1 – Slave Raiders
The captives were thrown into cells, four each, and the doors slammed shut. When the last cell was locked and all secured, the Tai Harra Shaden, the clan leader, came to examine the catch. Still dressed in black battle armor and carrying his helmet in his hand, he walked slowly down the row of cells, looking over the prizes he and his men had won that night. Each of these Wolfhome women were beautiful, he thought, as he gazed upon their incredibly perfect forms. All were woman, all were far larger than any from his home world, indeed, many were as tall as his men, and all were far more beautiful than even the wildest rumors had spoken of. They glared back at him with defiance in their eyes, these haughty and proud women. But they would learn, he told himself, they will learn their proper places. Behind the steel cell doors, each woman was doubly secured for she still wore the capture shackles: a wrist binder and a pair of leg irons. The wrist binders were rectangular blocks of metal with holes. The ends hinged open to allow the binders to be put around a wrist, then swung shut and locked in place. As each side of the binder closed, the inner part of the circle expanded in until it was pressing tight against the captive’s flesh. Once locked on, the binders did not allow any movement by the wrists and could not be forced off. Each of the women had her wrists firmly held only two inches apart behind her back.
The leg irons were much like the ancient earth handcuffs but a little larger. The cuffs at each end of a very short chain were made of two semi-circles and hinged to close around the ankles. When locked on, the woman could only take hobbled steps for slow walking, and running was impossible.
Tai Harra Shaden was proud for this lot would make fine slavegirls — when properly trained. These off-world women were far more beautiful and sensuous creatures than any born of his world, and they would bring much wealth and fame to him. And perhaps he would even keep one of them. That tall one there, the one who seemed to be ignoring both her surrounds and the discomfort of her shackles might make a nice slave. He could imagine her cringing before his whip as he trained her, then the exciting nights when she would be eager to demonstrate her sexual skills for her Master. The male weapon between his legs ached to prove itself in the ravishment of that beautiful and haughty one. He would drive her crazy with pleasure as he pounded her body with his masterful thrusts until she was whimpering and begging him to cease because she could no longer stand it. Then he would ravish her more until she passed out from the ecstasy.
And it had been so easy to capture these lovely creatures. He relived the raid only a few hours passed in his mind.
They came out of the inky darkness between the stars to descend upon an unsuspecting people. Their ship was black as coal, shaped like a grotesque bird of prey with outstretched wings and ebony steel talons. In the dark hours before dawn, they swiftly swooped down from the star-speckled heavens upon the sleeping building below to bring death and worse.
It was over almost before those inhabitants of the wooden hunting lodge realized they were being attacked. Silently the ships landed in the clearing, and silently it disgorged its cargo of death-dealing warriors. The sentries, only two for this was only a hunting lodge far from the borders, were quickly overcome and their death cries the first alert for those sleeping within.
Most of those were Wolfhome female warriors, proud and fierce fighting women who slept with their weapons beside their pillows. They had leapt to their feet in an instant, but swords and lances were of little use against blasters and stunners. A full dozen of the amazonian female warriors fell defending their Princess, who was herself finally laid low by the hazy purple light of a stunner.
Quickly the black raiders rushed to each fallen woman to lock her wrists behind her with binders and to add leg irons to their ankles. Then they moved on until the whole building was secured. The few pitifully small and weak males they found, they dispatched with ease, brutality, and disdain. None had even reached for a sword although there were many weapons around. Surely they did not deserve to mate with such magnificent women!
Some of the female warriors were carried unconscious to be dumped upon the bare earth beside the hulking darkness of the spacecraft, others regained their senses and were marched out at blaster and sword point to stand in the cool night air. Since most were sleeping, and since all were warrior women, they had no need of bedclothes and all had launched themselves into battle fully naked. Suddenly a bright light sprang into life from the black shape over them, illuminating the fresh captives with a harshness that made them blink.
