Mom fell backward onto the deck, a gaping hole in his torso and his neck a bloody ruin. His gawking eyes staring up at the ceiling. He coughed blood and then lay still.
Dirken was transfixed by her prowess. But the explosions of several rifle pulses next to him broke him out of his mesmerization. He returned fire, hitting one of the Reptilocs in the chest. But the beast of a pirate shook it off with a high-pitched, reverberating howl and she slowly advanced with a smoking wound.
"There!" Yiorgos said, pointing to the their left. "That's our ride!"
Dirken and Eow turned to see where Yiorgos was pointing. It was the bright yellow fightercraft that had earlier intercepted their shuttle.
"The Bloodhawk's fighter?" Eow said. She smiled. "I like your style, cyborg!"
They ran for the fighter, Yiorgos leaning against Dirken's shoulder. "How do you know the ship won't be coded for access?" Dirken asked.
"Think about it, Dirk," Yiorgos said. "No sane crewman would try to take the Bloodhawk's fighter!"
Dirken laughed despite himself, then fired again. He hit the same Reptiloc in the same place. This time, she fell to the ground and didn't move again.
"My fighter!" Neenan cried, seeing where they were headed. The captain sprinted forward, loping like a lion, his scimitar raised and ready to strike.
Dirken aimed and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He glanced down and realized the power pack was out of charge. "Damn!" He holstered the blaster.
Eow fired her rifle, hitting the Rigellian and sending the Bloodhawk sideways to dodge.
"Here!" Yiorgos said. He put down the Heart, then reached over with his left hand, pressed a couple hidden catches on his right elbow, then turned.
The cyborg's right forearm detached, still sporting the activated plasma saber.
Dirken stared in disbelief. "You can do that?"
"Just take it and fight!" Yiorgos yelled, handing his arm to Dirken, then picking up the Heart and hobbling toward the fighter.
Dirken didn't have time to think. The Bloodhawk whooped and leaped upon him, knocking him to his back.
He raised Yiorgos's arm and blocked, just in time. The captain's sword swung down. The plasma edges threw blue sparks as the blades met and slid.
The centaur's strength was like that of three men. Even with two hands around Yiorgos's arm, the Bloodhawk was still sliding his scimitar, one-handed, down the saber toward Dirken. The swords crackled where they touched each other.
Then the pirate swung again. Once again Dirken blocked it, hitting the saber and getting pushed lower.
He gritted his teeth. Their blades lowered further until they were just a centimeter from his face. The heat from the plasma burned at his cheek.
The Bloodhawk smiled in victory, his four eyes narrowing.
Rifle bolts exploded around and past them.
The Bloodhawk half-turned and shouted, "Stop firing toward me, you mongrels!"
It was the distraction Dirken needed. He kicked up into the Bloodhawk's lower body as hard as he could and made contact, his boot going deep into the soft part of the stomach.
The pirate captain grunted and coughed, stepping back. Then swung again.
Dirken parried then made a right cut and sliced through the pirate's chest. It cut through a bandoleer, which fell to the deck with a dozen power packs and a blaster.
Dirken grabbed the Bloodhawk's blaster from its holster. As the Bloodhawk leapt again, Dirken aimed and fired at the bandoleer.
The power packs detonated.
Dirken was thrown back and momentarily blinded by the flash and heat. When he blinked and focused again, the Bloodhawk was two meters away, laying on his side with a massive burn across his lower body.
"Come on, Dirk!" Yiorgos yelled.
Neenan tried to rise up but fell back to the deck.
Dirken picked up Yiorgos's forearm and ran to the fightercraft. As he bolted up the ramp to the open cockpit, the remaining pirates opened fire again, hitting the ramp around him.
He leapt into the ship, careful with the plasma saber, and the fighter immediately hovered, the transparent canopy lowering over them. The fighter had two cockpits: the front for piloting, and the back for the gunner. Eow was in the front cockpit sitting on a padded bench perpendicular to the console. Dirken and Yiorgos were in the back, separated from the front cockpit by a wall console and a narrow entry off to the side.
