It wasn’t long at all before chimes and lights announced visitors. I heard Roger’s voice ask, “Bounder Dog, what is your business?”
“Ship maintenance, sir, request permission to come aboard.” The man’s voice was like honey.
“Permission granted, welcome and thank you.”
I ducked my head around, and he had the face to go with it. He looked like some sort of aristocrat, very polished, clean, trimmed hair with a bit of wave. All he needed was a uniform with a high collar and epaulets instead of a shipsuit.
Behind him were a platoon of mostly men with a few women, who waited in the shaft and lock and fidgeted while he spent two segs consulting with Juan and Roger.
Eventually he turned and said, “Alright, people, fall to.”
I stayed out of the way but watched. I’d never seen a crew work so fast. I would swear they were all raceboat maintenance crews for the Lagrange Rampage.
I shoved aside as five of them entered the galley and took a quick inventory. Then they ran scanners over all the equipment, and started pulling.
Ten segs later, we had three new cooking modules. They also cleaned the bay. I mean really cleaned it. I did my best, but there are limits on the chemicals you can use in flight, and only so much shift time. With the elements and ovens out, they were able to scrape off a couple of decades of hardened crud. A couple of Freehold decades, I think.
I don’t know what went on in control or engineering, but when I looked, everything was brand new, compact, with new touchscreens and plugs for remote mods.
They brought lunch with them, but I made up some grilled cheese with jalapeños and ham. I started with the hot-looking guy in charge.
“Oh, that’s decent of you, ma’am, thank you,” he said. I made sure to offer him first. After all, he was the crew boss.
“You can call me Angie,” I said. “You’re fixing our beast. I can at least offer food.”
He took one, and a bulb of soup. I’d zazzed up the tomato with some mild red salsa and a bit of onion.
“Mmf vish is gooth,” he said around it. “Sorry. Thank you again.”
“I didn’t catch your name when you came aboard,” I said.
“Oh, sorry. Ian. Prescot.” He waved instead of shaking hands. He was holding food and hooked to a stanchion by one foot.
Prescot? “Oh, family member?”
He nodded. “Yes, but a distant cousin. I own stock, but I don’t own enough to matter.”
“I’ve been through here a couple of times. I wish I could see more.”
He looked bothered. “I can’t help you w—”
“Sorry, I wasn’t asking, just noting.” Crap, no, I didn’t want him thinking that.
He relaxed and said, “Right. Well, I’ve been down to the domes twice. They are impressive, if you can drop kilomarks without blinking.”
“Yeah, maybe someday. Your station is beautiful, though.”
“Thanks. I have quarters there, when not out here managing refits.”
“I spent a lot of time dancing at Dark Eden.”
“I’ve been in it. I don’t dance much. I have wrenches for feet.”
So much for that approach.
One of the others said, “I’ve been there quite a bit. Jiggy lights.”
“They do,” I said. He wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t Ian.
“Thanks for these, too,” the second one said, nodding around his sandwich.
“Sure.”
The whole crew seemed pleased. Their rats looked okay, but had been packaged hours before. Mine were fresh. I’d kept the spice level mild for us, probably medium hot for them.
I gave Ian another warm smile, and decided to let it lie until dinner. I’d offer my code then if he hadn’t asked.
There were fitters inside and out over the holes we’d patched. Someone even upgraded the head, including the shower.
When I crawled out of my rack in the morning, I was the last one in the female wing. As I cleared the hatch, someone asked, “May we work in there now, ma’am?”
“Yeah, sure. Need me to move anything?”
“We’ll be careful, ma’am,” she said. She looked about twenty-two Earth years, but radiated confidence. She pointed, and two others hopped in with tools and gear. I had no idea what they’d do in billets.
The head was marked off. A sign directed me to a portahead set up in the dock tube. I took care of peeing and planned to shower later. Relieving yourself in emgee is a task. It takes a seal and vacuum, and feels really odd. By the time I had everything fastened, I felt like I was about to burst.
