The First Nova I See Tonight by Jason Kilgore (the false prince .txt) 📕

there. The only reason the engine room hadn't blown up during the fight over Edzná was because the Dracordans worked in a high-nitrogen, low-oxygen atmosphere which quickly snuffed the fires that broke out. Dirken agreed to continue the terms of their hire and left them to attend to repairs.

More surprising than finding the Dracordans was the discovery of two Reptiloc crewmen hibernating in cocoons in the portside stowage bay. After some debate about whether to kill them as they slept, Dirken reluctantly decided it would be best to build a cell around them. When they awoke a month later, their choice was to serve as crew or be marooned on a Chilean island off the coast. To Dirken's mixed relief, both of them chose to serve. They were impressed by the stealing of the ship, something that rivaled anything the Bloodhawk had managed since they'd been aboard. And besides, they didn't like the smell of Earth air. It probably helped that both of them were male. Female Reptilocs were much more aggressive and likely would have preferred a fight to the death.

In stowage next to the Reptilocs were two dozen crates full of United Worlds military-grade laser cores, the sort used to cut open the hulls of starships. Where the Bloodhawk got them was a complete mystery, but Dirken suspected they may have come along with the barrage bots used against the Excellentia.

The next stop was the local alien-human commune of Lupanar, named after its famed bordello, where Dirken got his share of entertainment and alcohol. To his immense pleasure, the bordello had not one, but two Ursan prostitutes. Also known as "space octopuses" to humans, they used their tentacles to massage, stroke, and probe every sensitive organ and orifice, sometimes all at once, with tentacle tips modified both mechanically and genetically to give ultimate sensual stimuli.

As Dirken pursued this rare pleasure, Yiorgos would go to a Cyberalia server temple for communal Netfolding with other cyborgs. He had a lot of meditating to do after the mental invasion by AVA.

Lastly came a visit to Dirken's old friend, Hank the Monkeywrench, a jovial elder human with one tooth who knew Dirken from his street hustling youth on Tesla. Hank was more than happy to help him repair the Speartip in exchange for those laser cores, and he fixed Yiorgos's legs and arm.

Despite the extreme pleasures of the bordello, there was still something missing. The Ursans didn't have the softness of lavender fur. Their delights weren't tinged with a warrior's lusty playfulness. And they didn't have eyes that sparkled like amethysts.

The next four months passed in a blur of repairs and frequent trips to Lupanar from the ship for supplies and stimulating entertainment. Soon the Speartip was in top shape and ready for new gigs with a couple new weapons arrays, a repaired gravwell generator, and spaceworthy. He couldn't wait to put her through her paces. The first trip would be to Mars to recruit some seasoned crewmen. Dirken reckoned that a corvette of this class could easily outrun most of the United Worlds patrol ships, with her faster sublight speed and a gravwell engine that could spin up quicker. The Bloodhawk had been a ruthless bastard but very smart about his tech and ships. Aquarian centaurs were a famously starfaring species, after all.

In some ways it was better than his last ship, the Brilliant. Faster, stronger, better laid out. But a part of him still missed that old clipper of his, as cramped and dingy as it had been inside. It had been better-armed and had much more cargo room, too. But he wouldn't miss the little bunk he'd had to sleep in. Aquarian centaurs need a lot of room, and the bed in the Speartip's captain's quarters was massive in comparison with plenty of space for himself — and a couple companions.

Then one day, as the last of the summer breezes blew in from the ocean, two small spacecraft appeared overhead and made a beeline for the Speartip.

One was a lightly armed yacht, the sort used by high-class corporate types. The other was a fast-attack fightercraft. Just as his new Reptiloc weapons specialist was about to open fire, though, Dirken told him not to engage — but be ready for anything. The fighter was bright yellow. He'd recognize it anywhere. A smile crept over his face.

The visitors circled twice and then landed nearby. Through the viewscreen Dirken saw the cockpit open up and Eow step out. The Pleiadean pilot of the yacht also came out of his ship and stood at attention by its doorway.

Moments later, Dirken and Yiorgos stepped off the Speartip's gangplank and met Eow halfway between the ships.

She was carrying the same large duffel bag the Heart had been in. Is it still in there? he wondered. There was a sizable bulge and weight to it.

"Is that… an Ananak?" he said with a smile on his face.

"Is that… a human?" she responded immediately. "You are not an easy one to find." She set the duffel down with a thud.

"And you're not an easy one to lose," Dirken rebutted. "How the hell did you find us?"

Eow smiled and ran a claw down Dirken's chest. He shivered as it scraped through his chest hair. "I have my connections," she answered, her words rolling in that silky, bedroom voice he'd found himself dreaming about. "But I will just say that a shipment of laser cores that had been reported stolen by a certain bloodthirsty pirate somehow showed up on the black market at Mars Colony 2."

Damn, he thought. He should have predicted that. He wondered who else had put it together.

"Oh, do not worry," she said after seeing his reaction. "Your secret is safe with me, space jockey. I bought them all for Grimmag's fleet and swore the seller to secrecy on pain of death." She looked over toward the Speartip. "Besides, it seems you will not be here much longer."

He acted annoyed. "Speaking of starships. I see you brought