Star Hookers Space Pirates

by David A Sizemore

  Monica was considering opening her own brothel. She knew that business better than being a pirate, which had been exciting in a way, but was way too dangerous. At least a house of prostitution was legal.

  Peter was just flat-out bored within a week. He was sending out offers to lease the Incontinence or shipping someone else’s goods. There had been a few offers he was considering, but he lacked enthusiasm. He was not a businessman, and he didn’t really need the money anymore.

  Lirley was still in Shirley’s drone body. They had not bothered to buy a new shuttle craft yet, but she wasn't complaining. She was experiencing a multi-being society and exploring a whole world first-hand instead of reading about it, for once. There was talk about cloning her a body. Unlike Shirley—Lirley found everything about organic life fascinating.

  A few weeks later Peter was roused out of his stupor, and ennui to take a subspace call, by Lirley in her robot body standing at the foot of his bed shaking his leg via his foot.

  “What the… Lirley? I was sleeping.” Peter lied, he was actually passed out drunk, hastily pulling on a none too clean T-shirt.

  “Shirley didn't say; other than it was mandatory, important, and a right now thing. Come on Daddy-o, shake a leg and all that shit.”

  Grumbling and stumbling as he was still a little inebriated, Peter followed after Lirley to Karl’s communication center.

  Lirley indicated a chair, and Peter rubbed his red eyes trying to focus.

  A holoscreen popped into view in front of him, revealing a male human with a receding hairline. He looked vaguely familiar, like he was someone famous, but Peter couldn't quite recall who.

  “Greetings! Peter Farlon, I presume?”

  “Uh... hello. Yeah, who are you, and what the hell do you want with me?” Peter said crossly.

  Instead of being offended, the figure smiled and said, “I am the Galactic Emperor, Haliphon the fourth. Well, well, the infamous pirate, Peter Farlon in the flesh. I am very glad to meet you. The Universe owes you a great debt of gratitude for removing the scourge of Quaxxin. Hmm, forgive me for mentioning it, but you look like shit.”

  “It does-- I do?” Peter sat up a little straighter and gulped. Trying to sober up. Holy shit! The guy that basically runs the Nine Worlds? “I mean, it does!”

  “Not only that, you eliminated one of the biggest manufacturers and distributors of the drug too, while you were at it. With the removal of the source, it’s not just fading out as dealers sell out their last stockpiles of the drug, but it’s completely stopped. Frankly, that’s unprecedented with illegal drugs. Of course, we are having to deal with millions of addicts scattered across the Nine Worlds going through withdrawals, but it’s easier to help them recover when they can't be tempted by more. If you hadn't been a murderous pirate, you would be a hero!”

  “Uh...thanks…” Peter said, unsure of where this was going.

  “Yes, which kind of leaves us with the problem of what to do with you. Unfortunately, you are a hero and a celebrity to some. We could just ignore you on Milyorks,” and Haliphon sat back here, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes at Peter, “but you know, we cannot condone piracy and the citizens of a space station even if they were engaged in illegal activity-- you shouldn’t just be allowed to kill beings, but you also stopped the bloody reign of Dr. Morrissey on the artifact. You did kill some number of Marines. I just saw the recently released, ‘Peter and the Pirates.’ Quite a story, but I doubt you live in the belly of an immense space dragon, since there is no such thing. Of course, Hollyworld won’t let a little thing like the truth get in the way of a good story. What to do? What to do?”

  He picked up a stylus and tapped it against his teeth. Then he leaned forward, and he smiled his politician’s smile.

  “Well...I actually do know what we are going to do…” Haliphon said holding up a finger for emphasis, “I just had to let you sweat for a few seconds... of course, there are some folks who are most inclined to give all of you to the Exinderins to be put in a box and made to suffer a seeming eternity of mind searing agony, in pain and screaming torture, on the torture channel, but I'm not vindictive. Fortunately for you, your AI has been paying a small army of lawyers to work this deal, who in turn have been paying a platoon of spin doctors, and political pundits to come up with a solution. Humph,” he mused and picked up a data pad to read from.

