Hunter suggested Tomm strap down in his cramped jump seat; at the same time he ran a few environmental checks on the planet's climatic conditions. Unlike so many planets way out here, Bazooms's puff status was stable. The surface temperature was seventy-two degrees, the atmosphere itself was holding at a constant 92 percent. This meant the weather was fine and the air was good.
But Hunter's instruments revealed an atmospheric oddity as well. Like every other planet and moon in the Galaxy, Bazooms's atmosphere was the essential mix of nitrogen and oxygen. But Hunter had also detected a trace of the gas nitrous oxide — laughing gas. In fact, back in the planet's heyday, there had been two facilities, one at each pole, pumping N2O into the atmosphere on a constant basis. Hunter had to laugh at this. Apparently, the people who ran this place felt that if the perfect weather, the landscape, and the palatial resorts weren't enough to please you, maybe the spiked atmosphere would.
Breathe deep and go with the flow, Hunter thought now. Not bad advice…
They finally burned in through the atmosphere, setting down on a flat piece of ground located right outside the main gates of the resort. But something was strange here. There was only sup-posed to be one person living down on the surface — Hunter's scanning devices had told him so. Yet they could hear the sound of many voices coming from the other side of the resort's wall. People talking, laughing, pealing with delight. The sound of water cascading, glasses clinking, the staccato popping of many slow-ship wine bottles coming to life. Music blaring — it was the unmistakable din of a 'cloud party in full blast.
"Either my scans are skewed," Hunter said to Tomm once they'd climbed out of the flying machine. "Or a couple hundred people in there just woke up from the dead."
Tomm just shrugged. "Sometimes things aren't always as they appear," he said.
There was another thing: The high-walled resort appeared much grander up close. From this perspective, just a hundred feet from the main gate, the seven towers spiraling above the resort seemed to reach into orbit themselves. The valley below them was shimmering in an amazing shade of green. The sky was an absolute crystal blue. Or was it?
Pater Tomm took in a deep breath and smiled. So did Hunter.
Suddenly the place looked even better.
"Must be the air," the priest said with a laugh.
Hunter secured the flying machine inside his Twenty 'n Six and they walked through the main gate of the resort.
The place was buzzing with activity, contrary to what the scans had implied. There was a swimming pool the size of a small ocean just inside the gate. It was surrounded by a bevy of bathing beauties that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. Hunter and Tomm walked past the pool, not eliciting as much as a curious smirk from any within the curvaceous collective. Up the grand steps, they entered the expansive lobby of the resort's main tower. Like the pool, the lobby was jammed with hundreds of beautiful, young, scantily clad women.
There was a huge floating desk in the middle of this hall; it seemed to be the center of this little universe. Six gorgeous women in white tunic uniforms were sitting behind it. Unlike the girls at the pool, they seemed aware that two oddly dressed strangers were suddenly among them. They eyed Hunter's unique Empire uniform first, then the priest's cassock and collar.
"Are you two lost?" one of the females asked.
Hunter began to say something when Tomm nudged him aside. "Let me handle this," he said.
The priest studied each girl for a moment, then stood before a rather stunning blonde. Without a word, he reached across the desk and with the back of his hand, lightly stroked the skin above the girl's breasts. He let his fingers travel up to the nape of her neck, finally resting them on her cheek. The girl did not move; she did not object. She just sat there and smiled.
"Exquisite work," Tomm whispered. "If only…"
He turned back to Hunter, who was clearly puzzled.
"Isn't that called 'copping a feel,' Padre?" Hunter asked him.
Tomm just shrugged and turned back to the six girls. "We're looking for someone named Zarex Red."
All six females laughed at once. "Sorry," one finally said. "He doesn't take visitors."
"So he is here then?" Tomm asked.
"He is," another replied. "But he is a very busy man. We have instructions not to allow anyone to—"
"You can counter those instructions," Tomm told the girl firmly. "Beam us up to his room right now — and that's an order."
Without a moment's hesitation, she smiled and pushed a button.
Flash!
The next thing Hunter knew, he and Tomm had popped into the entranceway of an enormous three-tiered penthouse.
It took him a moment to realize they were atop the resort's tallest spire. The room looked like a miniature palace. The main rooms were all circular and lined with windows throughout. Even the floor was made out of glass, creating the illusion that everything up here was just floating on air. No matter which way one turned, the view was awesome.
They took a few tentative steps inside. The interior of the main room was as impressive as the view. There was lots of crystal. Lots of diamonds. And lots of girls. Some reclined on the dozens of couches strewn about the penthouse. Others sat on pillows on the floor. Still others simply floated around aimlessly, with little more to do than look beautiful.
"I'll give him one thing," Hunter said, surveying the big room. "This guy knows how to hide out."
Tomm just shrugged. "Remember, though, all might not be as it appears."
"Yeah," Hunter replied. "You keep saying that."
At the far end of the main room, a large veranda protruded mightily from the side of the tower. There was a floating couch located on this balcony, and it was surrounded by another dozen girls so gorgeous, they made all the beauties inside pale a bit in comparison, if that was possible.
The balcony girls were in various stages of undress. Their undivided attention was being directed at the figure lying on the couch. Several girls were stroking his head, others his back, his chest, his legs. Still others were hovering around his nether regions.
Eyes barely slits, catching some rays from the system's spunky sun, it was Zarex Red himself.
He was a large individual, muscular, brutish-looking, at least from this angle. He was probably 160 years old or so, no more than 170 certainly. Unlike the shaved-head-and-goatee look that was the rage throughout most of the Galaxy these days, Zarex had a head of wild and woolly dark red hair that reached past his shoulders. His face was clean shaven. He was wearing a standard space uniform that had been strategically ripped around the shoulders to emphasize his rock-hard biceps.
He was oblivious of the two visitors. Between the legion of preening angels and the concerted effort at getting tanned, Zarex's mind seemed to be taxed to its limit. Hunter and Tomm just sort of shrugged and stepped out onto the balcony. Though they appeared to be nearly a half mile above the planet's surface, only a mild breeze was blowing past them. The view was incredible.
Just like the girls inside the penthouse itself — indeed, just about every female they'd met so far — these new beauties flatly ignored them. In fact, they didn't even seem to be aware of their existence. Each was totally devoted to the job of comforting Zarex.
Finally, with no little drama, Tomm cleared his throat.
Zarex finally came to life, but just barely. He opened one of his eyes and took a look up at the priest.
"My God," he whispered. "I'm either dead or I'm dreaming. I mean… why would I imagine a priest suddenly standing on my balcony?"