by I. V. D'ath
It seemed that the Stormriders' reign of terror throughout the Outer Rim was gradually becoming an inescapable reality for those trying to make a living in one of its planets.
“Well, would you look at that,” Gina Starbreeze mumbled under her breath as she read through the message displaying on the giant screen in front of her. She was sitting in her Captain's chair, which occupied a central spot in the Aurora Prime's bridge, and was going through a series of routine checks as the ship, an old Terran Battle-Class freighter that was heavily modified and equipped with enough plasma cannons to blow up a hole in most plating, even those of an Annihilator-Class frigate, was making its way, slowly but steadily, towards Raknor-2.
Their destination, a small moon orbiting the trade plant Koch and a known haven for smugglers and bounty-hunter crews, was their usual hub of choice for blowing off some steam and looking for another contract.
However, unlike previous times, the ship was in dire need of supplies since their last gig, providing protection and escort services for settler freighters, had forced the crew to spread themselves too thin. The job didn't pay very well but it was all that she could secure for her crew since the Stormriders' reign of terror had driven other gangs away from the Rim and made bounty contracts scarce.
It wasn't a good time to be a crow-for-hire but she was determined to do all that she could to keep the Buccaneers afloat. Since the day when she was forcefully separated from her biological family on Luna six years ago, conscripted in the Empire's marine corps, her crew was the only people she felt close enough to call friends.
Gina hit a series of commands on her chair's computer, forwarding the bounty-message to all terminals throughout the ship, and activated her ship-wide comm.
“Get your lazy asses down to the mess-hall, folks,” she said in her usual authoritative but kind tone. “Drop whatever you are doing and come meet me there. I've got a new gig for us, one that'll make us rich!”
*
Half an hour later, the mess-hall was buzzing with the sound of the crew occupying the seats around the giant rectangular table that acted as both the ship's dining table and the go-to place for meetings. Gina sat at the head of the table and was eyeing up everyone thoughtfully, while they were caught up in their usual playful banter.
They were all there, her faithful crew. On her left there was Mark “Twoshots” Verdan, her second-in-command and a fellow marine from her years in the Terran military, before they had both escaped from the clutches of the Imperial war machine and were branded as outlaws and deserters. He was a bit older than her, nearly in his thirty-first Galactic Cycle, but his youthful demeanor and lean and agile physique hinted at a man of both intelligence and certain physical prowess. Mark, or Twoshots as they rest of the crew called him, was her closest friend on the ship and it wasn't a rare occurrence for them to share the same bed during the lonely drift in space between missions.
On her right, there was the Doc, the Oxcidoxc'ian outlaw wanted for illegal medical research on his water planet of Oxcidoxc, and the crew's chief medical officer. Not much was known about the mysterious alien, not even his real name (not that it'd be pronounceable anyways Gina often mused), as he mostly kept to himself, locked up insides the confines of the ship's med-bay. The only thing that the crew was certain of was the fact that he was a wanted person in more than five systems for performing genetic-related experiments on others, with the goal of enhancing their physique and providing them with new sets of extraordinary abilities. Of course that didn't sound half bad, at first, at least not until the crew learned that most of his test subjects consisted of highly wanted criminals, the same ones they were usually pitted against. However, he had proven his loyalty and his worth, time and time again, when he had to perform emergency surgeries under the harshest of conditions and almost everyone on the Aurora owed him their lives, in one way or another.
Next to the Doc, there was Sparkplugs and Minya, the ship's sweethearts. When the two of them weren't fucking like bunnies in the ship's engine room, Sparkplugs, born and bred on the planet Earth itself and trained from a young age as an avian-engineer, was tasked with providing maintenance and repairs to the ship's highly modified engines; Minya, on the other hand, a cute female from the feline planet of Prrrah where the cat-people dwelled, was responsible for piloting the ship and providing navigational control.
Gina smiled at the young couple who were snuggling in their chairs, lost in their love and affection for each other, occasionally participating in the party banter.
On the other side of the table, opposite her, sat Vorgon the Giant, an alien from the planet of the giant people, Argoath. Vorgon was clad in his usual colorful attire that often clashed with his gray-like stone-skin and white piercing eyes, making him look slightly comical but not any less lethal. He was the Buccaneers' cook and enforcer, providing the muscle that the rest of the group lacked. Over the years, he had grown a reputation for himself for not missing an opportunity to rip his enemies' arms from their sockets, in the tradition of his people's fighting style, a reputation that led to most people avoiding crossing paths with him. He was being particularly cheerful lately, she noted, laughing loudly with his own jokes and teasing the rest of the crew with his usual crude manner; a fact that left Gina wondering whether she should be worried or happy about it.
Lastly, but not least, there was Daggers, the crew's own assassin and information specialist. The little goblin-like thug from the planet Rerkh, was there to provide stealth when the situation arose, his, dark-green, short and slender physique allowing him to lurk in the shadows in order to gather intelligence but also stab a pointy energon dagger in the back of a possible target. The Rerkh'ian abhorred the use of blasters and preferred his own set of energon daggers and scimitars, of various sizes and shapes, instead, explaining how his polished fighting techniques required the most civilized of weapons. Gina, seeing the results her short crew member could get with those blades, couldn't agree more.
