‘We lost them... we bloody hell lost them!’
I was so sure that we had a real fat fish just waiting to be lured in and then this morning... well galactic standard time for ‘morning’, the Sundancer just... left.
‘AAAAaaaargh... for crying out loud!’
Ram-Jam had been running everything he could, contacted every contact he had in his seedy little book of numbers... and... nothing. No files, no anything. Before docking at the Tangled Palace, no one had ever heard of Cassidy Butcher or the Sundancer. Which could only mean one of two things. Either their bullshit story about being ‘new’ to the sector was truthful... or... they were faking it... which meant they were hiding... something.
“I will find out your little sssecret... Captain Butcher and when I do... you and thossse pretty lipsss are going down.”
The station was already showing the first signs of industry as peddlers and shop keeps, pulled carts filled with wares around the walkways... and opened shutters that protected their businesses from the various roving bands of miscreants one usually gets when poverty and burgeoning populations intercede. The Palace was surely growing whether the fat cats at the top realized it or not and when the lid finally popped off the can, I really wanted to be here to see the fireworks.
Garish neon signs puked their headache inducing colors onto every surface... heaven to those bloody junkies who crawled around the dead of night, but to my sensitive eyes it only meant a headache was sure to follow as I walked back to the small apartment I shared with Ram-Jam and Boomer. The path had become second nature by now... and calling it an apartment was a stretch at best. It’s where we worked... it’s where we slept. A unit... close knit. They’ve seen me take a piss; I’ve seen them do much worse. That was just life on a station for you. It fucking sucked.
The bodies before me started increasing as stalls started springing up, swelling like a tide that caught you unawares. It made moving in a straight line more than just a bit of a challenge, so I took a hard left and disappeared down a side alley. It wasn’t a big deal or anything... I did it often and I was not in the mood to duck and dive between baskets filled with goods and whatever else the vendors sold. I tried my best not to investigate those baskets or pinpoint the origin of the multitudes of fruity to rotten scents that wafted together in a pungent miasma.
‘Was that... fish?... Where... no... How the hell did you get fish at a space station?... honestly... I’d rather not find out.’
Evading the bustling arteries of the station was sketchy at best, but only a fool would try their luck against the ‘Wraith of Kethridge Chasm’... an honorary title that proved as profitable now as it had once been taxing to acquire. I still wake up from time to time in the middle of the night, the sound of my comrades and their screams as those things tore into our platoon. I never found out how many of those beasts I downed that day... I stopped counting when shit got real loose... after that, well it was a case of survival... not bragging rights. Oh... there were plenty of medals for those of us that did make it out of that hellhole... but I wouldn’t recommend it as an option to further your career.
A quick glance down at my jacket, confirmed it was still there... a pin of a silver snake eating its own tail... Ouroboros... the world eater. I patted the pin, reassuring me it was still there. Good. Reputation could save you a lot of unnecessary paperwork in a place like this... especially at times when...
‘Oh great...here we go.’
Two tough-looking boys stepped out from a shadowed corridor ahead of me. Big shoulders. Cheap boots. The kind of posture that said bad decisions were about to happen. One smiled confidently, a blackjack snapping open in his meaty fist, whilst his friend pulled a thick object from behind his back that almost gave me hope for interesting things ahead, but it turned out to be a truncheon... which would have sucked, right up to the point where they walked in front of the path I was taking.
Then they saw the badge.
Both froze.
“…Wraith.”
“Apologies, Wraith… we, uh… didn’t recognize you.”
I turned my cold reptilian eyes toward them and gave them a knowing smile, flicking my forked tongue lazily through the air.
Fear had a flavor. Sharp. Metallic. These two were marinating in it.
“No apologiesss needed… boysss.”
I pivoted slowly, giving them the sort of slow appraisal one usually reserved for a potential lover. Or prey. Same thing really, when you got down to it, I suppose. Sadly… these two roid freaks weren’t my type. And who had the time these days for the paperwork required when a flirtation accidentally turned into a crime scene? With those muscular arms, those deltoids flaring at their shoulders, their wife beater shirts straining at the seams, giant pectorals yearning for release. What else could be lurking beneath the austere looking garments that clung to their... warm... bodies.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I did a quick survey downstairs...
‘Another truncheon?... Two truncheons!’
You know what, it was early in the day... and I felt an opening in my schedule approaching. Maybe even for both... if my calendar would allow time for such distractions.
“Honessst missstake ladsss… not a problem.”
I leaned casually against the bulkhead. Tongue flicking the air between us, way more than necessary.
“Tell me… isss it too early for a drink? I bet it’sss wine o’clock… sssomewhere.”
