Autopilot took us in and lined our roof hooks up with the slowly spinning station. I could barely feel the vibration when we made contact and were subsequently latched into place. After that, a contraption extended from the massive structure to slide between the legs of our ship, which were the engines. It took a few minutes before the platform was secure and locked into place around our exit. After an elevator lift tube dropped down to connect with the flat walkway, then the construction pressurized with breathable air. Doctor Vanilla confirmed the readings as our ship's computer analyzed the reliability of the connection with the station.
Our exit door slid open to reveal remarkably clean white walls and floors with a few scattered windows. I wasn't expecting a view of space from the temporary walkway and did my best not to be overly distracted by it. The air smelled funny, like an odd mix of a sterile hospital environment and the oily stench of an auto mechanic's workshop. Though our ship's air supply was recycled constantly it had still retained some of the Earthy scents of planetary life. I took a few deep breaths to acclimate to the change.
Typical length of stay at a station was four or five days, I was told. Since Clark's was smaller and less crowded, I was expecting a little quicker turnaround. The markets were open for business for another three hours this day. Hopefully, we'd be able sell our goods in that amount of time. Accepting a contract for an outgoing load would probably have to wait until business opened again the next day. Unless we split up. One of us could handle the selling and another do the buying. However, considering this was my first visit to a space station, I preferred that we stuck together.
Our side of the habitat structure reportedly had three eateries accessible from the docks. The girls were looking forward to having a nice meal later in the evening, and possibly some alcoholic beverages. I couldn't prevent them from enjoying their visit regardless with how uncomfortable I was in the new environment. But socializing would have to wait until later. This first excursion would be strictly for business.
With that in mind I brought only Strawberry and Cinnamon with me. The two sexy young women drew attention as soon as we stepped onto the spacious dock surface where cargo was being transported and stacked at nearby berths. The large ship three spots away was in the process of unloading their cargo.
Both my girls were lookers. I knew that. However, I quickly deduced that the reason for the stares was their skimpy uniforms. No wonder they wanted to change them. Everyone else in view was fully clothed in long sleeves and pants. Some even wore jackets as the temperature was definitely a few degrees cooler than we were accustomed. When Cinnamon pulled her arms around her chest, I wasn't sure if she was cold or being modest. I didn’t have a jacket to lend her, so there was nothing that I could do about either.
"Where now?" I asked.
"Up," Strawberry pointed to the ceiling. "Even though Clark's is an unfinished wheel, it still works the same way. We are currently walking on the outermost wall. Going up to the other levels gets us closer to the central hub, but we won't be going anywhere near that far. I believe this station only has ten levels for habitation. We're on the bottom one. Next one up should be the markets."
"Will there be a noticeable change in gravity between the different levels?" I asked. I hated sounded like a noob, but some questions begged to be asked in a new environment. I would have likely been the same way on a cruise ship back on Earth.
"Probably not," Cinnamon told me. "The top floor might have a five percent lower g-force. We won't be going that high and wouldn't likely notice the difference if we did."
We spotted the closest lift and rode it up to the next level which was indeed labeled as markets. It was also the floor that contained two of the three eateries that had been listed. The overwhelming aroma of exotic cooked food tantalized our nostrils as soon as we stepped out of the vertical transport car.
The girls groaned about their impatience for getting a proper meal. They had spent weeks stranded on the planet where they found me. It was by far the longest period in their lives for not being able to eat out. Though our galley’s provisions were good by my standards, some of the crew members were occasionally so bored with the offerings that they lost their appetite.
We approached an information desk with a neatly groomed young man standing behind it. He looked up from his computer screen when Strawberry rested her elbows on his high counter. He smiled immediately at the sight of the pretty redhead. Unable to see her body, her lovely round doll face was enough to excite him.
"Hi there," she said to him, going easy on the charm. "Can you please direct me to the best companies to sell our cargo?"
"Sure, miss..."
"Strawberry," she replied sweetly.
"Of course," he answered, taking a barely noticeable sniff at the her scent. "What are you selling?"
"We have some building components, tech parts, and a few crates of exotics," she told him. He didn't seem surprised by her vague descriptions.
"Start with Clark's One Corporation with the builds and techs," he told her, pointing to his left. I quickly spotted the large sign at the first shop. Based on its appearance and company name I assumed that it was the largest that the station had. "Our primary buyer of exotics is Jafferties. You'll find them nearly to the end of the same section. Is there anything else I can help you with? Do you need currency perhaps?"
"Currency?" Strawberry showed mild surprise. I had been told that physical money was mostly a thing of the past.