Ian not only directed, he did some of the work himself. He was spare hands if anyone needed something held, and inspected each job personally.
He seemed to be paused for a moment, so I swam up and said, “Thanks for the work in the galley.”
“You’re welcome. I take it you approve?”
“Yeah, it’s plush. Feeding this crew was hard with the old stuff. There wasn’t any room.”
He seemed more attentive that day, and did eye my cleave a bit. I wasn’t flashing it, but I did have enough showing I hoped it was clear it wasn’t an accident.
“It’s a tight ship, but the design is sound,” he said.
“Yeah, the shower was way too tight to do much,” I hinted.
“Oh?” he asked, looking interested now.
“It was hard to reach everywhere. And even if I had help, there wouldn’t have been room.”
“Right. And you can’t really do that with fellow crew.”
“Not generally, no,” I agreed. “I just wish I had time to club a bit while here,” I said.
“Are you docking after this?” he asked.
“No, I think we’re right back out.”
“Shame,” he said. “I could probably get a free pass to a club.”
“I’ll be back through again,” I said. It wasn’t likely, but I wanted him to think about it.
“Well, if you come in through this point, I may still be here.”
He still seemed hesitant, so I stuck out my hand until he reached into a pocket for a card.
“I’ll call if I do,” I said. “I’ll let you work now.”
His crew were still crawling through the ship, and were even working on the cargo davits far aft. She looked twenty years younger and a much classier tramper, probably second class rather than fourth. It was an upgrade and a disguise.
Glenn, the new guy, was back in engines. There was a crew there, too.
I overheard one say, “Once we’re done, you may find the engines can manage about ten percent over with safety, and twenty percent with risk. I really wouldn’t go past thirty, but if the alternative is death, she might do thirty-two for a few seconds.”
They definitely understood what we were planning, and were helping.
They even repainted the hull designators.
We had everything new and art-state, just nothing that was actually military.
If you’re not a spacer, I don’t think you can understand what that meant. It would have been a lot of company or family capital in peacetime. In wartime, it was absolute treasure. As a private, hidden combatant, it was beyond price. We couldn’t have gotten it anywhere. It freed us from any worries other than hostile fire. It even changed and reduced our energy signature, with the engine work we got.
It was a risk to them, and they’d offered it.
I offered Ian something else, and I even found a new favorite hideout.
It was a mechanical room, with firm foam insulation around the pipes. Two of them were perfectly placed for me to wedge my ankles in and arch them for grip, pumping up my calves, and a larger one where it could support my chest. That left him free to pump me, from behind. Low G meant he could reach around with both hands, one gripping my right breast, one cupped and rubbing me. I gripped my left breast and sucked my finger as he laid into me.
The humming machines covered my gasps, and I think I passed out for a moment. There was a long time
of rushing noises in my ears and I couldn’t think. The smell of metal and oil was a turnon. I hadn’t done this in far too long.
I could tell he was a good engineer. He found the right resonance to drive it into me, rub my clit, grip me as I slid forward, and ride back out as my hips bounced. It was the best fucking I’d had in months. I got hickeys on the back of my neck, too. I had to keep my hair low for a week.
He’d never stayed in a bunkie. I dragged him into one and snuggled for the half the night that was left. My alarm was silent. When it tickled me, I stretched and gently detached, missing human body heat as soon as I did. Then I woke him up with my mouth. I gagged and damned near choked on his second pulse, but his convulsions were worth it.
No, Ian wasn’t actually his real name. But he knows who he is. Thank you for all of it, Ian. I still owe you interest on the account.
Teresa eyed me as I made it back aboard. I winked and grinned and she gave me a thumb up.
“How’d you do?” I asked.
“Dinner, a nice walk, and I was the only one in the bay.”
“Nice!” I said. It wasn’t as nice as what I got, but actual privacy and a walk. That was a close second.
