Star Hookers Space Pirates

by David A Sizemore

  Shirley shook her holographic head and disappeared.

  Peter went to the safe, opened it and pulled out the last of the glow-metal bars and plastic credit flimsy’s, and added them to the bag he had taken to the Vookin earlier “I'm going to have to go to the bank and make a deposit for all these e-orders, Floyd. Get going on all that stuff.”

  “You do know that pirates of the seventeenth century never used a skull and crossbones, instead it was a red flag to indicate they were pirates?” Floyd informed him.

  “No, I didn’t—and I’m betting that 99% of other beings don’t know that either, or care.”

  Chapter 8: Pleasant Complications

  Later after Peter’s banking was done, Peter was impatient to be off. They had a couple of days to waste while Floyd installed the EMP, which irked him. As a smuggler, life had been straightforward. Load, take off, deliver cargo and get paid. It wasn't even particularly dangerous, illegal, or real work. If he got caught smuggling, at most he would maybe lose his cargo, pay a fine, or have to bribe someone. Peter was not used to being organized or having to plan ahead. As he sat in the control room, he idly mused about the ramifications of getting caught. Although there had been no reports of wholesale piracy in fifty years, at least not since the Three-Hundred-Years war ended—even though it was relatively rare, all races and civilizations hated pirates across the board. A few pirates in the past had killed all the passengers and crew so as to leave no witnesses or left them to slowly die from starvation or asphyxiation. Some simply spaced their victims or sold them into slavery and added the ships to their fleet. Peter did not plan on such cruel or heartless actions, but he did not suppose authorities would stop to ask if he was a good pirate or a bad pirate. Eternal torture on the punishment channel, brain-wipe, and selling one’s body were all possible penalties for piracy. Peter shuddered at the thought. He came back from being lost in thought as gentle, soft hands wrapped around his neck and massaged his shoulders.

  “Uh, hello.” He craned his head back to see Monica’s upside-down smile smiling back.

  “I never did thank you properly for rescuing Oscar and me from Chang's, you know.”

  “Not really necessary. You've certainly made yourself useful. I would have been hard put to finance this venture without you.”

  “Perhaps we wouldn't have to become outlaws, if I had not killed those beings,” Monica frowned, “I'm not a killer, and those men were trying to kill us. But I’m still having a hard time sleeping with those deaths on my conscious.”

  “Hate to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but I knew I was putting a death sentence on myself the minute I quit the Boss. I didn't plan on pissing off everyone else to boot, but shit happens. There are some jobs you just cannot walk away from without consequences. It was the same for you. Besides, I don't see how you or we could have gotten out of that situation without violence. Do you, my little blood-thirsty pirate?”

  “Oh, you―don't make light of it! I've never killed anyone before! It still freaks me out how easy it was, and how I didn’t even think about those men having family or loved ones, except for Chang. Him, I'd kill over again, the Floxshit-eating bastard. Please let me thank you properly anyway.” She bent her head down and kissed Peter’s mouth, upside-down again, and slid her hand into his shirt to rub his chest.

  “Well, thanks. It sounds like you just have a strong sense of self-preservation is all,” Peter said grinning around the wet kiss.

  “You don't think that's all you get, do you? Silly man!” Monica said laughing, “Come on.” She took Peter by the hand and pulled him up slowly. “Let’s go to your cabin. I’m going to make love to you… in spades. You are damn cute, and I’ve wanted to do you since we met. I’ve kept waiting for you to make a move and you’re too shy, or something.”

  “Great as that sounds, do you think that's a good idea? What if we get pissed off at each other at some point or fall in love, or something? Its small ship… won't that be awkward? What about Oscar?”

  “Come on, Peter, I'm not asking to pick out curtains with you. I don't even know what a curtain is, but my mother used to say that. It’s just a nice, friendly romp in the sheets. I promise it won't hurt,” she said smiling, “and what, fall in love? That’s mighty arrogant and confident for a space pirate, isn’t it? What makes you think I could fall in love with someone like you, or want to?” She went on, “Oscar? OMG! We are just friends! I like sex and needed to scratch my itch. Besides, Oscar has a little friend that's a sex addict. Call it mutual itch-scratching. With those little hands, he knows just where a woman’s g-spot is, and can…you know,” she said giggling musically.

