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"Holy shit, hermanita. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"Fuck you, Sal. You know how much trouble we're having right now? I mean, on top of the usual 'play nice with the aliens' bullshit I have to deal with each day?"

"If you mean 'we' as in 'we, humanity,' then no, I have no fucking idea. I'm a busy little carrier ant, doing my best to grease the cogs of interstellar commerce. But I've seen Unity's Landing."

"Yup. And the WSC is jumping down our collective throats why we haven't found, apprehended and executed those TLA bastards yet. It's 'all hands on deck' over here. How you doin'?"

I transmitted my manifest and flight plan. "Doing a quick long-range haul for a civilian client. Everything above board for once."

Consuela raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of cum. Did you rob every sperm bank on the West Coast?"

"Very funny. Going by the amount of sex jokes you've thrown at me -- when was the last time you got laid properly?"

She snorted in disgust. "The correct question would be 'when did you sleep more than two hours recently?' Sleep -- and sex -- are luxuries I don't have right now. Besides, I don't fuck my subordinates."

"Just so you know. My ship, which is named after you, by the way-"

"I'm flattered you gave a flying sex toy my name, really."

"-is not a flying dildo! Those are engine bays, damn it."

Consuela shrugged. "Looks like a dildo to me. Let me ask you one simple question, Salvador: Are you carrying anything suspicious or illegal I should know about?"

I looked her straight in the eyes. "Nada de nada."

"My current operating protocol demands I send an inspection team to any suspicious craft approaching the portal. I don't have to tell you that yours is hella suspicious."

"Really. Nothing, as God is my witness."

"I hope you're not fucking with me, Sal." She tapped a few buttons on her console. On my secondary screen I received the clearance for portal entry.

"Seriously, sis. That would be damn gross." I gave her my most charming smile and fluttered my lashes. Disgusted, Consuela slapped her console and the connection died.

I heard Jenala exhale behind me.

"Did you watch all of that?" I asked her.

"It was somewhat inevitable, considering you didn't route the audio through your headset. I'm... confused, to put it mildly."

"You really want to hear about it?"

"Yes, please. You said it yourself -- since we'll be spending quite a bit of time with each other, I'd like to know my crewmate better. If only to gauge possible reactions in a crisis."

"Let me finish this and we'll talk." I pointed at the portal in front of us. Jenala nodded and ducked back out of the cockpit.

During the courtesy call, I had stopped the ship nearly ten kilometers away from the portal. This far away, it was just another speck in a backdrop full of glitter but my sensor panel showed me a 3D model of the portal. It was roughly ring-shaped, with several protrusions around the outer perimeter housing the complicated tech which allowed the portal to tear a rift into the fabric of space. A ship wanting to use the TransNet required a specialized add-on for its communications system so that it could 'see' the portals on the outside and open them for realspace re-entry. Without it, at least according to some wild spacer stories I've heard, a ship will drift endlessly in the otherworldly dimension, never to return.

A tiny red pinprick appeared in the center of the portal. I activated the counter-thrust nozzles to keep the ship in place. When the portal opened, it produced intense gravity pulses which could, if not countered properly, cause smaller ships such as mine to veer off course and crash against the ring, damaging both ship and portal in the process. Also, I activated the structural integrity field which would ensure my ship wouldn't be shredded to bits by the titanic forces at work in the 'Net.

Over the next minute or so, the red pinprick expanded into a viciously strobing, red-and-white aperture. Eventually it was big enough to easily accommodate my ship but protocol demanded I wait until the portal was fully open, let incoming ships pass and only then was it my turn.

I didn't intend to become some splattered decoration on the nose of a much larger vessel. So I held position until finally the go-ahead came in.

"Grab on to something!" I called and pushed the thrust lever forwards. The engines roared and Consuela thundered ahead, into the portal. Well, at least this time the analogy fits. My ship speared into the red portal like a tiny sex toy into an oversized orifice. There was one harsh jolt as we crossed the divide then it was quiet save for the heightened hum of the power core and the occasional discharge of energy against the shields. I dimmed my screens until the flashing red and white was bearable then I made sure Consuela's bird brain had the course locked in.