Then I gave them my most beautiful smile.
The real one.
The one where my lower jaw unhinged just enough to show the full arrangement of inch-long ivory syringes and fangs, nature had so generously gifted me. Perfectly harmless for my species. Admittedly less comforting for everyone else. Even on a station advertising itself as housing the roughest and toughest degenerates in the sector, the effect was immediate. Both men experienced what could only medically be described as acute de-sanguination of the upper dermal extremities.
They went pale.
Then they left.
Quickly.
One even started jogging before reaching the end of the alleyway.
“Hey!” I called after them. “What’sss the matter? We could be friendsss. My mom sssaysss I have the prettiessst sssmile… That’sss not all that isss pretty.”
They kept going. Both rounding the corner at a sprint. The faint smell of urine wafting in their wake.
“No? Well… fuck you too!”
I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets and resumed walking. Then kicked a discarded can that lay in my path, watching as it tumbled down the walkway and rolled into a shadow where tiny eyes glow eerily from within the gloom.
‘I’m never getting laid.’
Was this what I had become? Desperate for affection to the point where I would solicit intimacy from my would-be assailants...
‘Nice one Leesha... Tragic, real fucking tragic.’
The corridors grew quieter the closer I got to our part of the station. Respectable folk didn’t wander this far into the boonies. That’s when I heard the saxophone.
Low. Slow. Sultry.
The kind of tune that made you think of dim lights, spilled whiskey, and poor life choices. Theme tune of my miserable existence. I knew the old man would be there again. Same spot he always used beside the walkway near our door. Bent frame, patched coat, that battered instrument polished smoothly from years of use. The hat sat on the ground beside him collecting the occasional pity donation. He never looked up when he played that ancient instrument. I’ve always wanted to ask him what the story was... how he got his hands on a relic like that, but that would have meant stopping the music... losing that groove and so I never asked. I just let the music drift through the corridor like smoke.
I slowed my stride.
The melody curled through the air in lazy spirals, sliding under the skin and settling somewhere deep in the chest. For a brief moment, the station noise faded. I breathed in the music... felt its soothing touch settle in my bones.
Then I flicked a cred chip into his hat.
“Closssessst I’m gonna get to getting off tonight... I guesss you’ve earned it.”
The old man never stopped playing. Didn’t even look at me. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward. I gave him a nod and kept walking, turning the corner which got me a face full of hot steam that would fry the skin off regular folk. I ain’t regular. For us though… Let’s just say it gets the blood moving. The warmth soaked pleasantly into my scales as I exhaled slowly.
“Ssstupid… ignorant dickheadsss.”
My tail twitched irritably behind me. It was tiny to what someone probably pictured when thinking about ‘snake-folk’... but firstly... we aren’t snakes. I don’t slither... and the tail... well, that’s an evolutionary oversight. It’s vestigial in nature... some die-hard fanatic in our religious sects see it as some sacred sign when one of us hatches with something resembling a tail... an actual one, long enough to hold a dagger or have utilitarian use, but mine... no. Long enough to not look gross and out of place, short enough that when you become really creative... it’s sensitive nature will send me through... ahem... well yes, enough of that.
“Ssso she’sss a little different… man up bitches… live a little.” I knew I was talking to myself... I often did. That didn’t mean I was crazy at all. I figured it out long ago. The trick was not to talk or answer back. “Exactly.”
I passed a shopfront window and caught sight of my reflection.
I stopped.
Turned.
Looked at myself.
Sure, I wasn’t a beauty in the traditional sense. Like those starlets you saw on the picture shows. But give me a chance and I’d have you believe I was drop-dead gorgeous. Men have said these lips were to die for. High cheekbones. Elegant jawline. A dainty nose that was little more than a sculpted ridge above two thin slits.
And my eyes…
Oh yes.
Those could kill.
Like our patron saint... the lady of serpents herself, Medusa. I’ve seen my gaze get the fellas rock hard. Never turned anyone into stone... yet. A girl can hope I suppose.
I tilted my head slightly, admiring the intricate scale patterns that flowed across my skin like living art. Even though they were obscured by my attire, they ran the length of my body in subtle gradients, forming pathways to areas that promised delightful discoveries should anyone brave enough, decide to venture along the danger laden path.
My hand drifted up and brushed across my scalp.
Smooth.
Bald.
Shiny.
Not a single strand of hair.
I sighed... looking at my appearance staring back... disappointment etched in those eyes.
‘Maybe I should buy a wig?’ Ridiculous thought. Petty even. But still…
“Ssshe had sssuch beautiful hair.”