“Hello, lady and gents,” Gina spoke in her firm tone, making everyone around her go suddenly quiet. All faces turned to look at her, some of them taking a sip from their Lunar ale drinks she had provided them with from her own private stash. She wanted to make sure the crew was in as much good spirits as it was possible before she made her announcement.
“I know things haven't been going well for us lately,” she started saying, “what with the absence of new bounties floating around and the Buccaneers being delegated to bodyguards for farmers and lowly traders.”
“I am sure that you are as sick of it as I am,” she continued. “But, I have some news that could make our situation seriously improve,” she paused for added emphasis.
Everyone looked at her in anticipation. “We are listening, boss,” Vorgon the Giant finally said, the rest nodding in agreement.
“I am not going to try to sugar coat this as it's a bounty like no other we have gone after before. It's as dangerous as it is financially rewarding.”
“Don't keep us waiting, boss-lady,” Minya chimed in, her ginger tail standing in attention above her head in excitement. “What is it?”
“The Council of Planets of the Outer Rim is offering two-hundred million Galactic Credits, in cash, for the capture of the criminal known as Stormripper, self-appointed leader and General of the Stormriders gang.”
A commotion broke out in the crew, everyone taking in the news in disbelief.
“How are we going to claim that bounty, Captain?” Daggers asked in his high pitched voice after the noise had quietened down a bit. “From what I hear, their gang is nearly two-hundred-man strong and have a small fleet of twelve ships, not to mention all the high-tech Terran and Pithikan weaponry that keeps landing on their lap. Although I'd love to get my hands on that bounty, we seem seriously outnumbered and outgunned!”
“I agree with the little runt here,” Mark spoke beside her. “I don't see how we can go up against a force of such magnitude, unless we partner up with other crews.”
&
nbsp; “Plus, we don't even know where they're hauled up,” it was Sparkplugs' turn to speak. “They could be anywhere in the Rim!”
“If you let me finish,” Gina continued authoritatively. “I know the odds seem to be against us but we don't have to kill every single one member of the gang, we only need the head of their big boss to claim the bounty.”
“How are we going to get past his manpower?” Sparkplugs started but Gina cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“This is going to be an infiltration-and-retrieval gig. We're going to have someone with close access to the General in order to be able to retrieve him, preferably dead, when the time is right.”
Everyone around the table scoffed, again, in disbelief.
“I have a plan,” Gina carried on, oblivious to her crew's reaction. “A contact of mine has informed me that the gang members are regulars in one of Nor's most renowned brothels, where they shop around for girls before retreating to their secret lair after a successful raid. I spoke to him earlier, on a nebula-web channel, and he told me they are bound to make an appearance there any day now.”
“We can't possibly put our trust in a pleasure-girl,” Mark protested. “They'll be on to her in no time!”
“No,” Gina agreed with her second-in-command. “It will have to be one of us, masquerading as a prostitute and securing passage, as well as their location, to their lair.”
Everyone stared at her with their mouths hanging open.
“Don't worry Min-min, it's going to have to be me,” Gina smiled reassuringly to the Prrahnian who had started throwing nervous glances at her. “Terran pleasure-girls are hard to find in this part of the galaxy and I am sure I am going to get picked up from the crowd. All I need is, for you lot, to set me up with a believable fake identity.”
Everyone went quiet, processing their Captain's plan. Only the goblin laughed, breaking the silence with his mocking tone.
“Are you sure you up for it, Captain?” he cackled. “Because by the time these guys are finished with you, you'll barely be able to walk!”
Gina felt Mark tense next to her in frustration and she put her hand over his pants, grabbing his cock, under the table, and stroking it reassuringly until she felt him relax.
Vorgon, on the other hand, had another idea. With one lightning fast sweep he grabbed Daggers by the scruff of his neck and flung him across the mess-hall. The goblin landed on the wall with a loud thud and fell on the floor unconscious.
This seemed to take the edge of the situation with the rest of the crew breaking out in loud laughter.
“Listen, guys,” Gina began, as the laughter subsided. “We don't have any choice, we are stuck with these lowly-paid contracts and things are only going to get worse. We are barely making ends meets as it is and soon we won't be able to afford repairs for the ship, which in turn will ground us permanently. This is the gig that we need and I, for one, am willing to do whatever it takes to secure those two-hundred million creds.”
Gina looked at her crew's faces looking at each other for confirmation then at her. They all nodded in agreement.
“It seems that you have, already, put us in action, Captain Starbreeze,” the Doc spoke for the first time, in the eerily deep voice of his race. “We only need to hammer out the details of your plan and how we're going to be able to reach once you gain access to the Stormriders' lair.”
Gina downed her ale, then wiped her lips with her sleeve. “I want you all to go to your stations and check the list of jobs I have tasked you with. Any feedback, at this stage, is more than welcome. We're only getting one chance at this.”
At the sound of their appointed leader's instructions, the crew finished their drinks hastily and got up from the table to leave.
