"That fucking brigantine has a fat ass!" Feleesha cursed.
Then they were past the brig and free, exiting through the outer lip of the harbor tunnel.
Dirken and Yiorgos stood again. From his vantage point, Dirken saw one of the massive outer cannons on the comet wall had been destroyed, an outgassing crater left in the comet where it had been. And outside the opening, the Bloodhawk's corvette, the Speartip, was turning, disengaging from a hot fight with three fightercraft to pursue 'TakTrak's ship.
Dirken didn't see Eow's stolen fighter — his fighter — among these craft.
"Nav comps were hastily entered, Captain," Feleesha said in her gruff voice, "so it's iffy."
"Punch it, Feleesha," 'TakTrak replied.
"Aye, Captain." She reached over to a holopanel next to her, waved her hand across the hologram readout in the air over it, and pressed forward with the palm of her hand. The hologram shimmered and turned green. Dirken heard the Jacobian gravwell generator reverberate through the ship. Off to port, the corvette fired a couple missiles. But before they reached 'TakTrak's ship, space pinched in and exploded outward again through the canopy, and they had folded safely away.
More alarms sounded, and the ship shifted. Dirken knew from the odd sideways yank that this was a gravitational anomaly. They had come out of the jump a bit near some gravitational source, like a planet or star. He and Yiorgos held on to the conduit along the hallway until the momentum could be compensated by the grav panels. Feleesha stabilized the ship as a yellow star rolled into view through the canopy.
"What happened?" 'TakTrak asked.
"We were too close to the Witch's Tits, Captain. The gravity threw off the calculations. Then we emerged near this star." She growled. "Told you it was iffy."
'TakTrak clacked and whistled in his odd laughing way. "It is better than dead, my pilot!"
True, Dirken thought, as he looked out at the star. A humongous solar flare arced out of it, larger than the largest gas giant, but not in a direction that threatened them. Still, they wouldn't want to stick around for the next one, and they were close enough that the heat from the star would start melting the outer panels if they strayed. Feleesha turned the ship away from the star and accelerated out of danger.
"Adjusting coordinates," Feleesha said, entering information into the holopanel. She turned her head and looked at 'TakTrak, then again to inspect Dirken and Yiorgos. The eye that wasn't covered by an eyepatch narrowed in response to seeing Dirken. "Enjoy our winnings from goron'oc, bastard?"
"Not half as much as I enjoyed your piloting," he responded.
"Fuck you."
"Now, Feleesha," 'TakTrak admonished, "is that any way to address friend Dirken? He is our guest!"
Yiorgos sighed. "The last time we were called a 'guest' was by a mafia don, and he was about to hold us against our will, gave us an offer we couldn't refuse, then had his Saffron Guard try to kill us."
'TakTrak unbuckled himself from his seat. "Well, my friend, we will treat you much more amicably. What is this 'sphere thing' you carry?"
Yiorgos hesitated to answer, so Dirken jumped in. "It's the job we were hired for. We have to escort it to Nüwa. Care to take us there, 'TakTrak? For your generosity, I'll throw in a thousand UW chits."
It was hard to read 'TakTrak. His species couldn't blink and because he had a beak instead of lips, he didn't share the facial expressions of most species, but the tilt of the Corthian's head seemed to suggest some difficult thought process. Instead of answering, he turned back to Feleesha. "What is the damage to the ship?"
Feleesha looked to a panel that was blinking red. "One crewman dead when the dorsal cannon was ripped off. Port aileron gone. Port stabilizer damaged. We are leaking atmosphere in the top cabin where the cannon was. The crew is on it. Minor damage to port and ventral paneling, but stable. Grav paneling in the rear compartments is deionized but should be repaired by internal systems within an hour."
"How about the VIP suite?"
"No damage."
'TakTrak turned back to Dirken. "Let's increase to five thousand chits and you have a deal. Otherwise I drop you off at Harold's World with my cargo."
"Harold's World!" Dirken exclaimed. "That old mining dump? It's in the outer territories. It would take us weeks to find a ride back!" He paused a moment to glance at Yiorgos. The cyborg just grimaced. Harold's World, named after the legendary space prospector, "Toothless" Harold Jenkins only a century ago, was a rocky wasteland with a Mars-like atmosphere but rich with rare metals and radioactive elements. It was that last aspect that killed poor Toothless, after he'd lost all of his teeth and hair.
