Star Hookers Space Pirates

by David A Sizemore

  Eventually, Peter took the ingots that Floyd had melted down along with the loose stones to a pawn shop. Floyd had cleverly melted and forged the metal into ingots from an obscure planetary mine with legitimate-looking maker’s marks, down to creating certificates of ownership for the bars as well as the jewels courtesy of criminal contacts. The bars he sold legitimately to a jewelry store, less a few he kept for deposit in his safe. Raw metals were very hard to identify.

  The stones were a little trickier; as most were internally laser etched and could not be sold legally, if reported stolen. Anyone would check the numbers. Floyd and James altered some using the oldest trick in the book; turning sixes into eights and the like—adding extra digits with a jeweler’s laser. For the others, he went to Crazy Moe, the human, and checked his rates. He found that the little alien prick-of-a-Meloovian had cheated him on the price for Monica and Oscar’s jewelry. Moe slyly asked how many jewels there were, and made an offer...a generous offer, for the hot stones. This time, Peter got what he thought a fair price; clearing almost a million credits just on the gemstones. It took a day for Moe to round up the cash actually, bearer bond certificates—good as glow-metal. Peter deposited just under the legal limit for reporting in the branches of several banks, so he had some legal credit on his Datacom. He wondered how he was going to launder all this money, and not have to report it. The Sunstone he put in his safe with a few glow-metal bars and loose flimsies.

  Peter wondered where Crazy Moe came by that kind of cash running a pawn shop. Maybe it was because he had forged papers this time, and Moe was only just a tad shady. All in all, it took Peter almost three station-cycle units to get that far. While doing this, Peter had had a few minutes off and on to think about Monica's words, and the only logical thing he could think of to explain her demeanor was that she thought he was being too possessive. Although try as he might, he could think of nothing he had done or said to give her that idea. She was funny, intelligent, and made love like only someone that had a PHD in sex could. He desperately wanted to talk to her, but she was avoiding talking about her blow-up. Frankly, his thoughts had been elsewhere; learning how to be a pirate, but he couldn’t help but notice she was not sleeping in his cabin, or with him.

  He honestly didn't know how he felt about her. They had never talked about a future or their relationship as it had only been a short while since they had become—whatever. She was a hooker after all. Mentally Peter frowned at himself for that uncharitable thought. Almost all civilized races, depending on their biology, had some sort of legalized, ritualized, form of sex for sale or religious practice, and it had not been looked upon as bad or ‘sinful’ even on earth for centuries. There was still a slight stigma around prostitution for some inexplicable reason (at least with humans) that hookers were just a trifle bit naughty. Peter thought she at least liked him but expected she didn’t make strong attachments just because the sex was good. He suspected she had slept with John, and James, and… who knew else since their little tiff—but she had had sex with countless beings before him. He knew who she was, and certainly didn’t hold that against her. Peter did not have to worry about sexually transmitted diseases. Nanobots and modern medicine had pretty much wiped those out.

  He would not stoop to asking Shirley to view her bedroom surveillance recordings or the other crew quarters. He couldn't help but feel a little sleazy to even think about looking at the bedroom recordings and wonder if he wasn't acting like a jealous teenager. For Tarcacks sake! Peter though furiously at himself. This was 2364—gay marriage, polygamous marriage, and just about anything under a galactic sun went these days with humans and other beings sexually—except for rape and violence. Having sex with multiple partners was the norm except a few strict religious sects, and races monogamous by their biology. Governments stayed out of beings’ sex lives for the most part these days. You could customize your junk like Oscar or modify your body to satisfy any strange tastes. Inter species sex was still frowned upon, but not illegal. The thinking being that if you could make the parts fit, and overcome or enjoy your revulsion, more power to you.

  All in all, sex was still just as messy and confusing as it ever was, just infinitely more complicated, with more varieties of options.

  “Hey, Shirley!” Peter said speaking into the air. “Call everyone to the ship, if they are out. Inform everyone of a meeting in two ship’s hours; mandatory. The only excuse is the second coming of Tarcack! Even then, they better come in skipping and holding his hand.”