Around them stood a loose circle of man shaped figures in dull black, light absorbing armor. Each held a blaster rifle and had a stunner holstered at his waist. The face of each was hidden totally by the head armor, turning them into impersonal and sinister creatures.
The women were marched aboard the ship, led to a row of cells awaiting them, and locked in. Then the ship lifted silently into the night sky, still not tinted with the light of dawn, and sped off. Once clear of the atmosphere, there was the white flash of a starship jumping and all was again quiet in that portion of the forest world.
2 – An Adjuster and His Clients
I was visiting the museum on Katanga III once and saw an ancient video shot on Earth about eighteen hundred years ago. They called them “movies” back then, for some reason no one remembers now. In that movie, there was a man who made his living being what was called a “private eye.” Their customs and language were strange but apparently these private eyes all spent their time sitting around dusty offices, drinking whiskey, smoking numerous cigarettes, and waiting for a gorgeous blonde to walk in and give them a case. A case of what wasn’t clear, but the beautiful women always wanted something from the private eye. There usually followed his trying to find something or someone, several shootings, his being beaten up, and finally his turning that gorgeous woman over to the police because she was the one who shot her husband after all.
While I’ve collected every old “movie” I could get my hands on, but I don’t profess to understand them all. Still that original movie stuck in my mind because his job reminded me of mine. Only I’m called an adjuster, not a private eye, or any other part of the body.
I have a dusty office. Well, it’s hard to keep anything clean on Cetious IV, those damned winds always blow up from the desert every afternoon. But I don’t drink whiskey. Genuine, Earth made whiskey is a rarity this far out on the rim of the galaxy and would cost more than I’m worth even if I could find a place to buy it. And as for sucking the smoke from burning weeds into my lungs — forget it! They must have been crazy back then. It’s a wonder man ever lasted long enough to discover star-drive and conquer the galaxy.
Well, he didn’t exactly conquer the whole galaxy but damn near. There’s some areas not worth mankind’s march across the stars, like those damned globular cluster in the halo around the galaxy — just too far out to be worth much. But for a short, glorious time mankind ruled the stars. Colonies were started on any world that might support human life. Huge ships jumped between the stars, bringing trade, more colonists, and the iron-fisted rule of Imperial Earth.
Of course it couldn’t last. There’s a law the polisci’s have that no one government can survive when it gets beyond a certain size. And a government that tried to rule the entire galaxy was awfully big. Well, the doomsayers were right. The colonies rebelled against Earth, battles were fought all over the galaxy. When the Imperial forces were beaten back to a few hundred stars around Terra, the other worlds turned on each other, trying to carve out their own little empires. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know from history lessons.
But this does explain why the galaxy is in the terrible condition it is now. A hundred thousand different worlds, all coming originally from the human home world, and all refusing to cooperate with anyone else. It’s anarchy out here, I tell you. And I know, I’ve traveled around some.
Humans haven’t changed much physically, but they sure have taken on some funny types of governments and customs. One planet might be run by religious fanatics who’s full time occupation is trying to find God in their meditations, while one star over you’ll find a whole planet of warriors trying to figure out how to get enough ships together to invade the meditators and anyone else they can get their hands on.
Worlds still trade because they need what is grown or made on other planets. That’s why there are trade worlds, like this damned hunk of dirt called Cetious IV, mixing grounds for hundreds of cultures and dozens of species. Which is why I’m here. When dozens and hundreds of different people mix, there’s bound to be trouble. And I make my living off other people’s troubles.
As I said, I’m an adjuster. Name’s Talon O’Connor. There ain’t much law here, and what there is concerns itself mostly with collecting port fees and bribes. They let the crowds work out there own problems. But in a universe where brute force and a quick blaster make the rules, there are plenty of people who will pay to have their problems solved for them. I adjust things so they’re the way my clients want. That’s why we’re called adjusters.
But I was talking about that private eye and myself. The other thing we had in common was that we spent a lot of time sitting around waiting for a client. If she was a tall blonde with long legs and curves all over the place, that would be great. But I ain’t seen too many of those come into my place. I’m usually glad to see anything on two legs with money in it’s hand. And I ain’t fussy if it’s got more than two legs.