"Five thousand! Just to transport us?" Dirken complained. His offer of a thousand was already generous.
'TakTrak shrugged. "Nüwa is in the opposite direction and you would make me late for the job."
Dirken scowled. He didn't really have much choice, but it would be poor form to go without at least a little haggling. "Make it three thousand and we have a deal, but it's still fucking highway robbery."
"Thirty-five hundred," 'TakTrak counter offered.
"Fine." Dirken reached out a hand to shake on it, and 'TakTrak sealed the deal. The Corthian clacked his beak in approval. "Good. Good!" He turned to Feleesha. "You know the coordinates, Feleesha."
Feleesha frowned at Dirken, then she turned and started entering coordinates.
'TakTrak put his wing around Dirken's shoulders and walked him out of the bridge doorway. "But it will be many hours before we can get you there. In the meantime, Friend Dirken, we have just taken on a guest cabin for a VIP transport job coming up. The one I mentioned to you earlier. You can stay there. I think you will approve."
They passed the gangway and entered the cramped corridor into the center of the ship. "This is the gig you mentioned to me at the Ruby Lounge?" Dirken asked, ducking under a conduit. 'TakTrak nodded. Dirken continued, "So what is it that you think we can do for it?"
'TakTrak waved away the question with a wing. "We will talk business later. You know I never like to mix one mission with another. For now, let us relax. I will tell you more about the VIP suite. It has fine Pleiadean spidersilk sheets on a soft mattress big enough to fit four people — with leviton emitters! Nüwan coffee. Holo-walls to project any environment you dial. And — this is the best part! — a pair of professional escorts. They have been trained in the sexual arts at the Bacchus Dome on Halcyon! Perhaps you can keep them warm for our VIP, eh?"
Dirken's eyes widened. Halcyon was often called the "Pleasure Planet," the number-one vacation paradise for warmth-loving species, with endless white beaches, resorts, and islands sporting themes to fit just about any fetish. There were no taboos on Halcyon. The Bacchus Dome, in the center of the largest island and the capital city of the planet, was renowned for training the galaxy's most talented sex workers.
"Yes!" Dirken said, and turned to see Yiorgos's reaction.
The cyborg just rolled his eyes. "Awesome," he said, dryly.
"Lead the way, my friend!" Dirken said to 'TakTrak. The Corthian clacked his beak and whistled in approval then walked them toward the back of the craft.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE VIP SUITE
'TakTrak walked them through the narrow corridors of the Raptores toward a back cargo cube, his short cape swishing as he bragged about how great their cabin would be, but Dirken wasn't listening. His thoughts were full of longing. This ship made him yearn for his own again. It was hot, crowded, and hummed with the activity of an active vessel. Half a dozen crewmen of different species squeezed past them or craned their necks in curiosity from neighboring cabins as the group passed, each dressed in whatever clothes (or none) they were used to on their homeworlds. The scents of their novel foods mingled with the lived-in acridity lingering in the air and the "space tang" of their mixed species. It was a welcomed change from the smoke and chemicals in the hangar. Their excited discussions about the battle they just left would stop as they turned to ogle Dirken
and Yiorgos. He knew a few of them, just as he had known Feleesha, but there was still a look in their eyes of… what? Expectation? Nervousness?
Dirken, Yiorgos, and 'TakTrak passed through an airlock that marked the end of the clipper's front "forecastle" portion and the beginning of the row of detachable cargo cubes. 'TakTrak engaged a panel, then they stepped through into a new corridor. This corridor was brand new, like the cube had looked from the outside, with pleasant lights and clean, white walls without the patchwork of conduits, wiring, or ductwork.
"Here is the VIP cabin!" 'TakTrak announced with a flourishing whirl of his voice, coming to a door that was covered in swirling designs of gold and jet. With a wave of his wing, the door slid open.
