Pew! Pew! - Sex, Guns, Spaceships... Oh My!

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Pew! Pew! - Sex, Guns, Spaceships... Oh My! Page 1

by M. D. Cooper




  Pew Pew!

  Sex, Guns, Spaceships… Oh My!

  9 Comedic space opera tales of big spaceships, poor life decisions, and lots of Pew!

  Rachel Aukes | Drew Avera | M. D. Cooper | Zen DiPietro | Amy DuBoff | Barry J. Hutchison | M. Pax | Chris J. Pike | Felix R. Savage

  Pew! Pew! Volume 1

  Copyright © 2017 by The Wooden Pen, LLC

  Delta-Team: A “Simple” Kidnapping Text Copyright © 2017 M. D. Cooper

  The Methane Lake of Excruciating Tedium Text Copyright © 2017 Felix R. Savage

  The Last Bounty Text Copyright © 2017 Barry J. Hutchison

  Spaceberg Text Copyright © 2017 M. Pax

  Attack of the Killer Bees Text Copyright © 2017 Chris J. Pike

  Brewing Trouble Text Copyright © 2017 Amy DuBoff

  Dodging Fate Text Copyright © 2017 Zen DiPietro

  Gli+ch Text Copyright © 2017 Drew Avera

  Bat Johnson, the Mad Mortician of Mars Text Copyright © 2017 Rachel Aukes

  Cover Design by Marko Stankovic

  www.pewpewbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews or promotions.

  The books contained in this compilation are works of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First eBook Edition: 1st June 2017

  Table of Contents

  This comedic space opera collection contains novellas by nine different authors. A brief description of each book is provided below. Click on the book title to jump to that book within the collection.

  Delta-Team: A “Simple” Kidnapping by M. D. Cooper

  In 8913, a crack military unit was court-martialed and sent to a maximum security prison for stealing the general’s cookie recipes. Colonel Ramsey and his team promptly escaped and fled the core systems. Today they serve as soldiers of fortune, or whatever else will make them a buck. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find, then maybe, you can hire the Delta Team.

  The Methane Lake of Excruciating Tedium by Felix R. Savage

  Climatologist Bennard Godwin is elated when he gets a chance to work on Titan, a moon of Saturn so cold that liquid methane forms lakes on the surface. Alone on the frigid surface, he composes romantic poetry and contemplates the toxic clouds. But when a mysterious passenger appears in his boat, he discovers that there are much, much worse things than other human beings on Titan…

  The Last Bounty by Barry J. Hutchison

  Once the baddest bounty hunter in the galaxy, all Konto Oon wants these days is a quiet family life with the woman he loves, and the respect of Deenia, the step-daughter who hates his guts. But when Deenia is taken hostage, Konto must employ all his skills to mount a death-defying rescue mission. With a terrorist-filled station between him and the hostages, and an infuriatingly upbeat boy from Deenia’s class for company, Konto’s talents will be stretched to their limit as he goes after the most important bounty of his life—his daughter.

  Spaceberg by M. Pax

  When Spaceberg hits, Nikili Echols of Orbital Rescue Squad 51 is first on the scene. But even as she battles one disaster after another—saving people, starships, and entire worlds—Spaceberg proves to be more than one woman can handle. She’s losing ground. With time running out Nikili is forced to team up with her ex-husband in order to rescue their daughter and to save what remains humanity and its home system.

  Attack of the Killer Bees by Chris J. Pike

  The crew of the Barnburner are misfits and trouble makers with a food replicator that doesn’t work and a clinically depressed AI. When duty calls, they’re late. Unfortunately for the fate of the planet, it’ll be up to them to stop a horde of space bees from invading Earth—or at least get stung trying.

  Brewing Trouble by Amy DuBoff

  Losing an eye is just the start of Jack’s misadventure when he’s conscripted by a group of thieves to steal an innovative energy core. Even with his life on the line, the promise of the perfect cup of coffee is worth the risk.