All of which leads up to early one afternoon while I was sitting around waiting for the winds to start up. It was funny that I was thinking about that first detective movie when this gorgeous dame walks in. Well, three gorgeous dames, and they were all tall, long-legged, and built like brick shit houses. (Old expression, I don’t know what it means, either). They had long, shiny black hair and the loveliest violet eyes. They also each had a blaster holstered on one hip and a sword hanging from the other. They wore leather body armor, helmets of polished silver, exposed legs from the tops of their knee-high boots to just short of a very interesting place, and a frown on their faces like I was something crawled out from under a rock and they would have preferred to stomp on me than talk to me. Or on any man who gets in their way. Some worlds are like that: the gals are twice the size of the men and four times as mean as a Rorret Devil Wolf.
I considered rising from my seat but didn’t want to emphasize the fact that each of them was half a head taller than my own six foot. So I stayed sitting and was trying to think of a good greeting when the lead one, the one resting a hand lightly on the butt of her blaster, addressed me.
“You an adjuster?”
“Right as rain, babe,” I replied. I’m just full of ancient expressions, most of which don’t make much sense. Why is rain right? “My name’s Talon O’Connor. Why do you need an adjuster?”
I believe in getting right to the point, and these babes looked like they might begin to tear my humble little office apart if I didn’t. Then they would start in on me.
“We’re from Wolfhome — Gamma Hydra 451, planet III. We require help in finding Princess Adrianne. She’s been kidnapped.”
“Perhaps I can help. Won’t you girls sit down and tell me the story?”
The talkative one did sit in the chair I indicated but the other two kept standing. I noticed that they kept an eye on the door, the windows, and me. They were watching their backs, I knew the signs. I’ve had to do it enough myself.
“My name is Thala. These are Rhonda and Fauna. Our Princess Adrianne was kidnapped two months ago from Wolfhome. A black ship came from space and landed near the royal hunting lodge. Then black dressed warriors came out and raided the lodge. They killed all the men and some of the guards. Then they took away the Princess.”
“Kidnapping often is for ransom. Have you heard anything from anyone asking for money?”
As she talked her knees parted slightly. In the dim area between her legs, I could swear that she wore no underwear. I also tried not to let her see where I was looking. With some of these sword-toting, female warrior races, a guy could get killed doing things like that.
“This was not for ransom. Our world has little to offer an outsider. Our treasures are the wild plains, the thick forests and the open seas. Off-worlders cannot carry away those things. The only thing we have that off-worlders prize are a few, rare gems. No, man, there has been and will be no ransom asked. We fear that the Princess was taken by slavers.”
I frowned. This was not good. There’s those who will steal anything of value. And one thing that is of great value to many races is slaves. The taking of humans by other humans goes back, I understand, to thousands of years before the first starship. And there’s various reasons. Sometimes it’s for labor, doing dangerous jobs for some race that doesn’t want to do them themselves. And there are humans who prize owning other humans as pets, and, yes, I do mean sexual pets. Keeping a beautiful woman as a slave is an old Earth custom suppressed about the time man was beginning space flight, but that now flourishes out among the stars. On a few of the worlds I’d visited, I have seen slavegirls, often wearing chains either symbolic of their captivity, or very, very real. There are even worlds where the women rule and men are made slaves.
These women were probably right, their Princess was most likely taken to be someone’s slavegirl. Thala’s knees parted a bit more and I had confirmation that she wore nothing to protect her secret place. I tried not to stare.
“A black ship and black dressed men? That doesn’t give me much to go on,” I said. “Within a couple hundred light years there’s probably a hundred races who might kidnap women slaves.”
The leader stood to her full height. “We must have the Princess back. We are warriors,” she said, patting her sword to emphasize the statement. “We have sworn to find the Princess and bring her back.” Her eyes turned a little harder. “Or die in the attempt.”