Dirken emitted a whistle as he and Yiorgos stepped inside. It had been ages since he'd been in such luxury — not since they were flush with cash from the Io job, four years before, and had frivolously spent their earnings at the Nebulon, a five-star luxury hotel on Tesla. The new VIP cabin on the Raptores sported lush red carpet. Adjustable gravity and atmosphere. Two framed, erotic paintings: one of two lovers from Earth wrapped in each other's arms, mid-coitus, the other of a typical "orgy pile" of mating males and females from Tau Ceti F, their blue eyes wide and mouths open in ecstatic vocalizations. A plush love seat. Fully stocked, wet bar, food replicator and refrigerator. And for those who mix work with pleasure, an adjoining office with a wide desk and computer interface. All furniture was made with real wood.
Toward the back was a wide, round bed with satin sheets and a dozen soft pillows, but a console built into the headrest showed it was much more. An array of emitters surrounded the bed. "Ah, the leviton bed!" Dirken said.
'TakTrak nodded. "Only the best, old rogue. Sleeping… and sexing… in zero-G is the only way to go."
Dirken gently placed the Heart on the carpet then threw himself onto the bed. His body sank into the soft mattress. He sighed in immediate comfort. It had been so long since he laid on anything other than bunks, crew hammocks, or jail beds…
…or the couch in the rear cockpit of the fightercraft with Eow in his arms. He quickly pushed the thought away.
"What did I tell you, friend Dirken?" 'TakTrak bragged. "Luxury unlike anything you have ever experienced, no?" 'TakTrak slapped Yiorgos on the shoulder with one of his feathered hands. "It is hardly the life of a rogue like us, eh? Why, I should charge you extra for such excellence!"
Yiorgos shed the Corthian's arm with a suspicious air and didn't reply.
"I tell you, 'TakTrak," Dirken responded. "This must be some VIP you're transporting!"
"Indeed! My client spared no expense." 'TakTrak turned to leave. "Help yourself to whatever you want. I assume you would like to taste the escorts, too. I will send them in."
Yiorgos shook his head. "That won't be necessary. We…."
"Please do!" Dirken interrupted. "If they are all you say they are, it's a real treat!"
Yiorgos frowned at him.
"Certainly!" 'TakTrak responded. "Right away."
The Corthian stepped out, closing the door behind him.
"Are you mad?" Yiorgos said. "We just escaped a battle between pirates and the mafia and all you can think about is your penis?" He gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "I don't trust him."
That birdbrain is up to something, Dirken thought. But it's not like he could have planned a pirate attack on a mafia stronghold. And he did save us.
"You're doing that thing again," Yiorgos said.
Dirken blinked. "What thing?"
"Where you're lost in thought and moving your mouth as if talking aloud… with your hand on your blaster."
Dirken took his hand off the blaster handle and let himself lay back. "I don't trust him either. He's hiding something."
"So what are we doing here? It could be a trap." Yiorgos looked around the room. "He may have control over the atmosphere. He could cut off all the oxygen and kill us. Or vent the cube's atmosphere into space."
Dirken waved him away. "Maybe he could. But if he wanted us dead he could have shot us in the hangar — or just let us die in there and flown away without us. Besides, we're paying him. Hell, we're probably paying him more than his precious VIP! So relax a little."
"Easy for you to say! My right arm is shot to hell and I still have a gaping wound in my right leg, not to mention I'm covered with dents and bruises." The cyborg looked down at the Heart. "Whatever this damned sphere is, it had better be worth the trouble. When we finally get it to Nüwa, we need to demand more payment."
Dirken kicked off his boots and let them fall to the floor. This only seemed to piss off Yiorgos more.
"You know," Yiorgos continued, "Therese wouldn't have betrayed us like Eow did."
Dirken groaned. "You just have to bring up Therese again, don't you? An old flame to inflame things!"
"Face it, Eow pulled all your levers… including the one between your legs."
Dirken opened his mouth to rebut, but shut it again. Yiorgos was right, but he wasn't about to admit it. "You're killing my moment of relaxation. Why don't you… do your Netfolding or something!"
Yiorgos harrumphed and opened the mini fridge. He pulled out a bottle of yellow-glowing liquid with a holographic label. "Whoa! Proximan golden ale!" He popped open the top and took a sip, shivered, then smiled. He grabbed another and lobbed it to his partner.
