Who is Alice? 4,900 A humorous adult space opera. (standard:science fiction, 4918 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 19 2020	Views/Reads: 1452/1031	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Blarney Gloogle is a wanna-be space bum owning his own ship but no money to pay his docking bill. Two beautiful women rent the ship, him riding along as a relief pilot. Since he’s never been in space before, his error almost kills them.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

room panel. Blarney had labeled the container “Porta John” in crayon 
and glued it to the panel near the oddly-labeled switch. 

“Sure,” she finally replied, “why not? I can't afford to buy new
clothing for that amount of time,” she told him, giving in and holding 
out a warm and dainty hand. “My name's Trina.” 

They shook hands and he led her to gate #243 where his ship, “Blarney
Stone,” was stored. 

“If you need a ship, mine's available,” Blarney mentioned as the two
entered the seventy-year-old “Astrocruiser.” It had seen better days 
and been very luxurious when first built.  It had also taken the best 
part of his inheritance to buy, fix up, fuel, and stock.  Although 
Blarney owned a pilot's license -- bought on the black market -- he had 
never been out of the solar system himself nor actually flown a 
spaceship. He did have a 5,000 page instruction manual to study in his 
spare time. 

“Where's your laundry room?” Trina asked, looking around. She herself
had only been in space once before.  That had been in a large economy 
cruiser and restricted to a 6'x4' windowless cabin -- along with a 
small lounge down the hall. Blarney's ship looked like a palace 
compared to that trip, its airlock alone being twice the size of those 
previous quarters. Not being used to luxury, she hardly noticed the age 
or condition of the furnishings when they entered the living space. 

“Not a room, an alcove,” Blarney apologized, showing her to the machine
where it sat in a corner of the kitchen area. “You want a drink?” He 
pointed at a cabinet. “Help yourself while I look for a robe or 
something.” 

“Na. That's okay.” 

To his surprise, she stripped down to sheer pink underthings, putting
her clothing in the laundry cleaner. Trina had been an exotic dancer in 
her younger days on her own planet and was not overly bothered by 
partial nudity. 

Not so for Blarney. Feeling excited, he had to sit down quickly on the
other side of the kitchen table to hide an extending embarrassment. 

“How much would it cost to rent your ship for, oh, maybe six months?”
she asked, turning with a grin. “My sister has a valid pilot's license. 
She ferried iron ore from Callisto before being laid off.” 

He named a figure, one that would get his ship out of port and into
space. The last of his inheritance had paid for supplies and he would 
have been gone long before except for that damned depramigator. He 
could have lived alone for ten years with the supplies on his vessel, 
and would probably do so before selling it. This might be his way into 
space and out of debt. 

“I think we could cover that,” she told him, taking a seat.  Her boobs,
barely covered by thin silk, seemed to reach out toward his sweating 
hands. "It would be more comfortable than steerage on a cruise ship." 

“The thing is, I have to go along,” Blarney lied, “for the insurance.”
After all, he needed a place to live himself while they were gone. 

“Oh.  Guess that'd be all right.  Have to ask Tina, my twin sister.”
Trina lowered her eyes and voice. “She holds the money.” She lowered 
her voice even more and looked around the room to avoid meeting his 
eyes, or so was his impression. “And Tina doesn't like men much, if you 
know what I mean?” 

Blarney didn't know and didn't ask, although his nimble mind was going
through various scenarios at the prospect of being alone for months 
with two of them. To his thinking, the setup had many possibilities. 

Cleaned up, Trina went back to the terminal to wait for her sister while
Blarney made final preparations on the ship itself, like finishing his 
work on the engine. 

*** 

Tina was indeed a twin to Trina, except for eyes and demeanor. Her eyes
fairly blasted with cynicism, mouth tight as a Plavoitian tug line. 

“You want us to rent this garbage can?” Tina asked Blarney after
checking the vessel out. “I've seen better-looking receptacles in a 
ladies-room.”  She stormed over to the controls, Trina in tow. Blarney 
couldn't tell which was which from the rear except for a definite 
purple tint to Trina's clothing. They were dressed the same, both with 
blonde hair streaming down to their butts. 

“Nothing wrong with this ship. I rebuilt it myself and everything
works,” Blarney called over, getting a loud, “harrumph!” in return. One 
of them, Tina, turned back, not smiling. 

“Guess we're stuck. I already checked and there won't be anything else
available for two weeks. Here's my credit slip.  Now get off my ship,” 
she instructed him while sitting in the control chair, rapidly 
manipulating levers and checking gauges and dials like a professional. 

“He has to come with us for the insurance.” Trina looked askance at
Blarney. “It isn't any good unless he's on board.” 