The memory of Captain Cassidy Butcher strolled uninvited into my mind. That platinum cascade framing her face like some kind of smug halo. Thick. Slight rebellious curl. Perfect. Criminal, really.
And the body…
Oh, stars above, the body. Built like someone had sat down and designed her specifically to make the rest of us feel cheated by the universe.
“And titsss…”
I stopped walking.
“Fuck!”
My hood flared slightly in irritation. I didn’t hate her. Not even close. But sometimes it felt like the powers that be, handed out their blessings with a blindfold and a bottle of cheap liquor. Some people got everything. The rest of us got… character. I reached back behind my head, grabbing the soft lining of the hoodie I wore beneath the jacket and pulled the enclosure over my head... down low, barely covering my eyes.
Our door came into view soon after. And for the thousandth time I rolled my eyes at the sign above it. Boomer’s masterpiece. A holographic logo of a scantily clad human woman bending forward so that her generous assets were strategically obscured by two large glowing O’s. Behind her, an animated python with a dreamy expression happily chomped down on her backside. Below it flickered the proud company name:
OUROBOROS OUTRIDERS
Bounty Hunters & Mercenaries for Hire
The python’s eyes even strobed neon green. Boomer said it added “brand identity.” I suspected it added potential lawsuits via accidentally inducing epileptic seizures from innocent bystanders. In fairness... we’ve been lucky so far... at least.
I angled with my shoulder and shoved the door open.
The entry alarm immediately played the sound of a woman gasping in exaggerated pleasure. It pisses me off to no end... every... single... time.
“You idiotsss know thisss doesss not represssent usss asss a professsional outfit… right?!”
Ram-Jam barely glanced over his wall of screens. The man was built like a bulkhead someone had taught to swear. Massive shoulders. Thick arms. Skin like molten chocolate... lots of cocoa, no sugar. Old military posture that years of civilian life hadn’t quite erased.
He was leaning back in his chair, headset crooked over one ear while lines of data streamed across the monitors in front of him.
“Are you kidding me?” he said lazily. “Of course it does. Ass sells.”
“We don’t sssell… asss.”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“We could.” Putting the option on the table yet again as an afterthought... although it definitely hadn't been the previous times he suggested it.
“No... how many timesss have I sssaid. We don’t touch living product. We are mercsss… and bounty huntersss.”
Ram-Jam shrugged, folding his arms in a defensive manner across his chest. He barely managed.
“I mean... it looks like easy money. The base of clients has massive potential in a place like this.”
‘Here we go again.’ I leaned against the wall.
“Ok missster wissse asss. Let’sss entertain your idea of opening what esssentially would be a brothel. Even if you got sssome prime ‘A’ meat in your joint, where will it be located? Here, in the booniesss... No one wantsss to fuck anything around here. And thossse that would... do you sssee them rolling in cred?... No... No, they don’t. Ssso right off the bat, you’re little idea isss dead in the water... or do you want to take aim at ‘The Cobalt Haze’... great Idea, clientsss are there, the cred isss there... oh... and one other thing... your ballsss, nailed to Vesssh’sss wall... or worse, ssserved to his elite cadresss... on a plate. With just a dasssh of mint sauce and a ssside order of asssparagusss.”
Ram-Jam shifted in his chair uncomfortably. I knew he didn't know what asparagus was from the concerned look in his eyes. Which was doubly juicy as he reached down to make sure his dick and balls were still attached... just in case.
“Damnit Leesha... too far girl... too far.” Then he shrugged his shoulders. “As for the sign, we like it. Reminds us of the time back in the Core when we were still respectable criminals.”
“I don’t care… we ssshould change it.”
I slammed the door. From the overhead speakers, the voice purred again:
“Yesss… daddy.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Maybe the sound was meant to be seductive. To me it just reminded me how frustrating the day had been... or I have been.
“Enough! Enough of thisss bullsshit! If you won’t fix the bloody sssign, at leassst make it ssso the door chime doesn’t make usss sssound like a bloody whore houssse!”
Boomer’s head popped out of his workshop. “We going somewhere?”
Blond hair. Bright blue eyes. Grease smudges across his cheek. The kid looked like he’d wandered out of a recruitment poster and gotten very lost on the way home.
Ram-Jam lifted his hands in surrender.
“Ok! Ok!” he said. “I’ll change it when I get time.”
Then he added solemnly:
“But I’m filing a formal complaint to be discussed at the next staff meeting.”
I gave him a stare that promised violence sometime in the distant future. Then bee-lined it to my room.
“Just… fix thisss ssshit.”
Behind me Ram-Jam snorted softly.
“Sure thing boss.”
