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CHAPTER NINE
The Dominion of the Spider Queen
SPACE MADNESS! A condition common to all cosmographic commerce and interstellar travel -- brought about by confinement within tight spaces and kept at bay only through the use of powerful and dangerous space medicine. This deadly mental foe now stalks through MARK STYLE'S mind as he and his unlikely band of heroes continue their slow transit from PLUTO to SATURN.
But while Mark finds comfort in the deadly and dangerous embrace of THE DEVIL WEED, MARIJUANA, he knows not that of his three estranged comrades, he is most fortunate...for CLAUDETTE T.S GRANT has been HYPNO-CAPTURED by none other than the VAMPIRE QUEENS OF MARS, for what end none can guess.
Yet, while both Claudette and Mark travel through the depths of space, it is JASMINE STARR that remains in the most danger as she and the disguised PRINCESS SNOW of the Faemen set out on a quest in search of answers to the thousand years war between the Faeman and Hawkmen...a quest that takes them even now into none other than the infamous MAZE OF MADNESS!
Jasmine Starr strapped her magneto-rapier to the curve of her red thong and glanced from where she stood in the royal armory to "Prince Fireth" -- with her binder on and her male guise once more assumed, it was nearly impossible to see that the Princess Snow was, in fact, the sister of the long dead Prince Fireth rather than the Prince himself. She cut a dashing and masculine figure, her hair cut short, her bearing screaming to the world of her confidence and proud maleness -- accentuated by a kind of internal codpiece that she slid on beneath her leggings. That was more than enough to make every female servant in the palace swoon at the sight of her, but Jasmine did wonder at it: Did Snow enjoy her pretense as being a male, or did she chafe at it? Did she yern to once more wear dresses -- or, foregoing that, to simply be a tomboy?
For Jasmine knew well that distinction between being a woman who was interested in mannish things and being a male where it counted. During her time with the heroic and cunning Office of Strategic Services, she had been a part of many underground resistance movements battling against the hellish hosts of Hitler and his jackbooted
Gestapo
secret policemen and those movements had been made up of the many people seen as nothing but cockroaches beneath Nazi tyranny, including many men and women who had done no crime at all save love women or men rather than men and women, or to dress in clothing the Third Reich had deemed inappropriate for one of their so called "gender."
Jasmine shook her head, wondering at what small minded fools like the absurd Austrian -- and the abominable American Bund that had shared his vicious ideas -- would think, to learn of all the many space genders that were exhibited throughout the solar system...but for now, she let such pondering aside as she turned full on to face Snow.
"Will we need Diamond Suits?"
"Not if we're lucky," Snow said, her voice pitched deliberately lower. "And if we're unlucky enough to need them, then the Maze will have already killed us."
"What
is
this Maze?" Jasmine asked. "How did it come to be?"
Snow sighed, then growled. "It came about because of the damned Hawkmen and the failure of the Terraforming Project. The goal was simple, we would bleed away the atmosphere above, reducing the pressures of Venus until we could stand upon the surface without being crushed or boiled. But to do so, we would need many Terraforming Machines, and those machines would need constant supplies of materials. Delivering those materials above ground was impossible...so, we constructed vast underground networks of tunnels and subway systems."
"Ah, like the London Metro system, writ large across the planet," Jasmine said. "Or the railroads of America."
"Yes, precisely," Snow said. "Though we use significantly more advanced space trains...or...we did, a thousand years ago. But with the Project abandoned for war, the tunnels were left to molder. A thousand years of geological activity has collapsed many tunnels, and many of our magneto-memory tape books have been lost, or been corrupted. We know only a fraction of the tunnels. Worse...are the Morlocks."
"The Morlocks?" Jasmine's eyebrow shot straight up. "As in from H.G Well's seminal classic, the Time Machine, recently released as an award winning radio play by the renowned and respected Columbia Broadcast Services?"
"The very same," Snow said, chuckling much as a Prince should, rubbing her chin as she did so -- the two of them emerged from the armory and past a trio of waiting Faewomen servants, one of which tottered visibly as she saw the formidable figure that Snow cut with her magneto-rapier at her hip, and had to be caught by her comrades before she slumped to the tunnel floor. "We took the name from the drama -- but they are a byproduct of a native fungus that we could have eradicated, had the Hawkmen not betrayed us and ended the project. They grow within unfortunate miners and drive them to madness, and they rush into the tunnels if not stopped. This population has grown and bred...Faemen and Faewomen, born with the fungus within their minds! If they come upon non-infected Faemen, they attack them, try to subdue them, to infect them as well."
