Hair Peace

by Piers Anthony

  “I am glad to be of service,” his voice came from a grille at the front. She knew he was also glad to have galactics helping him find his way. He could sniff out his own trail himself, but they represented adult reassurance and experience.

  They moved out over the pond. Now it was indeed like a jet ski, just touching the surface of the water. Quiti guided it in a circle, enjoying the feel of the ride.

  “Uh-oh,” Idola said. “It was Option Two.”

  Now Quiti saw it: a ten foot long shape rather like, yes, a metallic earthworm, tunneling through the air toward them. It had indeed been lurking, waiting for them to depart the safety of the Tree. Now it had them in the open, an easy target. It thought.

  Idola’s clairvoyance framed the Worm precisely. “Its front cannon is dilating,” she reported. “It is about to fire.”

  Quiti’s telepathy put that picture together with the Ghobot’s awareness. “Do your thing, Flower,” she said.

  The Worm fired. The bolt might be traveling at the velocity of light, but in this context they could see it and react to it before it reached them. Again, reality was what they made it, when they had the relevant skills. It came alarmingly close, paused, and was flung back at the Worm.

  The Worm exploded in a ball of energy. It was gone.

  Idola clapped her hands. “Yea home team! We got it!”

  So it seemed, but Quiti remained cautious. This had seemed too easy. “Are there others?”

  Idola checked with her mind. “No. This was the only one here.”

  “So it was a random check,” Quiti said. “Entries and exits from the Worm Web must be constant; they had no reason to believe this one was special, so investigated routinely. But there was time to spread the alert: more Worms are bound to be on the way. We had better get out of here.”

  “Yes. Top speed.”

  “Which way, Flower?” Quiti asked.

  “To our left,” the grille replied.

  “Uh-oh,” Idola said again. “Three more Worms coming toward us from that path.”

  “They must have picked up Flower’s scent trail when he came to Earth,” Quiti said. “The same one we are following back. Their search is no longer random.”

  “Maybe the first Worm alerted them, too,” Idola said.

  “In which case they have a fair idea that we’re armed, in our fashion. We’re in trouble. We can’t use that trail, and we have to move quickly.”

  “And find Flower’s folks without following his scent trail,” Idola said. “That will be a challenge.”

  Then Quiti got a wicked idea. “They’ll be expecting us to flee. So let’s surprise them.”

  “By standing our ground? That should get us wiped out in short order.”

  “Flower, can you manipulate more than one Worm bolt at a time?” Quiti asked. “If we give your their coordinates and tell you what to do with them?”

  “Maybe,” he answered uncertainly.

  “We’ll try it once, then skedaddle. If it works we may be able to use your scent trail after all.”

  “About to burst onto the pond,” Idola said grimly.

  “Give them the finger, or whatever insult will enrage them. We want all three to fire simultaneously.”

  Idola plainly thought this was suicidal, but obeyed. She stood up on the seat, turned around, dropped her skirt and panties, and bent over to expose her bare bottom.

  The three Worms burst into sight as Flower giggled appreciatively. Exactly how they perceived Idola’s mooning was uncertain, but it worked: all three immediately fired at her.

  Meanwhile Quiti was instructing Flower. “Curve the left shot to the right, the right shot to the left,” she said, making a mental diagram. “Bounce the center straight back to its source.

  As in slow motion, they saw the two side beams make U-turns, while the center one bounced straight back. Three explosions followed.

  Idola turned around, drew up her panties and skirt, and viewed the dissipating clouds of smoke. “Wow! I didn’t think my bottom would have that effect until I was a big girl.”

  “It was a good show regardless.”

  She laughed. “If I’d had more time, I would have farted. That would really have set them off.”

  What kind of insult to a worm would stomach gas be? But the translation would surely reek. “Now let’s follow the trail before more Worms come,” Quiti said tersely. “Time is of the essence.”

  They scooted along the trail, making good progress. But all too soon Idola’s clairvoyance picked up converging Worms. “There must be twenty of them, coming from all sides. We can’t handle them.”

