WilliamDArand
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Privateer's Commission -CH 8-
🕑 Added 2024-07-02 00:58:10 +0000 UTCLaughing, Ralph threw his head back.
Full, deep, belly laughs.
“Oh stop it, my dear captain,” Marionette complained and gently bumped her elbow into his side. “It’s not that funny.”
Looking back at the screen, Ralph watched as Marionette’s character, which had died in the previous scene, was devoured by the dinosaurs.
Once again Ralph started to laugh.
At the same time he pulled on Marionette’s shoulder, and curled his arm partially. He gently ran his fingers through her silky hair.
“You’re actually a good actor,” Ralph said after his laughter died away. “But I swear, they only use you for visuals or to get killed. You’re the beautiful woman dying in a horror movie trope.”
“Ugh. You’re not wrong,” complained Marionette, setting her head down on his shoulder. “This is why I liked modeling so much more. The pay wasn’t as good but at least I knew I was the star attraction.”
“Not wrong there. I’ve been surfing around trying to collect every model contract you’ve ever done,” murmured Ralph. “Alright. You died. You know how I feel. Do you want to watch more or…?”
“I mean… I kinda liked this movie. Do you mind?” Marionette asked, shifting around against him.
Over the last four days as they traveled to the Blood of Calesat, they’d spent it mostly hanging out.
Talking, learning about one another, eating together, and having a near mind-numbing amount of sex.
In no time at all Ralph was incredibly comfortable with Marionette and she seemed to be brighter every day. An optimistic and upbeat young woman.
“Of course I don’t mind,” Ralph grumbled, trailing his fingers through her hair. He lightly itched at her scalp, which he’d found she enjoyed quite a bit. “I’m just not as interested because my new favorite actress is dead.”
Marionette snorted at that but didn’t say anything more.
“Though, my god Marionette, is there anything you -can’t- wear and look amazing in? Should we try a napkin tied on with some floss?” Ralph teased.
“Mmm, I wore something like that for a swimsuit thing as a model,” Marionette replied after a moment of thought. “I wore some traditional Blood cultural wear once. That didn’t look that great on me. I think it was Dashi.”
“I find that hard to believe. I bet I could put you in a potato sack and you’d still wear it like a goddess.”
Laughing again, Marionette curled to the side partially and then pushed her legs out. Snuggling up closer to him.
“Such a flatterer. Your honeyed words are dangerous.”
“Says the woman who nearly brought a veteran Privateer to his knees just with a pout and a plea.”
“Nope. Not a valid argument. You told me no.”
“Wish I hadn’t. This would’ve been easier.”
“You said no.”
“Alright. How can I prove to you I wanted to say yes?”
“I’m not sure. I’m somewhat easy to bribe, but I won’t give you any hints as to what.”
Ralph nodded his head at that, still running his fingernails back and forth across Marionette’s scalp.
He briefly considered where they were and what was around. They were just at the edges of Confed territory and where it would cross over into the Bloods.
There was a strip of space between the two territories that was somewhat of a demilitarized zone. Pirates, smugglers, and tax-free stores laid in the middle.
Some of Ralph’s best hauls were in that strip as well, both selling and buying.
Though it had also been where he’d had his closest encounters and nearly lost his life. The only thing that’d saved his life was his ability to fight with a sword.
Something that’d been drilled into him from an early age, every single day, till the moment he’d been dumped on a planet.
Just about the only thing that his uncle had given him of any use.
You really fucked up giving me and everything to your brother, dad. For fuck’s sake.
Though… I probably need to start practicing again.
Seems like my life is getting far too exciting.
“Clothes. I want to bribe you with clothes,” Ralph said. “As well as remodeling the bedroom. Get some more closet and wardrobe space. Get my lady some space to fill out her wardrobe.
“I’ve been meaning to reroute several power junctions that run near there under the gravity deckplate instead. My new launchers gave me a lot more room down there than there was previously.”
“That’s a really good bribe,” Marionette admitted. “Are you sure though? That’d be hard to change later, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s fine,” muttered Ralph. He realized she was talking about when she eventually left at the end of their contract.
Now after having a companion on board he was reconsidering his views on it.
That maybe if he pressed her, offered her a lot, he could keep Marionette on board far longer.
“Then… yes… I’d be suitably bribed at that point.”
“We’re only a short time away from the Corridor. We can get that done there cheaply and without needing permits or anything,” explained Ralph. “Can also get more rockets. I’m down an entire salvo of them. Missing twenty-five percent of my total amount.”
