Life of a freelancer, p.31
Life of a Freelancer, page 31
The story would hold up until a doctor got a look at Miko, and then, I hoped the skipper had some extra cash on hand. There was the whole Hippocratic oath, but money was a religion all its own. We’d need a devoted cleric who worshipped the almighty credit if we wanted to avoid jailtime.
A laser torch burn was a typical enough injury in any ship’s engineering department, but it didn’t come anywhere close to the energy intensity of a mil-spec battle rifle, nor did a person usually cut their throat at an angle that was the next best thing to impossible unless they were a total idiot. A doctor would take one look at Miko and know she’d been shot in the throat. It was always local regulation to immediately inform law enforcement if someone came in with a bullet or laser wound. We needed that not to happen.
If someone reported Miko, there would be an investigation. The first thing they would do was pull the logs from Kid. While I’m sure the skipper had done an admirable job of forging said logs, nothing was perfect unless she slagged the whole nav database. Forensics would find something, and then someone would go investigate where we’d been; especially when word came in that a ship had failed to make port on schedule. We couldn’t disappear a freighter’s worth of wreckage like we could some ones and zeros.
So, the big question was, “What do we do now?”
We’d already received encrypted, tight-beam comms from both the spooks and psycho. They both expected us to see them the second we got into port. That meant we were more than likely going to have to split the team. Astrid would take Miko to the hospital while the skipper and I hit up one of our clients. Then, we’d all rendezvous to go see the second. The questions were: who had priority? What were we going to say? And what in the hell were we going to do with the pixie queen?
“That’s what Sergey wants,” Astrid had pinpointed that once we’d reconvened after the sexcapades we’d gone through. The big dragon was clearly embarrassed, and trying to avoid me as best she could, but that was hard to do on a ship as small as Kid.
“He has weapons. He has men. He has armor. What he doesn’t have is the ability to create an army,” she deadpanned.
I’d never thought about it like that. The psycho obviously wasn’t a lover of the Confederation. I didn’t know his story, but as far as I knew, psychos didn’t get a pat on the back and a gold LINC when they decided they wanted to take a different career path. There was bad blood.
Sergey might have the local law under his thumb, and maybe some of the cloudscoop’s megacorps management, but there were still competing interests way out here. With a pixie queen farting our soldiers, he’d be able to push aside his competition. No more behind-the-scenes shit. He could come out in the open and run everything in orbit around the gas giant.
Even worse for the people who lived there, local law wasn’t going to be able to take on a few hundred pixies. They’d need the navy. If the fleet and marines were called in, it would be a bloodbath; and if the queen had any ties to any other big-mommy queens back in pixie space, it could turn into an intergalactic incident. That meant war. This whole scenario was a powder keg just waiting to blow, and I was the asshole holding the match.
“No one ever said the crazy son-of-a-bitch was stupid,” I thought, as I marveled at the genius of Sergey’s plan; and how we were perfectly positioned to take the fall if it all went to hell.
Still, it all hinged on us giving him the queen. Now that I knew Miko and Andrea’s backstory, I gave it a zero percent shot the skipper was going to do that. The pixie queen might have tried to kill us, but the skipper wasn’t going to enslave it to a psycho.
“But is she going to hand her over to naval intelligence?” I wondered.
I could already imagine the young queen in some white, spotless lab; surrounded by government scientists as they figured out what made the pixies tick. As far as I knew, the Confederation had never captured a queen. She’d be a gold mine of information. As far as the skipper’s personal ethics went, that wasn’t much better than the psycho’s plans for the face eater.
Me, personally, I was glad I wasn’t making the decision. I’d probably chuck the face eater out the airlock and say we never found any pixie queen. Of course, a psycho would see right through the bullshit; which was why I didn’t make the plans. I just killed things and blew them up.
“Last chance. Does anyone want to fill me in?” I asked as the skipper sat back in her command chair. Both women just looked at me. It was the kind of look that was passed through the ages, and made any guy feel like an idiot for asking what was apparently a stupid question.