"How hideous," Jasmine whispered.
The two strode through the castle and came out into the vast city of the Faemen. There, they were met by several guards and the Spider Queen herself, who looked grave despite the fact she had given permission for this. She reached out, cupping her "son" upon her cheek, then said: "Please, do take care of my dearest Fireth." She looked at Jasmine, then smiled, ever so slightly. "And yourself, now that I think about it."
"My lady, I will do just that," Jasmine said, taking her hand and decorously kissing her knuckles -- so that all around her would think she nothing but a gallant Earth woman, offering the respects due to Queen Evillia Spiderna of the Faemen...but those that were aware of the events that had transpired in the previous space night would have no choice but to remember every vigorous scream of orgasmic bliss that Jasmine had wrung from the Spider Queen using tongue, fingers, and space strap-on. Both Evie (as Jasmine still enjoyed thinking of her as) and Snow were thinking about it, as Snow scowled at Jasmine and Evie giggled and murmured, under her breath.
"Oh you!"
"Now, where is the entrance to the Maze of Madness?" Jasmine asked.
"This is Lancer," Evie said, gesturing to one of the guards -- a strapping, dreadlocked Faeman with a wide face, long ears, and a huge smile. He inclined his head. "He is one of the finest Rocket Rangers we have. His rocket-cycles will take you to the entrance."
"A pleasure, Miss Starr," he said, his voice a warm, high tenor despite his burly size. He was dressed in a chromed breastplate designed to reflect away death rays, while his arms and legs were wrapped in rubberized, protective material for the surface of Venus. His weapons were a rocket-bolt pistol, slung from his hip, and what appeared to be the primary weapon of the Rocket Rangers, slung over his shoulder and hanging from a strap -- a weapon that caused Jasmine to ooh softly.
"Please, Ranger Lancer, my mother was Miss Starr. You can call me Jasmine," Jasmine said, chuckling. "Now...what is this?" She gestured.
"This? Oh, it's just my Hell Lance," Lancer said, slapping the strap that held the long thin metal pole to his back. The weapon looked a great deal like a normal jousting tool from Earth's bygone days of tournaments and kings and queens -- but this lethal looking lance was tipped not with a blunted tip nor even a sharpened blade, but rather a bulbous cylinder that came to a tapered narrow point, painted a bright red that glinted in the Faeman City's dull illumination! "Back before the War was mostly in space, we Rocket Rangers would face off against the Hawkmen and their armored zeppelins. This was the best way to send them into the clouds!"
"How does it work?" Jasmine asked, while Snow coughed and tugged on her arm, clearly trying to get them moving again. Jasmine allowed herself to be tugged, but kept her eyes on the strapping Lancer, who chuckled warmly.
"Simple! The lance's tip is a one time use Void Burst Inferno Warhead -- by having an air filled cavity within the warhead, it is able to focus the heat into an armor piercing blast that can cut through even thick, layered space steel," he said. "Our forefathers would ride our rocket-cycles in on their blind side and strike them in the weak points, then race away as they crashed." He sighed. "But in these days, all the fighting is in space and orbit, so we Rocket Rangers merely use our Hell Lances for ceremonial duties." He shook his head. "A shame."
Jasmine chucked. "Well, Lancer, I'm sure we'll find some way for you to put your lance to work."
"Oh will you now," Lancer purred.
Snow glared at both of them.
They came to the stables, where a rocket-cycle was already set out and ready, the engine rumbling softly as the other Rangers attached a passenger seat for Snow. "The Prince and you can-" Lancer started, but Jasmine swung herself onto the back of the cycle, spreading her legs as she leaned back and smiled at him.
"I believe among the Earth ground-cycle gangs of my world, this is what they refer to as...riding bitch?" Jasmine fluttered her eyebrows at Lancer, who gave her an even larger smile.
"They use quite a similar term here," Lancer said, mounting up ahead of her, sliding and settling in so that she could lean against his broad back, her cheek resting against his shoulder blade as she felt his warmth. "But here, it is called riding space bitch."
"Ah," Jasmine murmured, looking past his shoulder at Snow, who was looking completely exasperated. "Come on, Prince -- lets mount up. We'll need to ride hard to make sure we can penetrate the Maze of Madness in time. Though, I'm sure we can dally a little...Lance here does seem to know when to pull out-"