  “We’ll have to get off the Web,” Quiti said.

  “But then we’ll lose the trail!” Idola protested.

  “We’ll recover it later.” Quiti scanned the diverging paths for the closest occupied planet.

  “Getting close,” Idola reported nervously. “All viable Web routes covered. They’ve got us hemmed in.”

  “Or so they think,” Quiti said. “They don’t expect us to jump ship.”

  The first Worm appeared, orienting on them.

  Then Quiti steered for the planet. “Hang on!”

  They plunged out of the Web.

  They landed in a staging net, where traveling tourist spirits could obtain native hosts for suitable fees. Quiti knew how to bargain that way.

  Two alien females transporting a Ghobot child to safe haven. Will trade illicit delights for suitable hosts.

  Then two native females put their forelimbs into the net, and Quiti and Idola transferred to their bodies. Flower stayed close, not taking a host: he was not a spirit, but a whole creature.

  There was a moment of introduction, telepathically fast, because Quiti and Idola were actually in the minds of their hosts. The hosts were, by Earthly standards, apelike with eye stalks and ear stalks on their heads, and a kind of section trunk for a mouth; but it was easy to make them feel like typical humanoid features. Quiti acquainted her host with her own physical image, then reshaped it to that of a native female. She knew from the native’s mind that this was the standard protocol.

  Now they spoke with seeming normality, using their hosts’ communicatory equipment. “I am Quiti, humanoid female of planet Earth, age 22 in local Earth years, host to a head of Hair. My companion is Idola, age 11, host to a Chip. We are conveying Flower, a lost Ghobot child, back to his family.” She returned the trunk to her host. Taking turns was the rule.

  “I am Foosha, age 33, native female of Planet Bezel 4. My companion is my sister Geezing, 31. We are hosts only to ourselves.”

  “We have heard of Hairs, Chips, and Ghobots,” Geezing said. “But not encountered any before. This should be interesting.”

  Then the bargaining for terms. “We want to travel the planet and depart unexpectedly, for we are being pursued by Web Worms we want to lose,” Quiti said. “What do you desire?”

  “Hot sex,” Foosha replied.

  “Not feasible, because my companions are children.”

  “Actually—” Geezing started.

  “Not by the rules of our culture,” Quiti said firmly.

  “If you follow rules, why are you being pursued by Worms?” Foosha asked. “They normally hunt down criminals hiding on the Web.”

  “We are not criminals. They are after the Ghobot, who is no criminal either, but a child.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Read my mind.” Quiti opened it to her host.

  Foosha was amazed. “You are that Quiti! The galactic actress!”

  This was an unanticipated complication. “I did not know my fame had spread so widely.”

  “News of you is in all the Web tabloids. We love your fantasy roles.”

  “Thank you. But the point was not to brag about my career, but to satisfy you that I am no criminal and that our mission is legitimate.”

  “We are more than satisfied!”

  “Now let’s come to terms. We don’t feel free to offer erotic pleasures, but what
about gustatory?”

  “Can you make us taste the banquet you had on Planet J?”

  So she really was a fan of their fantasy. “Yes, with Flower’s help. You will need to eat something, then we will convert the taste.”

  “We have plenty of porcine swill bars.”

  “Those will do. They will taste like Royal Jelly.”

  They moved on from the staging net, going to a repose site where travelers could rest, snooze, or eat. This was actually a floating sky barge with chambers for rent, more noted for romantic trysts than actual traveling, but questions weren’t generally asked. If there was any question about a party of two native females, it was stifled: trysts were not limited to conventional.

  Their chamber featured two chairs, a fold-out bed, and privacy shutters. Just so.

  Foosha and Geezing took seats and brought out their swill bars, which were the cheapest food available, nourishing but hardly tasty.

  Flower, do your thing, Quiti thought.

  The Ghobot moved to float invisibly between the two Bezel 4 natives as they bit into their bars, enhancing particular brain waves. There was a pause.

  “It is!” Foosha exclaimed, as a look of sheerest rapture infused her face. “It really is!”

