Space Jumps with Marmoi

by Swapna Kishore

Gom's Aptest at 120 was well above the 80 he needed for SpaceJumps101 but his friends advised against the course. It was for females, they said. And the three boys who had opted for it in the last decade had vanished, all presumed crushed to death during illegal space jumps.

"As for Professor Marmoi," his best friend added. "Okay, so she's jumped all over the galaxy and hobnobbed with aliens and she's got some deadly curves on her and is rich enough to swim in molten gold--but she's creepy."

So when Gom attended the preview lecture of SpaceJumps101, he had almost decided against it. Then Marmoi swept into the room, swirling her black gown. "There’s not much science to space jumps," she said. "It is female intuition that guides us."

Gom, the only boy in the hall, looked around defiantly.

Marmoi continued: "We can jump to Honeymoon Galaxy, meet sonorous and courteous solibis on Garalo and glimpse flesh-eating Amaxians of Gyny."

Her cloak brushed Gom's arm as she sashayed past him; his heart went wild in his rib cage.

"But no man has survived a space jump. Men stay safely at home," Marmoi added, dropping her voice to a whisper that boomed through the spell-bound lecture hall.

So Gom signed up for the course.

Within a week he wasn't sure Aptest had been correct; rather, he was sure it wasn't. He was always the last to turn in the tests in theory classes - unanswered. In the lab, while girls around him had perfectly harmonized orbits on their screens, Gom's monitor displayed erratic, spiked and clashing waves.

"It's my simulator," he told Marmoi on the third day, as he twisted the yin-yang dial with one hand and gripped the coordinate stylus with the other.

Marmoi placed her hand over his; with minor tweaking, the display was perfect. But Gom did not notice. He was too busy fighting a crazy desire to lick her face.

Two weeks into the course, Gom requested extra lab classes, the only student to do so. He couldn't afford to flunk; besides, being alone in a lab with Marmoi -

She was reading Spaceromps and stroking her hair with her slender fingers when he reached the lab that evening. Her stern black cloak had been replaced by a blue dress that clung in the right places and matched her eyes. When she handed him the practice sheet, Gom's hand trembled.

An hour later, Marmoi walked over to check his work. "Not too bad," she said, as her fingers lingered sensuously over the panel. "But that was a simple exercise."

"Set me something difficult, then," he said as his eyes roved over her dress and he licked his lips.

"Tomorrow, maybe." Marmoi shrugged, but the look she gave him made Gom suspect - no, he was certain - that she was hot for him.

The next day, Marmoi wasn't in the lab. He flipped through the papers scattered on her desk: brochures of holiday destinations. One exotic package on Mer Blanden, Honeymoon Galaxy, was circled.

Gom stared at the scenic geo-terrained spaceodrama, imagining a holiday there arm-in-arm with a bikini-clad Marmoi. He jotted down the coordinates for practice and walked over to his simulator.

Fifteen minutes later, when he was struggling with an obstinate knob on his simulator, Marmoi entered. She paused near his machine and watched. "Use my station," she said after a while. "It's been serviced."

His sweaty fingers left smudged prints on the polished dials of the sophisticated instructor station as he adjusted them for the coordinates he had jotted down. Then he sensed her behind him.

"What's this, Gom?" Her voice was husky. "This is not your practice sheet."

"It's Mer Blanden," he said, feeling reckless. "Want to come?"

"You'd like that?" Her lips brushed his ears as she bent over him, placed her hand on his, and changed the settings with practiced ease. Her body, warm and soft, pressed against him.

He opened his mouth and half-closed his eyes in anticipation when there was a click and his jump-seat locked.

"What..." he started saying as opened his eyes. The control panel flashed 'Live jump initiated'. Marmoi had stepped out of reach and was sneering.

"Meet Gom - another stupid male student who space-jumps illegally and gets butchered," she said. "Anyway, here's a parting gift - specifically tailored for your DNA - keep you happy while you die."

The vial Marmoi tossed at Gom sprayed him with the smell he associated with her. As induced hormones bombarded his body, space-jump warps enclosed him, contorting and compressing his testosterone-rich flesh.

Over the unbearable crush of flesh and bone and bursting blood vessels, Marmoi's aside was faint: "Amaxians pay stupendous amounts for male flesh. Silly, but useful."