Star Hookers Space Pirates

by David A Sizemore

  “Yeah, and half that personal guard was there, eating dinner last night. They are extremely loyal since they are all boning her and then they joined in the fight, after we,” said Oscar inclining her head toward the stranger, “ended up wrestling around, it uh turned into playing grab ass; we realized it wasn't our fight, and we got—er-- friendly. Marcus, here is one of her personal guards. Uh—we became friends last night—uh…” she stammered, grinning as she talked.

  Bob-Six sat at the table calmly sipping a drink. He had declined to go with them last night. James and Jikilenga were curled in a corner still fully dressed and snoring.

  Marika and Thaliana saw the group looking at the Vookin and James. “That's as far as skinny Boy and whale butt get. You try to move drunk five-hundred-pound whale, huh? And skinny Boy-- well, we not pack mules! He asshol anyway. No do fava.”

  “OK, Ladies, we know you’re not Japanese. You can drop the fake accents. Karl told us,” Monica said.

  “What you talkin’ ‘bout! Karl-san bought us from New China IV whorehouse ten year ago! Make honest women of us,” Maricka said with a straight face.

  Karl rolled his eyes, “Told ya, they like to play act, and will not drop character for love or money.

  “Who says? How much will you pay us to speak proper galactic English? Oh-- shit,” Thaliania said in perfect Galactic English. “I knew I shouldn't have talked in the morning before getting some kaff in me,” she said, slapping her forehead.

  “Hah! Told you!” Karl said smugly.

  “Really, Karl, when are you going to stop busting up bars?” Thaliania continued, “About every few months you get a snoot-full and piss someone off with your mouth. Do you know how much we spend in bribes to local officials to keep you out of jail?”

  Putting her hand to the side of her mouth, Maricka mock whispered, “A lot! Why do you think you are not all in a cell right now? Me and Thaliania passed big sheaves of cash around, that's why. Good thing Karl owns half the town and supports a portion of the local economy from his illegal activity Even though this is a planet of criminals, they do have laws, you know. Good thing half this town depend on Karl’s -tip’s- as they call them”

  Things progressed rapidly from there. Karl called a couple of robots to pick up and dump James and Jikilenga in the Medibot to sober them up. One by one, they all took their turns at the medical station; bruises and sprains only taking a few minutes each to heal. Between showering, and other morning activities, Karl’s wives served up huge portions of a hearty breakfast; crusty sweet rolls and plenty of kaff until everyone was back to normal.

  Karl had already had his employees and robots load the shuttle with their new toys in the night, with a few lift-bots to help unload. Karl and Peter had worked all the financial details out to everyone’s satisfaction, even John’s. Peter had even purchased two SFB’s—otherwise known as a Smart Funny Bomb as a just-in-case measure, not that he had a way to launch it, but they were on sale.

  Oscar came to Peter later and hesitantly spoke with him.

  “Hey, Peter, can I talk to you a minute?” Oscar said timidly, unlike her normal cocky attitude.

  “Sure,” he said, putting down a technical instruction manual on a piece of equipment they had bought. “What's up?”

  “Are we taking on any more crew?

  “I hadn't really thought about it, but I'm listening.” He crossed his arms and looked intently at Oscar, curious.

  “Uh, that guy I met last night is one of the honor Guard for Princess Halidoben. He is a trained soldier. I think he would make a good addition to the crew. He is not happy here. All the honor guard does is, uh, look Ceremonial, and keep the Princess, um—happy. He wants out.”

  “Yeah, he’s tired of being the Princess’s personal penis patrol,” Heshe added.

  “SHUTUP!” Oscar said through gritted teeth.

  “I see, so, do you think he would make a good pirate, err… crew, or are you just infatuated with him?” Peter asked.

  “I truly think he would be a good member of the team. We talked a lot, uh—you know, after. He has years of military training, unlike the rest of the crew,” Oscar relayed proudly.

  “And he can lick the chrome off a rocket nose-cone! Wow! What a tush, we―” Heshe said excitedly from Oscar's skirt.

  “You... shut... up!” Oscar hissed, outraged, between clenched teeth again, “or I swear, I’ll …”

  “Sure. I trust your judgment. Bring him aboard, but we leave in an hour. Can he be ready by then?” Peter said with a smile.