I unstrapped from the pilot's seat and left the cockpit. Jenala offered me a friendly smile and a coffee refill as I joined her in the kitchen.

"So... your sister."

"Things between her and me are a little bit complicated." I took the mug and sat down next to her.

"How come? When I studied for my scouting mission, I read about families. Aren't you supposed to be a 'tightly knit unit of blood relatives?'"

"That's the ideal. At least for us, it didn't happen. Not after Dad got shot. Mom tried her best to keep the farm afloat which left her little time to look after the two of us. Consuela was more of a mother to me than my mom herself. She never complained but I probably was a serious pain in her butt growing up. Well, and there's the whole 'being kicked out of Space Fleet for insubordination, brawling, going AWOL, drinking and stealing UN property' thing. She sees it as a personal attack. Thinks I'm ungrateful after she pulled some strings to get me enlisted."

"Did she mention any obligations when you enrolled?"

"Not really. But you need to understand that the selection process for UNSF recruits is very strict. Only those with a particular set of grades, qualifications and 'moral fiber' can even hope to be taken into consideration. She had the grades and the flying skills and the conviction to work her butt off."

"And what did you have?"

I shot her a fleeting smile over the lip of my mug. "The best thing Consuela did for me was teach me how to fly. When Dad died, we suddenly had quite a lot of money. I guess a life insurance or the like. Mom used the money to buy a cargo lifter. She didn't want to drive or use a hover, not with the local amigos and Border Patrol at each other's throats. Consuela learned to fly from one of her boyfriends and when she was sick of me begging, pleading and outright trying to hijack the lifter when no one was looking, she taught me. Thought I might learn some patience."

"What's a 'cargo lifter?'"

I tapped my comms and called up the specs of the Airbus Maultier cargo lifter, Earth's first domestically produced shuttlecraft. Compared to the things Federated-Boeing or Allied-SpaceX were building today, it didn't look like much. An H-shaped framework with crude plasma jets on each strut, plus a cramped two-seater cockpit directly behind the howling power core. It wasn't pretty but it could haul two 30-ton ISO cans with ease and even allowed for low-orbit space flight. The initial purchase price was much steeper than for even an eighteen-wheeler but you did save on fuel afterwards and never had to worry about roads again.

"Introduced about eight years after the Nor set up shop on Earth," I said. "They can go damn fast without cargo. No wonder, considering they're basically high-stress tolerant ladder frames mated to four maneuvering jets. I was probably fourteen when I had my first solo flight." I yawned. "Sorry."

"To echo your own question: When did you last sleep?"

"That had to be ... ugh, well before I exited the TransNet yesterday." I stifled another yawn. "Anyway, I loved the lifter. Probably spent more time in the air than on the ground for a few years. It would explain my horrible grades. But I could repair or replace every single piece on the Maultier and make it do things the designers never intended for it to do, like mount concussion blasters on it to get rid of critters. And as it turns out, once you learn to pilot one plasma-jet based vehicle, others are not so hard. I had pretty good marks for piloting and gunnery in the aptitude tests, considering I didn't have any formal training."

"Doesn't sound so bad."

"Well, the soldier's life wasn't for me. I wasn't allowed to go flying whenever I wanted, there were so many rules and regulations -- and most of them were probably only put in effect to make sure we didn't embarrass our Nor allies. It didn't help many of the squad mates were ace pilots drafted from all around the world and they looked down on the 'dirt farmer' who never had flown anything even resembling a fighter jet before. But I had more experience with alien tech than all of them, which evened things out a bit. Eventually we all had beaten each other black and blue and decided to call a truce. For our instructors, things only got worse when we stopped fighting each other and began to party like rowdy animals."

"Is that a 'man' thing?"

"Don't tell me you and your fellow girl scouts didn't party on occasion, what with the 'mutual release' thing you mentioned."

Jenala shook her head. "We don't have the resources for recreational drug use. We do like to ... what is the Galactic Basic term again?" She consulted her bracer. "Ah. Get each other off." Her eyes sparkled. "Think about it. A shower cubicle barely larger than this kitchen of yours, ten naked and exuberant women like me, all seeking mutual release."