"Yes," the guy explained. "Clark's personal service industry operates on a programmable chit basis. I can advance you funds which you'll need to pay off after selling your cargo. Your ship is the Mavdaios, is that correct? An interesting name. I like it. For a C17 vessel we typically front you twenty-thousand credits so your entire crew will be able to eat and shop right away. To give you an idea, the average meal at Snookers, the place by the lift, is less than forty credits. How many chits would you like?"
Strawberry glanced back to me. After seeing my dumbfounded expression, she turned back to the young man that was digging round items that resembled poker chips from a drawer. A tingle ran down my spine as I thought about the possibility of gambling on this station.
"We'll take three chits," Strawberry told the guy, continuing with her flirty voice. "Can you put ten thousand on one, and five each on the other two?"
She handed me one of the fives. The flat disc had a small screen on it that read five-thousand. As we walked away she explained that she kept the ten in case there were any large purchases to be made before we return to the ship. The girls had a personal shopping list ready long before we docked.
Inside the Clark's One spacious office I was surprised to find only one desk. It was toward the back of the large rectangular room. Four plush sofas sat along the walls in the fancy front section. The lone employee visible at the desk was already with a customer, so we took a seat on the couch farthest back. Beside it was a table with a decanter and several clear plastic cups.
When I reached for a cup, Strawberry instructed me not to drink the fluid provided. When I asked why she whispered that many companies put substances in their drinks to make their customers more agreeable to the terms that they were offered. Considering this station's reputation, she thought that it was likely the case here. Huh, a commercially used roofie.
On the wall across from us was an elaborate pricing display. It was a mix between a restaurant menu and a stock market ticker, only with upscale flare. It listed selling prices for dozens of items, none of which we had to sell. Purchase prices for exports were listed on a separate board. Then a third screen held contract offers.
Cinnamon clarified things for me before we left the ship. Contracts were reliable income since a buyer was already lined up at the destination. However, a savvy negotiator like Strawberry could often make us more money by purchasing goods and then selecting where she would like to sell them. That option would give us more to choose from which would be good considering our desire to avoid pl
aces where the Arketa Koreta and her crew were already known.
Either way, we would have to purchase the goods here and sell them at our destination. Only the larger reputable ships could make the run without having to put up any funds.
The man behind the desk was much older than us, but he was friendly enough. He offered us three-hundred-and-seventeen-thousand credits for the builds, and over four-hundred-thousand for the tech cargo. Strawberry had provided him with a disc that contained the data and the computer embedded in his desktop simply spit out the numbers that he offered. Glancing at the clock he told us that those prices were good until the end of the business day, which was in just over two hours.
Seven-hundred-thousand credits wouldn't fill our cargo holds with outgoing cargo according to some of the listed prices. Since the profit wasn't going to a parent company, we didn't really need to make full runs. That also allowed some much-needed space of our dragons.
I was shocked when Strawberry turned down the offer and asked for eight-hundred-thousand total. The man smiled at her almost condescendingly. He obviously wasn't under her spell. He declined the counteroffer and stuck with his prices.
Always ask for a better price, my momma used to tell me. It was embarrassing to do so sometimes, but my mother had no shame in doing shrewd business. I expected my redheaded first officer to go ahead and sell at the offered prices. She did not.
Instead we went to the next office in the row. Their offer was nearly identical, but a smidge lower. This time, however, Strawberry was able to get them to budge with some sweet talking. Still, it was just a ten-thousand credit improvement over the first quote. She didn't accept it.
This negotiation shit was taking way too much time for my patience. At the next station I'd have to let her do her thing without me. I was hoping to start unloading our cargo the next morning. At this rate we’d be still be working on a buyer the next day.
By the time we stepped out of the Jafferties office there was only twenty minutes until the close of daily business. I was happy that she managed to sell both the Savrad and the Tigritari for two-hundred-thousand credits. The deal wasn't final, though, as they insisted that they be able to examine the creatures to confirm the health data that Vanilla had provided on the animals.
The offer that we received on what was left of the weapons was pathetic. In fact, Jafferties preferred not to deal in weapons at all. We were strongly encouraged to take them elsewhere.
Once back in the hall I was prepared to insist that Strawberry go back and accept one of the offers from earlier on the builds and techs. I didn't want to have to go through this again the next day. Before I could say anything, a young man with Clark's One logo on his shirt approached. The old man had decided to increase his offer by thirty-three-thousand and sent this guy to track us down before his office closed.
Strawberry flashed me a smile before telling the guy that we accept the new deal. And just like that, our cargo was sold. We would have nearly a million credits added to our account sometime the next day. Then we could select an outgoing contract that suited our needs. I was determined to get something going to one of the planets.
"We'll line up our next run tomorrow," Strawberry said as she clung to my arm like a new girlfriend. "Tonight, we relax. Let's get some drinks."
