Getting in and out of the maintenance hallways proved to be a simple task once I deciphered the ship's unique latches and mechanisms. Swiftly, I made my way towards a nearby ladder, hearing the heavy footsteps of a mechanical monstrosity approaching the bathroom I had just left. Climbing to the next level, I sensed the panel of the maintenance hallway slam shut and detected quick movements, confirming that I had been spotted ascending. Reacting swiftly, I changed course and descended, remembering the age-old adage: if they think you're up, go down; if they think you're down, go left.
For the next hour, I led them on a convoluted trail. Eventually, I decided to take a moment to calm myself and assess my surroundings, searching for weapons or a map of some sort. After hours of cautiously exploring and evading patrols, I found myself near the front of the ship. In most science fiction tales, this would be the location of the helm and command center. However, on the Valiant, those critical areas lay deep within the ship, surrounded by layers of impenetrable armor.
After a short while, I spotted an alien woman fiddling with a communicator while muttering under her breath. I carefully opened a panel to catch a glimpse. The being resembled a quadrupedal dog woman, a peculiar sight indeed. It appeared as though someone had taken a dog and attempted to transform it into a provocative figure, but failed to make it stand upright, leaving only the face feminized. The alien, covered in fur, wore a patchwork business suit and tied her long, blond hair, reminiscent of a dog's grooming. Moreover, she stood at an impressive height of around eight feet, possessing remarkable proportions. Small straight lines running through her gray fur hinted at possible scars. I readied my right boot knife, assuming a crouched position, just in case.
"Hello, Captain Merxi. I can tell from your expression that the raid didn't go as planned. I'm sorry to hear that.
I hope you and your crew are all okay." a woman's voice spoke from the other end of the communication device.
The fact that all my encounters so far had been exclusively with females, from the initial contact to the pirates and now their sponsor, struck me as peculiar. Where were the males?
"No, the ship unexpectedly proved armed, the humans have an obsessive penchant for kinetic and explosive weaponry," Captain Merxi replied, her entire frame drooping with disappointment. I couldn't help but feel that it was unfair for my enemy to be a woman who resembled a mixture of a puppy and a powerlifter.
"What about the boarding parties?" the sponsor inquired. I couldn't see the screen clearly, obscured by Merxi's massive chest. If I weren't planning to eliminate her, the situation might have belonged in a depraved adult film.
"Everyone on that wretched ship was armed. The fatality rate exceeded ninety percent. Their reactions were lightning fast, and their arsenal was well-stocked. The humans aren't here for peace. Their vessel is military-grade, an elite force. We managed to capture only one, and the creature is wreaking havoc on my ship, enjoying the torment it inflicts on my hunters," Merxi lamented in frustration.
"I see, and what about the rumors? Are they true?" the sponsor trailed off.
"About males? Yes,"
The question hung in the air, the anticipation of the answer palpable. "The collective scans and images captured during the ill-fated raid pointed unanimously towards a solitary figure of the male persuasion. And to our good fortune, the captive we managed to apprehend belonged to the same gender. Not only that, but a rather aesthetically pleasing specimen at that."
"It was no easy feat, mind you. Countless veiled threats were issued, and a few skirmishes left their marks upon both parties involved. But at long last, I prevailed, ensuring that this intriguing individual was confined within the confines of a cell, rather than being unceremoniously dragged into the private quarters of a lady."
"Very well, it appears we have acquired some merchandise suitable for the meat market."
"Now, pray enlighten me, how imminent do you reckon his readiness for sale might be?" The mention of such a wretched existence as slave trade provoked a vehement response within me. By all means, curse the stars! In this dire circumstance, I find myself yearning for the presence of my trusty firearms, or perchance even borrowing hers, if it’s not bound by some vexatious DNA encoding or something. The male thing I put aside for later.
"The timing couldn't be more opportune!"
"He is presently at the peak of his desirability, hence why I resorted to employing force to confine him within a cell, ensuring his vulnerability without inflicting any further harm. The mere scent of his presence continues to bewilder my senses, leaving me in a state of perpetual dizziness! Such is the extent of his allure that a significant portion of the crew finds themselves instinctively drawn towards his aroma."
"To compound matters, his cunning intellect prevents us from apprehending him easily, as he deftly maneuvers through the labyrinthine network of maintenance tunnels, turning them into his personal playground!"
“How did he get out?”
"While in transit to a film studio for the purpose of capturing compelling footage to facilitate his sale, an unexpected incident occurred. The sight of him unsettled one of the guards to such an extent that she resorted to discharging her High Cannon in his direction. Astonishingly, he agilely evaded the point-blank blast, which inadvertently struck his unsuspecting companion."
"Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly maneuvered between the legs of the disoriented guard and clambered onto the rear of her armor, causing her distress and inciting a state of panic. And then, as if by some otherworldly vanishing act, he disappeared."
"By the time the guard regained her composure, she noticed that, unintentionally, she had torn open a maintenance panel, granting him a means of escape, leaving no trace of his presence behind."
“Surely you have some idea where he went.”
"A potential lead materialized when a lavatory facility was activated on a deck roughly five levels distant from the initial holding area."
"Serendipitously, a patrolling female officer, en route to that vicinity, managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of our elusive subject ascending. Regrettably, his progress was impeded by a sensor-triggering incident three decks below, prompting him to embark on a capricious voyage traversing the ship from end to end, akin to a toy propelled by a child's railgun. No escape pods have been deployed, and the whereabouts of all shuttles have been verified."
"Additionally, all armaments and protective gear remain securely locked. Nevertheless, his uncanny disappearance persists. The sole solace lies in the fact that his cohorts are unwittingly divulging plans for his rescue through a covert listening device we discreetly implanted." frustration permeates Merxi's impassioned diatribe, as she vigorously rubs a paw along her mane, audibly panting in exasperation.
My gaze narrows upon this revelation. They have a clandestine bug monitoring The Valiant? Another layer of intrigue to explore, indeed.
"Well, it appears that even in the confines of a pirate vessel, he's determined to maintain his sense of style," The Sponsor remarks with a lighthearted chuckle, eliciting a laughter from Merxi. "I assume you have ensured that the ship is thoroughly secured, leaving him no means of escape?"
"Rest assured, we have taken extensive measures to ensure his captivity," Merxi replies confidently. "Every escape pod has been programmed to require our unique weapon keys, and the shuttles now demand both a weapon key and a password for activation. He will find himself confined to the view of the cameras until we deliver him to a customer who is willing to pay a princely sum for the distinction of owning the first human slave on the market." She pauses, taking a deep breath and fidgeting slightly, a sign of her inner turmoil.
"What seems to be troubling you, Captain? Is the pressure finally getting to your head?" The Sponsor demands, insinuating that she herself lacks fur. I'm uncertain whether this detail provides any significant clues.
"It's his pheromones, Captain. He must have passed by my cabin," she begins, her breathing growing erratic. "They are incredibly potent, signaling that he is at the peak of his season. It's a miracle he can even function under such circumstances." She lets out a moan of discomfort, leaving me bewildered. Do they believe that my physical response somehow incapacitates me?
"Excellent. That will only raise his value. Capture him and ensure he appears before the cameras. We can then market him as a unique, untainted commodity. Afterward, you may indulge in him as you please, as compensation for your efforts. The extended travel times to any private collection will provide ample opportunity for him to come out of season, so no one will feel deprived."
"Thank you..."
"Capture another ten or so, and I might even allow you to keep one for yourself. Fresh faces in the slave market fetch a high price, and I can be quite generous to those who provide me with such commodities," the mastermind behind the raid instructs her muscle. I can't afford to underestimate Merxi, though. For all I know, the moment the call ends, she might pounce on me through the wall panel.
And given my luck thus far, these women probably devour their mates after breaking their pelvises. There's no way of knowing for certain, but I need a closer look at the Boss lady whom Merxi has initiated a sucking-up ritual towards.
Fortunately, there are several sturdy, reinforced pipes right behind me. They carry no electrical current and are securely fastened. Thankfully, they can bear my weight as I climb up and lean out, attempting to peer through the narrow gap as best as I can. The view is insufficient, so I carefully pry it open a little further.
The pirate captain's boss is elegantly dressed in a formal suit, and the camera angle is deliberately set to provide an upskirt shot, creating the illusion of her towering presence even on the small screen. I'm uncertain if her skin is naturally pitch black or if it's a deep shade of finely textured fur.
She also bears luminous markings on each cheek, a vibrant yellow that matches her glowing eyes. I can't determine if these markings are natural or artificially created, but they serve as a clue.
Her proportions are just as outrageously exaggerated as Merxi's, if not more so. A human woman with such proportions would be considered a grotesque anomaly, barely capable of standing upright without mechanical assistance. Even a brief stint on a trampoline would likely snap her spine in half. I briefly entertain the thought of using this physical peculiarity as a potential means of torture against these aliens, but I quickly dismiss it and refocus on gathering information.