  Dodging Fate by Zen DiPietro

  A redshirt pits himself against the universe—which one will win? Charlie Kenny has a fork phobia, a cyborg granny, and more bad luck than a black cat breaking a mirror on April Fool’s Day. He’s on his way into space for the first time, and given his history, it’s bound to go epically bad. Redshirts don’t get a happily-ever-after.

  Gli+ch by Drew Avera

  Just when Ben’s contemplating whether or not he can use his robotic arm to strangle himself, he sees an ad promoting a new mining colony on Europa. A new life, good pay, and respect await him if he can just get there from Mars. The hot girl in the ad may have helped, too. But space isn’t a place for the weak, or the terminally unlucky, and when calamity strikes right out of the gate, Ben starts to think getting to Europa may take a farking miracle.

  Bat Johnson, the Mad Mortician of Mars by Rachel Aukes

  The Mars Bionet is a desolate place. Only the toughest survive there. Those who don’t end up on Bat’s table. When business suddenly picks up, he discovers that humans aren’t the only Martians, and the real ones are tiny, cute, and really ticked off. When no one believes his story, Bat alone must take on an alien army to save Mars and—hopefully—get a little peace and quiet.

  Delta-Team: A “Simple” Kidnapping

  by M. D. Cooper

  If you have a problem and no one else can help, hire the Delta Team.

  In 8913, a crack military unit was court-martialed and sent to a maximum security prison for stealing the general’s cookie recipes. Colonel Ramsey and his team promptly escaped and fled the core systems.

  Today, still wanted by The Hegemony of Worlds government, they serve as soldiers of fortune, or whatever else will make them a buck.

  If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them when they’re not pissed out of their minds in a dive bar, then maybe, if you ask real nice, you can hire the Delta Team.

  THE VAN GOES FTL

  Ramsey stood outside the Van’s airlock with Petra, their latest client, at his side. Around them, the crush of the Yedsi Prime Station throbbed like an angry vein in the forehead of a drunkard. It didn’t smell much better than said drunkard, either. He was eager to get off-station—once his last crewmember showed up.

  “For fucksakes, BAMF! Could you, for once, make it to the ship on time?” Colonel Ramsey hollered—without removing the giant, green-stocked carrot dangling from his mouth—as he caught sight of the massive woman lumbering down the dock.

  “What’s the rush, Colonel?” BAMF yelled back, her deep voice echoing off the bulkheads. “It’s just a quick hop over to Pega Station.”

  “Pega?” the woman to Colonel Ramsey’s left asked, but he held a finger to his lips and hushed her.

  Colonel Ramsey waited for BAMF to get closer before replying. The woman was his ship’s engineer and primary muscle, and he couldn’t do a job without her, unless it was a stealth job—BAMF stayed on the ship for those.

  It wasn’t because the large woman couldn’t be sneaky. Her clothing—of which there was little variation—was relatively sedate, consisting of knee-high boots, tight
cargo pants with too many pockets, and a camisole with ‘Suck These’ printed on it.

  The problem was the bling. BAMF always wore a few dozen thick chains made of a variety of precious metals, her ears were pierced in more places than he could easily count, and her fingers wore so many rings it was a miracle she could bend her fingers. When she walked, the noise was like an engineering shop, and the jewelry was so well polished it would probably reflect light in the dark layer.

  BAMF reached them and Ramsey replied in soothing tones. “It’s Stick, she just likes to be punctual. She’s all strapped into her pilot seat and ready to go—you know how it is.”

  BAMF stopped and stared at the colonel. “Our pilot? Stick? That fool ain’t been punctual a day in her weird little life!”

  Colonel Ramsey shrugged as he chewed on his carrot, its leafy green end waggling in front of him. “Yeah…I mean it was bound to happen eventually, right?”

  BAMF‘s broad features crinkled as her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head making her chains clink angrily. She glanced at the woman who stood beside Colonel Ramsey. “Who’s the broad?”

