Pixie Hazard
Book 1: Junker’s Paradise
By
Archibald Bradford
Copyright © 2020
Cover Art by Emily Hurless
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/monstersheltie/
Introduction
Donjoon Nelson is the captain of the Pixie Hazard, a dual purpose dropship/gunship that serves as a home to her and her crew of rough and tumble former marines. Together they bust heads and ass to keep their aging spaceship flying and their resident sex-cat happy.
WARNING: This is a work of erotic fantasy, there is nudity, swearing, graphic violence, and plenty of naughty sex between man, woman, and alien cat-girl. If that isn’t your cup of tea please give this book a pass!
Otherwise please enjoy!
Table of Contents
Introduction
Table of Contents
Legal Notes
Prologue: Baggage Handling
Chapter 1: Technical Difficulties
Chapter 2: Transactions
Chapter 3: Falling Pixies
Chapter 4: After Action
Chapter 5: Balance Owed
Chapter 6: Fire and Fury
Chapter 7: Work Work Work
Chapter 8: Junkers gotta Junk
Chapter 9: Breach
Chapter 10: Big Damn Hero
Chapter 11: Leaky Boat
Chapter 12: “Science”, Inbound
Chapter 13: Stormy Happenings
Chapter 14: Morning Woes
Chapter 15: Plants and Stuff
Chapter 16: Exposed
Chapter 17: Little Black Box
Chapter 18: Heat
Chapter 19: Underpaid, Overworked
Chapter 20: Naughty Boy
Chapter 21: The Plunge
Chapter 22: Berthing Time
Chapter 23: Special Delivery
Chapter 24: Attachments
Chapter 25: Over Bao
Chapter 26: Uncomfortable
Chapter 27: Spill yer Guts
Chapter 28: Secrets Sting
Chapter 29: WTF is a Chinchilla
Chapter 30: Taste of Forgiveness
Chapter 31: Make the Call
Chapter 32: Hidey Hole
Chapter 33: Overwatch
Chapter 34: Dying Stars
Chapter 35: Recuperation
Chapter 36: Free Colony
Chapter 37: Designation, Stardust
Chapter 38: Heroics
Epilogue: Destroyer of Worlds
About The Author
Other Books By The Lieutenant
Legal Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you want someone else to read it please purchase them a copy.
All of the characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older and any resemblance to persons living or dead is both coincidental and unintentional.
“Whacking a ball up Mickey Mouse’s ass and having it come out his mouth isn’t golf.”
Rest in peace old man.
Prologue:
Baggage Handling
The Junker ship’s hold was pocked with rusty holes that revealed the interior of the bulkheads. The condition of the former mining vessel betrayed its age as being several times that of the lone occupant of the storage room.
He wasn’t there by choice.
Bryan Everson had to inhale through his nose due to the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth as a gag, the equally dirty sack over his head cloying him with his own heated breaths.
He was shirtless, and the remains of the torn pants he wore did little to combat the chill of the metal surface of the cargo-hold.
With his hands painfully tied behind his back by a length of wiring, he lay on his side curled up as best he could, trembling uncontrollably while waiting to be killed or worse.
The Junkers had raided the facility where he was apprenticing and captured him and several others. One by one the rest were taken away to unknown fates, whether it was to be sold into slavery or killed for sport, he didn’t know.
Now he was all that remained.
He had been onboard for a couple of weeks, though it was nigh-impossible to mark time when he was treated worse than a sack of potatoes.
The creak of the hatch opening made him flinch, and then freeze.
Heavy-booted footsteps approached him.
“What about it eh? You want I should kill him?” A coarse male voice asked from above him.
The hard metal muzzle of a gun painfully jabbed into the side of his head and he screamed hoarsely, convinced that death had come for him at last.
He almost felt a sense of relief despite the tears seeping from his clenched eyelids; it would at least mean an end to his nightmare.
“Naw. We follow the commodore’s orders, even if I don’t unnerstand ‘em.” Another male voice replied sourly; “If we don’t hear back from the original buyer we might could still unload him on Hawthorne, he’s pretty enough for the brothels there. Though at this point he’s maybe eaten more than we’ll get for ‘em.”
Given that their prisoner had barely been provided water, let alone food, the man was clearly exaggerating.
The first Junker pressed his gun harder into Bryan’s temple, scraping against his scalp.
“So... I should kill him?” His voice held a hint of confusion.
“You damned idjit! Put that burner away before I take it from you! Why the hell you even carrying it around for?!”
The pressure of the metal muzzle left Bryan’s temple, but he didn’t dare move.
“What am I carrying it around for?” The first man asked in a voice of bewilderment; “Have you met the rest of this crew?”
“Don’t give me that! You’re part of the clan now, and out here that means more than being blood kin.”
Once again Bryan felt the muzzle against his head, but this time it was tapping repeatedly against his brow as the paranoid pirate thought on how best to respond.
“What about that Burl feller? He was clan and Leroy and his crazy brother beat him to death in front of everyone!”
