Brandi Whyne Book 3

by Celine Chatillon

  A grin tugged at the corner of Kwak’s thin, red-tinged lips. “Surprisingly enough it did.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Kwak actually poisoned Daro like he did those poor unsuspecting colonists who thought they were receiving radiation pills?

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill him?” I directed my angry question at Robin. “I thought you said that Kwak would only use drugs to interrogate him, not kill him.”

  “That’s what I thought. Kwak, did you or didn’t you poison Daro?”

  “Both. I poisoned him to get him to talk and then I administered the antidote. He’s fine now and resting comfortably. Fraida is watching over him. She’ll let us know the moment he reawakens.”

  I should make note at this point that Fraida Khat’s species is feline in nature. She does her best to hide her long tail beneath her work overalls. She’s got the biggest gold eyes and the most luxurious, plush black hair I’ve ever seen. I understand both she and Madarda, ship’s cook and a human-reptilian hybrid, sponsor contests on whose tongue can pleasure the most crewmembers in the shortest amount of time. I imagine it’s a close contest.

  “Are you sure Fraida isn’t humping Daro at this very moment?” Tryor Fuq chimed in. “I know last night she was after me to go at it every waking moment. She said something about her going into heat this week and this was the only time she could really enjoy a ship-wide orgy.”

  “All the more reason for me to finish my report here so we can get the orgy started,” Kwak stated, pounding his index finger on the table to make his point. “As ship’s morale officer, I’d hate to make Fraida wait another cycle until she feel likes joining in the festivities.”

  An agreeable murmur circled the table. Everyone felt this was only fair to Fraida. It had been at least a month since the last ship-wide orgy. Robin shook his head and did his best to get the discussion back on track.

  “All right people, first we discuss this dire situation we’re in and then we can start up the ship-wide orgy. Okay?” Everyone nodded his or her agreement. “Good. Dr. Kwak, please tell us what information you were able to extract from our guest.”

  The semi-deranged doctor chuckled. “You’re not going to believe this so I’ll just say it straight out—Daro doesn’t know who in the hell he’s working for!”

  Assorted groans and frowns greeted this bit of news. I had to admit that it was a complete let down. Maybe Robin should have had Zelda utilize her whip on Daro’s firm ass cheeks? It couldn’t have been any worse than interrogating an uncooperative subject by utilizing poison.

  “What do you mean Daro doesn’t know who he’s working for?” Tryor cried. “That’s absurd. He’s got a room full of Denoblian flame stones. There’s only one group in the galaxy that pays off its flunkies in rare gems—the Galactic Cosa Nostra.”

  “Here, here!” Willie slapped the table. “It’s got to be the Syndicate…fast ship with a secret, almost scan-proofed compartment and a pay-off in rocks. They try to pass off shoddy products to us so we look stupid, lose face, and then they muscle into our territory later. Classic tactics of our friends in the Family.”

  The signs did add up. I had to agree with Willie’s and Tryor’s assessment. However, Robin didn’t appear convinced. He steepled his long fingers together, resting his chin in thought for several minutes. The murmuring and side talk around the table eventually faded into curious silence.

  “What else did you get out of Daro?” Robin asked at last.

  Kwak shrugged. “Not much else. He’s never even seen the person who acts as the go-between him and the big money. They called him up one day between smuggling operations and deliberately garbled their holographic transmission. They simply asked if he’d like to make a lot of money fast and see Robin Manhood’s operation go down the tubes forever.”

  Robin turned his attention to the ship’s computer geek, Murd, a tall, bland, grayish-skinned and haired individual with no discernable gender characteristics. “Well, Murd—that’s right, yes?” The Ombodie nodded. “Okay, what have you got to report about Daro’s recent communications and his navi-puter course plotting?”

  Murd nodded politely then spoke in a measured monotone. “Even taking into account the extensive damage to the Scorpio’s bridge controls, I cannot explain the lack of data I encountered.”

  “Lack of data?” Robin frowned. “Murd, ol’ buddy, are you saying Daro wiped out the memory banks before he parked his ship in our landing bay?”

