Express Delivery

"Sorry to disappoint but I don't do audiences," I said, my earlier arousal evaporating like water in the Zuthrian desert. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jenala. Mister Ventras said I might find you in this establishment. He was right, apparently."

I sank into the cushions. "You know, I'm off-duty. Come back tomorrow and we'll talk. You caught me in the middle of something which I'd like to resume."

Jenala shrugged. "Go on."

"Without uninvited guests watching."

"Too bad. I haven't had a chance to add 'human procreation' to my experiences. And what you did with these ... what are you anyway?" Jenala leaned forwards in her seat, curiosity written all over her expressive features.

"What, don't they have Felinoids where you come from?" Haley growled.

"No. I'm frankly astonished to see Precurser species DNA warped in such a way. Highly fascinating. So please, keep going. Don't mind me." She made an encouraging gesture. "Like I said -- what you did to these Felinoids was highly interesting. Not exactly necessary though, was it?"

"We call that 'foreplay,'" Rosy said, one of her ears flopping down, lending her disappointment extra weight. She looked utterly devastated. "And you totally ruined the mood."

"It was not my intention. Sorry about that."

"Well, now you're here, you might explain what you want with me," I said, resigning myself to not getting laid tonight. I pulled up my trousers and plucked the weapons belt off the floor.

"As you might have noticed, someone had detonated a fuel cell delivery sled on the spaceport's main field," she explained. "My ship got caught in the blast and now I'm stranded on this world."

"Sorry, I don't do passenger runs. My ship isn't outfitted for that."

Her lips tightened in a grim scowl. I could practically hear the gears behind her forehead grind. "Mister Ventras told me you were available for any high-risk, high pay job. I need to be off your planet before the refrigeration units run out of energy."

"Which fridge units? I only see your weapons."

"I left them at Mr. Ventras' place, for obvious reasons."

"What do you need to get off world in such a hurry?" A hint of curiosity flickered up. I refilled my glass with another double Sconoch.

"Thirty kilograms of assorted sperm." She pushed the sleeve of her robe up to her elbow and critically inspected a display mounted to a large, bronze-colored bracer. "I don't have much time left before the batteries in the stasis units run out. I was told shipboard generators could recharge them."

"That's right. Or you could... I don't know, hook them up to the local power grid for the same effect."

"I'd rather be off-world before Earth's authorities realize I'm not exactly a local in these parts and start asking uncomfortable questions."

"For example 'who sold you thirty kilos of cum?'" I asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

She didn't let on if she noticed it. "You of all people should be aware of the black market, right? Anyway, I have more than enough of your local currency left to encourage you." Softer, she added: "I hope."

"Like I said, I have no room for passengers. Mine is a one-man ship."

"We can sleep in shifts. If you show me how, I can babysit the autopilot when you're off-duty."

"Why me? There are numerous other freelancers around."

"Their ships have been damaged or outright destroyed in today's attack. Also, you have been highly recommended. Mister Ventras said, and I quote: 'For enough money, my bro Sal will get you to the ends of the universe and deliver you safely.'" She sipped her drink and fixed me with her lavender eyes. "The question is: How much money is enough? I have around five million to spare."

"Oh girl, you need to work on your haggling skills something fierce," Rosy said, palming her own face.

Jenala shrugged. "No haggling necessary. Once I'm off-planet, I won't need the money anyway. So, Mr. Rios-"

"After seeing me naked already, you might as well call me Salvador. Or Sal."

"Well, Salvador then. Will five million credits be enough to get me a passage on your ship? And a no-questions-asked trip to coordinates five-nine-zero mark eight-one-four mark six-five-one?"

"Which point of reference?"

"Your planet, of course."

I used my comms to do some quick course calculations. She wanted me to deliver her (and her package) somewhere beyond the "southern" border of the Nor Republic, in the no-man's-land between two warring Gravon tribes.

"That's a dangerous corner of space. Five million might just cover it." I shot her a wry smile. "Even so, that would mean you and me are going to spend at least three months in a one-man ship."

She shrugged. "Given the other options available, it will be the least of my problems. So, shall we be off?"

* * * *

Fully dressed and surprisingly sober, even after two double Sconoch, we walked along the spaceport's edge towards landing pad eight. Jenala flipped a cheap fold-up comms unit shut. Even after midnight, the spaceport was fully illuminated and cleanup crews hauled ass to get all the wreckage removed.