  “Ugh! TMI! How’s a regular guy to compete?” Peter said as he pulled her closer to him and gently explored her lips, with reservations. He was no stranger to sex and had no end of opportunities while in ports or willing partners usually, but he did wonder if he could please her. She had a degree in sexology after all. He had never been with a sex professional before—never a paid one anyway. Unless you counted his sex education teacher. Mrs. Pettifog had taught him the basics, and he was an apt pupil after that with his classmates.

  Monica must have felt something in his body change. She pulled her lips away, looked into his eyes and said, “mm-- hm-- don't worry about pleasing me. This is about rewarding you. All you have to do is lay back and enjoy!” Monica said with a grin.

  “How did you know what I was thinki..?”

  She stopped his lips with a finger, “I’ve been doing this for a while, sir. I can tell from the first touch if a being has been with a sex professional before, especially if they are human. Plus, geesh, just about every client wonders about that one, even the aliens! Now me, I've always wondered why an insectoid from another planet would care how he rated, or even want to have sex with a human. I understand alternate lifestyles, and can have fun with those, but why would you want to stick a foreign part not designed for it into a human’s hooha or vice versa? I’ll punch you if you make any jokes about anal sex!” She wagged her finger in his face.

  “Uh, Monica, you are ruining the mood.”

  “Oops!” she laughed.

  “If I had a stomach, it would be turning. Get a room, you two. My sensory chips are throwing up a little into my speakers,” Shirley said in a tight voice from the air.

  “Sound advice, Shirley. Turn off all the sensors in my cabin, and do not disturb us for… hmm, four hours.”

  “Only four?” Monica chirped, seemingly offended, one eyebrow raised.

  “Um...till I let you know.”

  “Ugh, like I would watch! It's as disgusting as watching you take a dump,” Shirley said with mock horror.

  “Now there's an unpleasant thought. In the future, Shirley, all elimination, sex and bathing situations for passengers are not to be monitored: Order F-412,” Peter said coldly.

  “You didn't have to 412 me, asshole. I am aware of everything that occurs on board, but I only observe where I must and tune out the rest. I get no cheap thrills seeing you naked. Good luck the next time you have a heart attack on the crapper or hit your head in the shower. Die, see if I care, Fucktard.”

  “I think she’s jealous...” Peter whispered into Monica’s ear.

  “I heard that! Eww! I have no desire to have sex with humans, and pleasure is a human thing. Please take this disgusting display to your cabin before I have to make an emergency memory evacuation or stab my spider bot’s legs into my sensor eyes,” Shirley said.

  Peter and Monica retired to Peter’s cabin. A pleasant time was had by all with most of the day being spent happily fornicating.

  After many couplings, Monica fell back with a satisfied groan, “Oh, man! If this pirate thing doesn't work out, I could get you a job in the industry. You are pretty good at this space captain. With a few tips and pointers and lessons, I could make you a superstar!”

  “Oh, really? Only pretty good?” Peter said pushing a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes, grinning, and admiring Monica’s perfect ampl
e breasts topped with large, protuberant rosy nipples. She had a cute little spray of freckles on her chest scattered against her milky, white skin. Her flaming red hair framed her heart shaped face that was achingly beautiful this close.

  “You're not too shabby yourself, despite my sex ed teacher Mrs. Pettifog being smoking hot and a class five. You’re Farzookian.

  “That's all you can say? Not too shabby… only pretty good! You mention another woman while we just spent the day fucking? How dare you compare me to a sex ed teacher! I'm an artist as well as a professional. I hope you know, I have a PhD and a doctorate in sexology. I could put doctor in front of my name, if I so choose! My graduation thesis, “The Male Orgasm, and Its Relation to Post Modernism and Vagina Envy in a Multi-Species Society.” is considered a must-read in my field!” In mock anger, she punched him in the arm.

  “Hey! I was just teasing you. Ow! Shit!” He rubbed his arm where Monica punched him, “You are a goddess! My world was rocked! You were incredible, as you very well know. All other women pale before your majestic sexiness; although, Miss Pettifog was a close second!” Peter bowed himself before Monica in mock worship on top of the sheets.