“Well, I didn’t say it was impossible,” I backtracked. “Just that you haven’t given me much to go on.”
“If you cannot help us, then tell us where we can find a someone who can.”
“Well, now…” I fought for time to think. Was it worth taking their troubles on? I was also furiously trying to think of what resources I could count on to help find one set of slavers among a great many. But this girl wasn’t having any of my stalling.
“Either help us or tell us who can,” she repeated, more firmly this time. Her hand was curling fingers around the hilt of her sword. I could see the headlines on the evening news: “Famous Adjuster Found Hacked to Pieces. Gruesome Video at Eleven.”
“If anyone can find her, I can,” I said with more bravado than I really felt. “Let’s talk terms.”
I learned early on to always make the client think you know everything, everyone and have been everywhere. If they’re not confident in your abilities, they’ll take their money elsewhere. The gorgeous raven-haired girl calmed down. She took a pouch off her belt and opened it, pouring into her hand a dozen Flame Gems. I sucked in breath at the sight of that many. Each caught the light and positively glowed with thousands of tiny, dancing points of light that moved like living things inside the crystal. Most of them were blue-white with touches of swirling rainbows. But there were a couple of the very rare violet Flames. It was hard to tear my eyes away from them.
“You get those from your home world?” I stammered.
She quickly tossed one of the blue-white stones my way and the rest disappeared back into the leather pouch. I caught it in mid-air and tried to pretend that it wasn’t worth more than I had made in the last five years. Make that ten years. “There will be more when you recover the Princess,” she said.
“Okay,” I mouthed another one of those ancient expressions that don’t make much sense. “I’ll need to talk with a few people. Then we’ll go to your home world. Do you have a ship?”
“We have no ship. A trader sold us passage here. He said this was the best place to find help. And why do you need to go to Wolfhome? The Princess is not there.”
“Star ships differ. Perhaps I can get some readings to help identify what type of drive it used. Or some other clues that may help us identify their world.”
“That makes sense. Do you have a ship?”
“No, but I know where we can charter one.” The air in the room seemed to thicken a bit while becoming very still. Then it shifted uneasily back and forth before beginning to lean towards the west. The afternoon winds were starting.
“I’ll check around and see if anyone knows of a slaver band using black ships and black armor. Then I’ll arrange for ship.”
“We will go with you,” Thala said firmly.
“Some of the people I have to talk to won’t talk if there’s a stranger present,” I said, equally firmly. As is often necessary in my profession, it was a lie. Truth is I had no idea how to go about checking on slavers. But I might be able to find someone who knows something, and was buying time. “Let’s meet at The Homy Wombat at 1700 hours. Then you can come with me to charter a ship. Okay?”
“The Homy Wombat?”
“The tavern across the street. See? I’ll meet you there.”
I considered advising them to not talk to strangers but figured if any man mistakes them for prostitutes, it would be his hard luck.
The girls left and I had a nice view of legs and firm bottoms under leather as they walked out the door. The winds were picking up, so I touched the computer keyboard to order the window shutters down. The light came on automatically. I tossed up the Flame Gem and watched the colors twirl and flash. Beautiful. Then I held it up between to finger and thumb and stared into it. The swirling colors seemed to pull at me. It was hard to break away from the gem’s captivation. I could see why those stones brought such high prices.
During the next four hours I sold the gem (hated that part but an adjuster needs working capital and my bank account was lower than a slime worm’s belly), made arrangements to be gone for a while and even paid some of my old debts. Not all, just enough to keep people from hiring other adjusters to break my legs and other important parts. Then I wandered down to Carlo’s. Talked with a Vegan there who usually knows everything that is happen out here on the rim. Not much help. Lot’s of slaver worlds but none that used black armor. Finally I pushed my way through the gusts and flying sand back to The Homy Wombat. Wished I had something good to tell the girls.
There were twenty-nine captive females taken in the raid. Tai Harra Shaden had inspected each one personally.
