Before The Storm (Ch. 13)

Chapter Thirteen

Sketch was starting to get used to waking up being blown, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was a thing that should bother him or he just accept was now part of his life. But this seemed a step beyond. He opened his eyes to find Serena posting up and down on his cock like she was riding him like he was one of the stevrids she'd taken so naturally to just the day before.

"Fuck, why do you always feel so fucking good inside me?" Serena whimpered as she clenched the walls of her pussy onto his shaft, trying to keep her motions short and small so as not to wake him, but so caught up in her own pleasure that she couldn't help but start moving faster and harder, thrusting her small body down onto his lap, making the bunk wobble just a little bit.

"I think you woke him up, Princess," Aliara said from her seat at the end of the bunk. "Not that I imagine he's complaining too much."

"I'm going to complain if you two end up breaking my dick off while I'm sleeping," Sketch grumbled, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

"I know I should be angry that you turned me into a junkie for your cock, Sketch, but I know you didn't mean to do it, and really, the orgasms are so fucking delightful that I can't complain too much anyway," the princess purred from atop of him. "But you're gonna have to knock me up at some point. The human race has to live on!"

"Gods below," Aliara laughed, rolling her eyes, a gesture she'd picked up from their newest shipmates, "it's not like you're a dying species or anything."

"No, but I am the last remaining member of human royalty," Serena said, raking her fingernails against his chest. "That means there's a bloodline we're entrusted with continuing. C'mon, don't you want to breed my pretty ass, Miles?"

"I do so love watching her face do that thing when you cream inside of her, boss," Aliara giggled, the larger woman running one of her fingertips along the back of Serena's head a little bit. "Don't keep her waiting too long. She was trying to get it without waking you up, but now that you're awake, can't you see she's in need? Got an itchy little pussy only you can scratch, bossman."

"Miles, I'm outta my fucking mind here," Serena whimpered. "I couldn't fucking stop if I wanted to, not until my body gets what it fucking needs, until I'm satisfied and filled up. I need you to fill your love in my belly, need to feel that warmth spreading through my system, completing me. Don't leave me unfinished. Don't leave me empty. Claim your princess whore lover priestess. Finish me, Miles. Fill me the fuck up!"

"Do it, boss," Aliara chanted like some sort of filthy Greek chorus, her breath hot in his ear as she panted into it. "Breed her. Breed your princess bitch. Breed. Breed. BREED."

There was only so much resistance Sketch had within him, and before he knew it, his body had overruled whatever decision making processes his active brain had and just turned into a carnal, rutting machine, his balls drawing up as he began to shudder and shake, an intense orgasm flowing through him into her, her body sparking like a powder keg set ablaze, the intensity of his release only matched or exceeded by hers, which seemed like it set her body into a trembling frenzy before she slumped atop of him, twitching in sporadic moments like a fish on land in its final moments.

After what felt like a few small ice ages, Sketch heard Aliara giggle. "Fuck, you lucky, lucky bitch," the large P'Nox soldier said to the two of them. "He's going to be worthless for another go until tonight, isn't he? I didn't get my turn and now I probably won't for a few days, since we're approaching Wispbeetle Station and I imagine we're going to be stuck hunting for business while we're there, yay bossman?"

"We don't generally go hunting for business," Sketch said, wiping the thick layer of sweat from his face with his forearm. "That's what Lara's mom handles for us as our fixer. She finds the gigs, presents them to me, and I pick and choose from what's on offer."

"How often do you say no?" Serena asked, snuggling up against him, her tiny body pressing against his mass of scar and muscle.

"I think we take about one out of every four jobs on offer," Sketch said calmly. "It was a lot more in the early days before I finally broke down and trusted Cola with my reasons for my particular conditions. Also, we got a reputation as a ship that doesn't fail, so that helped with us getting more gigs quickly, because once people know you're incredibly reliable, they're willing to put up with the occasional eccentricity."

"Are we going to keep up those eccentricities now that we don't have to?"

"Let's just say we're going to have them as preferences, but if the money's right, we're willing to consider other options," Sketch chuckled.

"What about picking up gigs on our own? Not through Cola?" Aliara asked him. "I want to know how I should react if people are pitching me work while we're hanging out in the station."