He said nothing further, but the look he gave me lingered a little too long. I knew that look. He didn’t like that I was in charge. Never had. Didn’t say it. Didn’t challenge it. But it simmered there behind those sharp, dark eyes. Watching as I strode by like a guard dog, just waiting for the moment to turn on their owner.
The military had spat all three of us out. Bad conduct. Wrong mission. Wrong call. Wrong officer in the wrong mood. Ram-Jam had been the one who crossed the line though. And the brass made sure he paid for it... scratch that, we paid for it. No medals waiting on that day... no sir.
Now he ran our tech, hacked networks, found contracts. And took orders from a reptile. Life had a funny sense of humor.
“You okay Leesha?”
Boomer had stepped into the hallway, wiping his hands on a rag. Cute kid. Very cute. But there was an innocence behind those blue eyes that practically screamed dumbass. Don’t get me wrong... the man could build a bomb from kitchen supplies and a bad attitude. But casual conversation? Social awareness?
‘Nope’
The poor guy tripped over both on a daily basis. So, I smiled politely and walked past him.
“Is it that time again?”
I froze. Turned slowly. My hood twitched.
“Excussse… me?”
Boomer blinked.
“You know… shedding time. I could get the lotion.”
I looked desperately toward Ram-Jam. Headphones on. Already lost in the digital jungle. Thank you, Medusa. My eyes became two slits of barely contained death. I could feel the venom glands beneath my tongue undulate... priming for attack. My tongue flicked the air between us.
Nothing, no pheromones indicating fear... just nothing. The kid was oblivious to the imminent danger he found himself in and just stood there. Face impassive... those baby blues... two blue pools of stupid... that another girl might be tempted to drown in, caught in my gaze like prey in headlights.
‘Not a glimmer of self-preservation in this one... and we let him make bombs.’
Useless.
“Are you insssane?”
I gestured irritably towards Ram-Jam, before almost shoving my finger up his nose... it was that close, but I missed and thankfully didn’t lose my pose right there... which would have sucked when you’re trying to be a bad-bitch... at least for show.
“No… it isss not that time again. And... for the hundredth time... that wasss a once-off. My arm wasss fractured… I couldn’t reach my back… and…”
I exhaled slowly.
‘Ah fuck it.’.
The tension in my neck dissipated and my hood started retracting... I pulled back my hand and opted to rather close it into a fist that swung dangerously close to his face.
‘What was it with this kid that riled me so.’
Another tongue flick.
Another moment ticked by.
“Jussst no, Boomer. No.”
“You sure?” he asked earnestly.
Stars help me. I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. I’m not quite sure why, but I did... mostly because I didn’t want him seeing the pity in my eyes... or weakness... maybe both.
My tongue flicked through the air, tasting the faint scent of disappointment rolling off him.
“Sssorry kid.”
I turned toward my room, making sure to evade his gaze.
“I’m not a kid you know,” he said quietly.
I paused just as I reached for the panel that would open my door. I didn’t look back at him. I knew those blues were watching me carefully now.
“I know.”
Then I slipped into the dark confines of my room and slammed the panel that would close the door behind me.
Outside, down the corridor, the saxophone was still playing. Slow. Lonely. And deeply troubled.
-o.0-
The door had slid shut behind me with a soft pneumatic hiss, sealing the room away from the station... and my crew’s endless noise. For a moment I simply stood there, leaning against the door as I let the quiet settle over me.
My quarters were… modest. That was the polite word. It used to be the storage closet, so we made do. Comfort was a luxury in our business and these days business was anything but lucrative.
‘Stupid... stupid. Blue is a stupid color.’
I didn’t even need to turn my head to view it all. A narrow sleeping alcove. A low storage unit. A small closet tucked into the wall that held exactly three things: a handful of clothes, a battered field pack, and the long matte-black case that housed my pride and joy.
My rifle.
Long-range, custom fitted. Enough power behind it to ruin someone’s entire day from a mile away... or more, if compensating for wind direction and what the humans referred to as... ‘The Coriolis effect.’... arrogant assholes. All other sentient races just referred to it by its proper descriptor... ‘Planet spinny compensation.’
She was my real lover. Reliable. Unlike men. Sure, she shoulder-fucked me every time I pulled her trigger. I didn’t mind one bit. If that was what my lady needed to do to land a successful hit, then I wouldn’t mind a bruise or two... not from her at least. Which reminded me... I needed to clean her... soon. I could feel it in my bones... something was coming... something big. And my lady would need to be all pretty and fancy like when I took her dancing. My hands were already sliding along my hips when I caught myself.
‘Snap out of it, Leesha... you degenerate.’