I shot her a crooked smile. "That's a sultry image I'll take to bed with me. Well, the military has a certain reputation for going a bit overboard on occasion. One morning, I awoke with a murderous headache and no recollection how I ended up between a female Zuthrian marine and two Australian surfer girls somewhere in the Philippines."

"I suppose vast quantities of alcohol were involved."

"Yup. Somehow I had managed to steal a dropship off base and used it for a quick pleasure trip around half the globe. I got wasted, I got tattooed, I got laid..." I shrugged.

"If my experience with military jurisdiction is any indication, that was it?"

"Uh-huh. I was court martialed, found guilty and stripped of rank and booted out. Also, I was barred from ever joining either Earth's or the Nor Armed Forces ever again."

"Your sister was none too pleased I presume."

"I have no idea if my fall from grace caused her any serious trouble. I mean, she testified against me. She said I had an 'unstable, self-destructive streak.'" I sipped my coffee and tried to wash down the unpleasant taste which had suddenly occupied my mouth as memories of the trial came rushing back.

"You seem oddly at ease with that kind of betrayal."

I shrugged. "Probably Command's way of washing their hands of the whole debacle. Consuela denounced me and kept her rank. If my dishonorable discharge had any effect on her career trajectory, I'm not seeing it. I mean, she's captaining Earth's god-damn flagship. A part of me is glad she did it. Three more years of standing at attention and 'yes sir' this, 'yes sir' that -- not even a post on one of the Nor tubs would have been worth that. She's still pissed I let things get out of hand this badly though."

The following yawn derailed whatever I wanted to say next. "I think it's time for me to go horizontal. Let's pick up my life's story another time. If you want to, that is."

"I find your tale highly fascinating," Jenala said. "Where I come from, our lives are so tightly regulated, any divergence from it is seen as a major upheaval."

"So even the tale of a chili farmer's son becoming a smuggler must be like a damn fairy tale then, huh?" I slid off the bench. "Just so you know -- when you've had enough of my shitty life, it's your turn. You've been very vague in regards to your whereabouts."

"Sorry to keep you at arm's length thus far but I have to consider the security of the fleet." She bit her lip. "Damn."

"If it makes you feel better -- you would have to tell me sooner or later anyway. I guess the coordinates you gave me will get us in close proximity to that fleet of yours?"

"It's one of several intercept points on the fleet's current trajectory. Even if we should miss them, I could have sent a message for someone to pick me up."

"Don't worry. It's not like I'd run straight to the Sol Intelligence Service and rat you out." I clamped my hand over my mouth as another yawn attacked me. "Got something to do while I catch some shut-eye?"

"Not really. I'll probably keep your avionics some company."

"You know, I have a media server with enough entertainment to keep you occupied for months. Music, video, games, even some books and magazines." I swiped the access code onto her comms unit. "Knock yourself out."

"Thank you." Jenala opened her unit and scrolled through the directories. "Although I have to admit, the titles don't mean anything to me."

"You can sort by genre as well. Oh, and in the folder down there, you will find a large amount of educational stuff on Earth's history, culture and politics. A client of mine wanted to be brought up to speed while I ferried her around and I haven't deleted all that stuff yet."

"What is 'porn,' Salvador?" Jenala raised an eyebrow. "Trials of the Marked Dynast? The Purring Palace? Rhea, The Sultry Gravon Warrior-Princess?"

I palmed my face and groaned. "That's some 'man' stuff. Inspiration and diversion for long hours alone, if you catch my drift. My advice? Stick to the 'action and adventure' folder."

"Intriguing."

"If you don't want to strain your eyes, there's a holo projector in the cabinet," I said, pointing. "Just don't go nuts on the volume please."

"No problem, I'll behave. How about some food?"

"There should still be a few ration packs in the cabinets. Just perforate them with a fork a few times, toss 'em into the microwave," I indicated the respective device, "and let it run on max for about four minutes. If you want something approaching 'freshly made,' you could try your luck with the synthesis engine. In either case, I'd offer spices but my last packets have run out and I didn't exactly manage to restock."

"I'm not picky," Jenala said, barely looking up from the directories scrolling over her display. "As long as the texture differs from 'sticky, gross and foam-like' I'm happy."

"Fine. See you in four then. Oh, one more thing."

"Yes?" She looked up.