CHAPTER 24
Those three days did wonders for our morale, even without having an almost overhauled and rebuilt ship. Then, the Prescots filled our train with processed raw metal—iridium, lanthanum, tungsten, platinum, gold, iron, cobalt, manganese. It was on “Account,” and we’d have to find buyers, but that wasn’t hard. It rebooted our capital and ready budget, too.
Once done, we pulled out in a long, slow orbit. I didn’t know where we were bound.
It was marvelous to cook with modern gear in a clean galley. I even prepped stuff ahead of time so there’d be flash-heatable leftovers. The passages were clean and had new locks. The deck plates had modern magnagrip panels with padding for shlippers when under G.
The head had new fixtures, and the shower had full surround jets with interface for “audio.” I tested that with my BodyBuzz. It still wasn’t as good as live man and pulsing water, but it was as close as you could ever get with modern technology.
I’ve often wondered about sex toys. They manage to have not only different, realistic textures, but to shift between them much like real flesh. There’s obviously serious engineering in them to make that happen. So how the hell would an engineer tell anyone about that? Did they also have medical degrees to understand the tissue they mimicked? I should probably ask.
It was ten days of system boosting when Mira announced, “There will be a lengthy flight delay, then we’re going to pull serious G. Everyone take care of food, hygiene, strap in, report.”
I figured it was best to toss rescue rats at everyone. They didn’t complain, but Roger did grab an apple as well. I hit the head and pulled into the bunkroom. Teresa was there, Mira was on the command deck.
“Angie, I’m in,” I called.
Then we sat, for entire divs, half a day. We had life support at minimum, dark and cool. The powerplant was just barely humming. I knew we were in a shipping lane. I didn’t know where or what for. I had a vid playing, but wasn’t paying any attention. It was just movement.
Teresa had something playing, but would occasionally look over at me, and sometimes I’d look back.
“Any idea?” I asked at one point.
“Yes, but I can’t say.”
“Understood.”
“Are you going to take me clubbing at some point?”
“Are we doing that? I thought we were keeping discreet.”
“Sure, but isn’t that one of the best ways to blend in?”
“We can,” I agreed.
She was nervous, and I caught it. I had no idea what they planned. Launch a hidden missile?
All of a sudden, Mira announced, “Prepare for acceleration. Immediate.”
The engines hummed, rose to a whine as we hit max G, and I gasped and panted. Breathing hurt, and when I turned my head slightly, my neck cramped up, pain stabbing up and down the tendons on the right side.
Then everything blurred and I knew we’d transited the Jump Point.G slacked off, and I asked, “What was that? And is anyone hurt? I’m minor but functional.”
Shannon said, “We slammed the Jump Point. Stand by.” He throttled us back down, and we rolled and changed vectors.
“Slammed it?”
“Yes, we were right up against it, cut past the Ghali and bang, we’re through, and they’ve got twenty segs, thirty-odd minutes, before they can do anything about it. The only information on this side is that the point triggered. They won’t be looking for us, and we’re on a slow shifting course to make the search cone as large as possible. They will probably assume a drive failure and scramble rescue. They will eventually figure out what we did, but that search volume is getting bigger by the second.”
“Where are we?”
“NovRos Three.”
“That’s far from anything.” That one was in their way outer Kuiper Belt, almost to Oort distance. It was a smaller star than ours, so we were a bit closer in, but still. Light hours if not light days from anything.
But, we had legit cargo, a new ID, and should be good for now.
I wondered how long we’d have this ship, and how often we could change. I figured eventually, these ten people were going to fit a pattern, or I’d be recognized even through my makeup.
There was one small thing to like once I synced my phone. Lady Alexia had a new vid-sensie out. I was definitely playing that.
I don’t know if she’s known outsystem, but in Grainne she’s a torch. Shapely, enthusiastic, gorgeous eyes and lips. As much as I like men, I’d be hers in a moment.