  “Royal jelly!” Geezing agreed, seeming almost to float.

  “Remember, it’s just an impression,” Quiti reminded them. “Not the real thing.”

  “That’s fine,” Foosha said. “Real royal jelly would make us mature into queens.”

  “And have to be screwed by the drones so as to start popping out eggs continuously,” Geezing added.

  “The screwing might be fun,” Foosha said. “Those drones are really masculine studs.”

  “But not the continuous egg laying,” Geezing said. “It would be like defecating without pause for hours at a time.”

  “With servitors holding our legs wide open so they could catch every poop.”

  “Before it cooled.”

  Then they both laughed. They were clearly well satisfied with the semblance rather than the reality.

  I didn’t realize there was such a downside to queening, Idola thought.

  They’re exaggerating, having fun. They’re in a gustatory delirium. But it is true that a queen ant or bee is more of a servant than a ruler.

  The Bezel women continued their delight, but it soon palled for Quiti and Idola. So Quiti decided to put the time to good use. Flower, she thought, including Idola on her telepathic circuit. Can we dialogue without interrupting the process?

  Yes, if we keep it simple, he responded.

  We’ll be leaving Planet Bezel 4 when we can do so by surprise. Do you know of ways to foil the Worm pursuit? Things you have seen your folks do in the past?

  He pondered briefly. Yes. There’s the scent circle.

  Let me guess, Idola thought. Like the fox fooling the hounds? I saw that on an ed program.

  An ed program? Quiti thought. Did a concept get lost?

  ED. Educational, Idola replied. How nature works. They aren’t ALL dull. The hounds are in hot pursuit, but the fox gets a little ahead, then makes a big circle and crosses his own trail, then leaps clear without leaving a scent trace, and the hounds wind up running around and around the circle. They’ve lost him and don’t know it.

  That’s it, Flower agreed. It’s supposed to work on dull creatures like Worms.

  Quiti considered. Your scent trail is what we are following back to your family, and what the Worms are using to intercept you. So a trick like that might work. But I fear only once. We may need more.

  Sometimes we use Em bombs.

  Em bomb, Idola thought. Emotion bomb?

  They discussed it. It turned out that just as they could mark a trail by leaving blazes behind, the Ghobots could detach packets of particular emotions, like joy, fear, grief, anger, or love, which could jerk the applicable brain waves of pursuers and make them unreasonably emotional without warning. This could be real mischief to the unwary. This, too, might work only once or twice, but that might well provide the leeway they needed to escape.

  There was a knock on the door. “Oh, poop!” Foosha swore. She raised her voice. “We don’t want any! Go away.”

  “Sorry,” a male voice answered. “We two studs saw you two fair damsels board the barge and thought you might want company. We’ll leave you alone.”

  “Men!” Geezing exclaimed.

  “Wait!” Foosha called, as the two of them hastily primped. “We thought you were selling something.”

  “We’re just looking for a good time.”

  “So are we,” Geezing said.

  “Hold on,” Quiti said. “What you do with men is your own business, but I am honor bound to keep the children out of it.”

  Foosha paused momentarily. “Compromise: we’ll split up. You can go with the walking one, while the staying one tackles them both. Then we’ll switch. Afterwards, we’ll resume the banquet.”

  Quiti was not completely easy with this, but they did need hosts, so compromise was in order. “We’ll do that,” she agreed.

  The two women opened the door to the two men. “Deal,” Foosha said to them. “We have underage company. Choose one of us for the two of you, while the other takes a walk on the deck. After a session we’ll switch.”

  The men exchanged a look, then nodded. This was a bit different, but certainly of interest. “You,” the speaker said to Foosha. Quiti’s impression was that Foosha was the slightly more attractive one.

  Foosha took Geezing’s hand, and Quiti hastily joined Idola in Geezing as host, with Flower following outside. Geezing stepped out as the men stepped in. Foosha was already undressing. She was evidently appealing enough, for her age, as the men were not younger.

  “I’d rather have stayed and watched,” Idola said. “How does one woman do it with two men simultaneously?”