Bryan heard a heavy sigh.
“We been over this. Burl was good people, but Burl ate the last of the ice-cream. And that is just something you don’t do. It’s like a... uh... an unspoken rule! Yeah!”
“That don’t make a lick of sense! The ship would be full of mostly eaten ice-cream buckets!”
Their voices receded out of the cargo-hold as their argument continued.
Whatever Bryan’s fate was to be, it was clear that these two scholars weren’t going to decide it for him.
Not for the first time he lamented his decision to continue his education so far from home. But the young man was ready for an adventure, and bought into the company line that pirate attacks were a rarity and that as a valued asset he would be protected in the unlikely event of one.
He kinda felt like he’d been had.
With the two Junkers gone the hold returned to silence, save for the constant dull hum of power that people aboard a ship inevitably became numb to.
With nothing to do but wait, Bryan settled back into hopeless misery as he tried and failed not to think of his fate.
He wasn’t stupid: he knew that the company would have already written him off for dead.
It stung whenever he thought about them telling his mother. And though he shied away from the thought as much as possible, he knew that she wouldn’t take the news well.
The imagined pain on her face was worse than the wire digging into his wrists.
With helpless tears staining his cheeks he drifted off, fully aware that despite his mother’s grief there was no way anyone would be enacting a daring rescue
just for his sorry ass.
Little did he know...
Chapter 1:
Technical Difficulties
Millions of kilometers away from the Junker vessel a smaller, yet meaner, ship was floating in vacuum; a lonely beacon of life against the backdrop of cold dead space.
Around the corner from the armoury and just outside the engine room of said vessel, Captain Donjoon Nelson found her prized mechanic on the floor with a wall panel open and his hands buried inside.
“Captain.” Kyle gave her a nod but kept working his deft fingers in the exposed wiring.
Donnie always respected his ability to prioritize and so she got right to the point.
“How fucked are we?”
He let out a little noise of derision, gave one last twist then put the wiring back into the wall before slapping the panel shut.
“Come on down and I’ll show you.”
He spun around on his butt to face the opposite wall, where several more panels had been removed so that a complicated series of exposed pipes and cables were plain to see.
She knelt down beside him, leaning forwards, her top loose enough that he got a short but healthy look at her bra clad breasts.
She smiled at his gaze, vain enough to not mind the appreciation in his eyes, though she was certainly grateful that he stayed on track, despite the sudden titillation from the sight of her cleavage.
“See that one conduit in the back? The kind of off-white cylinder looking thing? See how she’s wobbling like that?”
Donnie poked her head into the complicated mess coming from the direction of their ship’s fusion reactor, and then followed his finger to spot the malfunctioning part.
“Okay, sure?”
“We got maybe a week or so of runtime before she gives it up. Then plasma will blow it apart and take this whole rigging with it. It’ll kill the engine for sure, and if the discharge is bad enough to take out the magnetic confinement around the reactor, it’ll kill the ship.”
“Fuck me!” She exclaimed; “How much to fix it?!”
“New part? Two thousand deks at least. We can go used though, maybe get it for twelve hundred if we’re lucky. Though who knows how long that one would last.”
“Fuck.” She cursed again; “Why so much? That’s like three months of groceries!”
He shrugged.
“It’s the powdered iridium in the lining, that and it’s just one of those parts we can’t live without and the manufacturers all know it.”
She leaned back to sit on her calves.
“Well, I don’t have two grand. Shit I don’t have the twelve hundred! Demarco fucked us over big time.”
The crooked crook’s full name was Jonathan Demarco, but everyone that knew him called him Johnny Dee, or Johnny Deebag if they thought he wasn’t listening.
They had taken a courier job from Demarco, only for him to turn around and cancel the gig once they had wasted a slipjump and several days in normal space to get to the rendezvous coordinates. To make matters worse they passed up on several other contracts to take the more lucrative job, leaving them out of work and nearly broke.
Kyle nodded his understanding; he was pretty annoyed about the situation himself.
“I have an alternative, but it would require time and a bit of luck.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Let me guess, you want to play at being a scrapper again?”
“Yup. Kentis Four would be the best bet for a part like this, all the shipyards in the system drop their crap there.”
She made a pained face.
Kentis IV was a perfectly good planet, right up until six different solar systems decided that it was a perfectly good planet for dumping all of their unwanted shit.
Now it was a wasteland of wrecked ships, toxic sludge, and all the garbage the mutated scrap-hawks could eat.
But as the ancient saying went, one man’s trash...
The planet’s orbit was crawling with an overabundance of thrill-seekers or desperate people on the end of their rope hoping some idiot threw something out that was worth a damn.
It was a hard life and if people kept at it too long they turned just as hard.
She mulled the lousy options over in her head.
“So either I start turning tricks to pay for a new part we’ll never afford, I starve the crew to maybe get one used. Or we all go and get fucked up by Junkers.”
Trash planets were natural breeding grounds for the Junker clans, since it wasn’t hard to convince desperate people to join a clan when the alternative is poverty and death at the bottom of a trash heap.