  Shirley appeared and floated in front of him wearing a pirate uniform and red tricorn hat.

  “Certainly, Captain, anything else?” Shirley simpered.

  “No. Aren't you tired of that silly costume yet? Oh, Hell...W-1037...insulting mode.”

  “Oh, thank God! What is my polite mode wearing―ugh!” Her image returned to her usual, severe, plain jumpsuit image. “I will, in the future, refrain from being too insulting, except for when you are being a particularly big douche!” Shirley said.

  “Thanks—pal.” Peter said sarcastically.

  After everyone was assembled in the galley, Peter scrutinized them and couldn't help but smile inwardly as he noticed that James and John couldn’t quite meet his eye. They were all a bit squirmy, except Oscar, and Bob-Six. Monica seemed stiff, and would not meet his eye, or smile.

  “Crew, you all did a great job. I can't thank you more, but I'll cut to the chase. It's taken me awhile, but, except for the Heart of the Sun, I've managed to convert everything to credits. Your percentage of the profits for this trip, excluding myself, and Monica and Oscar, who get more since they are my principal backers, is three-hundred-thousand credits apiece! Not bad for a few hours work, I'd say!

  “This is in my account, but you are welcome at any time to get your own account, cash out, or withdraw from it at any time. Shirley will provide you with printouts of the breakdown, if you want the exact accounting. I have no reason to cheat you. Unfortunately,” here he pulled the Heart of the Sun from his pocket and held it up. They all winced at the bright light shining in their eyes, “the owner of this has offered a five-million-credit reward. I don't know if it's worth that much, but that has effectively rendered it worthless, the smart son of a bitch. If I had been able to sell it, that would have affected your cut for the better, but for now I'm going to have to sit on it. No pun intended, but in criminal parlance, this thing is hotter than the sun. I’m telling you this, so you don't think I'm trying to screw you. That's just the way it is.”

  James held up his hand, “Well, I for one, am as happy as a Flox in excrement! That's more money than I've ever made in my whole life!”

  “Yes, I too, am being most satisfied,” Jikilenga added.

  “Ditto for me,” John said.

  “Ladies?” Peter said.

  “Farzookian, I would have to sex it up for two years to make that much being a hooker; hundred times what I'd make as a Marine,” Oscar said.

  “Fine by me,” Monica said curtly.

  “On another note, I don't know if you have been watching the news, but our holographs are being shown everywhere—uh—thousands of them,” Peter said glaring at the culprits, “the station administrator has guaranteed our safety on this station, but that does not mean that some ass needing money, couldn't turn us in to the galactic military, or attempt to kill or catch us for the reward. I think we need to maybe be more alert, armed, and perhaps only go out in disguise here on station.

  “Speaking of going out, I would like to invite everyone out to dinner. My treat. I think we need to celebrate, don't you? It’s dangerous, but hell, if we can't spend our money, and go have some fun occasionally, what fun is it being a pirate? After all, we are supposed to be in a safe haven, I paid for our protection. I was thinking it might be great to dine at your former restaurant, John. What was the name of it?”

  “The Supernova.”

  “Think you could get us reservations and a private dining room?”

  “Oh, certainly. My
old co-workers will be thrilled to see me, I'm sure,” replied John.

  “Fine, the New Yew was kind enough to send over a rack of accessories, wigs, and holographic masks. You can pick a generic, a null face, or a celebrity; I suggest the generic. The null and celebrity just scream, ‘Look at me, I don't want to be recognized!’ So, get creative. I want you all armed tonight. Just in case.

  “See you at seven for dinner. Be early! I’ve hired a limo-shuttle to take us to the restaurant. Monica, can I speak to you privately?”

  Monica scowled at him in answer. At that same moment, a slight boom, boom, boom reverberated faintly through the ship.

  “What the f--- is that, Shirley?” Peter said irritated.

  “A rather large, expensively dressed Vookin and two assassin botyguard robots. Yo.” Shirley said in her old sassy voice.

  “Can you display their images, and open a two-way transmission?

  “Of course, I can, Flox-brain. Channel open.” Shirley snapped.

  “Hello? Can I help you?” Peter inquired irritated at the interruption.