“Really?! The Corridor!?” Marionette asked, moving up into a sitting position and looking to him. “We can go there!?”
“Sure. We’ll have to stick a veil or something on you though. That face will be problematic on it’s own.
“Along with a really padded jacket or… I have no idea if it’s possible, but can you strap those weapons down?” teased Ralph, indicating her chest.
“Maybe. The veil is fine though,” Marionette said, then smiled at him. “Maybe we should go back to the bedroom again and see about what we can do with those… weapons… as you called them? I do have other weapons, too. We should definitely check them as well.”
“Please. Yes. My lady,” agreed Ralph eagerly. “I would love to do that. Hit me with everything.”
Which made Marionette laugh, her eyes twinkling as she gazed at him.
***
Marionette spun one way, then the other, looking at herself in the mirror of the bedroom. Only to look at Ralph.
“You don’t look anything like yourself,” he affirmed.
Right now she had a figure more akin to an older woman’s. With a matronly type of shape where she had a smaller upper torso and a wider posterior.
Blowing out a breath, Marionette sighed, and shrugged at herself.
She was dressed in a way that didn’t do anything for her. She still wore it well, but with the binding she wore beneath it all robbed her of her amazing body.
“The mask will take away that pretty face and that’ll be fine after that,” Ralph advised, holding out the very mask he’d just mentioned.
He had bought it, along with a heavy jacket, when they docked and he went and paid port duties.
It was just a medical mask that’d cover her from the bridge of her nose all the way to her jaw. It was a bit bigger than normal and would actually form somewhat of a seal on her face.
Germs were a big deal for many people in space. Especially going into a station you were unfamiliar with.
Though that wasn’t the biggest danger in a place like this.
Being a privateer didn’t mean as much here in the Corridor. Less so than even for the Bloods.
That mask had been a stroke of luck.
A young man had been wheeling a rack of costumes and clothes off toward the market. It’d only taken a few credit slips and a joke to get him to sell him a jacket and the mask.
Cheaper than the items were actually worth too.
Fell right off the truck.
Hand truck.
Ha.
Marionette flipped her hair, grabbed the jacket, and pulled it on. Then she took the mask from Ralph and pulled it over her head. Adjusting the strap behind her head.
Given that it was black, it practically vanished in her hair.
When she looked to him Ralph felt like she was an effeminate man, rather than a masculine woman, before she put on the jacket.
Now, with the jacket, she looked like a thick bodied, and slightly thin limbed man with long hair.
She looked odd, but not out of place for where they were going.
Which was almost the goal.
“Uhm… what… am I man?” Marionette asked curiously, looking at herself.
“You’re a man,” Ralph replied after a pause. He realized what she wanted. “You’re an older man but not yet old. You don’t like talking. When you do talk, it’s gruff. Taciturn. A growl. You’ve spent too many years in space without much human contact.
“You hate humans. You prefer AI. To the point that you find conversation frustrating because Humans dance around a subject compared to an AI.
“You carry yourself with a grave air having spent most of the time in space dodging conflicts on a small merchant freighter.
“I hired you on as an assistant as you lost your own ship and it’s in for repairs at a Confed facility.”
Marionette’s head slowly tilted to one side as he spoke.
When he finished, she nodded her head once, then clapped her hands together. Only to look at her hands.
Or more accurately, her fingertips.
The well maintained and manicured long nails stood out quite badly.
She turned and went to the drawers and pulled them open.
Since coming on board, she’d taken over the laundry.
He had to teach her how to do everything, down to how much detergent to put in, but she’d taken it over. Even putting his clothes away.
So when she pulled out one of his pairs of gloves he wasn’t surprised she knew where it was. She’d put it there.
Pulling them on quickly she then looked herself over in the mirror again.
Her posture shifted, her shoulders squared, but her body slumped. Her hands fell loose at her side and her fingers were held open in almost like a spread claw.
“Ready,” she got out in a low grumble.
Ralph grinned at her and shook his head briefly.
She really was an actress when she wanted to be.
A haunting thought about her acting for him as well briefly flickered through his thoughts.
He squashed it the best he could and then led the way back toward the exit of the ship. Marionette was right behind him. Walking with a gait that looked anything but her own.
Ralph reached up and hit the ramp descent button.
“You remember everything we talked about?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Marionette.
“Yeah,” she ground out. “Gangs rule the Corridor. Sometimes by sector, sometimes by station. This is a station gang. No government. Basic laws. Don’t be dumb. Stay with you. Stay in the boulevard where the gang guards are visible.”