"First and foremost, keep a low profile," Sketch said. "But if someone's talking about needing a ship like ours, entertain the conversation. You don't need to worry as much, Aliara, since your cover's basically bulletproof, but we want to keep Serena's face off any vidscreens, as well as my own. Lara and Jez are fine to go out and mingle as they see fit. We're all going to have to be off the ship for a couple of days anyway, to get repairs done from flying through that comet tail. They're going to depressurize every part of her to make sure nothing's leaking even a little bit. Helen'll keep tabs on the workers, make sure they don't mess with anything they're not supposed to. Mawakes and her guys do good work, so until we have a mechanic of our own, be prepared to be swinging by Wispbeetle any time we pick up so much as a busted vent shaft."

"So what you're saying is we should be on the lookout for a mechanic?"

"One that knows Tropage systems, which I can't imagine is an easy ask, considering how few ships there are like The Praeteritus in use these days," Sketch grumbled.

"You never know what we can find buried under a rock or getting drunk in some tavern, bossman," Aliara said to him. "If we'll have a few days, it won't hurt for us to poke around the station, make a couple of inquiries."

"I also want you two keeping tabs on Jez and Lara, just to make sure our former addict doesn't fall off the wagon."

"We're still not trusting them?"

"I trust them, I just don't trust the addict inside of Jez, that's all," Sketch grumbled. "Addicts do dumb things without thinking through their actions in chase of their fix. Just make sure she doesn't stumble into any temptation, or if she does, make sure she's doing the right thing with it, okay?"

"You got it, bossman."

"Captain," Helen's voice said formlessly through the air. "We're about ten minutes out from Wispbeetle Station now, so if you wanted a shower before you disembarked for a few days, you should do that now."

"C'mon, Princess, let's go hose off."

After their shower they headed to the bridge, where Lara and Jezebel were waiting, as the ship approached Wispbeetle Station, one of the more remote trading posts within the Empire, but also one that saw quite a decent amount of business, albeit less legal than normal. The station was certainly one of the most hodgepodge outposts Sketch had ever seen.

Wispbeetle Station had started out as Wispbeetle Mining Colony, or to be even more accurate, as Asteroid 12x62f12p67gz. Once the precious minerals had been stripped from the rock, the remaining space had been converted from mine to waystation, since so much of the existing infrastructure had been built to keep the mine running. It had grown slowly and steadily, through organic development, with the original miners having taken ownership of the space once the mine had shuttered. There hadn't been a plan, so everything had a very much a 'we added it when we realized we needed it' sense about it, with no organized structured levels or development - just everything ad hoc and hammered on as quickly as they could. It meant that getting around the place took a lot of wandering, or an incredibly detailed map.

The sale of such maps was one of the best businesses on Wispbeetle Station, considering the constant renovations, remodeling and reconfiguring the station went through on a month-to-month basis. Sketch had learned, however, that the maps were all updated off of a free central file that was simply not well-advertised and had set his own pocket terminal to always update any time they arrived at Wispbeetle.

Wispbeetle had been a place that Sketch had learned about early on after his emergence from deep slumber, mostly because it was easy to do business via remote there. One wing had been dedicated to Lingham spore carriers, a place where they could keep to themselves, isolated and removed from all other people on Wispbeetle while their ships were under repairs. Now, however, since he had an Ashaka, he could move around the population for the first time, explore the station, talk to the people and, most importantly, eat all the food.

Despite the fact that the air filtration system had purged everything in the outgoing air, the incoming air had been a thousand different delicious smells, and none of the people making them wanted to deliver to the Lingham plague wing, so he'd never been able to eat any of them. It had been a form of torture, having to smell all that delicious cuisine and being prevented from consuming it.

No more, he thought to himself.

"You okay there, chief?" Jez asked him.

"Sorry, my mind got caught up in trying to decide where I'm going to go eat first."

"Uh, okay," Lara laughed. "Why?"

"Because I didn't have an Ashaka until recently, so I wasn't able to go wandering around," Sketch told them. "I had to be in the quarantine section, although I understand they don't even have that anymore, now that the Lingham cure is everywhere."

"You made a decision if we're sticking with you or not, chief?" Jez asked. "If you're gonna turn us loose, then this might be a good station for us to find a new ship to call home."

"You're my crew now, Jez, the pair of you," Sketch said calmly. "I'm still a little nervous about your pharmaceutical problem, but I know what it's like to not be given a second chance, so I'm willing to extend some trust for the time being. As long as you don't let me down, well, I think we'll all get along just fine. Besides, this'll be your chance to prove you're half the cook your mother claims you are. You'll have access to the purchasing account to buy us rations for what you're going to have us eating for the next month or so."