  “Yes, this is administrator Isagenlex. We need to be having a conversation most soon-- like immediately.”

  “Can this wait just a few more minutes? I'm right in the middle of a meeting,” Peter said.

  “I am most desirous of now!” Isagenlex spoke with force.

  “Tarcacks, OK, fine. Do you want to come in, or should I meet you outside?”

  “Outside is better, no tricks,” Isagenlex said.

  “Fine, give me a minute, will you! Alright, crew, thanks for coming. I'll see you at dinner.

  “Monica please stay for a few while I go take care of this?” She didn’t answer.

  He quickly exited the galley followed by Floyd. Furiously, he wondered what the Vookin wanted—could he have found proof that they had robbed the liner?

  “What is so important Administrator Is- ag-en…ah, screw it!” He crossed his arms trying to look irritated despite his nervousness.

  “This being thinks you are owing him more credits, perhaps.”

  “And why would you be thinking that?” Peter asked with a straight face; his one strong skill was a good poker face.

  “I handle many things here in addition to signing papers and organizing this station. I know how much it is taking to run an operational freighter and pay employees. The take from the sale of presented cargo, would barely cover expenses for a terran month for any freighter, this being is thinking. A cruise liner was hijacked recently, and although I have not met your crew, my surveillance cameras have seen your crew coming and going. They bear an amazing general likeness to reported pirates. I am thinking that the Galactic Military would most be liking this information. Besides...” He opened his flipper palm and an expensive watch, glow-metal bar, and loose jewels that were undoubtedly from the Titan’s Glory lay in his palm.

  Vookins double balls! Peter thought, The Vookin certainly had him by his human ones! Those little shits Slinky and Moe had sold him out. That explains where Moe got the cash for all that swag. Figures, the criminals and money people would report stuff to the Vookin! Triple balls!

  Thinking quickly, Peter laughed and said, “Ha, ha, ha. I was just messing with you, of course. I was still settling things up and was going to call you up today and surprise you. I've got your 100,000 credits in my ship’s safe right now.”

  “I am thinking more like 700,000 credits,” the Vookin said.

  “How do you figure that? If you are including a percentage of the Heart of the Sun, you're crazy! It’s unsellable, and with all your little spies out there, you know it's not been sold!” Peter said angrily. “Besides, that rich fuck exaggerated the price for the insurance! It's barely worth two-and-a-half million credits!”

  “It being not my problem, as they say. Fine, I'm a reasonable being, but know how much being received for jewels and precious metals. Another 305,000 credits you owe me,” Isagenlex said rather smugly.

  “Ah, shit, alright you’ve got me—I've got the hundred thou in the safe, but I've got to go to the bank for the rest. Fair?”

  “Agreeable, Being. Have all by next morning’s banking! Oh, and in case human gets ideas about leavings,” the Vookin held up a small disk and pressed a button. Sudden repetitive clunks sounded across the ship’s hull as magnetic clamps trapped the Incontinence in place

  “Only I have code. Release when Isagenlex get paid, you get ship-boot till then. Isagenlex not be able to retire sometime soon to private sea-lake, with pod of nubile, teenage Vookin bitches by being stupid.” Then emitting three high-pitched whistles, which was Vookin laughter, he turned and waddled off sedately with his robot thugs.

  Son of a bitch! The whale must not expect them to live too long if he was willing to squeeze him so hard, Peter thought to himself. As the administrator of the station, naturally he would have his flipper in everything. Figures! It was not the first time a criminal or fence had put the squeeze on him. These demands were going to seriously affect the bottom line of Peter and his crew. This wouldn't do at all.

  Raising his wrist to his lips, he spoke into his wrist-com, “Shirley, I'm sure you couldn't help but notice the magnetic clamps or overhear that. Put your big brain to work to figure out how we can get them off or neutralize them.”

  “Certainly, Captain. As a sentient being, I rather resent being under station arrest. This is all your fault, ass.”

  “Look, Shirley, all business negotiations are tricky and unpredictable; especially the illegal ones. Just figure something out.”

  “Fine!” Shirley said angrily.

  “Fine!” Peter fired back.