"Who did you just message?" I asked her.

"Mr. Ventras. I asked him to bring my package."

"Anything else you need? Like I said, it will be three long months."

"I don't need much. Fresh clothes can be synthesized and I'm fairly positive even you will have cleansing facilities aboard. I have my weapons and my package."

"Which one was yours?" I asked her, pointing at the wreckage being hauled away on larger versions of the AI-driven flatbeds I had used earlier today.

"I'm afraid my ship didn't survive the initial explosion. It was on pad three." To my surprise, Jenala came closer and almost whispered into my ear. "I'm positive your intelligence service will be rather puzzled when they try and analyze the remains." She shot me a cryptic smile and released my arm.

We moved past the last storage unit obscuring line of sight to pad eight.

"I haven't seen a ship like yours anywhere in my database," Jenala said, eyeing the Consuela curiously. "What class of vessel is it?"

"It's a one-of-a-kind bird," I said. "It began life as a blockade runner, thus the oversized engines and the narrow cargo space in between. Usually, they are crewed by four people -- pilot, gunner, engineer and captain/navigator. This particular ship has been mated to the front end of a Lucanos-class interceptor, containing the cockpit and AI housing. It's not pretty with the long nose and the rather boxy ass section but it gets the job done. The hull is double reinforced Armorgrade with ablative coating, she has the guns to slug it out with small frigates and some surprises I'll tell you about once we're aboard."

"Intriguing. Looks rather primitive compared to other Nor ships."

"Much like you, I needed a ship fast. That's what I got -- and Consuela got me through some pretty tight spots so far."

"Who's Consuela? And why do you name a ship after a woman?"

"It's an old sailor's custom, supposed to bring the crew good fortune. My first ship was called Carmen, after my mother. Consuela is my older sister."

"You'll have to tell me about her," Jenala said.

"Later." When we came closer to pad eight, I could see Ventras' orange six-wheeler parked next to the illuminated Consuela. Both siblings waited for us, along with a triple stack of stasis units mounted to a repulsor sled. Each box weighed twenty kilos empty and could keep ten kilos of biomatter fresh as long as the batteries held.

"Yo Sal!" Ventras waved when he spotted us. "I see Miss Mysterious got her hands on you."

"I'm sure Mr. Rios -- Salvador -- would have preferred if you had waited just a few hours longer," Jenala said. She moved past me and inspected the readouts on the side of the stasis boxes.

"Aww, did she get between you and your off-duty entertainment?" Zeeris asked. "Give me five minutes with your flight stick and you'll be humming along like an FTL drive on spool-up."

"I'm afraid we don't have time for another demonstration of your local mating rituals," Jenala said. "The stasis boxes are almost out of power. Can we get them aboard please?"

Zeeris hugged me and whispered into my ear: "You should have joined us for dinner, Salvador. I would have treated you just right -- before that silver-haired skank would have interrupted us."

"Next time, Zeeris. You heard the lady. And please, don't insult my clients."

"Yes, Mr. Professional, sir." She pecked a kiss onto my cheek and released me. I unlocked the ship and lowered the cargo bay ramp.

"All aboard!" I said, gesturing towards the ramp. Thanks to the repulsor sled, the stasis boxes weighed next to nothing and I could haul them up the incline. Inside the ship, I pulled them off the sled one by one and connected them to outlets mounted in the cargo bay's floor while Jenala watched with one hand on the hilt of her sword. To make sure the boxes wouldn't fly everywhere should it come to turbulences or hasty evasive maneuvers, I clamped them down with magnetized shackles.

Zeeris came up the ramp, a leather satchel over her shoulder. "I have something for the both of you," she said, grinning wickedly. "Here. Have fun."

"Do I want to know what's in there?" I asked.

"Everything you might ever need," she said cryptically before slapping the satchel's strap into my hand. "Have a safe trip and call once in a while, okay?"

"If I can afford the long-range fees."

"Says the man who just nabbed a five mil deal," Zeeris snorted. "Have a safe trip."

"Watch over your brother for me. I don't want him offending the wrong people."

"Will do." She stood there, wringing her hands. "Will you be alright?"

"I'm neither poisonous, infectious nor do I bite," Jelana said. "As much fun as observing your conversation is, I think we should get going."

"What makes you say that?" I asked her.

"Like I said earlier, I'm afraid your intelligence service will soon come looking for me and I'd like to be out of the system by then."