  “It’s possible. It’s also possible his ship’s information system is infected with a computer tape worm that eats all data that could be of help in trying to determine the ship’s recent whereabouts, course heading, communications signals, etcetera.”

  Willie whistled. “Good one. I’m even more convinced this has something to do with the Syndicate. Not even the galactic government could afford this set up, and it’s not likely they would put it into some stupid asshole’s hands like Daro.”

  “No, they’d probably give it someone even more stupid.” Tryor’s furrowed brow revealed his own frustration. “And before you ask, Robin, I can’t even tell you where those flame stones came from. I can’t even tell if they’re from Denobula or not.”

  “Of course they came from Denobula,” I said. “They wouldn’t be Denoblian flame stones if they didn’t come from there.”

  “Maybe they aren’t real flame stones.” Tryor pointed a finger at me. “Weirdest thing is, is that they don’t register anything when I scanned them in the chemical analyzer. It’s like they’re not really here, but they are here. It makes no sense at all.”

  Tryor folded his hands in his lap and contemplated his belly button poking out from under his too short tank undershirt. He seemed to be thinking carefully on how to phrase his next statement.

  “Could it be we’ve run into an inter-dimensional smuggling operation?”

  A collective gasp sounded. Such a thing wasn’t possible—was it?

  I feel I should make mention to the humble reader that there have been multitudes of myths and legends told about inter-dimensional bandits raiding our galaxy ever since I can remember. These fantastic tales have always been dismissed as wishful thinking or the product of an unhinged mind or both, however.

  To further elaborate, these inter-dimensional bandit stories are similar in nature to the Old Terran tales of extraterrestrial visitations but with one exception: those alien abduction stories were, in fact, quite true. Earth was visited repeatedly over the millennia by aliens from outer space. Only thing is, human beings were too slow to catch on until it was too late. By then, the Black Overlords of the Galactic Conglomerate had enslaved half the Earth’s population and deported them to the outer corners of the galaxy to work in the Black Overlords’ fast food operations. The other half of humanity had been left behind to fend for themselves with the sad knowledge that Fox Muldar of The X Files fame had indeed been correct. The “Truth” had been out there all along, but no one had thought it worth pursuing because a man with such a pretty face had voiced it.

  “Hold on a minute, Tryor.” Robin raised his hands in caution. “Let’s not go jumping to conclusions. You remember what happened the last time you couldn’t analyze something properly? It turned out that you’d simply gotten so drunk that you forgot to slip the sample into the analyzer bin, so it told you nothing was there.”

  Kwak laughed. “How much Regulan ale did you consume last night before you repeatedly porked Fraida Khat?”

  “I did not drink any ale last night!” Tryor crossed his pudgy arms across his round chest, frowning at the laughs and jibes made at his expense. “I ran the tests three separate times, and the same results occurred each time. These flame gems simply do not exist in our portion of the space-time continuum.”

  “I can verify Tryor’s assertion,” Murd said quietly. Immediately the heated discussion died down.

  “How?” Robin asked. “Speak up, man—er, woman, er crewmember.”

  “Tryor asked me to check out
the chemical analyzer after he got the first unusual result. He told me he didn’t want to be teased again about being drunk when he ran the analysis.”

  “So, did you check out the machine?” Willie asked. “Was it functioning within parameters?”

  “Aye. It was functioning perfectly. Tryor ran the second test while I watched. Same result.”

  “And then I ran it again after Murd left—three times and the same result each time. These rocks aren’t here. I don’t know where in the goddess’ good name they could be, but they don’t exist technically in our dimension.”

  The table chatter took on an ominous tone. Robin appeared worried by Tryor Fuq’s pronouncement. He absentmindedly tapped a finger on the glass surface and chewed his lower lip. I sensed this situation wasn’t something he felt he could deal with effectively. He was at a total lost as to how to proceed.