I glanced at Cinnamon on my other side to see her reaction to the redhead's words and behavior. Surprisingly, my sweet spice scented babe was smiling as she gave her nod of approval. She then put her body around my other arm and said, "I can't wait to get a good meal, girl. Let's not stop with just drinks."
"Honeysuckle will be pissed!" Strawberry told her with a wicked grin.
"Hold up," I said bringing our party to an abrupt halt. "I'd love to grab some drinks with you two lovely ladies, but we have some other things to consider."
"Tomorrow," Strawberry said with a stubborn shrug.
"She's right, Kash," Cinnamon said. "We did enough work today, I think. Let's grab a drink then we'll go shopping. When we get back to the ship we'll have enough good news to keep them from getting upset.. Everything will be fine and there is plenty of time for all of us to enjoy the station over the next few days."
I couldn't resist after my prime girl supported the idea. So, hand in hand with both of them, I let them lead me into Snooker's eatery. My apprehension faded immediately once I was inside the door. The place resembled a fancy Irish bar right out of Manhattan.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
It wasn't real wood. I stared at it, rubbed at it, and still had trouble believing it. The rich grain of the faux material was very convincing, and it was everywhere. The bar, the booths, even the ceiling. The glasses weren't real either. I mean, they were made from a crystal-clear plastic, and etched with a design that matched the decor. But I had gotten used to drinking from plastic already.
Our bartender was a cute girl in a black vest with no shirt underneath. Large breasted, too. She seemed a little flirty by nature, but I was able to control myself. When Strawberry took an interest in the young woman, she also sat her ten-grand chit on the bar. From that point on our seductive freckled hottie had the buxom blonde's undivided attention.
I finished my black liquor concoction which tasted a lot like a vodka sour pineapple with an earthy bite. Cinnamon pushed her fancy glass to me while it was still half full. The glaze over her eyes told me that she already had enough to do the job. Our new navigator was nearly done hers when I heard the slightest slur in her speech. I couldn't be surprised. They were both tiny by human standards.
The bartender eventually got busy with other patrons. Strawberry was forced to turn her attention back to us. "We should order another round," she muttered, not sounding all that convincing.
"I think that we've had enough for now," I told her. "You can come back to see your new girlfriend later. Don't we have some shopping to do?"
"Yeah, we better," Cinnamon supported the idea. "We need an excuse for why we've been gone so long. Hopefully this buzz will fade while we're shopping."
"You mean hopefully not!" Strawberry said with a ornery grin as she leaned on my girl's shoulder. I got the distinct impression that she was easy prey for sexual advances while drinking. I needed to keep that in mind. Or possibly be worried, I wasn’t sure.
We had to go up another floor to reach the stores. I expected something like a grand mall from my time. Instead, it closely resembled the markets for buying and selling cargo. There were more variances between the shops, but it was still an order-at-the-counter kind of operation. Over the course of the next two hours, we purchased a lot of goods, but most of them were scheduled for delivery to our ship the next day. The only things that we decided to carry with us were two boxes of pastry-type treats, a bottle of clear liquor that was Strawberry's favorite, and two unusual black robes.
I had this idea that both Aeren and Mixi should get to experience the space station. It would surely blow them away even more than it did me. But there were no women visible in my brief time with severe body modifications. I was worried that the two alien beauties would stand out too much. Thus, the robe idea. It would dramatically reduce their sexiness, maybe even make them look like witches, but I believed that it was worth a try.
"Where have you been?" Honeysuckle asked as soon as we reentered our ship. "We've been worried about you."
"Did you get the confirmation that we sold the cargo?" Cinnamon asked.
"Yes."
"Then you already know where we were." My girl still had a bit of the sauciness about her that developed after her beverage. I was enjoying it on her.
"That came in two hours ago," Honey looked pissed just like we thought she might. I couldn't blame her. It had been weeks since she visited any sort of human civilization. And she had been through a lot in that time. More than the rest of the crew even, considering our adventure in the caves.
"How about the scheduled confirmations from our shopping?" Cinnamon asked. She was doing a great job of explaining why Honey shouldn't hav
e been worried. But it didn't make the beautiful white-haired girl feel any better. I could clearly see that she felt excluded.
"Hey, sexy," I said to her as I put my arm around her. "I missed you."
My forwardness threw her off at first, but then she quickly recovered when I kissed her on the cheek.
"I was thinking that you and I could head back out later to one of those bars," I whispered in her ear. I had her attention then. "Maybe you could show me what station visits are all about."
"Just the two of us?" she replied tentatively, peering into my eyes.
"Yes," I answered. "Unless you want to take Aeren and Mixi with us. I bought them some robes." I held them up for her inspection.
"Those might work," she told me, looking a little deflated. "But we'll be here for a few days, right? They can go out tomorrow while the cargo is being unloaded."
Alien Girls Page 8