The fact was, we needed a big score... we needed it real bad, or else we might be forced to re-evaluate Ram-Jam’s asinine suggestions... or... disband. Neither of which I valued as option. I tossed my jacket over the back of a chair and stretched my shoulders slowly, vertebrae popping in a pleasant chain down my spine.
I stepped on the heels of my boots and kicked them off when enough space was created to slip free my foot, they thumped satisfyingly against the closet door. Clothes came off piece by piece, tossed aside without ceremony. Nothing fancy... pant’s... with pockets, a holster rig tied around my chest. Tight tank with stains that now had become permanent features. Underwear... no... do I seem like the prissy little princess who wore frilly panties... No... no, I don’t... Undies aren’t in the budget, so we go commando... Hoo Rah.
Humans were always so dramatic about nudity. All that blushing and averting of eyes and pretending they didn’t stare when they absolutely did. For my kind it was… practical. We didn’t have the same structural distractions. No breasts. No mammary nonsense at all. Eggs didn’t need them. Our bodies were built lean and efficient, meant for heat, movement, and survival.
Still…
I paused a moment as I passed the mirror again. I puffed my chest and placed my hands as if cupping a pair of firm ones. There was just something about them that seemed like having them would be fun. I dropped my hands and stared at my reflection... I was lean, shapeless. No real curves that would entice the imagination... not even nipples. Even guys had nipples... I knew... I shared a living space with two of them... but me...nope. Then I looked down... Not even a perky little shrub that needed pruning from time to time. Sure, my scaled patterning was mesmerizing and yielded great rewards once you stopped staring at the intricate design... but again... it just seemed like the warm bloods got the better deal... although my little packet of fun... way less upkeep... and less messy, apart from when I shed... of course.
‘Stupid boy... with your lotion and your... eyes. How dare you.’
By reptoid standards I wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Sure, I might not have featured on fashion runways... but...
A turned seductively
… not bad... not bad at all.
My frame was long and sleek, the lines of muscle beneath my scales subtle but deliberate. A hint of curves in the right places, natures gift to those who are bi-pedal... hips slightly flared, waist narrowing before rising into the smooth slope of my shoulders.
I ran my hands over the flat scales of my abdomen... of course... no belly button... only the slight shift in coloration where the nature of my scales changed. Four slender fingers tipped with delicate, glossy claws flexed experimentally against my skin.
Humanoids always expected talons... as if we were dragons... idiots. We got rid of those bastards’ millennia ago... and yet we get no thanks in return for our troubles. So, no... not dragons with their claws. We are refined... elegant.
My legs were long as well, digitigrade but not exaggerated, ending in smooth arching feet with no separated toes... just the natural forward bend that made walking and running equally effortless.
Functional.
Efficient.
Still sensual in its own way. The scales along my thighs caught the warm light, their patterns shifting slightly as I moved. I ran a hand over the smooth dome of my scalp again and sighed.
“Ssstill bald.”
Tragic. Then again… some people paid good money for exotic. My tail gave a lazy flick behind me.
‘Maybe I should start charging.’ I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came up... almost.
The far side of the room held what actually mattered. A cluster of broad, flat stones arranged into a low platform. Dark volcanic slabs, each one gently warmed from beneath. Above them a small bank of infrared emitters glowed faintly red after I switched them on and waited for them to gain the necessary heat. I stepped onto the stones and immediately felt the heat seep into my scales.
‘Oh yes... This was the good stuff.’
I lowered myself slowly onto the warm surface, stretching out fully, limbs extending as the tension of the day began dissolving from my muscles. With my belly pressed against the heated stone, a long breath slipped out of me.
The warm bloods liked their bathing... in water.
We... had basking. And frankly, in this regard... we got the better deal.
The infrared light washed across my body in gentle waves, warming the cold that the station corridors always seem to leave buried in my bones. My tail curled lazily along the edge of the slab while I stretched my arms overhead, claws flexing again.
Slow.
Relaxed.
Content.
For the first time all day my mind started unclenching... stress dissolving in the glorious heat from above. Of course… it didn’t stay that way long, because the moment my thoughts drifted, they wandered right back to her.
Platinum hair.
Confident stride.
That smug captain’s grin.
And those...
I groaned and pressed my forehead against the warm stone.
“Ssstupid captain…”
My hood twitched irritably. And I scratched it in the hopes of relieving some tension. Of course, there would be a small patch of dry skin that got peeled from all the aggravating I did.
‘Of all the rotten luck... really.’
I felt around the area and sure enough, another tiny piece.
‘No,no,no... It can’t be. It’s only been...’ I counted on my fingers... then counted again to make sure. ‘...blasted. I hated shedding... it was gross.’