  To admit defeat—or even sincere confusion—didn’t fit in with Robin’s macho style. He was a man of action. He acted now and asked questions later, if ever. So, it really was no surprise to me when he stood up and announced:

  “Okay, let’s move the table out of the center of the room and dig up a few more cushions. The ship-wide orgy will commence at hmm...” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Let’s say fifteen hundred hours. We’ll work the usual rotating shifts. Shift A will orgy first for two hours, then shift B, rotate back to A then B again, etcetera. At the end of your daily work allotment you’re free to orgy at will. How does that sound, people?”

  “Hurrah! Hurrah for Captain Manhood!” came the cheer from the assembly. I simply stood and frowned in disbelief at Robin.

  “What? You want to know what shift you’re on?” He slipped an arm about my shoulders, moving me out of the way for the eager orgy enthusiasts to rearrange the conference room. “I believe you’re on shift A with me, being a junior officer and all.”

  “That’s not what I’m upset about. I’m just a bit taken aback that you’ve adopted such a nonchalant attitude toward our current situation.”

  “Nonchalant? Me? Never.” A lavender-striped pillow went flying over Robin’s head at that moment.

  “Sorry boss,” Kwak said with a shrug. “I’ll take shift B so I can work on Daro a bit more before the orgy starts.”

  “Good man. Remember to lay off the rat poison. Why not ask Zelda for some interrogation pointers? I believe she’s on shift B, too.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  I stomped my foot and spun around, heading for the exit. Robin caught up with me as I stepped out into the corridor.

  “Don’t think poorly of me, Brandi. There’s absolutely nothing we can do at this point even if we have encountered inter-dimensional bandits. If they want to raid our dimension, there’s no known weapon in the galaxy that can stop them.”

  “We can at least report them to the authorities,” I pointed out.

  His eyes widened at that notion. “No, that’s not such a good idea.” He took me by the elbow and began walking toward the bridge. “If the Galactic Troopers get their hands on this tidbit of information it’ll ruin our little operation. Besides, they’re such bumblers. We’d be better off recruiting Bak Azzwards and his lunatic lot to help stop an inter-dimensional invasion.”

  “Bak Azzwards?” My incredulity knew no bounds. The frilly collared pirate captain in a skirt was Robin’s archrival and a vicious asshole to boot.

  “Sure. Why not Bak? Pirates with pink feathers stick together and all that rot.”

  The bridge doors swished open. John Thomas sat faithful as ever at the navigation console while either Murt or Murk worked on the communications board. Bigguns, who for some reason hadn’t been at the staff meeting this morning, occupied the armaments position.

  “Mornin’ Cap’n,” Bigguns said cheerfully as Robin approached. “I had to work through the graveyard shift but I done it. We’ve got a nice little addition to our weapon’s array. Want to test it out?”

  Robin grinned. “Not yet. You are a miracle worker, Bigguns. There’s not a Cyclops in the galaxy who can hold a candle to your wizardry in weaponry.”

  The hunchback blushed. “Aw, you’re just being nice. I’m not the neatest of salvagers, though. There’s a big hole left on the Scorpio’s underbelly that matches the one in the console room. We’ll have to fill them in before it’s space worthy again.”

  “Assign some crewmembers to the patch up job then go and get some rest. You’ve earned it.” Robin turned to sit in his chair then spun back around. “Oh, and don’t forget, the ship-wide orgy commences at fifteen hundred hours. You sure don’t want to miss it.”

  “Aye, aye!”

  Frowning, I settled down into my position at the navigation console. We were on course for Robin’s secret base of operations or “Old Smokey” as it was known. Robin had accepted Zelina’s word at face value that she wasn’t working with Daro or for anyone else. Now it appeared both she and Daro would visit the same hideout whose exact location John Thomas felt I was unworthy to know about until recently.

  “You want to switch to shift B?” Robin said quietly a few minutes later.

  “Can’t I be switched to ‘shift C’ instead?”

  “Shift C? There isn’t one… Oh, I see. You’re angry, and you don’t feel like having your brains fucked out. Your loss, not mine.”

  “What do you mean by ‘your loss’?”