“Well, bite my ass.  He's lying. It doesn't work like that,” Tina called
over her shoulder while adjusting a gauge and turning on the radio. 

“It's true. I gotta go along.” Blarney took the slip and punched the
port authority address into his electronic communicator. He hurriedly 
passed the credit slip through a slot, automatically paying his bill 
and storing the rest in a private account. He wanted to get it done 
before Tina contacted the tower. No reason to let her know he'd been 
broke. 

By the time she turned back and keyed the radio, his bill was paid. They
were cleared to leave at precisely 11:41:16:54. Consulting a piece of 
scrap paper, Tina keyed the figures and destination into the shipboard 
computer, set it on automatic takeoff and belted herself in. 

Blarney motioned a contrite Trina to a seat and they both snapped on
their seatbelts.  It was easy to see which twin was in charge. The 
three waited silently for the engines to fire, all thinking their own 
thoughts. Blarney's was of sugarplums, angels, and bedrooms, hoping his 
blowup doll wouldn't be needed on the trip. 

The takeoff went without any hitches.  Afterward, Tina called out,
"Alice?" When there was no answer, she studied the panel, finally 
reaching around Porta John to click the “Alice” switch.  She called out 
“Alice” again and, again, nothing happened.  Finally, she swore and 
played her hands over the controls, expertly making minor adjustments 
on her course, ones she didn't see fit to explain to Blarney. 

On his part, Blarney, although puzzled at the "Alice" part, was glad she
had taken care of the takeoff. All he had done was practice on a silent 
ship, one eye on the thick printed manual. Tina made it look so easy, 
he thought, like playing a Pugometeric piano or something. 

“Since we have to put up with you, you might as well take the first
watch, Captain.” Tina rose. “Just make certain we stay on course. Any 
deviation this early can throw us light-years off our destination." 

When Blarney sat in her still-warm seat, he lost all knowledge of the
instructions. No matter, he thought, Tina had left a note containing 
specific times and adjustments. Now that he was actually in space, 
everything in front of him looked strange and unfamiliar, his mind a 
blank. He would wait until they left the room to pull out his trusty 
manual, he thought. 

“Where are our rooms, Blarney, baby?” Trina asked. 

“You have to share one, girls. We only have two staterooms,” Blarney
told them. 

“Like hell,” Tina growled. “We paid. It's our ship for the next six
months, you're only supercargo. We get the rooms.” 

“Where will I sleep?” Dumbfounded, Blarney didn't know what else to say,
vaguely hoping Trina would take pity on him and share her quarters. 

“I don't care, as long as it's out of sight.  And I don't want to see
you running around in your underwear,” Tina told him as the women left 
the control room. 

And all I have are two sets of those, Blarney reminded himself.  This'll
be some trip with that bitch in charge. Sighing, he retrieved his 
manual to study how to check the control settings. As he did, his elbow 
nudged the panel, sliding a switch approximately a quarter-inch to the 
right.  Not noticing the change, Blarney opened  the large book, 
leafing through it. 

It took him several hours of searching to remind himself on which
settings were which and how to read them. Blarney tried to remember 
what his Uncle John told him about driving a spaceship, only 
remembering the old man's enthusiasm -- not his exact words. 

He discovered, by checking initial computer settings with current ones,
that they didn't match. By the time he had figured out how to set the 
course back to the original, they were four hours into the flight. 
Although the course setting was then correct, it had been reset from a 
different starting point, a mistake which would be compounded every 
minute. Tired but satisfied, Blarney sat back and drifted off to the 
land of Morpheus. 

*** 

"Have a good night's sleep, honey?" Blarney woke to the sound of a sweet
voice, Trina smiling and pecking him on the cheek with her tender lips. 


"Get away from that bum," a not-so-sweet voice interrupted his gazing
into deep-green eyes and ruining the mood. 

Tina literally marched in. "Where's the soap?  And that cabin is filthy.
You better go in and get what crap you need out of there. It's the last 
you'll see of that room until we land," she ordered him. 

"All right.  All right. You don't have to be angry about it. I didn't
know you were coming before yesterday," he reminded her, going in for 
his few items of clean clothing and shaving kit. He supposed he could 
form some kind of a nest in the engine room, and there was a small 
bathroom down there. 

"And take out all that filthy laundry while you're at it," Tina called
after him. "The stink is driving me nuts." 

"Frickin' dominating women," Blarney muttered, glaring at her as he
headed to -- his? -- cabin. 

"You say something?" Tina stood, hands on hips, rubbing it in.
"Something you can't say to my face?" 