All were of finer stock than had ever passed through the slave pens of Kronos. He licked his lips at the thought of so much money. And the thought of how much fun training them would be.
The finest one had been brought into the training room and prepared for her first lesson. The training room would have been called a dungeon or torture chamber in most cultures for its purpose was the infliction of pain upon helpless females. Pain is, after all, a universally accepted form of training. Hurt strong enough and for long enough, and you’ll do anything to get the pain to stop. The training room held several whipping posts, two sets of stocks, a dozen different pulleys and ring arrangements by which a female body might be spread, suspended, stretched and/or held down in most any position the human mind could come up with.
A brazier burned happily in one corner, next to a collection of branding irons hanging on the wall. A series of torches gave light enough to work by but left a threatening darkness in the corners. Ropes, chains and whips could be seen dimly hanging from pegs on the walls. In one comer there was a round hole in the floor. A pulley directly over it suggested that a girl could be lowered downward. But what was down in the darkness could not be seen.
Tai Harra Shaden picked a whip from the wall, a medium whip of braided black leather with a single wicked thong at the end. It would mark up a woman’s body and cause much pain but probably not cut the skin. When used in a knowledgeable hand, it could cause a lot of pain with little damage.
The woman had been made ready for him. He turned to the middle of the training room and felt a stirring within his loins at the sight of such a gorgeous creature strung up for punishment. No part of her touched either floor or walls. Rope had been looped around each wrist, pulling her arms high, wide and taunt as she stood there. Another rope was around each ankle and pulled until her legs widened, then the feet lifted from the stone floor. With the tying of knots to rings in the wall and on a column, the slavegirl was held suspended in air in a painful spread-eagle. When Shaden approached her, she had already been suspended thus for an hour. Her head was bowed and long black hair hung down to cover her breasts and reach nearly to the patch of shining black curls between her legs.
For long minutes he circled the bound woman, enjoying the heavy breasts, the full but firm bottom and those lovely legs. This was a woman such as he had never before seen, a virtual goddess, enough woman to make any man ache with desire. It would have been tempting to tear off his pants and shove his rod up into that inviting pussy. She was bound at a good height for such a ravishment and this would not be the first time he had taken a woman in this manner. All females on his world were treated as slavegirls, to be owned and used by males as they wished. But never had he screwed a woman such as this in any position.
Still, there was the training. And a wicked smile crept onto his face at the thought of sex with her after her body bore fresh whipmarks placed there by his own hand. It would be more fun to ravish her while she cried fresh tears from the pain he had given.
The first slash of the whip across a taunt bottom brought a gasp of pain and the jerking up of the head. Her hair flew wildly as she shook her head, and a red line was immediately forming across one cheek.
The woman glared at her tormentor. But she held her tongue until she could speak not with anger but none the less demanding. “I am a Princess. A Princess is not treated like this.”
“A slavegirl is,” he said cheerfully. This was going to be fun. He would stretch out her training so to enjoy it more.
“I am not a slavegirl. If you will return me to my Wolfhome, you will be paid well.”
“I’ll be paid well when I sell you,” he countered with a smile. “And I’ll have the fun of training you.”
The beautiful face looked into his eyes and saw within the truth. Here was a man who loved to hurt women. Princess Adrianne had not run into to such before, all men on her world being wimps, but she instinctively knew. This man was used to controlling women and hurting them. She fought to keep her courage up.
“I am a warrior of the People. I am a Princess. You may hurt my body but you will never break my will.”
He laughed loudly. “Brave words! But we shall see.” He accented his point with a second cut across the other cheek. Her body jerked and she sucked in air but did not cry out. He laughed again. “It will be most enjoyable training you. And what a slavegirl you will make!”
Over her shoulder, Princess Adrianne spat at his face. She missed and he laughed again, apparently amused rather than angered. Then he began covering her bottom with criss-cross lines, each bringing a fresh burst of pain. Eventually she did scream as the fresh cuts crossed over older ones. But it had taken far more to make her acknowledge the pain with a cry of agony than with any woman he had ever trained.