Shit, even ET’s had that look. That proved that no matter the species, men were from Venus, and women were from Mars; or some shit like that.
The skipper knew the plan because she’d devised it. Astrid knew the plan because Sergey couldn’t get inside her head. That left me the odd man out. I didn’t know the plan for security purposes. Just like the last time I’d run into the psycho, I didn’t have a clue what was going to go down. Whatever it was, I was sure the skipper was going to make me earn my keep.
We were still hours from the cloudscoop, and counter-burning after our high-speed run for Erlking. It was the first time I could remember hating physics. It seemed like we were endangering Miko even more by flipping the ship and blasting the wrong way to slow down. I wished ships could just stop on a dime and pull into a parking spot. No dice.
Instead, I’d spend the next four hours twiddling my thumbs until the skipper needed me in aux guns for docking.
“Or maybe not,” Astrid had maneuvered toward the skipper and was whispering in her ear. The woman gave a curt nod, and the dragon moved away.
“Mitchell, report to the cargo bay,” she commanded after the dragon left.
Things had gotten more awkward with the skipper as well. She’d been nothing but professional, and was always her efficient self, but I could tell something was off.
“I just can’t win,” I huffed as I got to my feet.
I could have done nothing and watched as Astrid ripped Andrea to shreds. Instead, I’d done something and saved the skipper, Miko, and the entire ship. So, it was either death, or the no-pants dance. Apparently, there was no good answer with women.
“Doomed if you do. Doomed if you don’t,” I sighed.
Despite the stupid feelings churning in my gut, I didn’t argue with her. This was about getting the ship ready to dock and transport Miko. She needed our full attention, and then I needed to be ready for whatever the hell was going to happen with our clients.
I headed back to the cargo bay, and checked my newly installed shipboard security measures along the way. We all knew both our clients would have eyes on us the second we pulled into port. Unlike last time, someone wouldn’t be sitting with the ship. We’d have to leave Kid all by her lonesome. It was a risk, but we couldn’t avoid it; so, I just hoped Kid and my recent upgrades would give us an escape plan if it came to it.
I emerged from the A deck hatch to see Astrid had straightened up. Good. She’d basically turned the whole bay into a minefield of designer clothing, accessories, and other miscellaneous shit. It was only fitting she cleaned up her own mess. Now, with us so close to Erlking, everything was packed up and ready for transport. That surprised me. It never occurred to me Astrid might just be along for this one ride.
“Is she going back to work with Sergey? Did she ever stop working for him?”
My paranoid mind went into overdrive as I overcomplicated the situation. The crux of the matter was, if Astrid had wanted to kill us, she would have done it already.
“Huh . . . well . . . not for lack of trying,” my brain offered that reminder. But there was a clear difference between premeditated murder and being horny enough she’d accidentally hump me to death.
“I live an interesting life,” I smiled as I descended the steps to the bay . . . and froze.
There was one thing not packed away, and it dominated the space. The only thing that would have freaked me out more was if the dragon’s four-poster bed was still out. Unfortunately for her, I was pretty sure she was going to need to burn those sheets. Not only had she torn them up good, but I’d dumped about a gallon of cum in her; which she subsequently splashed all over the bed, scrambled with her lady juices. It was a mess.
No. The bed was gone, but a giant bathtub sat in its place. Next to it, Astrid stood awkwardly with the world’s biggest loofa cradled in her arm. The look on her face told me things were about to get weird.
“We haven’t really had a chance to talk,” she began, hunched over protectively.
It was weird to see what amounted to the perfect killing machine so defensive.
“But I wanted to clear the air,” she finished.
“Go on,” I replied tentatively. I wasn’t about to agree to anything, and kept a good distance between me and that tub.
“First of all, I wanted to apologize. I almost . . .”