"That how long we're going to be on our next gig?" Lara said.

"Dunno yet. Haven't got our next gig yet."

"Should we be advertising our services and transportation, or you wanna wait for mom to drop the next gig in your lap?" Jez asked.

"Your mother knows I'm not exclusive to her, so if we stumble into something else to keep us busy for a while, no harm, no foul," Sketch said. "Don't go out of your way to attract attention to yourself, but there's no harm in talking to people poking around on the down low. Just don't go starting bar fights or assaulting the local constabulary."

"I do believe that was a dig at us, babe," Lara said, looking at her wife with a grin. "But don't worry - we'll be on our best behavior and not ruffle any feathers while we're here. Won't we?"

"Uh huh," Jez echoed.

"See? Safe as houses."

"I don't know that I've heard that expression before," Sketch told them.

"You'll hear a lot of those with us."

"Dock in over at Mawakes' Repairs," Sketch sighed. "We've got an account with them. Remember to take anything you want with you off the ship, because we aren't going to be able to get back on the ship for at least two days. Might be three or four. You can swing by and see how it's progressing or just reach Helen on the comms."

After setting the ship down and docking, the majority of his crew started to wander off to explore the station while he stood and explained the breakdown of the repairs they needed to Mawake, with Lara staying behind to make sure he didn't miss anything in his list of issues.

Mawake was a huge, hulking woman, muscled out in nearly every way, having spent her life often working under overly strenuous gravity fields before she'd come to live on Wispbeetle, first as a miner, then as a mechanic, and now as the owner of the shop she'd started being a mechanic in. Her skin was a light tan, like that of desert sand, her hair dark brown, pulled into a professional bun atop of her head that she kept beneath a cap or hat of some kind. She had a wicked looking scar that ran across her forehead from one side to the other, the result of a close-quarters accident when she'd just started being a mechanic, completely not her fault, and the reason she ended up owning the shop in the long run. Despite her intimidating size, she had a warm and friendly demeanor to her, and shook Sketch's hand like she was almost gleefully going to tear his arm off.

She was pleased to finally be able to talk to him in person, having spent so much time playing vidchat tag, and insisted she buy him a beer, an offer he said he would gladly accept, but not until the repairs were nearing completion, as he wanted her to do a full walkthrough of the ship herself first, making sure nothing slipped getting repaired properly.

As Mawake moved to head onto The Praeteritus, he looked over at Jezebel, who was still waiting for him. "Something on your mind, Lara?"

"You don't need to worry about Jez and her carabel addiction, bossman," Lara said, her back leaned against the carbonsteel wall of the connection tube. "I know that you're gonna, and that I'm her wife, and that me saying it doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot but--"

"If you know all that, then why are you telling me I don't have to worry about it?" Sketch wasn't one that was big on drama, or if he was entirely honest, complicated things. Oh, he liked complicated problems, but only when it was "on mission," not when it came to people, people he had to spend time with again later. Missions were a clean line through, one and done, fire and forget. People, on the other hand, Sketch preferred it when people were straightforward, easy to understand, but they very rarely were, often getting their own motives obscured in emotions, backstories and so much other baggage that they were inscrutable.

"Because she wants to stay here. With you. With all your other crew. And so do I."

"She certainly didn't say as much."

"She's not good at expressing herself. When she was courting me--"

"She... courted... you?"

"Expected it to be the other way around?"

"Well, yeah."

Lara smirked. "When she decides she wants something, and she feels like it's being threatened, she'll go after it with everything she's got. And right now, I'm worried she's gonna take you being worried about her drug addiction as something that's gonna trigger her fight or flight response, and I never know how to handle those. I'm pretty sure she's gonna be in full fledged fight mode, and she'll do whatever it takes to assure you she's got it under control."

"Does she?"

"She does, unless something happens to me. Then she'll have it completely under control until the situation's in check and I'm fine and patched up, and then you worry and lock up the carabel," Lara said. "The only thing that's gonna put her back down that hole is thinking I'm in trouble and she can't do anything to help it. That's why I wanted to hang back. I wanted you to know, I know where her pressure points are, and I'm the big one. But, barring that, you have nothing to worry about with her and the drugs. I'll keep her on the straight and narrow."

"Alright then," Sketch said. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Before... before you came out of deep freeze, before you became... became the thing, before that, I understand you were a pretty big name in terms of working operatives," she said to him. "All that true?"