When her bottom was covered with welts and discolored, and she was no longer able to hold in the cries of anguish, he turned the whip to the backs of her thighs, fresh flesh for it to kiss.
A dozen strokes across the soft flesh back there below her ass, each leg receiving an equal amount, and he came around to stand before her. She was still defiant but he could see the beginning of fear in her eyes as she saw where he was looking. He laughed happily and cut the front of her right thigh. A dozen strokes marked each thigh before he quit that area. She was crying out loudly with each stroke across virgin skin now.
The proud Princess was whimpering softly with head bowed when he put away the whip and picked up a small leather belt. He doubled it over in his strong hand and came back to his prisoner. “This is going to hurt you more than me,” he told her. There was no reaction but a few seconds later she knew what he meant when the belt came up to impact hard directly between her legs.
The scream was most satisfying to this male tormentor, indeed, pure music to his ears. He tossed aside the belt and unbuttoned his pants. Quickly, while she was still feeling the pain burning brightly between her legs and gasping, he positioned himself next before her and spread open the entrance to her sheath. A second later he was ramming his rod into her sex, a hard drive that sank it deeply into the fear-lubricated tunnel. She cried out with both pain and anger but could do nothing to stop this ravishment of her body.
Her feet and hands fluttered helplessly as he pumped away, the tight ropes digging cruelly into wrists and ankles. She cried and those tears fell to wet her breasts, some even touched his chest.
His climax was sudden and intense. With a cry of pleasure, he held her waist tightly in his hands as he buried himself as deeply as possible into her and shot his load inside a Princess.
Mixed with his cry of ecstasy was a lesser wail of mixed anguish and pleasure from the naked and bound woman. For this haughty Princess had just experienced the most intense orgasm of her young life and was humiliated beyond her ability to believe.
Meanwhile…
The three girls were there, sitting at a booth in the rear so that their backs were against the wall and they could watch both the door and the bar. From the nervous glances cast their direction by some of the regulars, I guessed that someone had tried to hit on them and failed miserably.
I joined them. Reggie came over. For a Denebian, he’s not a bad sort, but the perpetual frown they all wear isn’t really good on a tavern owner. And the look he gave me suggested he was extra unhappy that I had caused such dangerous creatures to come into his tavern. “I’ll have a beer. Any trouble?”
Reggie already had a bottle of my usual beer, Altair Red, on a tray. His frown deepened into a scowl. “Fal Winder will be walking funny for a week,” he grumbled.
Didn’t bother me much. Fal was an asshole anyway.
“What news?” asked Thala immediate upon Reggie’s departure, before I could finish the first sip. Altair Red is strong and can’t be gulped down like just any beer. Then I noticed that each girl had a tankard in front of her and there was a large bottle of Romulan Stout on the table. It was empty. Romulan Stout, they say, is about the only thing stronger than Altair Red and must be served in acid-proof containers. Or so the Romulans claim.
“I heard a few things,” I lied. “Let’s get some food and then see about charting a ship.”
The three of them got to their feet and walked out without the slightest wobble between them. I hurried to follow, carrying my Red by the bottle neck. As I walked by Reggie I asked if they drank that whole bottle of Romulan Stout. He nodded in his sad way, added that they also drank the two bottles before it, and I had to whistle. And make a note not to get into a drinking contest with them.
Normally I would have eaten at Droopy Dan’s where they serve what is traditionally called Chinese food, and that is rumored to have began back on Earth centuries before starflight. Whether that is true of not I can’t say, but I do know I like it. But since my clients were paying, we went to the Event Horizon, where the food is almost as good as it is expensive, and where they put away some large portions of Denebian Steer and more Romulan Stout. My respect for them went up another notch.