  Colonel Ramsey reflected for a moment on BAMF, who was a woman—you just had to double check—using such a dismissive term for another of her gender. “She just needs a ride over to Pega Station, paid well, so we’re giving her a lift.”

  “Something’s off. You lying to me, Colonel?” BAMF asked and widened her stance. “You gonna take the Van FTL?”

  “Mandy, you know I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you hate FTL. We’re just hopping over to Pega, no dark layer, no FTL, no interstellar travel.”

  BAMF’s eyes darted to the woman at Ramsey’s side once more and then back to the colonel. “You never call me Mandy unless you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying, Ma—BAMF,” Ramsey said with a broad smile and looked to his companion. “Right, Petra? Pega, that’s where you’re going.”

  “Yup, sure, I have important business on Pega,” Petra replied.

  “Just met you, Petra, but you’re a bad liar,” BAMF said and took a step back—right into Lashes, who sunk a nano-injector into BAMF’s neck.

  “Ow! What!” BAMF said as she spun. “Lashes! You bitch, immaaaaaa…”

  With that last word dying on her lips, BAMF fell to the deck and Colonel Ramsey smiled. “Excellent, glad to see that went smoothly.”

  “Raahmseeey that didn’t go smoothly!” Lashes whined. “You said this stuff would work fast!”

  The colonel ignored Lashes’ annoying tone. “It did.” He prodded BAMF’s prone figure on the deck with his boot. “Took just a few seconds.”

  “Yeah, a few seconds where she saw me,” Lashes lamented. “Now she’s going to smash me to dust when she wakes up.”

  “Nah, don’t worry,” Ramsey grinned. “We’ll just make her a platter of toast points and she’ll be as happy as a pig in mud. Now help me pull her in.”

  Lashes bent down and grabbed one of BAMF’s arms while Ramsey took the other. Lashes was a dainty girl and BAMF weighed a metric buttload, but with Petra’s help they managed to drag BAMF into the ship’s small cargo hold, where they left her to sleep off the effects of the nanobots.

  “Is this how you usually operate?” Petra asked as she followed them onto the ship.

  “This?” Lashes replied with a concerned frown. “No, only when…well…yeah, most of the time.”

  “Won’t she be mad when she wakes up?” Petra asked.

  Ramsey put an arm around Petra’s shoulder and smiled as he walked her out of the hold and toward the crew’s rec room.

  “You have to understand, dear, life has been hard on BAMF. She’s seen a lot, what with battling the likes of the AST, Scipio Federation…. Hell, she’s even been out to the Pleaides! FTL makes her nervous, but when the time comes to help out, she’ll be ready, trust me.”

  Petra looked behind them at Lashes, who followed a few steps back.

  “And you’re Penelope? The infiltration specialist?” she asked.

  Lashes nodded. “Who doesn’t like a little bit of infiltration? Might as well specialize in something people like.”

  “I sure like infiltration. Oh, and Stick is ready to undock,” a sultry voice came over the ship’s audible systems. The word undock was drawn out and breathy, as though there was some possible sexual innuendo that could be made from the word—which there wasn’t.

  “Great, Girl. Tell Stick to take us out. We’re all secure down here,” Ramsey replied.

  “Who was that?” Petra asked.

  “That was our ship’s AI,” Lashes said with a slight flush. “She’s a little…repressed.”

  “You’d be repressed, too, if you had to stay docked while you get do whoever you want. I need some action,” Girl said, randomly drawing out words.

  “And you named her Girl?” Petra asked.

  Ramsey shrugged. “She came with the ship, never asked for a name change. You like Girl, right, Girl?” he asked, looking around.

  “You can call me whatever you want, Colonel Ramsey,” came the reply.

  “Right-o, Girl it is,” Ramsey said.

  Ramsey called to the pilot over the Link.

  Stick’s chipper voice replied in Ramsey’s mind.

 

  He moved the carrot to the other side of his mouth and saw that Lashes was talking with Petra, regaling the woman with tales of past missions, and her personal victories on the field.