"No, ma'am." Damn, she has good ears, too, Blarney thought -- though
nice ones in other respects. But he didn't say it out loud. 

*** 

His new engine room home wasn't as comfortable as his former quarters.
It was fairly clean though and Blarney had a few large bags of rags 
that made for a soft bed.  He even brought the ship's operating manual 
down with him. It might be a good thing to read a little more of it, he 
thought. 

He had just finished rearranged his bedding in a corner of the deck when
he heard the door above him open. Two shapely legs, climaxing in a 
glimpse of white panties appeared.  There was a skirt, but it went 
unnoticed. It was Trina. Hey, just in time, was the thought, relief 
going through his mind as her face came into view. 

"I just wanted to apologize for my sister, Blarney. She doesn't much
care for men, especially Earth men," Trina told him, sitting down on a 
drum of grease. "She hates the idea of us going back to Xxemos, our 
home planet." 

"Then why is she going, if she hates it so much?" 

"We, uh, have to return. You see, about every six-years we have to go
back to mate. It's in our genes, like with those fish you have here on 
earth. An urge so strong we can't resist. If we don't, we'll both get 
very sick and might die from stored up unfertilized eggs." 

"You must mean salmon?" 

"I guess so. I forget the name, but they come in a can." 

Blarney had other things on his mind and let the "can" reference slide. 

"Maybe I can fix that right now?" he said, glancing at the smoothed-out
pile of rags, "I have a ton of built-up fertilizer. In fact, some 
people say I'm full of it." 

"I believe you, Blarney, but I have to pass. It has to be someone from
our world." She smiled. "Maybe we can figure something out on the way 
back, if we have time." 

"Oh, we'll have time. You can count on that." 

She hugged him tightly before scurrying back up the stairwell. 

"Too bad about Alice," Trina yelled down at Blarney. "She would make the
trip a lot more comfortable," she finished while closing the door to 
the control deck. 

Now who the hell is Alice? he wondered. He knew he'd heard the name
before, and was she half as nice-looking as the other two? 

Shrugging, Blarney poured himself a drink from a jug on a shelf and
settled down with a book. Maybe Tina would be a better companion if he 
left her alone for awhile? And, in any case, she was bad for his 
nerves. 

The next few days rolled by, Blarney keeping to himself on the
engine-deck except for meals, doing his large stash of dirty laundry, 
and an occasional foray up to make small talk. 

Trina still seemed willing to play games, even coming down at least once
daily to talk with him in the basement.  No adult games, though. She 
teased but always stopped short of a good old-fashioned grope. 

Tina, although learning to accept his presence without glaring and
smirking, still stayed aloof. The routine went sour one afternoon, five 
days after leaving port. 

Blarney was puttering around with a used Arcterial Dribubbulizer when he
heard the door to the upper cabin open. Looking over and upward, he saw 
a pair of shapely legs, complete with pillowy pivotal connectors, 
backing down the ladder. 

While screwing an inspection plate onto the Dribubbulizer,  he felt an
intense pain in the left ear, finding himself falling to the metal 
deck. 

"You asshole. You unmitigated pimple on a Cheblubian cow pie," came to
his right ear, the left one too involved in damage control procedures 
to bother with sound waves at the moment. 

"Wha -- wha -- what's wrong ... Trina?" he asked, grabbing his ear with
one hand and protecting his crotch from a kick with the other, "What 
did I do?" 

"I'm not Trina, you bastard. Why didn't you tell me you screwed up the
controls?" 

"I fixed them.  I fixed them." 

"You didn't 'fix them,' you idiot. All you did was set them back. Where
the hell did you get your piloting license?" 

"Uh, would you believe 'Honest John's Technical Internet Correspondence
School'?" 

That brought another kick toward his crotch, barely deflected. 

"Because of you, we're lost, idiot. Lost." 

"So, set the course again?  A correction or something." 

"Don't you know anything? To set another course I need both starting and
destination coordinates. Which, since we're lost, I don't have." 

"Well, we're here, ain't we? That's a start." 

"Asshole." 

He didn't quite duck the next kick. Blarney rolled around the floor in
intense agony, both hands on his crotch, not even feeling the following 
kicks to head and back -- partially due to his fetal position. Tina 
yelled down at him. 

"Alice could do it but, probably because of you, we don't have Alice." 

She stormed up the ladder, Blarney not in any condition to enjoy the
sight. 

He wasn't very hungry for quite awhile, and in no shape to climb that
ladder if he had been. In the morning, when he pried himself off the 
pile of rags and to his feet, still bent over, he found a large plastic 
box on his workbench. 