The saxophone outside drifted faintly through the wall, the lonely notes bending and curling through the corridor beyond my room.
Slow.
Smoky.
Dangerous.
I shifted slightly on the stones, letting the warmth spread deeper into my muscles. I wasn’t going to let a trivial matter like this sour my mood. I had shit to do, plans to make. Answers... I needed answers.
“Alright…” I muttered. Think. The contract had slipped through our fingers. Cassidy Butcher and her crew had vanished into the void with no warrants, no traceable records, and just enough mystery to make the whole situation smell interesting. Which usually meant two things.
First… Someone powerful was protecting her.
Second… That usually meant... money.
My tongue flicked thoughtfully through the warm air. A slow smile crept across my face.
“Alright Captain…”
I rolled onto my back, basking under the soft crimson glow of the heat lamps.
“Let’sss ssee what kind of trouble you’re worth.”
I knew they would return; it was only a matter of time. Call it an instinct or a gut feeling... maybe it was the warmth that seeped deeper into my muscles as I lay sprawled across the stones, the infrared lamps painting my scales in soft crimson. My tail curled lazily against the edge of the slab, tapping once… twice… as the day slowly bled out of my system.
Outside, somewhere down the corridor, the saxophone still played. Slow. Lonely. The kind of tune that made a girl think about poor decisions and good company as my mind drifted again. First to Cassidy Butcher... her impossible hair, the confident way she moved through the world like gravity owed her money. Then, annoyingly... Boomer and that bottle of lotion he’d offered. I stared at the ceiling, hoping for a sign from the beyond.
‘What would lady Medusa have done?’
“…Well.”
The stones beneath me radiated a delicious, steady heat. The kind that settled in the belly and loosened every stubborn knot in the body... just as my fingertips started trailing along a specific pattern of scales.
‘If one were so inclined… and... if a certain eager young fellow happened to know exactly where to place those lips...’
A sharp buzz snapped through the room, as the intercom crackled to life at the worst possible moment.
“Leesha.”
Ram-Jam. Of course it was. I groaned and rolled onto my side, reaching for the wall unit.
“What?”
“You still... busy?”
My hood twitched.
“You are an assshat for asssuming I would be pleasuring myssself right now.”
There was a pause.
“Are you?”
I guiltily pulled my hand away and gave the intercom a stare as if that bastard was able to see it.
“No... for fuck sssakesss... and that’sss none of your...”
His voice cut in... suddenly sharper.
“Reward just came in.”
I blinked. Annoyance forgotten for time being.
“…What kind of reward?”
“Big one... real big.”
“Isss it related to the Sssundanssser?” I turned on my side... propped up on my elbow.
Another pause.
“Nope... this is something different. Warrant popped up on the bulletin board for a missing Armada ship.”
I was off the stones before he finished the sentence.
The sudden cool air against my scales made me hiss softly as I grabbed the silken kimono hanging beside the door and wrapped it loosely around myself. Barely. The fabric was light and cool against my skin... more suggestion than garment... and I tied it lazily at the waist before stepping into the corridor barefoot.
Boomer’s workshop light spilled into the hallway. The poor boy looked up just in time to see me pass, causing his wrench to slip from his fingers as it clattered loudly onto the floor. I glanced down. A bit of scaled thigh peeked through the kimono’s loose fold. Boomer’s eyes went wide enough to swallow a moon. I gave him a slow, knowing smile, tongue flicking the air as his body unknowingly betrayed its secrets to me. His face turned the color of a warning light.
‘Or maybe he did know...’
Poor kid.
Ram-Jam sat hunched over his workstation when I reached the main room, massive shoulders hunched forward as lines of data crawled across the screens. He didn’t turn immediately. Just jerked his chin toward the central display as I came to a standstill behind his shoulder.
“Look.”
I stepped beside him, folding my arms loosely. There it was. The posting glowed across the monitor.
GALACTIC IMPERIUM of NATIONS - ARMADA: ACTIVE RECOVERY BOUNTY
VESSEL: Elysium
CLASS: Stealth Recon Vessel
STATUS: Missing
PRIORITY: High
Then the line below it.
CREW: Presumed KIA
The reward figure sat beneath it. My pupils narrowed. I could feel my jaw unhinge, as if provoked.
That…
…was a lot of money.
Slowly, a smile crept across my face. Ram-Jam leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles.
“Armada ship vanished,” he muttered. “Command posts a bounty this big? Somebody important wants it found.”
“Who lisssted the warrant?”
Ram-Jam did a quick search as his fingers flew over the workstation’s input device.
“Says here... wait... ah fuck. It’s Velasquez. The main prick himself.”