  He plopped his big boots up on his treasure chest, now parked in front of his chair like a footstool. “I mean Willie orgies with shift B. You’ve been dying to know how well he fucks since that time I caught you spying on him getting it on with Sal in the back room of the Black Whole.”

  I bit my lip and screamed inwardly. Robin was really pissing me off. I wanted him to act brave and dashing and daring and commanding. Instead, he was allowing his ship contingent to shimmy out of their clothes and enjoy group sex. Just because they smuggled adult marital aids and toys didn’t mean they had to have sex all the time, did it?

  “Come on, Brandi,” Robin cajoled me. “Lighten up. We’ve got a few days until we reach Old Smokey. Then the hard work really begins. Don’t begrudge your shipmates of a little R and R.”

  A devilish idea struck me just then. Angling my body toward my console partner, I smiled. “What shift will you take, John Thomas? A or B?”

  “I don’t orgy no more.” The somber-faced giant looked as if he was about to cry. “I can’t anymore since I…” His chin dropped to his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Robin leaned forward and slapped his senior pilot on the back. “J.T., you’ve got to stop letting Peri boss you around. You’re a man—take charge of the situation. Show her who wears the pants in your relationship. Better yet, tell her to take hers off so you can move on with your life.”

  “Yeah, I got to move on,” John Thomas mimicked. “I’m a man.”

  “You’re one to give romantic advice, Robin Manhood. Please keep your comments to yourself.” I released an exasperated sigh then re-focused my attention on my shipmate. “I’m so sorry that your love life is in a shambles, John Thomas. Can I help?”

  The gentle giant furrowed his brow in thought. “Maybe. You are a girl.”

  “I can certainly vouch for that.” Robin chuckled. My look shot daggers at him. That shut him up. “Oh, all right. I’ll let you act as ship’s counselor in peace.”

  I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue at Robin before turning my attention back to my counselee. “We’ll talk about your problems later, John Thomas. In private,” I added.

  My fellow pilot smiled and nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

  “I’m sure you will, J.T. Brandi’s very helpful in private, although I think she’s learning to help others more in public situations as well.”

  I growled at Robin then went back to my work of determining our course through an asteroid field. The hours quickly ticked unnoticed until an expected announcement came over the ship’s public address system.

  “Attention ship’s
personnel,” Dr. Kwak said in his most authoritative tone. “It is now fifteen hundred hours and the orgy is beginning. Shift A to the conference room on deck one.”

  Robin remained in his captain’s chair, perusing an e-book on his hand held PDA.

  “Aren’t you going, Robin?” I asked in my most innocent tone. “You’re on shift A, correct?”

  “Captain’s privilege means I can choose whatever shift I want to be on.” He narrowed his eyes and considered me coolly. “When are you attending?”

  “I’m not. I thought I’d stay here and keep John Thomas company.”

  “He won’t be alone. Shift B crewmembers will be here soon enough. His shift is about over now anyway. Isn’t it, Little John?”

  “Yep. About done for the day. Gonna eat and play with my pirate dolls and write to Peri then go to sleep.”

  “Oh… Then I’ll stay here and keep whoever is on duty company.”

  Robin stepped down from his chair platform and bent low to whisper in my ear. “I could order you to attend the orgy, make it doctor’s orders.”

  “Doctor’s orders?” I observed him through slanted eyes. “Why? Do orgies cure disease or something?”

  “Dr. Kwak is ship’s morale officer. It would be good for your morale—for the entire ship’s morale—if you attended.”

  I chewed my lip, thinking about his words for a long moment before replying.

  “ ‘Attend’ doesn’t mean I have to ‘participate’, does it?”

  “Say what? I meant participate but if you want to just watch… You could learn a thing or two from observing.” He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “Yes, I’m sure you could learn quite a lot.”

  “All right then,” I replied with a casual flip of my auburn curls. “I’ll observe the B shift action. Willie will be there. I can’t wait to see him in action again.”

  Robin stood straighter and stomped back to his chair. I could have sworn steam rose from his ears. He seemed really hot under the collar. Although he would never admit it a million years, I knew he was jealous of the attraction he sensed between his first officer and me.