Then we went to the Ancient Rocket to see about finding a ship. Now the Ancient Rocket is not a fancy tavern but the drinks aren’t too watered down and most of the pilots and ship owners come there regularly. It’s sort of an unofficial clearing house for starships for hire. We walked in under the bright red neon sign showing a pointed tube with fire coming out of one end, and I had to explain to Thala that a rocket was a primitive form of space ship used before star drive was invented. She didn’t believe it, either. Who is his right mind would sit on top of a burning cylinder while it blasts you by brute force free of a planet’s gravity well?
The place was almost filled, and almost every male eye in the place turned our direction. I could see varying degrees of impact as three pairs of Amazonian breasts, three pairs of long legs, and a trio of gorgeous faces registered on three or four dozen male nervous systems. A couple of guys in the corner turned back to their drinks with disgust on their faces. But they had eyes only for each other. The rest leered, gulped or let their jaws hang open. I had to admit that theses girls did make quite a show, what with legs mostly bare and the way the tops of those full breasts showed under the leather. Didn’t make me feel too bad, having them come in with me. Let those old space rats conjure up whatever images their sex-starved minds would.
Meanwhile, I searched for a good pilot with a reliable ship.
Lenard Wilks was sitting in a comer, sipping that awful purple stuffs he gets from the Triad System and looking every bit as ragged and despicable as always. Anyone I ever asked told me that Willie had been one of the old timers when they got here, and he looked it. Sloppy gray hair fell to his shoulders framing a face that could stop a Wilderbeast in dead charge. This dude was ugly. But he owned one of the best ships on the rim and could fly it through a supernova — a good man and ship when you needed one. I told the girls to stay put and wander casually over to his table.
“Wilks, you old fart,” I greeted him. He looked dully at me then at the Amazons and grinned. Then he went back to his drink. “Wilks, I need to charter your ship.”
He looked at the gorgeous trio who were staring at us and frowned. “You starting a traveling whorehouse?” he asked. He squinted in the poor light. “Those are costumes, ain’t they? Those swords ain’t real, are they?”
I sat down and tried to stay upwind of his breath. “They’re clients. No, really! I am an adjuster, after all.”
He snorted, then added with a grin. “Don’t care if they’re government shitcan inspectors. Can’t charter you my ship.”
“What? You got another charter?”
“Nope. Got no ship. You know that black hole out near Beta Correllis? Well, I cut a little too close to it and the gravity waves damn near twisted my ship apart. I limped back to port with her leaking air from every seam.” He paused to take another drink. “She ain’t going anywhere without a lot of dock time. Maybe never.”
I sighed. Wilks really would have been my first choice. He was ugly and mean and usually drunk. But he was a damned good pilot.
I got up to go when he burped and told me to sit down. “I know someone who you can charter,” he said. “Good pilot, trained at the Academy.”
I sat back down. Academy trained pilots all are either in one of the military services or flying for the big companies. And the big companies didn’t haul out here on the rim. All academy trained pilots that is, except for those who washed out of the Academy or service. “Good pilot?” I repeated.
“Good pilot.”
Wilks looked sincere and not too drunk. But then it was early in the evening. Still, if he recommended a pilot… “Has this pilot got a good ship?”
“Good enough. You ain’t planning to play tag with supernovas, is you?”
I admitted that was not part of my plans. “Good. Eddie will get you were you want to go.” He leaned forward more than I would have wished and informed me with breath I could almost see, “’sides, ain’t many ships in port right now.”
“You sure this Eddie, he’s a good pilot?”
Wilks grinned and showed a few bad teeth. “Should be. She’s damned good as I was back then.”
“She?”
“Eddie’s short for Edwena. My daughter.”
I was too stunned to find words. The idea of a female version of Wilks was frightening. Still, I needed a ship…
I thanked him and went back to the girls. “I may have a good pilot and ship. Let’s go.” A friendly little fist fight had broken out in one corner of the Ancient Rocket and the girls looked too much like they would like to join in, so I moved to get them out of there.