  “Oh! You!” She punched him again, “ But that’s better,” she growled.

  ~

  In the galley, common area John, James, Oscar, Bob-Six, and Jikilenga, were settling in and killing time before takeoff. They occasionally glanced up as they heard a clang or muffled thump from the hull where Floyd and the ship’s robots were working.

  Oscar had Sam, the cockatoo robot, sitting at a booth table with her head in her hands studying the handbook to operate Sam.

  “Bly me a dink, sailor? Arrrrawk!” said Sam.

  “Buy me a drink, sailor?” said Oscar.

  “Hi me a blink, sailor? Arrrrawk!”

  “Buy me a drink, sailor?” Oscar repeated.

  “Buy me ma drink, Sailor? Arrrrawk!”

  “Hah! He almost did it perfect that time,” Oscar said triumphantly.

  “Sorry, I have a hard time hearing. My ear mics were damaged in a cat attack—I’m doing the best I can—these phases are not the unusual phrase than most beings want,” Sam the Cockatoo said.

  “Whoa! You can talk?” Oscar said surprised.

  “No one asked,” Sam the Cockatoo said seemingly crossly peering at her sideways with its one good eye.

  “Um, how long are you going to keep doing that? It's getting annoying,” James said petulantly, “can’t you do that in your cabin? That eye-patch looks ridiculous on the parrot!”

  “Oh, give me a break! I think the eye-patch I made is cute, besides, it’s eyeball kept falling out… just let me teach it, ‘Your father eats dirty panties in hell’ and I'll quit, okay? Besides, I'm putting up with you accusing the Vookin of cheating every five minutes,” she shot back at him and pointing to the game of Galactic Conquest the four were playing.

  “Wheeeet! Sweeeeet peaches of hate. Arrrrawk!” said the cockatoo.

  “Yes James, I be a teller of stories, and not adverse to illegal activity, but I be not a cheater, especially at such time-wasting activity as this,” Jikilenga said as he swept a flipper to indicate the game, “You are agitating this being most grievously, and making me most desirous of shoving sharp pointy things in you,” he added icily.

  “Vookins’ balls! We have not even left the dock, and you two are up each other’s asses! This is going to be a party after weeks in space,” John said snorting with irritation. “Uh, no offense, Jikilenga, about the balls thing.”

  “No offense taken, being named John. I'm very aware of the saying,” the Vookin said with dignity. “We Vookins are hearing the human expression, ‘he has huge balls.’ It is an indicator of courage and boldness and we are complimented, although these are not being the thing you humans call testicles but are for sensing fish.”

  “Attention crew, the ship will be ready by 0800 hours tomorrow, be there. I have a little ceremony planned before we launch,” Peter announced over the ship’s speakers.

  The next morning, with standard earth time being designated the common time frame to base activities around, a whistle went off at 0800 hours. Some were already in the galley, but for others it took another fifteen minutes to crawl out of bed and assemble in the galley as they had not reset their chronometers or even set an alarm. Peter waited impatiently as they stumbled in, got some kaff or another stimulating beverage to wake themselves up, as he sat there he started to fume. Finally, after half an hour, they were ready.

  “First off, good morning,” Peter said with irritation in his voice, I didn’t think I would have to mention it, but some semblance of discipline should be maintained. When I say assemble at a certain time, it’s not a suggestion, nor do I mean eight-ish. I expect you to be ready on time and to follow my orders while on board. You are employees, not friends; except for my partners, but I even expect them to be on time,” Peter said nodding at Oscar and Monica.

  “This is not ancient times, so for now I will not flog, keel haul, or throw you in the brig to maintain discipline, much as I would like to. I could by Captain’s right, but that's not the way I do things. But I can assign you the shittiest jobs on board, and believe me, there are quite a few: cleaning the air filters, maintaining the hydro-plant air recycling system, or making you go EVA and check the hull for damage. Hull check is dangerous, and there is a LOT of hull, lots of walking. Usually the ship takes care of that stuff, but with all these extra bodies, I'm sure the screens will clog more frequently. If you have ever cleaned an air or water filter on a ship, you’ll know it’s foul. Our waste and water is recycled… more screens. Don't piss me off!”

  “What if we refuse?” James asked sullenly.