It was filled with sandwiches, beer, and other comestibles including
canned foods. Along with a handwritten note. 

"I'm sorry Blarney, but Tina said if you come up here she'll kill you. I
think she would. I hope she didn't hurt you too much. I'm sneaking this 
food down and will get you more later. I know she's going to stay 
angry. Her intention is to starve you to death -- slowly. Really, too." 
It was signed "Trina." 

Tina was up to something, he knew, since the engine was on, shoving them
somewhere. 

A few nights later, Trina snuck down to see him -- bringing more food
and drink. She hugged and kissed Blarney, but shoved him away when he 
tried to get his hands under her skimpy clothing. 

"We don't have time, Blarney, honey. I have to get back before Tina
finishes her shower. She still thinks she's starving you." 

"Why does she still want to kill me? I thought she'd get over it.  And
where are we going?" 

"We're going in the general direction. Maybe we can raise someone on the
communicator. It's our only chance to survive," Trina told him, tears 
in her eyes. "And she's angry since you've probably killed us anyway. 
If we don't get to our home world and mate, we might die." Trina pushed 
him away again, sobbing. "You simply can't understand.  It has to be 
with someone from our own race." 

"But why? I never heard of that before?" 

"It's an eggs and sperm kinda thing. They keep building up if not
fertilized," she said, sobbing louder at the telling. "Earth women 
throw their extra eggs away every month, while ours build up inside us. 
I wish we had Alice." 

"And who the hell is this Alice, anyway?" he finally managed to ask. 

"I thought you were a pilot? Alice is the automatic pilot on a ship.
Named after Lewis Carroll's character because she takes you through 
hyperspace like his Alice did through a mirror to Wonderland." 

"I didn't know that," Blarney admitted. He rushed past her to the ship's
manual, sitting on his workbench. Quickly checking the appendix, he 
found the one page designated for simply, "Alice." 

With Trina standing behind him, one breast pressing into his shoulder,
he began reading. Then Blarney turned to another page where he traced a 
schematics diagram. Looking up, his eyes settled on a certain fuse-box 
on the wall of the engine room. 

Naturally, one of the circuit breakers inside was down. And, of course,
it was labeled "Alice."  That must be where he had seen that name 
before, Blarney thought. He hadn't turned it on before because he 
hadn't known its function and didn't want to screw anything up. Blarney 
flicked the switch. 

About a half-minute later, a loud female voice was heard. 

"What the hell are you doing down there?" It was Tina. "You brought him
food? You actually brought that asshole food?" Tina's face was red.  
She stepped back out of the doorway for a moment, coming back with a 
large carving knife. "I'll kill him now.  By the gods I will." 

Blarney could actually see foam spraying from her mouth in her anger. 

He grabbed Trina, not in lust but in fear, clutching her for protection
from her sister. Tina rushed down the stairs, glinting knife extended. 

Suddenly, with a purple flash, a force field materialized over the
steps. It held the angry Tina, keeping her frozen in place halfway down 
the stairs. 

"Hello, Blarney," came an unfamiliar female voice. "My name's Alice. I'm
your automatic pilot and am happy to serve you. You may change my name 
and manner by speaking the keywords 'Change Alice' at any time. 

"I am programmed to serve the owner of this craft. Instructions are in
the manual under 'Automatic Pilot' or can be activated by saying that 
phrase in a questioning manner. 

"I am fully configurable to the owner's specifications and capable of
running the vessel by myself while you rest.... The end of Automatic 
Introduction Response One as of twelve-seventeen, 
fifty-three-twenty-two." 

There was a brief pause, during which Blarney tried to comprehend what
the voice had been saying. He knew nothing of any automatic doohickey. 
Well, he thought, that manual is pretty damned thick -- and with small 
print, even. The voice seemed to be waiting for a response, so Blarney 
responded. 

"Huh!" 

"I'm sorry if I used the wrong response, Blarney. I thought she was
attacking you and am programmed to protect the owner of record. I 
became active when the craft was turned on but, with that 
circuit-breaker off, could not physically respond. If I am in error, I 
apologize and will store the proper response in my memory banks so as 
to not make the same mistake again. Do you wish me to release that 
lady?" 

"Huh! I mean, uh, that ain't no lady. Better hold her for awhile." 

Blarney was flustered, to say the least. He looked at Tina, hanging
suspended over the stairs, eyeballs rolling in anger. He could see 
muscles tensing and releasing as she struggled to get free to kill him. 
Looking around the room, he couldn't see where the voice had been 
coming from. 

"Uh, Trina. What should I do?" he whispered. 