  “You were flying a Hyack flag when battling the said Marines, so technically, you were within your rights to protect yourself; causalities of war, blah, blah, and a bunch of legalese I don't pretend to understand.

  Of course, I could just give you a pardon. I have that power, but the political fallout would be tremendous in spite of your heroics, as I'm sure you can understand. I can’t afford to appear soft on crime. I hate to sound so callous, but I am called upon to make thousands of decisions every day that affect countless billions of lives—a few Marines-- pfft! On the charges that you did willfully ignore the prohibition about contact with the Lavana’s and provided them proscribed technology. The Nine worlds council had been close to opening negotiations to admit them into the galactic union and open diplomatic ties anyway, we just fudged the date a little and it was presto-- not against the law anymore to have relations with them-- anymore. As for the space station of Boss’s, as everyone was in on the manufacturing of an illegal drug there or in some way working for a criminal we dropped the charges against everyone in exchange for them keeping silent about the Lavana raid and acts of cannibalism.

  The piracy charges are serious, but in light of your contributions to the eradication of Quaxxin, catching and stopping the notorious, cold-blooded- killer, Dr. Jane Morrissey—blah, blah-- more legalese-- heretofore and forthwith, you are cleared of all charges and free to travel among the Nine Worlds without fear of arrest, etc.” Haliphon looked up and squinted at Peter, “You’re just lucky you did some good stuff while cutting up out there in the Universe, and your AI hired some good lawyers! Oh, by the way-- Dong Xi demands you return their “artifact. But as we know it’s simply impossible to move a moon, we don’t take their claim to seriously.” Haliphon smiled at Peter.”

  Peter was stunned. “Uh—err—I don't know what to say, Emperor—to say this is most unexpected, is uh, well...”

  “You could say 'Thank you, Galactic Emperor Haliphon, the fourth—you’re welcome! I owe you one!’” he said with a grin.

  “T-t-thanks Galactic emp―” Peter started to say, but the leader of the Nine Worlds cut him off.

  “And I do mean you owe me—big time”! He slammed a fist on the table for emphasis, “even though the unwashed mob thinks you’re a hero, I still think we should boil you in yoppal oil for a thousand years. But someday I may need you to pay back a favor to me. You are either very resourceful, or the luckiest son of a flox eater that ever lived, you pretty much sucked as pirates, but you are welcome. Oh, and by the way you are expected on the government planet of Xing Xing in two weeks. Your public exoneration is contingent on you attending the large ceremony in your honor where you will accept this acquittal: apologize to all the people you have hurt, give a rather large check to the Marines’ Widows and Orphans Fund, pay restitution to everyone else you have robbed, confess your sins, say how sorry you are, and vow to give up piracy forever in front of sixty trillion beings. Maybe make an honest woman out of that woman you impregnated or at least offer child support.”

  “Wait a minute, I –I mean we…”

  “Believe me, it won't be hard, and you won't want for money after this, or have any need for it unless you are incredibly greedy, psychotic or stupid. Do you know how much money you are going to make? Talk shows. Book deals. Movie rights. Product endorsements. Oh-- the mind boggles!”

  Peter’s face must have been blank with shock. The Galactic Emperor’s face went from scowl to kind smile when he looked up to check out the effect this was having on Peter, the recent miscreant.

  “Don't worry! I have a team of writers from all the main races working on you
r speech as we speak, telling you what to say! If we don't have trillions of beings weeping across the Nine Worlds, I'll eat my ceremonial hat! And we do mean it! NO-- MORE-- PIRACY. If you don’t comply, the deal is off, and I'll make it my personal mission to try and find something more horrible than eternal mind torture for you! Are we clear on that, Peter?”

  “Uh, sure, I would be a fool to turn this down... I never wanted to be a pirate anyway. You see—I--uh...”

  “Sorry, Peter, but I don't give a flying Pouklett fruit how, why, or when you became a pirate, just be here on Xing Xing in two weeks; not that I’m giving you a choice. I'll be sending a courier with all the details, a wardrobe consultant, makeup and speech specialists, along with a contingent of Marines to make sure you don't miss your appointment? Sound fair?”