Dock 49 wasn’t too far. And the ship there didn’t look too bad. I’m no expert on star ships but this one didn’t look more than twenty or thirty years old, and in fair condition. It was a light runabout, not a large transport, but that was fine with me, I didn’t want to haul cargo around. The hull bore the name “Golden Girl” in fancy gold script. I braced myself for an encounter with Lenard Wilks’ daughter and walked up to the figure standing with her back to me by the main ramp. I cleared my throat and she turned around.
It was a good thing that I had braced myself. The woman who turned her sweet smile my way was one of the most gorgeous dames I ever saw! Soft golden hair framed a lovely face with brilliant blue eyes and full, kissable red lips. My mind was trying to take in the fact that there was a lovely figure to go with that innocent face, and all I could mange was “Eddie…?”
“Captain Edwena Wilks, at your service. What can I do for you?”
I swallowed hard and wondered what I had done to please the gods to deserve so many lovely females in my life all at once. “I need a ship,” came out as I tried to keep my eyes from wandering down to the breasts pushing hard against the blue jumpsuit.
Eddie gave me an honest once over, decided that I might do as a customer, and started to invite me in to talk this over when she spotted the girls not far behind me. For a long few seconds the golden haired Eddie stared at the three raven haired Amazons, both sides summing up each other the way women do. “They with you?” she finally asked as if doubting my taste in women.
“They’re my clients. I’m an adjuster.”
“Oh,” was all she said but she said it in a tone that clearly told of her low opinion of adjusters. “Well, bring them along. Do they always carry swords and blasters?”
“Always. Except when they’re making love.”
Eddie shot me a glance that made me want to cringe. “I don’t suppose you would really know about that,” she said then grinned. “They look out of your league.”
I bit off a retort to the effect that she was welcome to find out for herself just what kind of league I played in.
Which was a good idea. She might have taken it the wrong way. I also cut off an scathing remark concerning whether she was in their league or not. I didn’t like the way she looked at the girls, and my Amazonian clients were looking back with a look I didn’t like, and it wasn’t anger. They were probably lesbians and would be more than willing to take Eddie into their beds when night came. Lordy, what an image that brought to my mind, golden hair spread across black.
Inside the ship was clean, much unlike her father’s, and everything seemed functional. She showed us to the mess/lounge/meeting room where we all sat down at the one large table to discussed the charter. There wasn’t much to discuss. I told Eddie that we were going to the girl’s home world and then elsewhere, destinations unknown at this time. I gave her a brief description of the reason for this quest, which Thala emphasized with a firm, “We must get our Princess back!” and a fist pounded on the table.
“Slavers, heh? You figure there’ll be any fighting?”
I couldn’t lie to those lovely azure eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I’ll take care of that. I’m the adjuster, remember?”
She snorted again but seemed to accept that. “Just remember,” she added, “this is my ship and I put its safety first. This ain’t no battle cruiser. First sign of a firefight and I get out as fast as my engines can warp space. Understand?”
I nodded. The girls frowned but didn’t object openly. I could tell they were thinking poorly of a woman who would run from a fight. Especially one for a noble and just cause.
Having defined the purpose, we discussed money, finally coming to an agreement. It isn’t hard to negotiate when you wave a Fire Gem in someone’s face. For what a single one could bring her, Eddie could have bought a totally new star ship or at least made a sizable down payment.
“When do you want to leave,” asked Eddie.
“I have a few things I’d like to get back at my office,” I said.
“We are ready to go now,” said Thala. Apparently these girls traveled light. I wondered if they always wore those leather outfits and where they stored an extra set of underwear. Then I remember my doubts that they wore any underwear at all. And I just bet they slept naked. Except for the swords, of course.
Unlike the Amazons, I was a little more civilized and hurried back to grab a couple changes of clothing, tell Mog to watch my office, and retrieve my arsenal from the safe. I always carried a standard Brettson blaster on my belt but for this case I wanted a little more firepower — just in case things got nasty. Lovingly wrapped in velvet was my special weapon. Figured it might come in handy. I was back within an hour and we jumped shortly after that.