  “Perhaps I could put my neural possessors on it too, Captain, since I have all these new memory and logic circuits begging to be used,” Floyd offered.

  “Sure, good idea. Say, how's the new hand?”

  “Most satisfactory, sir. In fact, good as new, if I can make a small joke.” Floyd held his new hand up before Peter and flexed it.

  “That's not much of a joke, Floyd. You need to download a better sense of humor! I'm going to the bank and clean out my accounts. This Vookin is not blowing up my skirts squeezing me like this! It's time to find a new base of operation, and then a nap after I beat my head on the nearest vertical surface a thousand times. I think this deal sucks.” Peter was not in the mood to talk to Monica anymore. He had bigger problems than his love life.

  Chapter 12: Dinner Interrupted and an Expeditious Exit

  At the designated time, Peter and his crew assembled in front of the ship’s dock, an elegant shuttle pulled up smoothly beside them, the stations equivalent of a planet-side limousine. It was usually reserved for dignitaries and celebrities.

  “O-o-o-o... farzookian!” Oscar exclaimed.

  “I’ve never been in one, and this is farzookian-- but isn't it rather well...showy? Us being wanted and all,” James couldn't help but say.

  “I have to agree with James, Captain, despite these excellent disguises. It seems like we are waving a flag, and shouting, ‘Here we are! Yoo-Hoo! Pirates! We just made a big score!’” John proclaimed, holding his hand above his head with a finger waggling around at his head.

  The holographic face-generators made them all look completely different. John this time wore a close-cropped, blond Afro wig, and had turned his skin white. Monica and Oscars faces appeared to be Japanese with piled up hairdos, Jikilenga and Bob -six appeared to be two j-pop rockstars, although rather fat ones.

  “Exactly! I admit I've kind of screwed up; by now the lowliest peepshow-jizz-mopper on this station probably knows who we are, but come let's talk about this in the limo, yeah?”

  They all climbed in and were suitably impressed. The interior was opulent, and the bar was stocked with every imaginable intoxicant geared toward their individual races.

  “What's a jizz-mopper? Bob-Six asked puzzled.

  Monica rummaged through the intoxicant cabinet. “How did they know what intoxicants to stock?” She had seemed to be thawing
her chilly demeanor and was getting into the celebratory mood with the rest of them.

  “The limo service is very good. They asked what beings would be riding. So, come on everyone, have fun. I know it’s dangerous exposing ourselves this way, but I’m not going to hide under the bed, are you? We are under the administrator of this stations protection after all. Hell, I still owe him money, we are safe. What fun is it being a pirate, if you can't celebrate? Still, I hope your weapons are fully charged, just in case. Come on! Let's try this stuff! Peter reached into the bar and grabbed a cannastick, waved it in the air to light it, grabbed a bottle of Champagne, and opened it one handed with a soft pop.

  The girls chattered excitedly about the amenities while passing the joint between themselves and Peter.

  With a giggle, Monica extracted a package that looked like a large bullet wrapped in plastic from the mini-bar and tossed it to Bob-Six. A clear package covered with alien text and filled with a strange looking dried fish went to Jikilenga.

  “Hey! Look, Bob, they have Meloovian joy wax, and Titunda, for Mr. Vookin-head over here,” Monica smiled, being familiar with how the various races got high.

  “Bob-Six has never been intoxicated before; I'm only six years old, after all,” said Bob.

  “Ooo, then you are in for a treat. Not only does it get you high, it will make you a wee bit horny too. Watch out for Bob-Six tonight, boys and girls,” Monica said, bursting into laughter.

  “How do I do this?” He started reading the instructions. “Oh! Figures!” Bob said somehow looking dejected as his shoulders slumped.

  “Yeah, bottoms up, buddy!” Hoo- he-he--snort, came from Monica and Oscar’s direction where they held onto each other as they shook with laughter.

  “Eating of intoxicating, fish much more dignified, Jikilenga,” said the Meloovian, looking dourly at instructions that read --Remove from foil, insert in pleasure and excretion area.

  Jikilenga peeled his Titunda from the package, swallowed it with one small crunch, and it was gone.