"You heard the lady," I said to Zeeris. The Marked Zuthrian hugged me one last time, making doubly sure I noticed her erection, then she jogged down the cargo ramp. Ventras waved merrily until the ramp had shut, snugly aligning with the rest of the fuselage.

"Follow me," I said. "Might as well give you the quick tour."

"Isn't it 'the grand tour?'" Jenala asked, eyeing her bracer.

"Usually. But my ship is rather compact, so there's not much to see. Engine bays one and two, each with a times-twelve FTL accelerator. Not quite Zuthrian fast but better than most civilian ships."

"Impressive. Mine had a times-five booster. When it worked."

"How long-?"

"Almost two years. I hope the return trip won't take as long. What's in here?" She rapped her knuckles against a bulging protrusion which took up almost two meters of corridor wall.

"Reaction mass tank for the synthesis engine. Plus the recycler which breaks down all the waste and scrap we toss into the trash chute." I tapped a panel on the opposite wall. "Environment controls. If it's too hot or cold in here, let me know and I'll adjust it."

"How much water do you have?"

"Well, the reaction mass tank holds five tons. Or it should hold five tons. Didn't manage to refill it yet." I checked the status readout. "We have about six hundred kilos of reaction mass left. It can be turned into pretty much anything -- O-two, water, food, spares and the like."

"We should probably include the occasional Waystation on our route then."

"Probably. Depends on how fast we go through the reserves and how much waste you'll produce." I shot her a dirty grin. "Next up, my cabin." The door hissed open as we approached. "We'll need to figure out some kind of arrangement." I dropped Zeeris' satchel next to the wall-mounted nightstand.

"I'm not picky," Jenala said, entering the cabin behind me. "I should be fine with six hours of sleep on average. I can change the sheets if it makes you feel better." She inspected my cabin and opened the door to the small bathroom. "Oh, now I'm jealous. I had to make do with pre-packed water cartridges. Sixty seconds of flowing water each." She stopped at another door. "What's behind here?"

"My auto-doc."

"Useful," she said, leaving the cabin. "Now what?"

"Not much more to see," I said, walking the last few meters. "AI housing, airlock, then there's my kitchen slash living room. It used to be the original ship's bridge. Fridge, microwave, coffee maker, synthesis engine. Table. Bench."

"I had to eat in my pilot's seat. Food tubes." She peeked past me. "And that's the cockpit?"

"Yup. As you can see, not much space."

"We'll manage."

"You are sure you want to fly Air Rios?"

"Yes. Since we didn't finalize the terms of our contract, let us do so now." Jenala sat down on the bench and pulled out her flip-out comms. She fiddled with it. "You will get half of my remaining funds in advance, the other half once we've safely made it to the target coordinates. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Just like that? I mean, two and a half megacredits is a lot of cash."

"Which has more value to you than for me. For me, it is just a string of bits and bytes. An arbitrary number. Is two and a half not enough?"

I shook my head. "Actually, that's plenty. I can- ah, never mind."

My comms hummed. I looked at it. Jenala had sent me a copy of the contract she had hammered out. "Neat. You downloaded the standard trade form. Works fine for me. Which means, I can sue your ass should you go back on your word."

"I won't. I need you more urgently than you need me. I am fully aware of the situation. Unless you begin acting unprofessionally and I need to space you, we should be fine."

My comms hummed again, notifying me I suddenly was two and a half megacredits richer. Now it was time for me to actually earn that scratch.

I filled the coffee maker with a scoop of beans, drew enough water for a full pot of java and fired up the machine.

"That smells interesting," Jenala said, sniffing appreciatively. "Alien but nice."

"My drug of choice. Keeps me awake on long solo flights," I said, leaving the room. I changed in my cabin, replacing street clothes with my flight suit and returned to the cockpit. A marvel of Nor technology, the lightweight suit not only acted as pressure balance during high-g atmospheric flights, it also could fully enclose the wearer and provide a personal atmosphere for up to twenty-four hours. After my pirate ordeal, I had bought one which even was space-worthy, just in case.

"Like I said before, I'll happily trade shifts with you," Jenala said. "Hm. We should get me one of those eventually."

"At the next Waystation." I slipped into the cockpit and sank into the pilot's chair. My hands ran along the master switchboard, waking up all the ship systems. Then I pulled the headset from its resting cradle above my head and put it on.

"Flight Control, this is Consuela. Can I have an exit vector, please?"

