Fairy Vivienne

He was consumed with Fairy Vivienne and even long discussions with Zaldivar, an incredible historian and exceptional computer, could not totally sweep away thoughts of again being with her. Mercury spent the majority of his time piloting The Bullfinch and monitoring space, with occasional forays to the holodeck. He was keen yet light hearted. Thalia studied, she was in control. Rinaldo kept the starship running, and honing his warrior arts.

Zaldivar said. "We are running short of supplies and carboneous gel. We'd better figure out some sort of trading scheme because all the money we have are the few talents from Bacchus."

"Where's the most likely place?" Mercury asked.

Thalia said, "Tomorrow we'll be close to planet Basmati, after that we'll be a week in black space to Morabia."

"What's on Basmati?" Rinaldo asked.

Zaldivar said. "My first owner spent lots of time there. She used to say 'on Basmati you can do anything you want and nobody cares.' It's a teeming metropolis and we're sure to make some kind of deal."

"Your first owner was a pot head," Thalia said.

"Yeah," Zaldivar said. "I can replicate it real good, there's still good money in dope on Basmati."

Mercury shrugged, "Let's make some quick money, fill up with carboneous gel and get out."

"Marijuana is illegal on Morabia," Zaldivar said.

"That's why it's so profitable." Rinaldo said. "Probably especially hashish."

"I know all the best recipes. Pot head was a true connoisseur and we traveled extensively," Zaldivar said.

Thalia said, "Merlin you and Mercury take the skiff to the surface."

Downtown Basmati on Chandi Chowk Street was a teeming mass of beings. There were pudgy beings with lavender skin, hairy, fat lips, round eyes and long, long, slithering, forked, glowing chartreuse tongues; there were tall, thin shrewd looking, manila yellow characters; exotic sex objects in every size, shape, color and gender; orange oliphants; blue oxen; prancing green chargeurs. It was hot, and noisy with the din of people moving and hawking and preaching. It was smoky with burnt bar-b-cue, tobacco, and patchouli. Mercury and Merlin with a small stash bag and an incredible shrinking hookah pipe prowled around looking for a clue.

"Psst, psst."

Slowly Merlin turned to look and there in the white washed wall was a black barred window and behind the bars was a petite turquoise spiderman sitting cross legged on a sumptuous fuschia and sequined cushion at window height waving a fat, smoking, stinking joint. "Any marijuana today?"

Merlin nodded.

The little man bobbed his head. "Fifteen sisterchies."

"What?"

"My new friend, only fifteen sisterchies. I know the price is rich, but the product is the best. Nowhere in all of Basmati will you find a better high. You look like men of quality, for you certainly only the best. You deserve it, you owe it to yourselves. And what really is fifteen sisterchies? I think it is nothing compared to the pleasure you will derive from this fine dope."

"All we have are Bacchian talents," Mercury said.

"No problem, Pete the money changer, will give you a fair deal. It doesn't take a computer to figure out the exchange rate. I'll ring him now."

Merlin held up his hand. "How do we know your product is truly the best? Besides, what we're looking for here is a hashish dealer."

"Oh my new friends, hashish is truly desirable, but there is none on all of Basmati, all the recipes were destroyed by the DEA. Ah, if only I had hashish to sell I would be a richer man. Simply thinking about this makes me joyful."

"Let us sit together a little while," Merlin said. "I have something to share with you."

The petite turquoise man motioned them to go around the corner and enter through the back.