  It was always impressive to watch Lashes work. Man, woman, whatever, Lashes could woo them. She could become whatever she needed to be to make herself a mark’s greatest desire. Not that Lashes ever slept with a mark—or anyone for that matter. Ramsey was almost positive that Lashes had never slept with a mark. Girl got more action.

  While she talked with Petra, Lashes turned her skin bright pink, courtesy of a mod she picked up at a station called Heaven. It looked springy and a bit tacky, but Petra appeared fascinated by it as she touched Lashes’ face over and over again, watching her fingerprint form in the pink skin and then fade away.

  Ramsey shook his head. Whatever she needed to become. It was a gift.

  “Colonel, Lashes,” Stick said as she sauntered into the room. Ramsey glanced over at her and nodded his greeting.

  Stick loved to fly, she liked to do it with manual controls, too—which is where she got her nickname. She also felt the need to look like some fighter jock from the old vids. Stick could always be found wearing a tight leather catsuit, corset, thigh-high boots, a big helmet, tinted glasses, and leather gauntlets.

  Ramsey had no idea what old vid she had seen to dress like that—maybe Debbie Cleans the Cockpit or something—but nothing he said could convince her that pilots from the good ol’ days didn’t dress like dominatrixes.

  “This is quite the team you have, Colonel,” Petra said as Lashes sucked on her finger. “I’m a little worried you might not be able to help me, though.”

  “Nonsense,” Lashes said. “We’re the best there is. Tell her, Stick.”

  Stick whipped off her helmet and thick black hair sprang out in every direction. She tucked the headgear under her arm and pulled off her reflective glasses with a flourish—which would have looked a somewhat impressive, except the glasses slipped out of her gloved hand and flew into the wall before falling behind the sofa.

  Stick’s expression was one of proud bravado, unaffected—possibly because she hadn’t noticed—by her fumble. “Lashes is right. We’ve gotten more people out of more sticky situations than you knew there were situations that could stick.”

  Petra stopped touching Lashes’ face and blushed.

  “You already shared your story with me, Petra,” Ramsey began, “but why don’t you tell Lashes and Stick
so they get your take on things?”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for BAMF?” Petra asked.

  “Oh, no,” Lashes shook her head. “BAMF’ll be asleep for a while—I hope. It’s going to take us a week to hop over to New Eden. If we’re lucky, she’ll be conked out the whole time.”

  “And you’re just going to leave her there in the cargo hold?” Petra asked.

  “Well yeah,” Ramsey said with a shrug. “You felt how heavy she is. There’s no way we could get her up to her cabin.”

  “Not even a pillow or a blanket to keep her warm?” Petra’s face showed more concern for the huge, angry woman than BAMF had ever shown for anyone.

  “Well, no,” Lashes shrugged. “I mean…she’s gonna piss and shit herself in her sleep. If we got that all over her pillow and blanket, she’d be really mad!”

  “Madder than if she were to wake up after being drugged and left on the floor of your cargo hold for a week?” Petra asked.

  “Deck,” Stick said.

  “What?” Petra cast Stick a confused look.

  “The hold has a deck. All the floors in a ship are decks. No ceiling either. What’s up there is the overhead. Walls are bulkheads. Decks, overhead, bulkheads. She’s on the deck.”

  Petra cast Stick an exasperated look. “Yeah, whatever, the deck. If it were me, I’d be pretty fucking mad that you left me on the deck stewing in my shit for a week. Don’t you have cryostasis pods on this ship?”

  Ramsey nodded. “Sure do, but I doubt that BAMF would be happy with us if we put her in one of those…they tend to be at odds with her implants—she likes stasis less than FTL.”

  “There’s got to be something you can do,” Petra appeared to be very concerned at this point, and Ramsey could see that they would have to mollify her somehow.

  “I guess we could use one of the med packs to slow her metabolic rate, that would probably keep her from shitting herself,” he suggested.

 

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