“Sliced me up to use for ribbon on this year’s Christmas presents,” I filled in. I wasn’t sure if dragons could blush, but her scales seemed to glisten more around her cheeks.
“Yeah,” she exhaled, and slumped even further. “I should have been able to control it, but I didn’t. That is the shame I carry. In my culture it is up to a female to make amends when this occurs, or they can be cast entirely out of society for losing control. It’s called,” she made a noise that sounded like a chicken bone snapping, followed by the strangulation of a rather loud kitten. “I think it translates to payment,” her eyes scrunched up in thought.
“So, in your culture, I’m basically a whore who gets paid off when things get too rough?” I deadpanned.
Now, I knew for a fact that dragons could blush. Her scales practically ignited as blood flooded her face.
“No, I . . .”
“I’m just fucking with you, Astrid,” I put her at ease as I walked over. “A lot of people have tried to kill me before, and it has never ended with a creampie. I jot that down as a win in my book.”
The dragon’s blush continued as I stuck my hand in the tub. The water was perfect and had a flowery scent. It was a little girly for my taste, but who was I to say no to getting bathed by a beautiful woman.
“So, what now?” I looked up at her.
“Things usually get . . . messy when a female loses control, so it is customary to clean the male and dress his wounds,” she replied.
I wasn’t wounded, not even my pride. If anything, fucking a dragon had given me a healthy ego boost.
“Sure thing,” I started to strip, and Astrid turned away from me. “What? Did you join a convent sometime in the last day?” I asked. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”
She didn’t turn around until she heard me enter the tub. “This is supposed to be a punishment,” she stated as she squirted something on the loofa and started to rub it up and down my back.
Not gonna lie, the motion got me hard; enough that my tip poked out of the surface of the water. I don’t know if she noticed, but soon, the bubbles covered me up. She didn’t say anything as she meticulously washed me. She didn’t give me a handy, tickle my balls, or decide to scuba dive on my crotch. It was weirdly intimate. Part of me loved it, but the part of me that killed shit didn’t like it one bit.
“You know, you really don’t have to,” I tossed all joking aside. “Some shit happened. We both lived. I’m over it as long as you are?”
“It’s not that easy,” she replied, still not looking at me.
“Look, Astrid. The only people who know about this are me, you, and the skipper. I won’t say anything, and I’m pretty sure the skipper has bigger things on her mind. As long as you’re good, let’s just let bygones be bygones.” I hoped that would settle it, but the big dragon still wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Such a brazen act of aggression. The complete loss of control. Being dominated by our inner animal . . . leaves a taint that doesn’t just fade with an apology,” she finally admitted. “If I tried to return home, or encountered another member of my species, they would be able to sense it on me.”
“Seriously?”
She didn’t look up from where she was scrubbing my feet, she just nodded.
“That sucks. If I was tainted every time I lost my shit . . .” I trailed off into a whistle.
I saw Astrid flinch, and felt like an ass for rubbing salt in a fresh wound. Apparently, this was a big deal to her.
“Okay, so how do we make this right?” I asked earnestly. “I don’t want you to be a pariah with other dragons. I mean, I’m sure your parents could help give you some alien purification thingy,” I offered. If dragons were anything like humans, enough credits could solve just about anything. Judging by the wardrobe around me, Astra’s folks had to have some cash.
Whatever the reaction I expected, it wasn’t a harsh laugh. “My parents . . .” she stopped herself, and gave a heavy sigh. “My parents are very traditional. If they saw me like this, they’d banish me.”
“I thought they wanted you home from sowing your wild oats,” I replied.
“They do, but not like this,” she waved at herself.
Of course, I didn’t see anything wrong with the woman in front of me. Hell, I’d fuck her again; and she didn’t even have to try and kill me this time. I was about to tell her just that, when she put the loofa down and got on her knees beside the tub. She was still taller than me standing, but it didn’t take a genius to see something was up.
“To remove the taint, I have to dedicate myself to you. For one whole year of my people’s time. I have to follow you. Do as you ask. Be what you want me to be. That is the penance required,” she bowed her head.