"You were talking to Jez's mom while we were in transit, weren't you?"

"I may have sent a few inquiries, and she may have given me a brief overview," Lara laughed. "It's not like she sent me a giant file. And can you blame me? I wanted to know as much as I can about what kind of man I'm serving now."

"I was an operator, sure," Sketch said. "Before the other thing, although those skills transferred well to the other thing as well. It's all about problem solving. Different toolbox, slightly different set of guidelines, certainly different expected outcomes, but at the same time, there were a lot more similarities than I expected there to be."

"You opposed to talking about the other thing?"

"Not at all, but not here," Sketch said. "When we're back on The Praeteritus and out in the black, you can ask to your heart's content about that, and I'll answer any questions I can, but not out in public, okay? You get why."

"Sure thing, bossman, I get why. You mind if I tag along with you to the food district? I can meet up with Jez later, and I wouldn't mind getting a couple of the old war stories off of you, just to hear the sort of shit you've seen."

"Yeah, fuck it. C'mon." They headed out of Mawake's and into the station proper, and sure enough, the intense smell of well-seasoned hot meat filled his nostrils immediately. "Now that's what I'm fucking talking about. I am going to find out what makes that smell, and then I am going to buy enough of it to stuff my face until I'm unable to fit anymore inside of me."

Wispbeetle was certainly more populated than Sketch expected it to be. He'd known the station had grown in popularity over the last few years, especially after a pair of ring gates had been constructed nearby last year, making the station more attractive as a rest stop, but he hadn't expected it to bloom quite this quickly.

It was a wide collection of races, although sure enough, he did see a couple Y'bari squadrons stationed around the place. They weren't on high alert. In fact, to call them 'alert' seemed like a misuse of the term. They were basically lazing about, as if the station was more of a downtime than actual garrison work. None of the soldiers had their hands resting on their weapons, none of them were giving more than cursory glances to the crowds - these Y'bari were so checked out, he likely could've walked past them with his sleeve tattoos exposed and gotten away with it. Not that he was going to risk it.

Y'bari weren't the only species looking to treat Wispbeetle as a vacation resort. There were Azens, Kortians, P'k'litions, a handful of P'nox that might have shown up around the time the Y'bari did, a couple of Kevailens and even a Vaix. At least, he hoped it was a Vaix, otherwise the station had a very serious coolant leak it needed to investigate.

Sketch was also unsurprised to see that a serious red-light district had sprung up in Wispbeetle, with drugs and sexual favors on offer, the majority of which was targeted at humans but more exotic delights were apparently also on offer, as a P'nox dancer was shaking his ass in a second-story window along the major thoroughfare through the district.

"Aren't you getting enough ass on the ship already?" Lara asked him. "I mean, you're gonna be nailing me and Jez eventually, but if the waiting's killing you, I can throw you one right here."

"We're not here as patrons - we're here as contractors with transportation on offer," he said quietly. "I've never been through a red-light district where there wasn't somebody running from something, so the thing to do is keep your head on a swivel and your ears and eyes on and see who's looking to run from something. Besides, you have to walk through the red-light district to get to the food market."

"I think you just like all the tits and ass on display. Not that there's anything wrong with that," Lara laughed. "I mean, I like all the tits and ass on display. I may have to swing back here on my own sometime before we leave. I mean, hell, did you know a girl's legs could spread that wide?"

"It's called 'the splits' and yes, I've slept with a girl who could do that with her legs and a whole lot more," Sketch said with a chuckle. "Back in the long-ago times. She was an acrobat, and a greasewoman. We were actually together for a couple of years, before she decided she wanted to settle down and hooked up with a farmer on some edgeworld. I bet her granddaughters are still probably carrying on the tradition."

"You should look her up."

"Any contact with the before times runs a high risk for me, so I've done everything I can to not think about the past or reach out to familiar faces," he chuckled. "Serena's appearance notwithstanding."

"How's that going?" she asked him as they walked past a particularly enthusiastic performer in a window who had her bare ass pressed firmly against the glass. "She seems pretty into you."

"She grew up hearing war stories from her caretaker about his and my time before the other thing, and before he went on to his other job," Sketch said. "I think she built up some sort of idolized version of me, and for whatever reason, she's decided that's who I am."

"You seem like a good guy, bossman."