"I have access!" Eow shouted back, then she took the controls and fired. The massive prow cannon cut huge craters into the hangar walls, shredding pirates as they dragged the Bloodhawk out of the hangar. Dirken was glad Yiorgos was right; the ship controls weren't coded.
From the front cockpit came a computerized voice, speaking in a swirling, grunting vocalization.
"I cannot get attitude adjustment," Eow said. "It is voice-activated in the Aquarian centaur language."
Yiorgos reattached his arm and deactivated the plasma saber. "Trade places with me."
Eow stepped back and Yiorgos slid to the front, using the divider to steady himself and sit on the bench. He activated his vocal inserts while tilting his head, letting the computerized part of his mind take over. Soon he was speaking the language of Aquarian centaurs.
Yiorgos turned the ship and aimed at the other fighter. Two well-placed shots, and the fighter exploded in a massive yellow fireball.
Alarms flashed, and the hangar door opened.
The fire extinguished as the oxygen left — probably part of the automated fire safety protocol — but it gave them the chance they needed. Yiorgos engaged the engines and they shot out of the hangar.
"Fold now!" Dirken yelled.
"I haven't calculated a trajectory yet," Yiorgos shouted back.
The two other ships opened fire, narrowly missing the craft as Yiorgos dodged to port. Two missile ports slipped open on the side of the brigantine.
"Just do it! We'll be in a thousand different trajectories if one of their missiles hit us!"
Yiorgos activated the gravwell engine. Large rods extended out of the fighter and arched around it, surrounding it like a cage. Then space folded, pinching in on itself and exploding outward again to another part of the galaxy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IN THE COCKPIT
Dirken sighed in relief once they had folded, and they hadn't landed in the middle of a planet or next to a star. Doubtless there was a neutrino tracker in the ship, but after a couple more gravjumps, they were far enough away that it would take at least an Earth day before the signal could get to the Bloodhawk — assuming he was even still alive.
Dirken felt for his lucky runestone and was relieved to find it in the hidden breast pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled it out, gave it a rub with his thumb, then tucked it back in.
The rear cockpit was just large enough for two, with Dirken and Eow upon a comfortable, padded couch, and just enough height to stand upright before hitting the transparent aluminum canopy. A display on the wall in front of them showed an interactive navigation chart and auxiliary weapons control.
They looked under the cushions of the bench and found a compartment. A toolbox had been stowed inside. It wasn't well-equipped, but there were enough tools for Yiorgos to augment his native repair system and work on his blasted leg up in the front cockpit, after he'd taken off the spacesuit. The cyborg hoped it could at least get him walking on his own. Next to the toolbox was a duffel bag. Opening it, Dirken found a money purse containing currency from different worlds: a handful of United Worlds chits, iridium coins from Proxima Centauri, a few very valuable palladium spheres the size of ball bearings from Oran c, and a dozen cloth-of-silver bills from Aquaria. No emergency kit is complete without some spending money, he thought, and pocketed the little bag. Also in the duffel was a med kit, a towel, a couple full water bottles, and some rations. Dirken broke one package open, took a sniff of the brown patty in it, then sealed it again and threw it back in the bag. It reeked like rotten fish but looked like granola and red berr
ies. "What the hell do Aquarian centaurs eat?" he muttered. But then he found some yellow protein bars that actually smelled appetizing.
Yiorgos called back, "Dirk, I'm setting the navigation to Nüwa so we can finally deliver this blasted sphere-thing and get our money."
Eow turned to Dirken and narrowed her eyes. "We had a deal!"
Dirken started to reply, but Yiorgos interrupted, his voice rising. "What deal? Dirk, don't tell me you made another 'plan' without discussing it!"
Dirken shrugged, even though Yiorgos couldn't see him from the front. "I told you I had a plan. It's just that you were being interrogated when Eow and I came to a decision in the brig."
Eow leaned back to look into the front cockpit, her spacesuit crinkling loudly. "Dirken and I agreed that if I helped you escape, you would first take me to the Eridani Mafia before you go your own way. I promise no harm will come to you from Grimmag Ruby-Eye. That is all."