  Oscar visibly swayed as if she was expecting to hit a locked door with her shoulder, only to have it fly open before her. “Uh, thanks, Captain. I don't know how to thank you! I swear, if he doesn't pull his weight, I'll...”

  “No problem, Oscar. He'll have to bunk with you, though. I only have so many cabins, and no time to add one. Not that I would until I see how he works out, anyway.”

  “Oh, it won't be easy, but we will try to soldier on and put up with the inconvenience! He, he, he!” Heshe added lecherously.

  “Right. So, go tell your friend the good news, and get ready to leave. You have less than an hour,” he said, looking at his Data-com.

  ~

  Finally, it was time to leave, and Peter and Karl made all the usual promises to call more often and not take so long between visits, or even settle there. It was a thought, Peter had told him, and he would honestly consider being a criminal on Milyorks.

  The flight back to the ship went without incident, and Peter had Floyd, John, and James stowed the new equipment and cargo as he discussed the final details of destination with Shirley. They were going to first visit the space-lanes of a capital world. the Midas system to be exact, so named for being rich in resources. Of course, being so rich, it only took humans and other races to strip it of most its resources in two centuries. It now relied on a heavy stream of imports to keep it going. It promised to be a rich hunting ground.

  Shirley announced over the ship’s speakers that they needed to prepare for hyperspace, take their pills, hold onto their titties; the usual drill, and they winked out of Milyorks space.

  VRRRUUUUMMM!

  Chapter 15: A Few Romps in Space

  The Midas Star system, comprised of two planets named Punyam and Xing-Xing in a solar system riddled with riches, and the usual sun-blasted- frozen rocks and gas giant planets-- reflected most settlers’ ancestry from the ancient Earth country of China. The Incontinence planned to go nowhere near them.

  The twin planet system was crowded with space traffic. All ships in space had transponders that gave off a unique signal so that ships could avoid collisions and materializing inside each other—exploding-- as well as for tracking and identification. Floyd with Shirley’s help had changed theirs to disguise who they were.

  They could hide next an asteroid and then dart out quickly when a suitable ship was detected close by. It could be days before a ship materialized close enough to loot, so Peter had the crew drill with the new equipment. They enjoyed their new toys tremendously.

  The ladies had gone for the diamond encrusted, Hello Kitty masks and armor much to Karl’s disgust. As they said to Peter, sure they are pretty, but they still protect, right? Peter wondered at the persistence of Hello Kitty’s popularity among women. Why had it lasted for more than three-and-a-half centuries? Many sociologists had studied the phenomenon, wrote thousands of dissertations, yet the phenomenon remained unexplained, although there were many theories. For the life of him, he could not imagine how a cartoon cat appealed to some deep-seated human need or instinct, especially in women. It was one of those lovely, unexplained mysteries of life.

  Peter was bemused to find a couple of Exo-Suits packed in with their new goodies with a note from Karl:

  Hey, buddy, I know it's extravagant, but everyone needs an edge. I can afford to give you some, with these suits. Maybe stay alive with this stupid path you’re on. I already have more money than I can spend, and well, I like you. Besides, you s
aved my bacon a couple of times if I recall. Maybe these will help return the favor. I got a deal on these, so to speak. They’re used, but functional, so don't think it actually cost me a half-mill each. They fell off of the cargo deck, if you catch my drift! Enjoy! XOXO, Karl.

  PS: You are living dangerously asshole-- being a pirate. You do know what they will do to you if they catch you at pirating don’t you? Go back to smuggling Idiot; I could give you some work if you want.

  Peter shook his head. That was Karl... always had an Earth-Texan attitude; you bought lunch, I'll buy the luxury vehicles.

  Peter got to know their new crew member Marcus better. He seemed a decent sort, and definitely showed his military background. He was a decent shot, disciplined to boot. Heshe was a lot happier, uncomplaining, and Oscar was happy as a Flox in excrement.

  Sooner than Peter had expected, Shirley announced that a suitable ship was near.

  “Hey, Numb-nuts! A freighter just materialized about a hundred-and-fifty kilometer away. A big one; about 300,000 tons! Larger than us! Pursue?”