"Don't be too hasty," Sketch cautioned as they were reaching what looked like the transition between one zone to the next. "I did some dodgy shit back when I was running freelance gigs under somebody else. Back then, I was happy to take any gig on offer and didn't worry about the body count we left in our wake. Sure, we tried not to put down anybody who didn't deserve it, but guards on duty? Soldiers in our way? Never gave them much of a second thought until later, when I was doing the other thing. But around that point I was reevaluating all my life choices. What is that smell?"

"Smells like kebob meat but maybe with some more exotic spices?"

The two of them ventured into the market district with Sketch following his nose eagerly until they came across a stall where two men were shaving off strips of meat from a giant rotisserie leg of some kind, although the meat was a slightly off-putting green shade. "What is that?"

"Kortians brought this sort of adaptable livestock called kavaklistas, a sort of giant wolf-like thing, and me and my brother bought one and slaughtered it, to see what we could make from it," one of the two men said, a couple of missing teeth showing the gaps in his big smile. "Turns out, most of the meat you can get from it is great and delicious, so we've been raising them and cooking them up ever since. Kavak tacos, kavak gyros, kavak shawarma, kavak sausages..."

"What are you cooking them over?"

"Ah ha! A man of refined palates," the man chuckled. "We had to get a specific kind of log from the P'nox to help us smoke the meat properly. They use these logs from the mervindal tree to smoke the meat properly, although the real secret is my brother's spice mix. Over 62 finely blended spices, in our family's closely guarded secret recipe. What delights can we serve you today?"

"Two kavak tacos, a kavak quesadilla, two kavak quesabirrias... and do you guys sell those sausages for cold storage?"

"Absolutely, sir."

"Give me two cases of those. And if you've got cold storage steaks, one case of them as well. And give us a couple of beers each." Sketch reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of high slab cred chips, tossing them down in front of the man, who scooped them up eagerly. "Send the cold food over to The Praeteritus and the warm food and the beer over to that table right there," he said, pointing at an empty table a few paces away.

"That's a pretty ringing endorsement without having tasted the food," Lara said to him as they moved to take a seat at the table.

"I can smell it. That's just as good as tasting it."

"It's almost as good as tasting it," she corrected. "Not quite the same thing."

"It's fine."

"I'm just worried that you just added a month's supply of meat that my wife's going to have to spend half as much toning down the heat level on."

"You can't handle the heat?"

"I very much like spicy food, boss, but you never know how much heat meat's got until you've had some."

A couple of minutes later, the man brought over a large serving tray and just started setting out plates in front of them, a mass of food that the two of them immediately started eating from. The spice level was high, but nothing the two of them couldn't handle. The beer, on the other hand, was so foul to Sketch that after a single swig, he slid the rest of the bottle over to Lara. "You can finish that," he coughed. "God, that's awful."

"Don't like the ratchestian blooms mixed into it, chief?"

"Is that what that is? Fuck's sake, it tasted like grass pissed rainwater out... there is absolutely nothing appealing about that in any way..."

"It's an acquired taste."

"Well, acquire it as far away from me as you can," he laughed. "I'm going to go and grab a soda or maybe a vat of highly concentrated acid to wash that taste out of my mouth."

Sketch headed over to a different stall, one that looked like it was only serving beverages - juices, sodas, teas, alcohols - and found a rather scantily clad bartender, blonde and buxom, not wearing much more than a bikini top and a pair of jean shorts, as well as leather boots that went up past her knees. "What'll it be, merc?"

"Something sweet with some kick to it. Rum and juice, pineapple or orange, if that's doable."

"'Round here, just about anything's possible if you've got the coin, cowboy." He realized she was waiting so he reached in and pulled out his credstick, swiping it over her e-reader, opening up a tab for while he was here. "Pina colada, coming right up."

When he was walking back with his drinks, he could hear a rustle of people shouting coming up along the main thoroughfare of the red-light district, and he could see a young man, barely in his twenties, sprinting as fast as he could towards the food district, some small metallic shape in his hands. The man's skin was like coffee with cream in it, his hair onyx black, his clothes mostly rags and grease, and he was heading straight for Sketch at top speed.

"Stop that fucking thief!" a familiar voice shouted out, and a second later, Sketch realized it was Mawake leading the group in pursuit. "Sketch! That's part of your ship he's got!"

"Bollocks," Sketch muttered beneath his breath, as he sat down the drink and moved to intercept the oncoming man. "Time to break someone's heart."