised by now, normal technology simply does not work here in the Over-Gland. And so I have invented bio-technology. Here before you is the first ever bio-computer. I will demonstrate."

  Inspired by scientific enthusiasm, Baron Barren stumbled from his stretcher and dragged himself over to the long table, where some of the fleshy organs extended onto its surface. They were held firmly in position by levers and calipers of wood and metal. Vibrating needles showed measurements upon graphs hand drawn with neat calligraphy. Baron Barren touched a button, and at the end of a complicated organic-wood composite apparatus, ten flints struck simultaneously, lighting ten candles. By this illumination, Baron Barren assumed his Dr. Krankenhaus persona, examining the positions of the needles. "Hmmm. Things seem to be in homeostasis in the machine. I think we can call up some images now."

  "Arrrr! Wait just a minute!" said Rick, finally able to speak. "Dare I presume to ask just how did you manage to create this ... thing?"

  "Foolish of me — I neglected to mention that I also hold higher degrees in advanced surgery, genetics and home TV repair. To be truthful, ho-ho, I also admit to having a bit of a reputation as an author. I supported myself through graduate school by authoring some books. I come fr
om humble stock, my father was a Technical Fertilizer Operator —"

  "My lifetime ambition!" Bill cried.

  "Shut up. As I said, I have written books such as HOW TO TURN YOUR PETS INTO USEFUL HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES and DR. K's DO-IT-YOURSELF BRAIN TRANSPLANTS AND GASTRO-INTESTINAL SURGERY DIET. So you see I had all the necessary skills when I found myself trapped in this rotten place. I only had to round up the essential biological entities, brew up some tissue-generation vats, sharpen up some scalpels, dry out some cat-gut for stitches, then heat up some cauterizing irons. Then it was just a matter of slicing and patching together a number of creatures and rearranging an appropriate neuro-chemical system to support the bio-engineering devices necessary to my needs."

  "I've never seen anything like it before!" Bill said, then pushed his popping eyes back into their sockets.

  "Nor will you again," the proud inventor said. "It's a one-off. Now. Let's see what we can get on our sclera-screen." Dr. Krankenhaus pulled a lever and fumbled with a metal dial connected to a rubber band, which in turn was plugged into what appeared to be the ganglia hooked to a central nervous system.

  The eye in the center of the huge patchwork beast suddenly flung its lids open. It lacked pupil and iris and instead was a uniform, grayish white right across the entire eyeball. There was a frizzle of static across the sclera, and suddenly a picture started flipping on this "eye-screen." Static-noises and garbled sound warbled from two vibrating membranes below it.

  Dr. Krankenhaus did some fine-tuning, and the picture stopped rolling. An image appeared of a man standing by a table, pouring a box of something into a bowl.

  "Weedies, The Breakfast of Starship Troopers," smarmed the man. "You sure as hell won't want to eat it, but it will do wonders for the hydroponics lawn in your starship's rumpus room!"

  "There! You see, the Over-Gland picks up intergalactic television."

  Bill's stomach flip-flopped. He remembered Weedies, all right — and so did his digestive system.

  Dr. Krankenhaus turned another dial, which in turn operated a device that tweaked at a number of large teats on what appeared to be the bottom half of a black pig. The channel immediately changed. "A boob-tube!" explained the Baron happily as he noted the miffed expression on Bill and Rick's face.

  There was a picture on the screen of a man holding a bottle and smiling. "Galaxative! When you really need a supernova to get that mail moving again!"

  Dr. Krankenhaus spun another dial, and suddenly the picture took on a whole different character. It was much fuzzier for one thing, with only vague outlines of figures, accompanied by dim voices on the membrane speakers.

  "Visual interpretation of other energy information received by the Over-Gland. And here is the area where I am presently at work, gentlemen. I believe that if I can get some better focusing on line, I can discover everything I need to find out. This is the vehicle through which I know what I know about what has happened in the Empire since I was exiled by Delazny."

  "And what about this puzzle you mentioned," said Rick. "Exactly what is it?"

  "Why, the exact location of the Fountain of Hormones, of course! The exact place which is the source of power here! If it was easy to find, do you not think that I would be utilizing it already? If it was easy to locate, do you not think that Dr. Delazny would already be tapping it to obtain the power he needs to rule the universe?"

  "But why is it a puzzle?" asked Bill.

  "Ah! Because the nature of the very laws of physics and mathematics are twisted here in the Over-Gland. Allow me to show you! Trolls! Brings me out my chalkboard and my mathematical charts!" Quickly, the trolls hopped to it, rolling out the desired boards on squeaky wheels until they were within reach of the bent Dr. Krankenhaus. The Baron-Doctor picked up a pointer and a piece of chalk.

  "Now, gentlemen, the thing is that the mathematics looks much the same as it does in normal reality, but it functions under more bio-chemical principles ... since this is, after all, just one great big psycho-gland we're in. Now, I've explored this, and I've renamed the tools appropriately."

  His pointer tapped a large zero on the chart.