  “Never mind!” Quiti snapped.

  “We do honor planetary and galactic conventions,” Geezing said. “Come, there should be a very nice view.” She walked across the deck to the railing at the edge and gazed down. They looked with her, using her eyes.

  The barge was floating well above the ground, so that the trees and houses looked small, and the roads resembled twisted threads. Not far above was a passing cloud.

  Then it all became impossibly marvelous. They gazed down at the magnificent scene with sheer wonder

  Flower! Quiti thought, catching on. You’re enhancing it.

  I thought you’d like it, he thought apologetically.

  We do, Idola thought.

  Quiti realized that there was no harm in it, and it would distract the children from whatever was happening in the chamber. We do, she agreed.

  “This is as nice as the food, in its fashion,” Geezing said. “What is it?”

  “Wonder,” Quiti said. “Another emotion, a pleasant one.”

  “If this is what the Ghobots offer, why are they in bad repute?”

  “We suspect it is addiction. Folk get to crave particular emotions too much, and become useless to their societies. So they get banned. But it’s only a theory.”

  “Can they enhance sex similarly?”

  “I believe they can.”

  “Then it’s more than a theory.”

  They circled the deck, chatting, then returned to the chamber. Geezing knocked. Foosha opened the door. She was happily disheveled. “Your turn,” she agreed.

  They clasped hands, and Quiti and Idola transferred to Foosha. They closed the door and took another walk.

  “How does one woman do it with two men at once?” Idola asked as they introduced Foosha to the wonder of the scenery.

  “Don’t answer that,” Quiti said.

  Foosha laughed. “Your children are much the same as ours. Always getting into mischief, physical or mental. And no, girl, I will not let you read my mind.”

  “Poo.”

  Irritated, Idola extended her clairvoyant awareness. And found something. “Say, there’s a little-used worm
hole inside that cloud ahead. We might use that and the Worms wouldn’t spy us.”

  “Good idea,” Quiti agreed. “We’ll take it.”

  “But your company is just getting interesting,” Foosha protested.

  Quiti thought fast. “Deal: you let us go quietly so any watching Worms don’t know we’re gone, and I’ll get Flower to make you a sex bomb you can detonate after we’re gone.”

  “Deal!” Foosha agreed. “Those two studs don’t know what they’re in for!”

  “Poo,” Idola repeated sullenly.

  “Girl, I can give you a partial answer that remains within bounds,” Foosha said. “One man kisses her while the other feels her up.” That was a very loose translation, for a species that lacked lips or torso ornaments.

  “There’s got to be more to it than that!”

  “Sure. But that part is beyond the limit.”

  “Flower, make the bomb,” Quiti said, not interested in exploring either human or alien limits at the moment. Flower was a child too, but could set up the key brain wave enhancements without experiencing their feelings himself. That would have to do.

  Flower got to work on it, and soon had a small magnetic flux. He set it on top of Foosha’s head, where it clung statically. It was tuned to the appropriate brain waves, but not yet activating them.

  “When you’re ready, send a Detonate! thought, and the bomb will go off, affecting everyone within its radius,” Quiti said. “Make sure you have the men and Geezing close by. It won’t last long, but will be intense. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Thanks!”

  “That’s a foursome, isn’t it?” Idola asked. “Who kisses and feels what?”

  “Idola—” Quiti started warningly.

  “And you can kiss and feel my ass!” But she stopped the questions.

  All of which was more show than substance, because the girl could pick up the information clairvoyantly, and probably had. She was pretending ignorance in much the way Quiti was pretending parental-type censorship.

  The barge drifted on into the cloud. “Thanks, Foosha,” Quiti said. “We are rather different physically and biologically, but maybe not so much culturally.”

  “Not so much,” Foosha agreed. “I will watch your next public show.”

  “Take my hand,” Idola said. Quiti took it, so as to enhance the perception. In a moment she oriented on the wormhole telepathically. It was indeed an old and deserted one that led toward their destination, excellent for their purpose.