Dirken sat up and took a drink, savoring the momentary sourness of it, then thrilled in the sweetness that replaced it, along with a spreading warmth through his body. Proximans didn't have the same reaction — it was no different to them than a regular beer was for humans — but this rare ale was magical for humans and many other species. It tasted like a stout at first, but then the aftertaste became sweet vanilla.
Yiorgos laid down on the bed as well and they fell into an exhausted silence punctuated only by the action of drinking their ales.
"The musician," Yiorgos said. "The one who hit Eow with the lyrophone."
Dirken thought back to the fight in the Sanctum. "Yeah," he answered. "She didn't need to do that. She could have just run for it."
"Do you remember what she said?"
"Yeah. It was weird. Something about someone named Eva."
"No, not Eva. AVA. Remember the quantum computer artificial intelligence that tried to take over Earth? Before she died, the albino said, May AVA bring peace."
Dirken took another swig. He was very comfortable. His eyelids were growing heavy. "That's a heck of a leap. Maybe she was talking about someone named Ava, not the computer. Besides, why would a slave musician of a mafia don care about a thousand-year-old computer?"
"Exactly," Yiorgos replied. "Why? And why would she think it would bring peace? AVA threatened to destroy Earth and Mars with their own weapons of mass destruction if it didn't get its way."
"Ridiculous." But the thought implanted a seed of doubt in him. The albino waited for them at the airlock. She gave her life to protect him and Yiorgos. Why? She didn't even know them. "She didn't need to do that," he repeated, his eyelids heavy.
A thrum vibrated through the ship, growing in intensity, then hit a crescendo and died away. They had gravjumped again. It would be hours before they reached Nüwa. He had time to rest, so he let himself fall asleep, nestled in the extreme comfort of the plush sheets and pillow.
Dirken awoke some time later as the ship thrummed again. Another gravjump. Had he been asleep for so long? It usually takes at least half an hour to go between jump points.
Yiorgos had gotten up and was at the refrigerator. He noticed Dirken was awake and tilted his head slightly, opened his mouth to say something.
But just then the door to the suite slid open, revealing 'TakTrak. The Corthian clacked and whirled with laughter and announced, "And now for your entertainment, my friends!"
'TakTrak stepped aside with a flourish and in walked a muscular human male clad only in a black leather thong and a Rigellian female in a thin red negligee.
The escorts
struck alluring poses to present themselves.
"I'll take them both!" Dirken said, sitting up on the bed.
"Of course, friend Dirken. Enjoy!" 'TakTrak said, then backed out and closed the door.
"Oh brother," Yiorgos said. He turned to the attached office. "I'll be in here."
Dirken had already taken off his shirt before the escorts stepped forward to the bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A PLEASANT DISTRACTION
The Rigellian blinked her six eyes at him and ran her hands down her negligee. "You can call me Sugarplum, sweetheart," she said. The voice emitting from the mouth at the top of her head had a vaguely Chinese accent — probably trained in Terran by someone from Nüwa. "Have you had a Rigellian before? It is a treat."
"I have," he answered, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Then you must know that we have certain… skills." The little tentacles around her fleshy mouth wiggled as the tip of her long, purple tongue licked the lips there.
"Oh, I know. Let's see what you can do with that luscious mouth, baby."
Dirken looked to his right and saw Yiorgos, shaking his head, disappear with the Heart into the adjoining office.
The human male came to Sugarplum's side and gave a wry smile. Young and slim with defined abs like a swimmer. Light blond hair. Dark blue eyes. Barely older than twenty, Dirken figured. He was what some people called a "twink," though some considered the term derogatory, so Dirken never used it. The young man knelt at the bed and unbuckled Dirken's pants, his eyes glancing up to see if there was any opposition. There wasn't.
The male escort reached for the buckle of the Dirken's blaster holster, but Dirken stopped him. "Leave it on," he said, thinking back to his encounter with Eow. Besides, no one touched his blaster.
"Ooh!" Sugarplum said. "Kinky! I like a man who appreciates danger."
She ran one of her flap-like hands down his chest. It was fleshy but warm and soft like kid leather. When she reached his leather pants, the male helped her pull them off. They slipped over his rapidly growing erection.
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