“Sounds about right Captain.” Kyle said with another shrug.
It wasn’t a decision at all really.
“The one thing we have in abundance is ammo, Kentis it is.” She declared.
At that point their resident cook and font of sexual joy, a sleek-furred cat-girl named Bunny, rounded the corner behind Donnie. She was humming happily, her tail swishing behind her as she sauntered over to them.
From head to toe she was covered in sleek white fur with brown and black splotches all over, like a calico cat.
A sexy calico cat.
She placed one clawed hand on top of Donnie’s close-cropped brown hair and lifted her leg over her head in a silly sort of half-leapfrog to get by her, her juicy tushy smooshing against the top of the skipper’s head briefly.
She then bent down without a care to give her husband’s mouth a good tongue-fucking while her fuzzy tail tickled the amused Donnie’s face.
Inches from the captain’s nose, her ass looking simply magnificent in her skin-tight booty shorts. Though she had a chuckle at the blocky printed letters going across both cheeks:
Property of Kyle Airedale.
No touchy.
Once the eternally bubbly and eternally frisky calico-coloured cutie was finished with Kyle she turned to smile at the captain, her butt now inches from her man’s face.
“Oh hey Double-D! Didn’t see you there!”
At best Donnie’s chest was a loose c-cup, but she didn’t complain. If there was one thing Bunny was good for, it was brightening her day.
“I’m sure you didn’t baby, what’s up?”
The cat-girl beamed that amazing smile of hers as she replied.
“Dinner! Unless you two want to keep canoodling on the floor?”
Kyle gave her tail a few affectionate strokes as she helped the captain to her feet, then the girl surprised the stressed-out woman by throwing her arms over her shoulders and kissing her full on the mouth with her perfectly soft and perfectly pouty pink lips.
Once she had given Donnie’s mouth the same treatment as Kyle’s, she rubbed the impossibly soft fur of her face against her cheek and jaw with a comforting purr.
“Don’t stress too much DeeDee, I know we’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out, you always know what to do.”
How the cat even knew anything was wrong was a mystery, her intuition for other people’s emotional state was incredible.
“Wish I had your confidence kitty cat, but...”
Donnie trailed off with a frown, the cat-girl’s sharp teeth were suddenly biting her lip and she was breathing heavily through her nose.
She leaned to one side to see that Kyle had pulled the girl’s tight shorts down and had his face buried between her fuzzy ass cheeks, her tail resting on top of his head while his tongue was hard at work on her privates.
Donnie let out a long-suffered sigh and kissed the cat on the tip of her tiny pink nose.
“Right, don’t leave a mess you two. I’m hungry.”
With a shake of her head she turned and left them to it; before she rounded the corner a few seconds later she could see out of the corner of her eye that Bunny was already bent over on the floor with Kyle behind her, thrusting energetically.
She couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of the pair: they were the most in-love couple she’d ever been around, or been with in Bunny’s case.
&nbs
p; When you were in deep space for weeks or sometimes months at a time, where legroom and privacy were at a premium and you were totally reliant on the other members of your crew, inhibitions tended to go out the window.
Especially since Bunny had come on board; her species came by their reputation honestly.
Donnie spotted one of the other crewmembers who had just stepped out of the armoury and was heading towards the engine room, likely searching for some of Kyle’s tools.
“Eniella, hey, I wouldn’t. Bunny and Kyle-”
“Mierda, again?” Eniella Mendez let out a helpless laugh and rolled her modded eyes, one pink iris, one white; “I just about had to eat my cereal off of her back this morning!”
Donnie shrugged helplessly.
“We took on a K’or-Macka crewmember, what did you expect?”
The olive-skinned woman ran her robotic hand over her short pink hair, cut in a similar military style as the captain’s. She’d lost her left arm in a dust-up on one of Rymark’s moons back when she and Donnie, along with the rest of the crew except Bunny and Kyle, were still calling themselves corporate soldiers.
“I dunno, but I didn’t expect to find them fucking on every surface on this ship that could hold her weight! You know how hard it is to clean a gun when the table won’t stop wobbling?”
She turned and matched her stride with her captain’s.
Once again Donnie shrugged.
“Hey, as long as he keeps us from suffocating in our sleep and she stays on top of the cooking I could care less. Speaking of which, it’s time for chow.”
Eniella’s face lit up, she had to agree on the food part: back when it was just the six of them and Donnie was doing the cooking she and the others frequently threatened to mutiny if she didn’t hire someone.
So when Kyle informed them that he and Bunny were a package deal, the very first question was ‘can she cook?’
They climbed the ladder to midship and ducked their heads slightly as they stepped through the hatch in the aft bulkhead and into the common room.
Once upon a time the interior of the Pixie Hazard was painted in functional military greys, but when Bunny had come onboard she had livened the place up considerably in more ways than one. Through the copious application of brightly coloured paints all over the common room she had turned it into a welcoming place to enjoy her cooking.
Pixie Hazard Page 1