"Up this late, Consuela?"

"You know how it is. Places to be, money to make. So, am I allowed to depart?"

I heard the clicking of keys. "You didn't even refill your tanks. Or fuel cells."

Pulling up the relevant displays, I shrugged. "I've spent the bulk of my past trip in the TransNet, so my cells are almost full. And since I need to go shopping anyway, I can top off at the next Waystation."

"Well, the ground crews hate to see you go like that but it's not strictly against regulations. If you gotta, you gotta." More clicking of keys, then: "I've plotted a route past the Moon straight for the Portal, if that's okay with you."

"Of course. Thanks, Control. Syncing up for pre-flight check." My fingers flitted along the switches firing up the plasma maneuvering jets, small nozzles with more thrust than a Harrier Jump Jet each. They would get me off the ground and to a safe distance before I fired up the big boys in the back. Once they were on, it was a straight line into orbit from where I would adjust my course according the the flight plan Control had just sent over.

"Looks all green from here," Control said. "Happy trails. Consuela."

"While I'm out there, need anything? I'll cut you a good deal."

"Like you did with the pump spares, eh? Let me check back with Maintenance and give you a call."

"Roger."

"All righty then. You are cleared for flight plan UL-two-oh-two. Launch whenever."

I pulled the thrust lever towards me. Even up here, I could hear the roar of the dozen or so exhaust nozzles screaming in fury. Consuela shook like a wet dog and slowly pulled away from the pad. I angled the rear quartet upwards, adding forward thrust and accelerated to around Mach 1. Consuela's artificial gravity nicely countered most of the g-forces involved in tossing a not-exactly aerodynamic body at supersonic speeds through the atmosphere. By now, Unity's Landing was a glittering crystal in my rear view cameras.

"Okay, the next bit might be a bit rough. Hopefully the coffee pot won't go flying," I said over shipboard comms. No comment came back so I figured Jenala would be fine. I flipped the safety flap off the ignition switches for the main engines and lit them up. Within fifty seconds, I could see the curvature of the globe. Two minutes later, Earth was a slowly receding ball in the rear view.

I activated the auto pilot. Control had plotted a course which neatly ducked "under" the Asteroid belt. It would add about an hour extra flight time to the portal but since I wasn't on a timer I could live with that. Armed with decent long-range sensors, Consuela would warn me long before anything unforeseen happened. The next thing I had to do manually -- besides notifying Neira I was outbound again -- was threading the ship into the TransNet.

I replaced the headset in its cradle, rerouted the outgoing comms channels to my wrist-mounted unit and returned to the kitchen.

"So, we've got around three hours to kill," I said by way of greetings. "Got any ideas?"

"There's something I need to ask of you," Jenala said, standing up and placing her weapons on the table. "Follow me."

"Sure."

She walked straight back to my cabin. "Do you have a measuring tape? Or something else in that regard?"

"I'm pretty sure I have something in my toolbox. Why?"

Jenala undid the sash holding her robes together. Underneath, she wore some silvery one-piece undergarment so form-fitting, it left little to the imagination. She was incredibly fit, even sporting a nice six-pack of ab muscles. Her breasts were on the larger side, fitting her general size and build and her back was nicely arched, terminating in one of the most beautiful rear ends I had ever seen on a woman. Or a Marked One, for that matter. She pulled off her knee-high boots. I noticed a dagger sheath strapped to the left one.

"That would be enough admiration, thank you." Jenala cleared her throat. "Now, if you have finished your once-... or thrice-over, would you be so kind as to measure me? I'm pretty sure your replicator device does not yet contain templates for the kind of clothing I prefer. And since my spares have gone up in flames, you will have to make new ones."

"Hey, fair is fair," I said. "You caught me with my balls in a Felinoid's mouth."

"About that..." Jenala said, making eye contact. "I have so many questions!" She undid a clasp behind her neck and peeled her undergarment off as well. It kept its form for a few seconds before turning into a glittering heap on my bed.

"Don't tell me you didn't suck on your lover's balls before."

She cast down her gaze. "No."

"Oh?"

"Would you kindly get that measuring implement, please?" Her eyes flared up and I got the hint. Not the right time for intimate questions. Or questions in general. I ducked out of the cabin and fetched my toolbox from behind a shutter off the cockpit. Since I would be measuring her, I left the laser distance-o-meter where it was, opting instead for an old-fashioned folding rule and my trusty tapeline.