She appears to be wearing a peculiar hat, or perhaps her species possesses elongated ears that extend upward, adorned with additional luminous markings near the tips. There's a feline quality to her demeanor beyond her unmistakably female attributes and the presence of what seem to be rabbit-like ears, if indeed they are ears. The woman is undoubtedly female, as evidenced by the ill-fitting undergarments she wears.
Her suit, in a surprisingly normal creamy off-white color, consists of a miniskirt, jacket, button-up blouse, and a crimson tie. Strange choices for universal fashion, but there you have it. I can't spot any earrings or visible jewelry, except for a shiny silver or possibly platinum ring adorning her left middle finger. Is it a wedding band? A symbol of status? A mere vanity? I need more information.
She wears high-heeled shoes in a glossy red shade, yet another peculiarity, and I suspect the faint outline of concealed weapons tucked on either side of her jacket. Unless, of course, it's the bra she's wearing that truly lives up to the literal interpretation of "industrial strength." It would have to be to support such oversized bosoms.
To the best of my understanding, this band of raiders is sponsored by a director of some company, enabling her to pocket extra profits and exert influence over her competitors, possibly even eliminating troublemakers within her own organization. Shit, am I trapped in some kind of action movie? The question now is whether I am the hero, the expendable pawn, or the hostage. To be honest, it could go either way.
I found myself entangled in a predicament akin to an insurance scam, orchestrated by a figurehead who employs a biker gang to ensure that premiums are paid without ever needing to file a claim. And to add an extra layer of villainy, there's the despicable practice of slave trading on the side. Irrespective of this attractive alien woman's allure, I am resolved to put a bullet through her.
The call abruptly ends amidst Merxi's sycophantic ramblings, and she carelessly swats the screen away before indulging in a pleasurable moan.
Silently, I descend, sheathe my knife, and slowly open the panel while the alien woman succumbs to her desires, reducing herself to a whimpering mess. So, these aliens are susceptible to pheromones? Even the slightest perspiration from my light cardio workout has been enough to render this woman a quivering heap.
Once my head emerges from the panel, I swiftly survey the room. There appears to be a nearby computer terminal accompanied by a small 3D printer or replication device. Fortunately, Merxi remains preoccupied, her attention fixated on the opposing wall. Good enough.
I slip into the room, my movements utterly soundless amidst the woman's euphoric cries.
Despite the absurd distraction, I do my best to concentrate as I activate the computer, a smile playing on my lips. Remarkably, there is no password requirement or any discernible security measures. Perhaps it operates based on proximity to her chip, if it possesses any safeguards at all. And considering I am merely a couple of body lengths away from her, the system recognizes my presence as her accessing the information.
I disable any audio output and set it to text mode.
Luckily, it is in Cosmic Trade, a language that, once you grasp its rules and sounds, becomes relatively straightforward. With context, one can swiftly navigate through spoken or written content.
The ship's outline is revealed—a vaguely rectangular shape with a wedge at the front, housing two sizable engine compartments at the rear, and an array of laser banks on both the top and bottom.
It is classified as a Nice Interceptor, registered under the name "God Claw." Its purpose becomes evident—to strike swiftly, hit hard, and retreat before encountering significant opposition. As I peruse the information on its boarding torpedo tubes and relatively modest armor and shielding, it becomes clear that the ship's design aligns with its in-and-out philosophy. This vessel is both menacing and agile, akin to what my kind would describe as a flying sucker punch.
Further exploration of the ship's internals reveals a location near the bow, indicating that I am a few rooms away from the helm—an important detail to note. Although there are multiple armories, there is no indication of the whereabouts of my weapons. That proves to be an inconvenience. The captain, in the throes of self-satisfaction, reinvigorates her demeanor, prompting me to shoot her a disdainful glance. Truly, the woman ought to have some self-respect.
Continuing my investigation into the ship's weaponry and administration, a wide grin stretches across my face.
It turns out that the small recess in the wall adjacent to the computer is not a replicator or printer, but rather a universal installer for access chips. With the captain's mental approval reverberating due to her indulgent activities, I gain complete access—access that enables me to create an account of equal authority solely for myself.
Swiftly setting up the new account, I utilize the combined approval from both her account and mine to establish a new, superior rank on the ship, endowing me with full override powers. Now, all that remains is to place my hand in the panel.
A beam of light materializes, seemingly teleporting an object into the palm of my hand, followed by a melodious chime from the machine.
"Welcome, Commander,"
resonates a deep male voice throughout the room, causing me to freeze in my tracks. The silence becomes palpable, and I sense movement stirring in the vicinity.