  “Yes, sir. I'll be ther…”Peter started to say, but he was talking to a blank screen.

  Peter sat back in the chair and let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It was a bit much to take in; to go from being the most wanted man in the Universe, to being off the hook, as long as he played along.

  Not that he was going to refuse the Emperors offer, although it was galling having it rammed down his throat like that. Unlike the antihero in a bad Holovid, he was not going to be the rebel and say no thanks. He never expected such a deal, after all, and he couldn't see that he was going to get a better deal anywhere else. And hey, he was to meet the most powerful man in the universe, and be on holovid broadcast to trillions of beings, although the thought of that made his mouth dry.

  That evening, Peter invited all his crew members to Karl’s house and ordered a lavish take-out feast for them all and explained the deal Haliphon had proposed. No one had any objections. In fact, Oscar grabbed Monica, and they danced a jubilant dance around the table.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! Now we can travel freely around the Universe, and not be stuck on this dump! Uh, sorry, Karl, ladies--not that this is a bad planet, it’s just so far from everything--and stuff,” Oscar added lamely.

  Karl shrugged and waved his arms expansively as if to say he didn't care with his usual laissez-faire attitude.

  Malika looked at Thalia and said with amusement, “We here cause big Galout-san live here and do business. We not salute flag or anything. Princess Halidoben is big whore. Yeah, Milyorks pretty much asshole of Universe, but we leave anytime we get bored, and go shopping, which is often.”

  They had two weeks to get ready, so they were not rushed as they packed and made plans. John was a bit taken aback because he had made other plans when he thought he couldn't show his face in the Galaxy for fear of arrest, but with this new turn of events, he realized that Milyorks was still the perfect place to open a restaurant. There were not a lot of great restaurants and the planet was a haven for criminals. The average citizen was loaded, and he could charge them up the hoo-ha for haute cuisine.

  Jikilenga redoubled his efforts to find a villa with a private lake or an ocean bay. All of the ladies helped him estate shop. Milyorks was just fine with him as he would never be welcome on Vookin, his home world.

  Marcus and Oscar put their plans on hold when the demand for their services went crazy. Now that they were not tied to Milyorks, they could go to work anywhere, and offers came in from all over the Universe. They were fighting a lot at night, and even though Oscar was no stranger to a good time, or getting intoxicated, Marcus was shit-faced constantly. On a criminal planet, drugs were immensely easy to obtain. They had many fights about it. Oscar sported a fat lip, and Marcus had a black eye from their last discussion about Marcus’s excessive drug use.

  Peter just brooded and fretted. He was not sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life from here on out. Haliphon had promised that he would never have to work again, after the universe and the media got through with him. Monica was kind of in the same boat; unsure as to where she wanted to open a house of pleasure or if she would even want to. Money was not going be an issue anymore.

  All the uncertainty and other concerns were swept away when Emperor Haliphon’s crew arrived, hustled them aboard the escort ship, and whisked them away to Xing Xing. The next few days were a whirlwind of events. They were all fitted with new wardrobes and rehearsed in what they were to say at the ceremony. They were all exhausted and dazed by the time the dog-and-pony show the Emperors demanded was at hand.

  Before the ceremony they had received the shock of their lives anyway, when the Emperors aides had paraded an intact Bob-Six out to them backstage before the pageant.

  “Bob-Six! What! How did you―? Where--? I saw the smoking boots, and nothing else left! I was sure you were dead!” John sputtered, at a loss for words.

  “Sorry, Bob-Six could not get message to you being in hospital and beings incarcerated by authorities,” he said almost unable to suppress his mouth going into a wide O, which they knew by now was a Meloovian smile, “also not knowing where the hell you be in Universe.” Bob-Six continued emotionless as always.

  None of them had ever heard Bob-Six use profanity before, and they laughed.