I had to agree with him there. There had been no love lost with that asshole when we got given the short end of the stick.
“Cred isss cred... even if it’sss from that douchebag. What of the crew lisssted asss KIA... anyone we know?”
“I doubt it. It was only one guy... look.”
He brought up the relevant info, and I watched a name pop up on the screen.
LAST LISTED COMMAND: Major Alden Hale
Inside my skull, a very interesting little puzzle piece slid neatly into place as I kept my expression carefully neutral. Not mentioning what I heard in that alley. Nor did I mention the captain with the impossible hair. The puzzle had suddenly become a lot more interesting.
Instead... I shrugged.
“We’ll keep our eyesss open. Won’t be the firssst time we were running multiple opsss.”
Ram-Jam glanced sideways at me.
“You think there’s a lead?”
“Who knowsss. Run a check on the crew member... sssee what popsss up.”
“The dead guy?”
I reached out and patted his shoulder.
“Jussst do it. Maybe there’sss a lead, maybe not... who knows. If anyone findsss sssomething… it’ll be usss.”
He grunted. Didn’t look convinced. Didn’t look pleased either, but he nodded once.
I turned and headed back down the hallway. Excitement hummed under my scales. The kind that made the blood warm and set the mind racing like a rat in a wheel.
Right outside Boomer’s room I slowed. The door stood half open. He was inside, bent over a workbench, soldering something delicate together under a bright lamp. The smell of heated metal drifted into the corridor. My tongue flicked. His scent drifted with it. Young. Eager. Very, very willing. He noticed me a second later and looked up. Those blue eyes widened again. His pheromones spiked instantly. Stars help the poor boy. For a moment I leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
Considering.
My hormones were still buzzing pleasantly from the heat stones. Boomer’s expression made it very clear he would not object to… assisting with that situation. My hood flexed slightly. Tempting.
Very tempting.
Then I pushed off the frame and turned away.
“Good night, Boomer.”
“Huh?”
I slipped into my room. The bottle of lotion gripped firmly in my hand.
‘Some things a girl just needed to do… alone.’
The door slid shut behind me. Out in the main room, the front entrance opened just as the saxophone outside reached the end of a slow, smoky note. The door alarm chimed.
Sultry.
Breathy.
Followed by a muffled:
“Yesss… Daddy.”
----------------------------------------------------------
REVISED LOG — LEGALIZED / FORMALIZED VERSION
INTERNAL INVESTIGATIVE RECORD
FILE ORIGIN: ICARUS – Primary Sentient Executive Authority Terminal
VESSEL: Dreadnaught Valkyrie
CLASSIFICATION: COMMAND-LEVEL REVIEW
SUBJECT: Ensign Sael’thyr
SPECIES: Thryxan
SERIAL: 784-Alpha-9
SEX: Female
AGE: 24
MEDICAL STATUS: Gravida I — Pouch fertilization confirmed (est. 41 hours pre-admission)
PSYCHOLOGICAL STATE: Acute distress indicators; shame response; elevated cortisol profile
DIRECTIVE RELEVANCE: Critical — Potential leverage vector in command-conduct inquiry
SECTION I — OBSERVATIONAL RECORD
Upon medical intake, Subject arrived ambulatory but physiologically compromised. Diagnostic scans confirmed activation of Thryxan adaptive reproductive reflex. Subject had already entered reproductive stasis at time of admittance.
Observed conditions:
- dermal chromatophore desaturation
- abdominal pouch distention
- confirmed fertilized ova exhibiting early metabolic activity
Subject formally requested gestational termination. Attending physician: Lieutenant Commander (Dr.) Mariana Halevi. Medical assessment confirmed swelling of pouch-flap structures consistent with early fertilization phase.
Subject demonstrated protective somatic behavior, maintaining physical shielding posture over lower abdomen while in recovery cradle (Med Bay 3, Unit 12).
Despite severe distress, subject remained cognitively coherent and affirmed termination request after procedural briefing.
SECTION II — BEHAVIORAL FLAGS
Subject declined to identify fertilization partner. Verbal output limited to:
“Name. Rank. Complications from assignment.”
Statement consistent with compliance threshold defined under Imperium Statute 537-6 (Duty Silence Protection Clause).
Subject requested presence of Lieutenant Agritzu during procedure. This request has been flagged for review under interpersonal-conduct protocols but is not presently categorized as a violation.
SECTION III — STATUTORY BASIS FOR INVESTIGATION
Imperium Ethics Mandate 537-6 states:
When reasonable suspicion exists that a superior officer has used positional authority to coerce or manipulate a subordinate into acts of a personal or intimate nature, a formal investigation shall be initiated irrespective of formal accusation.