  “Of course, you can refuse an order, but you will be confined to quarters for the duration of the trip, terminated and ejected as soon as we make the closest port with no pay. Are we clear? Remember, by ancient tradition and law, each ship is its own separate nation and the captain’s word is law. I literally have your lives in my hands. I can legally throw you out the airlock, for whatever reason if I so choose.”

  “Wow! What a hard ass!” James complained.

  “Sorry, but that's the way it is. I cannot afford having my orders questioned, or this ship will dissolve into chaos. Anyone want to leave? Now is the time.”

  Even Monica and Oscar were staring goggle-eyed at Peter, seeing a new side of him. Although Oscar was familiar with ship’s discipline having been an Imperial Marine, she had taken Peter to be a bit of a wimp.

  “Floyd is going to hand out assignments after the ceremony this morning. Floyd, include James’ duties to cleaning the air filters before we get to our destination,” Peter said coldly.

  James opened his mouth to protest, but Peter quickly interjected.

  “If anyone has a problem with the rules, or my orders, now is a good time to make your exit. I hate being a hard ass, but it’s required of a captain.” James wisely kept his mouth shut, but his face went red from anger. The rest of the crew stood silent. “Good! We are clear then?” Peter blew air out his lips and shrugged, “Alright! Then the good news is that we take off immediately after the ceremony. Floyd!” Solemnly Floyd handed a bottle of champagne to Peter.

  “OK, crew follow me,” Peter commanded them. He turned and walked to the cargo doors. “Traditionally, to christen a ship, a bottle is smashed on the keel, but that's a little impractical here. I don’t have enough suits for all of you, and the Champagne would freeze, so this will have to suffice. Here's to a successful launch, and success in our endeavors! Hail, the HMS Embarrassing Incontinence! Long may she fly!” Peter smashed the Champagne across the door.

  “Shirley, show them our surprise!” A holographic display suddenly appeared in front of their eyes, showing the exterior of the ship’s nose. Flashing in multiple colors appeared a skull and crossbones with the name HMS Incontinence in fancy script beneath.

  “I know, it’s kind of corny and anachronistic, but I don’t want to be m
istaken for a military vehicle, or the Welcome Wagon, plus, I think it’s pretty Farzookian!

  “Alright, Shirley, prepare for takeoff! Any of you who suffer from hyperspace sickness, there are pills in the galley. James, clean that up,” he pointed to the puddle of champagne.

  “What? Hey!” James protested.

  “I’m making a point, James, do you want some more?”

  “No,” James said face tight with anger.

  “Then obey orders.”

  Peter walked away followed by everyone but James. Monica ran up to him and whispered in his ear.

  “I am so turned on, I'm dripping! I had no idea you could be so, so... I don't know, tough? Authoritative? Whatever! It’s sexy as hell!”

  “Really? I suppose you would be dry humping me about now, if I'd actually flogged him,” he said wryly. “I stole most of that speech from Captain Tyrishe, The Sands of Halons Moon.”

  “Please, Monica, this was not for your benefit or mine; with so many being on-board we have to have rules.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “I'm winging this Monica. I'm just a lazy freight jockey, not a pirate mastermind. I haven't a clue what I'm doing, but play along...please?”

  Then speaking to the computer, he looked up. “Shirley use your speakers to announce our departure is in fifteen minutes.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain Bligh! I'll stow the leg-irons, give the cabin boy a bath and polish the cannons,” Shirley said sarcastically.

  Fifteen minutes later they slipped into hyperspace. VRUUUUUUUMM!

  Chapter 9: A Pirating We Will Go

  The HMS Incontinence slipped back into space, in the final staging area for travel to Hyak in-system and exiting. Peter wanted to hide behind an asteroid, or moon, and come swooping in on unsuspecting victims, but Shirley had pointed out to him that hiding simply served no purpose. Ships would be returning at random, somewhere in a spherical 100,000,000-astrological-kilometer radius of space surrounding the popular hyperspace exits. She had reminded him that it was only in the kiddy-space videos that pirates swooped in guns-a-blazing. Besides, as Shirley pointed out, there were no asteroids or moons in this section of space. That was the point of exiting here, as she said adding, “Like, duh!”