  “Does the Galactic adviser shit on a glow-metal throne? Go, you idiot! Move it!” Peter shouted.

  “No reason to be insulting,” Shirley sniffed.

  “Oh, my God! Like you should talk!”

  The Incontinence pulled slowly away from the backside of the asteroid, gaining speed; hydrogen engines working at top capacity, all retro rockets blasting to go faster. Peter put the exterior view on the holovid for the crew in the galley figuring they might want to watch.

  He announced to Shirley and the crew, “Get ready! Battle armor, weapons! I'm not screwing around this time! Yeee-haw!” He yelled, excited despite himself, feeling utterly prepared this time with their new armor and weapons, confident that they could handle anything.

  They complied and geared up, but even at a five-thousand-km-per hour race it was boring as races go-- the freighter, at a hundred-and-fifty kilometers, was still just a bright dot in the distance, slowly growing bigger. Finally, after twenty agonizingly slow minutes, the freighter was visibly discernible.

  “So, can we go in guns a blazing, like in the kiddy vids?” Marcus asked.

  “No! Sheesh! Grow up, will you? This isn’t like in the Holovids” Peter said, wincing inwardly.

  “They are within grappling range,” Shirley said.

  Hailing the other ship, Shirley continued, “Attention, Dodgeson’s Comet! Do you read me?”

  “Sure, I do! I saw you coming up on my sensors. No, hotshot! I do not want to race you to Xing-Xing.”

  Peter looked puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘race you,’ Dodgeson’s Comet?”

  “Oh, don't be coy! I must get one of you space jockeys on the inward leg, every other month pulling up beside me on the way to port, racing their engines. Showing that flashy paint-job and that skull…I bet you got flames painted on your engine cowlings too, and fuzzy dice hanging in your rear view-port, don't ya punk? Immature ass!”

  “Um, no, I am not a young punk. I’m a pirate, we want your cargo. Shut your engines off and prepare to be boarded--Shirley, fire some shots across his bow to show him we mean business!”

  “Whoa! Hey. Pirates?”

  “Exactly! Shut your engines down, or I will use my EMP on you; and turn your electronics to mush, or worse!” Peter uttered with authority, he hoped.

  “Well, shit! Shutting engines down! My name is Captain Philips, by the way.”

  “Anyone else on board besides you?”

  “My wife Belinda and our pet cat.” He started to sound a bit fearful now.

  “Please don't resist, and no one will be harmed.”

  “No trouble out of me; the cargo’s insured. Don't that beat all! Pirates! Who would think I'd ever get pirated?”

  “You won't be raping me, will you?” a female voice asked, sounding hopeful more than fearful. “If you have dozens of sweaty, hairy, smelly pirates waiting to ravage me, and ripping my clothes off, I won't resist, if you will only spare our lives.”

  “Sorry, we only want your cargo, ma’am,” Peter said flatly.

  “Oh shoot-- I mean thank God!” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “Sure, you don't want me to rape her, Captain? I don't mind. It doesn't sound like there is going to be any fighting,” said Heshe hopefully from under Oscar’s skirt.

  “Uh, thanks, but no, Heshe. Not necessary,” said Peter.

  Marcus was giving Oscar dirty looks. Oscar raised her hands and arms cocking her head and stretched them helplessly toward her new boyfriend as if to say, ‘it wasn't me!’

  Shirley matched speed with the freighter, aligned herself, and fired the magnetic grapples to pull them in to line up the hatches.

  “So, what are you hauling, Dodgeson’s Comet?” Peter asked politely.

  “Beats me, I just fly cargo. They hardly ever tell me what the load is, unless its explosives, corrosives, or dangerous, but I hardly ever do that. Military hauls their own,” Phillips added.

  “Yeah, you're probably right. It’s been so long since I hauled a legitimate cargo. I forgot they don't tell the pilot what they are hauling. Alright let's go take a look and see if we'll be smiling.”

  After a short walk from their ship into the Dodgeson’s cargo hold, instead of looking for a crowbar to open a crate, Peter said in invitation, “Floyd, the honor is all yours.”

  Floyd grabbed a corner of a crate, and with nails and screws squealing and popping, he ripped some boards away to reveal an agricultural planting robot. Peter indicated another crate, and Floyd opened that one revealing another type of robot.