It was a div-long scene with two men and a woman. My BodyBuzz had good goggles, a good probe, touch gloves and a torso pad. In the shower, with it on low pulse just above skin temperature, I watched and felt a little bit of what she had. Her first man was well-built, and large enough to make me pant, as well as firm and vigorous. He had very delicate fingers, though, and I shivered as well as clenched up as I orgasmed. I felt it all the way up my belly and around to my neck.
The woman was very sensual and gentle, almost teasing, and had Alexia, and me, very ready for the next man. They shared, both of them, with very nimble tongues and firm grips, then his cock and her tongue, then each of them in her mouth, and I wished they had an interface for that. I wanted to taste them both.
But as far as simsex went, it was mindfucking, and totally worth the cost. Her plays run from very nice to off the scale scorching. This was definitely more that way. I knew I’d be using that at least once a week on my current rotation, but damn I wanted some real flesh. Man if I could find it, woman if not.
But I was a spy in a warzone. Simsex was probably going to be my last thrill, and ratpacks my last meal, before I died in an glowing haze of burst reactor.
But it took the edge off.
And it felt so fucking good compared to being probed and zapped.
I missed Ian.
Despite it being a remote station, this was the way I’d come in last time, and I’d gone through a couple of times before that.
Roger and Jack went to sell metal. The others were doing stuff, and I stayed aboard to fix one of the new ovens. It had a connection issue of some kind. It was minor, just a dirty terminal, and the kind of thing that happens with refits. Mo had already fixed a nav sensor that wasn’t quite tracking and didn’t hold zero. Routine if you have a new ship, which we basically did.
Roger and Jack were back shortly.
“Good news is, we sold a bunch,” Jack said. “Bad news is, the ship was through here previously. Whichever one they lifted the ID from.”
“How bad is it?” Juan asked.
“I don’t know. I think a bit of cash will fix it. But we should clear out and stay low until it does.”
“Damn,” Juan scowled. “Yeah, we don’t need to have another inspection crew come through. I wish I could take the heat on this, but
—”
“I’ll hold it,” Glenn Malcolm said.
“Thank you.”
It made sense. Juan was the team officer. He couldn’t sacrifice himself unless there was a good reason. Bad ID that might lead to an arrest wasn’t good enough.
I also remembered Glenn was new, and covering for someone we couldn’t trust.
“Juan said, “If we can find a bolthole, then call the Port Authority, I’d rather go to them in a panic, worried about my ship and wanting to get things clear.”
I said, “NovRos means you will need a bribe either way. Offer it as a reward for clearing the issue. Stress schedule time or something. Ask for help.”
“A share of the profits we don’t lose for keeping schedule?”
“Yes. Ask if a small percentage will work.”
“How big do I have to go? I don’t want to be obviously desperate, or cheap.”
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “But I know someone who might. Actually, he has an office we may be able to hide in.”
“An office? That does business?”
“Sort of.”
Yuri Molotin should still be in his regular place. I sketched it out, gave them the addy and said I’d lead. Yes, sketched. You wouldn’t find it on a 3map. The station was old and had been recompartmented several times, then you’re dealing with a lot of underworld types who like safehouses, and usual spacer attitude. Half the station wasn’t properly mapped.
“I don’t know if he’ll be willing to take us all, but I have an idea. Can you follow me in stages?”
Glenn said, “Easily.”
“Okay, about a seg apart, but make sure the passage is mostly vacant.” I told them what order to be in.
“Got it.” He grinned. I felt like I was telling him stuff he already knew.
Yuri consults for people. Most of the time, it’s legitimate research on routes, markets and laws. Other times, it’s slightly less legitimate research on routes, markets and laws.
His office is five rings in, off a second flow passage, down a business way, through their door and into an office block, down the passage and around the back, behind the frosted door of a suite marked “C.” There’s no sign anywhere. You contact him by messaging his contact and he arranges to meet you. The only reason I knew where he worked was because I’d been in that office helping him with similar stuff to what I was doing now. And getting a shower with all the pleasures.
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