It was so unlike the Astrid I’d grown to know and like, it was freaking me out a little. I didn’t want a twelve-foot dragon running around doing my bidding. I’d never even owned a dog. Hell, the closest thing I’d had was a goldfish, and that orange bastard went tits up in under a week. I was not someone to be followed. No one did my bidding.
“Fuck.” I took a second to think by dunking my head under the water. I sat under as long as I could hold my breath. With a fresh dose of vitamins, I bought myself several minutes.
When I came back up, I didn’t have an answer to the problem in front of me; except to ask, “Is there any way we can just say you did your time?” I pleaded in a very masculine way. “I’ll write you a doctor’s note and everything.”
Astrid looked up at me with a sad smile, and shook her head.
“Shit,” I grumbled. “Well, I don’t want you to be a leper among your people, so you can follow me.”
I hadn’t expected any reaction from the contrite dragon, so when she wrapped me in a hug and yanked me from the tub to spin me around, I nearly punched her in the throat.
“Thank you, Mitchell! I promise, you won’t regret it.”
“Yeah . . . yeah,” I waved her off as best I could when I was plastered to her chest, and then froze. She did the same.
I was naked. She was hot. She’d pressed her voluptuous curves against me. One plus one equals nine inches of rock-hard cock. There was a twinkle in her eye as she put me down, and I couldn’t help but remember this was what got us in this mess in the first place.
“And then there’s Miko,” the splice popsicle was going to come out of stasis, and, space gods willing, not be a vegetable. To her, nothing would have changed. No time would have passed. How was she going to take Astrid being my dragon . . . slave wasn’t the right word when the person did it voluntarily.
“Stupid dragon anatomy.”
In the corps, I would have called any marine in Astrid’s place my bitch; but, I was pretty sure this underlying taint didn’t preclude the dragon from beating my ass if I pissed her off. She just had to be in control of herself while she was hammer-fisting my scull into pudding.
As I looked up at her, she definitely couldn’t be mistaken for my little helper. And as far as relationship statuses went, if we were anyone else, there would be restraining orders involved. Like I’ve said; the life of a freelancer can be pretty interesting under the right circumstances.
The big dragon licked her lips, and started to bend over, when the skipper’s voice blared across the 1MC. “Combat stations. All crew, combat stations. This is a test. Combat stations . . .” the message repeated, but my marine training kicked in.
Before I knew it, I was running for aux guns; trailing soapy bubbles in my wake. I didn’t even realize that Andrea had leveled the mother of all cock blocks on me until I rationalized that this was a test.
“What a dick move,” I snarled. Now, I was sure she remembered something from the night we almost boned. What other reason would there be to fuck with me like that?
Chapter 14
“Today’s the day I’m gonna die.”
If I had a credit for every time I thought that, I’d have one of those fancy yachts and would be sailing back and forth from Titania to Aurora every other weekend. If I had a credit for every time that thought was almost proven true; I’d be able to get one of those fancy drinks from Starbucks. Let me tell you, orange mocha frappuccinos ain’t cheap.
In the Corps, I’d gone interesting places. Seen the galaxy. Met interesting people, and tried to kill them. They tried to kill me right back. I’d been stabbed, shot, burned, riddled with shrapnel, and almost eaten on more than one occasion. The galaxy was a fucked-up place, and it had been my job to put my foot in the ass of any ETs that wanted to fuck with mankind. Now, for all my troubles, I barely got dental.
I pushed aside my brushes with death and focused on the now. I was in the armory, looking over our pathetic loadout of weapons. The sight made me want to weep when the latest and greatest small arms and armor in human space were less than fifty yards from me.
“Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink,” I remembered something my old drill sergeant said.
It had something to do with a story about old wet navies and birds. I still didn’t know what the hell the old DI meant by it, but it was all philosophical and shit; and it fit my current mood.