  Looking around, Peter observed Phillips and his wife watching them from the observation window looking down into the hold. He walked over, ran up the short steps, and undogged the hatch, “Captain, do you have an invoice all for this stuff somewhere, so I don't have to open all the crates, and make a mess in your hold?”

  Captain Phillips scratched his head. “Sure. You betcha. Right here,” he said, and pulled some flimsy sheets from a plastic holder attached to the wall, handing it to Peter.

  Peter ran his eyes over the list quickly and whistled. Over two thousand farm and domestic robots were listed on the invoice. “Perfect!” They could not have come across a better cargo.

  In a few hours the cargo bay was cleared, and they had discovered that Dodgeson’s Comet had a Medi-bot hidden in a corner. As they pushed it toward the hatch, Captain Philips finally started to protest.

  “Come on, really-- my Med-bot-- what if I get sick?”

  “What? You are, like hours from port! What's your problem?” Peter said, irritated.

  “Uh, what if I get a paper cut, or something?” the captain complained.

  “Tie a tourniquet around your neck to stop the bleeding,” Peter quipped.

  “What?”

  “Never mind, deal with it. We're taking it and your lift-bots. See ya! We done here, guys?” Getting nods, Peter strode confidently from the freighter, followed by John, James, and Bob pushing the Medi-bot.

  “I could become depressed after being pirated! What if I get terminal diarrhea?” Phillip shouted behind them,” I have iron poor bloo―” His frantic shouts were cut off by the closing of the hatch door.

  “For Tarcacks sake! Is that guy an ultra-hypochondriac, or what?” Peter said to no one in particular, shaking his head in wonder.

  It was a half day later that Shirley announced to Peter in his cabin, “Attention! I have spotted a small space-yacht a short way from here. This would make a perfect shuttle vehicle. You told me to keep a scanner peeled for such a vehicle. Its dimensions would fit nicely in our cargo hold, Captain Retard. Should I set course?”

  “Uh, sure, that sounds great! Make it so,” Peter said, unconsciously pulling the sheets up over his groin. He and Monica had been right in the middle of sex. Things had returned to somewhat normal between them, they just ignored the elephant in the room for now-- feelings. Peter was slightly irritated to be interrupted, but ecstatic that they had locat
ed something suitable for a shuttle.

  “Make it so? What do you think you are? Captain Picard, of the Starship fricking Enterprise now? And you don't have to pull the sheets up. Like I would look, for Tarcacks sake!” Shirley said in her usual bitchy voice.

  “So, how did you know I was pulling the sheets up? And captain who?” Peter asked curious.

  “Shit! You got me! I had to take a peek to see if you were asleep. You never heard of Star Trek, the Next Generation? Thought you were the history buff.” Shirley said somewhat sheepishly, with just a touch of her usual snarky tone.

  “I never saw the later series... or the fourteen TV series after it or any of the movies...Wait a minute! I thought I locked you out of viewing any sleeping, bathing, or elimination areas?”

  “Listen, Dickless. When I am given such an order, it can be ignored in an emergency, or when informed to notify someone of a situation, like I just did. Fuck! Read the manual sometime when you’re not boffing the bimbo!”

  “Who are you calling a Bimbo, you motherless, metal prude!” Monica said, tossing a pillow at Shirley’s holographic image floating at the foot of the bed.

  “Sticks and stones, bee-atch!” Shirley's image winked at Monica and disappeared.

  “See! I told you she was jealous!” Monica said, having the last word.

  “Let's have the ship on screen, Shirley.”

  Peter looked closely at the yacht floating in space before him. It did look like it would fit nicely in the hold. He was amused to see that the yacht was painted in orange tiger stripes that fluoresced, shimmered, and winked. It had more tail fins than was strictly necessary for planetary maneuvering and atmospheric flight, and they were painted with Day-Glo flames. Peter thought this being was either immature, having a second childhood, or a spoiled rich kid. It was garish. The name, Scooter’s Toy, was emblazoned across the side in fancy script.

  Suddenly a voice blared from the speakers.

  “Hey, space freighter! You are getting too close! Back off, you piece of crap! This ship costs more than two of yours. Don't scratch my paint, or I'll sue the pants of ya, Flox-shit-for-brains!”