"That is all?" Yiorgos repeated. Dirk heard him slam a tool to the deck. "That is all? Dirk, you realize the Eridani Mafia is only the most ruthless gangster organization in the entire galaxy, right? Don't you remember what happened the last time we made a deal with them?"
"Relax," Dirken said. "We're just stopping by. It's not like we've made some deal with them… again. Besides, it got us away from the Bloodhawk." And, he thought, I wouldn't want an angry Ananak with claws and body spikes attacking us in a fighter cockpit!
For several moments, Yiorgos was quiet, and Dirken waited for him to speak. But Eow broke in. "So, do we have a deal or not?"
"Of course it's a deal. Right, Yiorgos ol' buddy?"
He heard Yiorgos pick up the tool again and continue working on his leg. A good sign.
"Fine," the cyborg finally answered. "But you owe me. No more 'plans' without consulting me, got it? I can't take any more damage."
Dirken waved it away. "See," he said to Eow. "We can be accommodating. I'm always true to my word."
He grabbed some of the yellow protein bars — careful to avoid the fishy-smelling patties — and water from the duffel and handed it around to Yiorgos. They cyborg's consternated face immediately changed when he saw the sundries. He eagerly drank down several cups of water, then opened a protein bar and took a bite. Dirken went back to the couch.
"So what are you?" he heard Yiorgos asked the Ananak, between mouthfuls. "A hitman? I saw you fight."
"I am foremost a warrior, but I am also what the Eridani need me to be. For this job I was a messenger."
"Some messenger!" Dirken said, smirking, his eyes conspicuously running over her. She smiled back at him.
He heard Yiorgos activate a control panel with a series of beeps. "Okay, messenger. What system should I punch in?"
"The Baeris star system," Eow said.
"Which planet?"
"Not a planet. When we fold there, I will direct you further."
Not a planet? Dirken wondered. A moon?
"Okaaay." Yiorgos used his vocal inserts to say a few phrases in the centaur language, then the starship lurched slightly as it changed trajectory. "We'll be moving sub-light for a half hour, then two more gravjumps. Should be there in a few hours."
"Take your time," Eow told him, but her eyes were on Dirken.
"Fine." Yiorgos sighed, and Dirken heard him getting comfortable. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be Netfolding."
Dirken heard the cyborg settle into a more comfortable position and the little whir of his cheek projector engaging to make the Unity Sphere hologram. In moments he would be in a deep Netfolding mediation.
Dirken rummaged through the med kit to see what they could use, then pulled out a tube of burn cream. His inflamed hand burned from the blaster explosion. He applied the cream to his hand, but his attention was pulled away as Eow started undressing.
She unlatched her red space suit down her chest, peeling it away from the central seam. Beneath, her thin clothing clung to her breasts, still wet from the water pipe that had showered her back in the brigantine. She looked down at Dirken as he sat upon the couch, watching his reaction as she slowly opened the seam, past her ribs, her solar plexus, her belly. The stretchy suit underneath undulated across a six-pack of muscle.
She stepped out of the suit with a deliberate movement, raising a muscular thigh and leg out and placing her foot between Dirken's legs, the soft lavender fur so tantalizingly close. She licked her lips and nodded in a little invitation. He reached out and ran his hand along her knee and inner thigh, his fingers sliding through the fur.
The suit crumpled to the ground, her tail at last liberated, unwinding from the back of the suit and swaying slowly. She closed her eyes and sighed, clearly glad to be free of the suit. She put her hands on her chest and slowly rubbed them down her front.
"You're… you're still wet," Dirken gasped. He offered her the towel with his left hand.
She opened her amethyst eyes and gazed into his, then ran a dark tongue over her fangs. "Yes. I am." Instead of taking the towel, she reached behind her neck and unbuckled the strap, watching his reaction, then pulled the straps away from her neck. "Very… wet."
Dirken's heart skipped a beat. His breathing accelerated.
She lowered her arms, stripping the thin garment from her chest. Small, dark blue nipples rose from the thin fur on her breasts.
She pulled the garment down further, exposing her belly, four more nipples ran in parallel, but flat against her belly on either side of the soft roll of her abs and navel. The fur there was a paler shade of lavender, almost white, down to her crotch.