  “Bob-Six incredibly lucky. About to push detonator button, body reflex-- me empty colon in fear at presumed immediate death, but it only gas! It be detonating with flaming gases coming from bomb and throw Bob-Six clear of explosion. Woke up hours later armless, ands legless in explosions, body armor save life, but I grow them back, last few weeks...no problem. Been in jail until Emperor release me. Pleasure and excretion area hurt for weeks though from explosion's and burnings. Told you Meloovian beings much scared of flame but save Bob-Six this time.”

  Oscar and Monica couldn't help themselves, they burst into laughing at the mental picture of a flying Bob-Six with flames shooting out his butt. Bob-Six just looked at them with his usual blank, expressionless eyes.

  “Don't blame you for laughing, but it be very fortunate to be saving the life by farts,” he said.

  Monica and Oscar were leaning on each other, tears running from their eyes. They were holding their sides, laughing.

  “For Tarcacks sake! Get a grip, you two. It's not that funny,” Peter said, exasperated.

  “Still not getting fart humor,” Jikelenga said.

  It went off without a hitch, however. They had all been so prepared that they all performed their parts flawlessly. Not that they had a choice. As they recited what they had been told to repeat, a nerve prod had been shoved in their backs and warned that if they got cute and deviated from the script, they would be zapped. Haliphon was not a trusting being.

  They were put up in a luxury hotel courtesy of the government while they sorted everything out. The amount suggested that Peter contribute to the Marines, plus restitution, pretty much wiped out his bank account, and he worried what they would do now.

  Their concerns about money proved to be needless when the next day, a team of lawyers arranged for by Shirley, met with them to form a corporation. He informed them of the offers that were being placed before them. Truly staggering amounts were being offered for Holovids rights, breakfast cereals, shoes, clothing lines, book deals, talk shows, lectures, and more. It took weeks to sort through them, accept some and reject others. If it hadn't been for the services of the lawyers, they would have been overwhelmed. Their legal team informed them they were now all well on their way to being Billionaires.

  The universe was not that interesting to most beings; but their pirate exploits had thrilled a jaded populace. Jikilenga, Monica, and Oscar proved to be a darlings of morning shows. They even went on ‘Hello Galaxy’ with Kathy. They no longer asked for payment but did them because it was fun. Jikilenga embellished their exploits, as all Vookins do. His retellings did not bear the closest resemblance to the truth, but the shows didn’t care as long as he brought them ratings. Marcus and Oscar broke up. Marcus disappeared from their lives.

  They were given free tickets to the opera on the planet they were on-- Xing Xing. They all decided to go together, as it gave them an excuse to spend some of their money on formal c
lothes, mingle with the rich and famous, do the blue carpet thing and receive the adoration of their fans. Even Shirley attended via her connection with Lirley, using her human drone.

  It was an opulent production sung in Faloozian and had many of the nine world races as performers. Only Shirley understood the words, and after a few whispered translations, Peter realized he didn't really care what the plot was and stopped asking.

  It was all baffling nonsense-- but great fun-- including lots of singing, special effects, explosions and beings flying all over the stage on gravity harnesses. After a seemingly endless time, a very large human woman came on stage with strange horns on her head and began to sing. Peter didn't know much about opera but knew from popular data-feeds that a large human woman singing in an opera signified that the opera was about to end. Peter shook his head in wonder, thinking of endings and feeling a sense of unreality looking around at all the richly dressed patrons from many universes, and the lavish surroundings. How did he get here?

  He had quit his job one day, damned over his marginal ethics, and principles, and it started this crazy chain of events. It seemed like everyone else had a plan as to their futures, except for maybe Marcus, whose new life plan seemed to be to ingest every drug left in the galaxy. He wondered where they would all go from here? He hadn’t a clue, but One-Eyed Pirate Pete would figure it out. All he knew was that the fat lady sang.

  The End

  * * *

  [1] A Spilodium Juke is a complicated, stringed instrument similar to a ukulele, crossed with a banjo with a tambourine percussion piece, and a mouth-operated whammy bar. It sounds like a cat being ass-raped by grizzly bear in a pile of broken glass. It is an acquired taste in music.