Repeat Business
23 Sep 2016Kyndi the Badass Space Chick
Maybe just this once, I should hold off from the smoking.I look around my cargo bay, stocked to the ceiling with guns, bombs, and ammo. There's a lot of things that go boom in the Cool Under Pressure's hold, and not all of them are packed away as securely as I'd like. Still- weapon brokers are paying top dollar for military gear back on Izamikawa, and I've already agreed to return with a hold full of killware. And my oh my, am I delivering.
Being so deep in Imperial space, I was expecting a load of those fancy Royal Armory plasma rifles, but I was wrong. It's good old-fashioned Federation mil-spec slug throwers, as blunt and inelegant as the rest of the way they do business. Still, they pack a punch and fetch top-credit just about anywhere, and dead pirates are dead pirates no matter how they bought their farm, right?
I chuckle to myself as I lift off the grimy surfaceside smuggling outpost. What a job this was. Delivering illegal arms to a bunch of barely-legal mercs, so that they can wipe out a group of group of criminals only slightly more antisocial than they are.
My nav computer plots the route back to Sorbacoc, and I blast away into the planet's thin atmosphere. Well here you go, law-abiding citizens. Don't say I never did anything for you.
I'm back. And Merry Christmas. Looks like Santa's filled your stocking all the way to the top.
Oh c'mon. I know you've spent time in Fed space. It's their national corporate holiday. The people get their trinkets, and the rich bastards running the show get-
Well, you know how it works. And speaking of making a tidy profit...
Thank you. Always nice to work with a good, honest black market arms dealer. Just don't kill those pirates too fast, okay? A girl likes it when there's a bit of juicy repeat business on hand.
Oh. Looks like someone else is back from a job, too. Over there. The bounty hunter.
Know him? I, uh-
How exactly do I say this?
Well, let's just say he ran into me last time I was here.
Again and again and again.
So, yeah. Gotta go. See you around.
What's that? What could I possibly have to do with a bounty hunter I barely know?
Heh. Good question. Let's just say that black market munitions isn't the only bit of juicy repeat business I've got my eye on.
Hello again, stranger.
Ha. You're in a good mood, aren't you?
Three bounties bagged by your wing? Not bad. And you're back here to celebrate a job well done?
Hmm. Me too. What a coincidence.
So, c'mere. I have to tell you something. Closer. Set down your drink. There you go.
I think I might have missed a few things when I showed you around my ship last time. And I really need you to see them. Like, now.
Mmm. Feels like you're up for coming along, too. Fully. Now quit wasting time. Finish your drink. Load a credit chip and slide it over. All done? Good.
Now let's get the fuck out of this bar.
Well Kyndi, you got your wish. It's morning, and he's still here.
I roll over and take in his sleeping form. His face is serene, his bare chest is gently rising and falling, and-
Laying my head on his chest, his arm curls itself around my body, coming to a rest on the curve of my hip. A soft, deep noise comes from his throat as he turns to kiss my forehead, his lips settling over my hair.
I swallow. And you're not sick of him.
Glancing around the ship's bunk, I see all the usual indicators of our night: a few burned-out o-head joints, a half-empty bottle of Irishman's Dilemma on the floor, and our clothes everywhere except on us. Normally, I'd be out of bed and running around, making a pot of coffee if I felt nice and kicking him out if I didn't. But that's not the case, not this time. Right now, I feel at peace. I feel good.
And all I want to do is lay with him. In my messy pilot's cabin. Just like this.
Fuck.