Dirken felt himself growing as he watched, straining against his leather pants.
Then she let the outfit drop. Past her waist. Past her hips.
She stood there in unabashed nudity, tail flicking.
His eyes fell to her thighs — and between them. The slim mound of her pubis fell away to dark blue, exquisite lips.
He drew in a ragged breath and looked up at her face.
She smiled, her eyes half-closed. She reached down, picked up his right hand and the burn cream he still held. Squeezed the tube. Rubbed the cream over the palm where the pirate's blaster had exploded during the firefight. "You need a tender touch, Dirken." She took his hand in both of hers. Massaged his palms. Slipped her fingers between his.
He nodded, eyes fixed on hers. The relief from the burn cream was instantaneous, but he hardly noticed as she rubbed him.
She placed his hand on her left thigh, the tips of his fingers wrapping around to lay on her left butt cheek. Then she unbuttoned his shirt.
"Take it off," she said.
He did as told. Stripped off his shirt and vest.
He started to take off his holster, but she stopped him. "Leave it on. I want to feel your weapon against me."
She unbuttoned his pants, hands lingering over his tight groin, then tugged off his pants and boots.
He was now fully erect and exposed — nude except for his blaster and gun belt and the vambrace bracelets.
He wrapped his left hand around her waist and ran his right palm up the inside of her athletic thigh. Fingers ran through soft fur. He leaned forward and planted a kiss next to her navel. The fur was lighter and thinner there than elsewhere.
His fingers reached the crease where thigh met groin. She was so warm. So soft. Yielding.
Eow moaned as he touched her, exploring, caressing. She was already so wet there. Instead of a single clitoris like a human, a half dozen lined her vulva. She shivered each time his fingers orbited one.
Dirken started to lay down, but she shook her head. Pushed him back into a sitting position, his back against the cushions.
Eow positioned herself over his left leg. Leaned over him. Her paw-like hand caressed his face, then lightly ran a finger across his lips. Down his neck. Into the hair of his chest.
Her face was so close to his. He wanted to kiss her, but she moved aside and nuzzled his ear as her hand continued downward over his tight belly, her breath warm against his neck.
Pleasure washed over him as she caressed his cock. He leaned back into the cushions, letting the bliss take him, and wrapped his arms around her slim frame.
She nipped his ear, then ran her fangs down his neck. The sensation sent shivers down his body.
He tried to guide her onto him, but she flexed her hand. Black claws came out. She lightly raked them down his chest— not hard enough to break the skin, but a light scratch that excited him, sent waves of pleasure through him. His heart pumped furiously.
Then she smiled, looking him directly in the eyes. Came closer. Her lips joined with his. Her tongue was rough like sandpaper, but he didn't push her away. For many minutes they embraced, exploring each other.
Then Eow bit his lower lip, her fangs drawing blood. He winced, and she pulled away, laughing. She licked the blood off her own lips, then kissed him again, softer.
She pulled away again, then turned her back to him. Situated herself against him. Lowered herself onto him as he wrapped his arms around her firm waist.
They both gasped in ecstasy as he entered her from behind.
Dirken pulled her tight against him. She was as soft as satin. Her tail pressed against his belly and sinuated.
They moved as one entity, and for those moments he couldn't believe his fortune. She was so soft, yet so athletic. The moment was sheer joy, like the breeze blowing through hair in an open hovcar.
Her anatomy was surprisingly human, but muscles moved inside, stroking him, urging him inward.
He had to fight to keep from finishing too soon. He thought about his blaster — about the power pack. I need to replace the power pack. I need to… need to buy a new….
He ran his hand up her belly and across the rows of nipples.
"Bite me," she whispered, undulating her body, rubbing herself against his gun belt.
"What?"
"Bite my neck!" It was a command. "The hairless spot!"
Dirken pulled her tight against him. Was this an Ananak thing? Or just a fetish?
At the base of the back of her neck was the ovoid bald spot he'd seen back in the cell. The skin was a little tougher there, like her palms, as if designed for this.
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