"If you can, do check on the cockpit once in a while. To the right of the flight stick should be a round indicator light, this big." I made a golfball-sized shape with my fingers. "If it shows more red than green, drop whatever you're holding and get me out of bed."

"What am I looking at?"

"The course divergence warning. Green means we're on course. There will always be fluctuations because the motion through the TransNet is almost like riding a current. But as soon as you see more red than green-"

"-we're veering too far off course and the ship can't compensate on its own."

"Perfect."

"Understood. Sleep tight. I think I'll have more than enough material to go through."

* * * *

I was too tired to even jerk off. After setting my comms to wake me four hours later, I tore my clothes off and crumpled into bed. I should have been out like a light but now that I was actually trying to, sleep came rather slowly. Four hours wasn't quite enough for a full rest. I didn't want to leave Jenala alone for too long, not until I had a better read on her.

Every question she answered, every little bit of info she let slip led to only more mysteries. Where did her 'fleet' come from? How exactly did her species procreate if she found the "male" gender to be such an alien concept? Or families in general? Why had no one encountered a huge fleet of warrior-women before? It had to be a huge fleet, considering we were carrying more than enough cum to get most of North America pregnant twice. However one spun the facts, the answers only produced more questions.

A sobering thought dripped into my slow-moving, half-dreaming brain.

What if she was a Faceless?

The shape-shifters were the arch-enemies of the Nor Republic, always trying to expand their territory by assimilating and impersonating their victims. I had yet to meet one in person but one of the biggest Nor exports, the holovid show "Fading Stars", loved to portray them as cool, distant, cunning impersonators with some odd gaps in their knowledge which were conveniently exploited by the heroes to unmask them. Since they were cloned in gigantic seed ships, they lacked the fundamental knowledge about the procreation habits of the Precursor species. At least the low-tier Faceless did. Thankfully, outside of the realm of serialized military-drama-porn, there were several surefire ways to detect a Faceless and I decided to spring one of them on Jenala once I was awake again.

That thought seemed to calm my singing nerves enough to finally let me drift into a deep slumber.

A gentle hand touching my cheek woke me up. My eyes creaked open. Jenala sat next to me, on the edge of the Gravon-sized bed. My cover was gone, leaving my naked body open for scrutiny. And of course I sported a raging plank of morning wood.

"Please don't tell me we're going to die," I muttered, fishing for the cover. To my dismay, it was folded into a neat packet -- and tucked right under my guest's butt.

"No. It's been almost eight hours since you left to take a nap and I was curious what kept you. It seems like you badly needed some extra time."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

"Maybe ten minutes. Long enough for a thorough optical scan of your physiology. According to the documents you kindly granted access to, you are at least fifteen pounds underweight and going by the unusual hue of skin coloration when compared to your compatriots, your vitamin and micronutrient balance is way off."

I sat up. "Say what?"

Grinning, she repeated her observation.

"You can see that just by looking at me?"

"Yes. My diagnostics would have been more thorough if I had touched you but I didn't want to wake you up before. I can also see you are in a heightened state of arousal. Do you want to take care of it?"

I raised an eyebrow. "And let you watch?"

"It would of course be a wonderful research opportunity but I have also learned about Earth morals and the weirdly complicated relationship your species seem to have in regards to sexuality and your own bodies. As such, I would accept whatever decision you'd make."

"Well, for your next research assignment then. It's a concept called 'privacy.' Putting my covers away and staring at my naked body is disregarding mine. As is barging into a private booth while someone is having sex."

Jenala shot me a stern look. "The sheet was on the floor beside the bed and I merely picked it up. Also, how was I supposed to know that you were having a furry threesome?" She took a deep breath. I expected more anger but she afforded me a cheeky grin. "Also, someone had to come and wake you up. Since this is my first time ever to wake up a male, I wasn't aware of the implications. You should have told me how to do it properly beforehand."

Even in my off-balance state, it was hard to deny her logic. "You have a point, I guess. But I'm not quite sure if I want to jerk off in front of you just yet."

"Too bad. I would have liked to see a male climax in person. And - just so we're clear -- whatever we should do in the future, I will not kneel in front of you and beg for your ejaculate on my face or breasts."