As they made their way out of the mess-hall and towards their respective stations, Daggers' whiny voice was overheard from where he was still lying on the floor.
“What's going on?” he asked dizzily. “Where's everyone off to? What did I miss?”
Chapter 3
Gina traversed urgently the dingy stone corridor towards the Stormriders' common room where the commotion was taking place. She could hear loud shouting and laughter over the terrible Krokian band playing their music, so she assumed that the party was in full swing.
Damn that green-scaled bitch, she cursed in her mind. I hope my absence is not being noticed.
She had to change her attire, after stashing the K'hizzian in the shower cubicle and turning on the water, hoping the coolness of the water would stall the reptilian regaining consciousness.
She was wearing a light crimson negligee that was transparent enough to outline the skimpy black underwear beneath, decorated with golden thread embroidery. She had also swapped her sandals for a pair of black stiletto heels that held her buttocks up high and exaggerated her luscious-looking cheeks that were visible through the cloth.
That same underwear was her favorite piece back in the ship, when she wanted to treat herself, and Gina found herself seething that she had to wear it for the sake of the dirt-bag denizens of the lair, who couldn't wait to start spraying her with their cum again. She had little choice, though, since the plated bikini was lying in pieces back in her room after the Madame had made short work of it.
After walking for a few minutes, Gina finally made it to her destination, the lair's large common and drinking room. She pushed the heavy metallic doors open and made her way inside.
The party was indeed in full swing. Everywhere she looked there were aliens drinking, gambling and shouting, as well as engaging in other raunchier activities with the pleasure-staff. As she walked inside, Gina's eyes darted around the room like a hawk, trying to take in as much detail as possible.
Most of the other girls from Nor were either dancing on the tables, serving drinks and servicing the gangsters in their seats, while the band from Krokon performed their, highly aggravating to Gina's ears, popular tunes on the stage that occupied the southern part of the room.
Everyone looks way too drunk to fight, Gina thought, dodging gracefully the different arms reaching out to grab her as she passed through.
Then she felt it.
It was a shiver, climbing up her spine and signaling to her that she was being watched intently. She turned around, facing the north part of the room, and locked eyes with him.
It didn't require much thought for her to realize that she was staring at Stormripper himself, the great General of the Stormriders gang, sitting on a small stage that was slightly elevated to the rest of the room.
Gina gasped at the sight of the battle-hardened General, sitting on his throne brooding and staring at her with his piercing blue eye. He looked menacing, wearing his dark plated armor that was decorated with protruding metal spikes and all sorts of drawings in white paint that depicted skulls from various alien races.
She felt immediately attracted to the older man, who look like he was in his early fifties. She found herself being fascinated by the black leather eye-patch, covering his left eye, and the various scars that graced his, otherwise, gentle facial features. The General wore his long white hair in a braid and was smiling at her through his thick gray mustache and his carefully trimmed beard, displaying a set of perfectly white teeth.
Gina looked down, breaking the General's stare, feigning modesty and started to walk towards him, in a greatly exaggerated manner that drew attention to her long delicate legs and her smooth thighs.
“Hello, handsome,” she said in her most seductive voice after reaching the throne where he was sitting. “My name is Hazel from Luna, and I've been saving myself for you.”
“I am sure you are, sweetheart,” the General replied in a coarse voice as he motioned her to sit on his lap.
Gina did so, sitting cross-legged while snuggling into the General wide shoulders.
She let out a small moan as she felt one of the older man's hands caress her thigh, his touch gentle but sensual at the same time, while the other one grabbed one of her butt-cheeks, ignit
ing her desires and sending another surge of excitement through her loins.
They spent some time like this, locked in their embrace, the General content to focus entirely on her legs and butt. Gina kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, delighted with the attention she was receiving until she felt she could take the heat no more.
“Oh, baby, I need this so bad,” she purred, getting more and more lost into the role of the sexually submissive servant. She couldn't believe it but the older man's masculine mannerisms and authoritative presence was enough to make her wanton with desire, her loins moistening up and becoming eager with anticipation of what was sure to follow.
The older man's hand left her knee, which Gina was using to rub against his iron physique, and came to rest on her right breast, his thumb slowly caressing the length of her nipple. At the same time, she felt him bury his face in her neck, smelling her aroma and gently planting wet kisses on her velvety skin.
“Maybe we should retire to your quarter, baby,” Gina moaned in earnest.
The General looked at her for a second, with that single piercing blue eye of his, and nodded.
“Very well,” he replied. He gently put her down from his lap before getting up himself. He held her hand lovingly and guided her towards a back exit, leaving the loud commotion behind.
*
The General's quarters resembled closely the rest of the lair's modest living space. The only exception was that they were almost triple the size and decorated with a vast array of trophies, weaponry and all sorts of military maps and gadgets that were scattered around.
The bed, located on the north side of the quarters, was a giant queen-sized piece, with two giant pillows and some expensive-looking Kempeth silk sheets. Gina walked in front of the General, barefoot, lifting her behind as much as possible as to expose her rear assets more to the older man.