  "Now this in our understanding is called a 'Zero,' correct? Well, here, in Over-Gland Mathematics, we call it 'Zero' as well, but we mean 'Z.E.R.O.,' standing for 'Zenithial Entry Retro Orifice.' Naturally, the female principle of glandular mathematics! And numbers — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and so on are called 'members' — or rather, I should say 'integers' are called 'intercourses' or, well, something like that. Anyway, when you put these 'intercourses' in any parenthetical group containing one or more 'Z.E.R.O.' there is automatic 'multiplication' or 'spawning.' This glandular variation on the 'set theory' is naturally called the 'sex theory.'"

  Dr. Krankenhaus began to chalk up numbers on the board.

  "God, I'd hate to find out what 'division' is, Bill," said Rick.

  "Now the result of this spawning," said Dr. Krankenhaus, chalking up an equals sign, "is 'fractions' of course, and here is where we enter the nether world or 'quantum mechanics,' which I call 'scrotum mechanics' here in the Over-Gland.

  "Now, if you have followed my arguments closely one thing should be perfectly clear by now. The essence of glandular physics! In the end, it just doesn't make any sense!" He pulled down a chart upon which were an innumerable quantity of strange mathematical chicken-scratchings.

  "Here, gentlemen are my equations on the subject! Supposedly, the end result should be the exact coordinates of the nexus point, the nucleus of the Over-Gland! The so-called Fountain of Hormones which we all seek! The trouble is that each time I run this through my bio-computer here, I get a different set of co-ordinates here, because the goddamn 'members' always get together with the 'Z.E.R.O.s' and throw some new fractions into the soup!" He shook his head wearily. "Well, now that I've explained all this to you, Bill and Rick.... Any idea about what the solution to the puzzle might be? Think of what success will mean! It will heal me and restore vitality to the Isthmus of Impotence. We'll both see Irma again, Bill, and Rick — well, I'm sure somewhere in the Fountain you'll find your Holy Grail Ale!"

  Bill stared blankly at the equations, scratching his head. Then he looked over at the bio-computer, which was cranking and chunking away, making all sorts of rude biological noises in the process. "I can add and subtract, and maybe multiply and divide a little if I'm not too tired. Sorry, Doc. Or Baron. Or whatever. It's got me stumped. I guess Rick and I are just going to have to hit the trail again and start looking."

  "Not necessarily!" said Rick.

  Both Bill and Dr. Krankenhaus swung their heads his way. Even the bio-computer made a squelching kind of "Hunk?" and blinked its eye.

  "You have an idea?" whispered Krankenhaus, voice filled with desperate hope.

  Rick had a strange, silly grin on his face. His eyes sparkled unnaturally. His teeth seemed to glint. With heroism? Or with something else —

  "These equations, Doctor," said Rick, stepping forward and tapping the charts. "They're quite fascinating. A breakthrough, in fact, in non-linear mathematics, to say nothing of non-Euclidian geometry."

  "You understand higher math?" asked Dr. Krankenhaus eagerly.

  "Arrrr! This and that," said Rick obtusely. "But more importantly, I learned math, Doctor, from a beautiful gymnast/mathematics tutor at Organism University. And Doctor, I was tutored in action!" He pointed out one equation in particular. "Positions, Doctor! You have entirely neglected to factor in the importance of positions to this glandular mathematics. It's all too easy to slip into pure theory. But in glandular mathematics, there's nothing like experience."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's very simple. Just add one number to all these equations, and you'll get the correct coordinates every time."

  "And what number, pray tell, is that?"

  Rick cleared his throat and nodded grimly. "Why, '69', of course."

  The dilapidated Doctor's mouth dropped onto his chest.

  His assistants rushed forward and pu
shed and pulled and helped him get his mouth back into place. "This happens from time to time," he apologized to his guests. "An excellent idea, Rick. Let's feed it into the computer!"

  With wild enthusiasm Bill and Rick hurled the chalkboard and charts aside, then kicked them into one of the several large mouths of the organic computer. The mouth closed and started to chew on the information with the oversized molars that Bill had only glimpsed.

  "Arrr!" said Rick. "Talk about 'number-crunching.'"

  "We're getting an answer!" said Dr. Krankenhaus, looking up from his mechanical read-outs. "I don't believe it, gentlemen, but it's actually working! It's coming up with coordinates that are not variables.... Trolls! Quickly! The maps!"

  More charts were wheeled into the room. These looked like maps made by a maniac bombed out on dope, but Dr. Krankenhaus seemed to know his way around them. He riffled through a pile, tore off some, and finally emitted a shriek of triumph! "I found it! I found the location of the Fountain of Hormones!"

  "Arrrr! So give! Where is it?"

  The Doctor-Baron fumbled his way out of the layers of maps, clutching one sheet in his contorted hand. A gnarled fingernail was pointed at a spot on the map, and his eyes popped out with surprise.

  This time the trolls stuck a handle into the side of his head and wound his eyeballs back into place. As soon as he could see again the good doctor pulled the map to him more, then held it out, tremblingly, to Bill and Rick.

  It looked like no other map they had ever seen before. In fact, it looked more like a fine collection of pornographic woodcuts. "There it is!" cried Dr. Krankenhaus, pointing to a dark, smeary part of the map.

  "Okay, Doc," said Bill. "I give up. Just where is that?"

  Dr. Krankenhaus shook his head, his face still filled with surprise. "It's here, don't you understand? Right here where we are standing!"