"You're the 'owner of record,' why ask me?" She giggled, looking at her
sister. "I'm not a pilot, but think maybe you can instruct Alice, here, 
to take us to Xxemos? With Alice's help, we still have plenty of time." 


"How do I do that?" 

"Is that question for me, Blarney?" Alice spoke, again startling
Blarney. 

"Yes, ma'am -- I mean Alice. Can you take us there, where she said?" 

A few seconds later, Alice responded, "The trip will take a further six
Earthen days, four hours and seventeen minutes. Please brace for 
acceleration." A few seconds later, they felt the ship turn and speed 
up. 

"What about your sister?" Blarney asked, nodding at the suspended woman.


"Maybe you have something to calm her down?" 

"I dunno. There's a cabinet down here that has a lot'a pills and stuff
like that in it. I kind'a slept through my first-aid course." 

"Ask Alice. That's what she's for," Trina reminded him. 

"Alice. Can you suggest anything to calm Tina down?" He felt silly,
talking to the ship itself. 

"Please open the medicine cabinet, Blarney, so I can see inside," came
the response. He did as requested. A long metal appendage came loose 
from where it had been folded against one wall, positioned itself in 
front of the cabinet, and swung along the shelves, "The tall green 
bottle on the second shelf. If you can get her to take three of them, 
they'll calm her for twenty-seven hours, sixteen and a half seconds." 

Blarney took the bottle out and gingerly shook pills into his hand.
Somewhat nervously, he approached Tina.  He avoided looking into angry 
eyes, but noticed rippling muscles as she struggled to move her 
knife-hand. 

"Now calm down.  This is good for you." He tried to put them to her
lips. No good. Something stopped his hand. "What the hell?" 

"Tell Alice to release her enough for my sister to open her mouth,"
Trina yelled up to him. 

"Alice," he started to say. 

"I hear you, Blarney. Be careful," Alice spoke, seemingly concerned. 

"When I get ...  gahhh," Tina sputtered as Blarney pushed the pills deep
inside her throat. He barely managed to get his fingers out before he 
heard an audible snap, those teeth chipping off a bit of one 
fingernail. 

"That was close," he muttered to himself, stepping back. Within ten or
eleven minutes, Tina hung as limply as possible within the force-field, 
eyes open but no longer shooting virtual daggers. 

"Let's let her hang for awhile, and go upstairs," Blarney suggested, not
entirely trusting the pills. "It's more comfortable up there," he 
suggested to Trina. Blarney had his old cabin in mind, and its 
comfortable bed. He was very careful though, when going around the by 
then flaccid Tina. 

Trina fixed Blarney his first real meal since Tina beat him. Even so, he
was more interested in the way she leaned over while serving it. He 
hungered for her more than the prime quizel steak. 

"I should check that shower in your cabin," he told her, between bites.
"The drain clogs easily and has to be cleaned." 

"It's worked all right so far." 

"Still, it is my responsibility." 

The drain passed a quick inspection. 

"Mind if I sit for a minute? I'm still kinda woozy from the experience."


"You poor boy." She sat down beside him on the bed, holding his hand as
he slid closer. 

"I'm tired, Trina.  Think I'll lie down a while," he told her. It had
taken him an hour to get that far. "I'm feeling dizzy. Hope you don't 
mind. I don't really want to use that other room after your sister has 
slept there. I'd be too frightened to sleep." He lay back onto Trina's 
bed, getting comfortable while looking up into her green eyes. 

"She'll be okay as soon as we get to Xxemos." Trina sat next to his
supine figure, holding his head up. "You don't have to be afraid of 
her. She's really nice when you get to know her." Trina smoothed his 
troubled brow. "I can sleep on the couch." 

"Oh, no, honey, there's room for both of us on here." He pulled her
barely-resisting body down alongside him. "See? Plenty of room." 

Like with old-time phone-books, his fingers started walking. First,
along her arm, then up across one shoulder, having to pull her closer. 

Then, they traveled slowly down her side, pausing at a belt.  Soon
negotiating the obstacle, his hand became hidden from view. 

"Blarney. I have to tell you something important," she whispered,
sexily, while trying to pull his fingers out of her clothing. They came 
out, but didn't stay away long. "Blarney. My people are not really 
exactly human, you know?  We may look like you, but we're really not. 
Stop that Blarney.  Please." 

Blarney wasn't interested in talk, he would rather crush those moving
lips against his own. 

"Muuuffhhh, Blar -- muusph," Trina tried to explain. 

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, jerking his hand away from a jumble of
odd knobs and twisted flesh while releasing her lips. 

"We're build different, not the same plumbing," she said, gasping. 
Which was -- The End -- of that. 

The End.


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