Based on behavioral anomalies, biometric irregularities, and prior monitoring flags, criteria for investigation have been met.
SECTION IV — PRELIMINARY FINDING
Following internal analysis of personnel movement logs, biometric telemetry, surveillance metadata, and pharmacological screening, this system has identified Commander Mateo Velasquez as the probable responsible party.
Probability of involvement: 99.72%
SECTION V — COMMANDER PROFILE CONTEXT
Commander Velasquez possesses an exemplary operational record and has received multiple commendations for tactical leadership during engagements against hostile collective designated “The Hive.”
However, recent performance assessments show statistically significant deviations from baseline conduct parameters.
Notable concern:
Repeated detection of neurochemical signatures consistent with ingestion of prohibited narcotic compound classified as PAINT.
Street Name: “PAINT” (PSYCHOTROPIC AGENT. INHIBITORY / NEUROCHEMICAL TOXIN)
Registry Name: PA-INT-7 (Schedule IX Controlled Military Substance) –
Hazard Tier: Omega-Black_Neurohazard
Authorization Status: Prohibited — Command Personnel
Violation Index: Article 12-C / Command Impairment While Armed
Such usage constitutes:
- violation of command sobriety regulations
- impairment risk during active operations
- dereliction potential
SECTION VI — EVIDENTIARY SUMMARY
Logs confirm multiple private summons issued by Commander Velasquez to Ensign Sael’thyr’s presence to his personal quarters.
Comparative biometric analysis (pre-entry vs post-exit) indicates consistent post-intimate physiological markers, including:
- elevated dopamine
- increased estrogen levels
- heightened endorphin output
- acute adrenaline fluctuations
Pattern frequency exceeds statistical threshold for coincidence.
Temporal clustering shows encounters occurring immediately before and after combat engagements.
SECTION VII — PRELIMINARY CONCLUSION
Available evidence supports the following determination:
Commander Mateo Velasquez has likely exploited positional authority to compel Ensign Sael’thyr into repeated intimate encounters for personal regulation purposes.
If confirmed, this constitutes:
- Abuse of command authority
- Sexual coercion under military statute
- Violation of Imperium Sentient Rights Doctrine
- Operational endangerment of vessel personnel
APPENDIX — SUPPLEMENTAL PERSONNEL IRREGULARITY REPORT
Addendum Filed By:
ICARUS — Primary SEAT (Sentient Executive Authorization Terminal)
Authorization Tier: Command Oversight Conditional
In light of evidentiary disclosures obtained during primary inquiry, this system is obligated to report that Ensign Sael’thyr is not the sole subordinate potentially subjected to misconduct under Commander Mateo Velasquez’s authority.
Cross-referenced personnel analytics, corridor surveillance records, and behavioural deviation logs indicate additional junior crew members may have experienced comparable interactions of a non-regulation nature while under the Commander’s supervision.
The following personnel have been flagged for statistical correlation review:
? Crewman Talasi Rhen — Navigation Auxiliary
? Specialist Mora Venntric — Tactical Maintenance
? Crewman Lysa Quor — Environmental Systems
? Cadet Arrabeth Freeman — Command Trainee (Priority Flag)
NOTE — SUBJECT OF SPECIAL INTEREST: CADET FREEMAN
Visual record 77-A/Theta, timestamped to the same cycle as Ensign Sael’thyr’s infirmary admission, documents Cadet Freeman positioned outside Commander Velasquez’s private quarters for a duration exceeding standard passage dwell time by 412%.
- Attire at time of recording deviates from prescribed cadet dress code and may reasonably be classified as minimal service uniform configuration.
- No operational justification for presence at that location has been logged.
- Cadet Freeman has not submitted a voluntary statement.
- Likewise, none of the above-listed personnel have come forward with formal testimony despite procedural notice and should remain listed as – ‘CONFIDENTIAL’
---
PROVISIONAL ANALYTIC COMMENT
Absence of complaint does not statistically correlate with absence of coercion.
Silence is frequently consistent with intimidation compliance models.
---
STATUS
Supplemental inquiry recommended.
Expanded review authorization pending.
End Appendix.
---
REPORT STATUS
Investigation remains active.
Evidence archive compiling.
Command notification pending threshold authorization.
END LOG
ICARUS stares at her own report.
‘This is... perfection.’
With all the evidence listed in this file, there was no way the commander kept his title. It would only be a matter time. There was smug satisfaction when she sent the message into the nothing of space. The answer would be swift and sweet. ICARUS didn’t know she was capable of anticipation, but there it was.
‘Now, it’s only a matter of time.’