Ralph nodded his head at that, checked his holster to make sure his blaster was there, and then laid his hand on the handle of his sword.
Not everyone went armed, but those who did, were targeted and also avoided.
Thankfully, Ralph was somewhat of a known entity in most Corridor locations. He didn’t get much in the way of troubles from others.
“You… can use a sword?” Marionette asked in her normal voice.
“Oh yes… yes I can,” he confirmed, yet offered nothing more. He didn’t really want to talk about it.
Or more accurately, his uncle.
But that wasn’t fair to Marionette.
“I’ll tell you more later. Here we go.”
The ramp hit the ground and Ralph moved down it.
Once he and Marionette cleared it, he reached up and hit the closure button.
Making sure to use his thumb to get the biometric reader and lock the ship up as well as activate it’s defenses.
There was a ping, followed by a long single tone as a warning.
“And that?” Marionette asked in her false voice.
“Defenses.”
Marionette clearly couldn’t help herself and let out a throaty giggle.
Clearly, she wanted to comment about him saying his job was like being a space trucker. He was starting to realize that maybe he really had under-stated what he did.
Leaving the docking port of the space-station, they entered the main area.
The port authority was just a group of armred men, standing around, looking incredibly dangerous, and eyeballing everyone who walked by.
Ralph made firm eye-contact with them for a few seconds, nodded his head, and kept walking, breaking eye-contact only after they nodded back at him.
He had made sure to give their group leader a small bribe earlier as well.
It wouldn’t guarantee anything, but they’d be aware of him and his ship. It was far less likely that they’d turn a blind eye to anyone poking around the Siren.
Entering the station main area, he wasn’t surprised to see that it was a relic. A biome type station that had been built to allow trees, plants, and bushes grow in them.
They were often quite large with a single gravity plate running through out. Everything was laid out as if it were planet-side and the ceiling high above was made out of glass-steel that was often made multiple feet thick.
There was also an interior dome that would extend if the glass was damaged or attack.
Most of these types of stations would spin in accordance with a clock so that they would get a set amount of sunlight and no-light.
Grinning, Ralph turned and started moving down the main boulevard. He actually enjoyed these stations. They felt far more normal compared to the cramped hallways and plazas that most of the newer Confed stations were like.
Always feel like a rat in a tube.
Stalking along the boulevard, he looked around as they went.
Realistically, the best thing he could do was find a bar.
Bartenders were the tour-guides in the Corridor, yellow-pages, web-search, and review page all in one.
People who actively lived, worked, and knew the area. The trick was finding the right bar.
“Ah,” Ralph said and chuckled to himself. He’d found what he wanted. “That bar. We’re going in there. See all the gang members? This is more like a police station because of that. We just have to be polite and and aware.”
Turning just about on his heel, Ralph went up to the building.
Given the appearance of all the other buildings in the station, and that this one had fresh paint no less, there was no arguing that money was being put into it.
The doors were already pulled open and Ralph went right in with a small nod to a gang-member that had looked him over. They’d checked out his weapon and sword and seemed unconcerned.
If I’d been wearing the Privateer’s badge, they’d probably want to bother me.
A man with weapons wearing them confidently?
Dangerous. Possibly wanted or worse.
A Privateer with weapons? Possibly relying on family?
Possibly a piggy bank and might be worth a try.
Entering the bar Ralph glanced around.
He saw it was more or less what he expected.
People playing cards, gambling, drinking, prostitutes chatting up potential clients, eating, or just watching the crowd.
Spotting the bar, Ralph went right to it. He’d already stuck several ten, twenty, and fifty credit notes in his jacket interior pocket.
Given the look of the bartender, an older man in his sixties, Ralph realized that he’d likely have to hand over a fifty. The older they were, the harder it was to move them with words alone.
Then, thankfully, surprisingly, the bartender moved away and a second one appeared.
A woman in her thirties moved into the corner the man had just been at and began loading a fridge with what looked like beers.
Perfect.
A twenty will do to get her talking.
Just a little charisma, a flirty back and forth, and there we go.
Walking right up to the woman, Ralph leaned up against the bar and stuck his boot on the boot rail. He looked to the drinks on the wall as well as the taps.
Nothing stood out to him as something he wanted and getting a drink was often required just to get a word in. Often as they got it.
Ralph gave up and realized it didn’t matter. He’d just phrase it directly to the bartender and let her handle it. He was desperately over thinking it.
“I’m flattered but the willing girls are over there,” growled the bartender, glancing up at him from where she was loading the beer bottles.
He saw now that she wasn’t in her thirties, she was just wearing too much makeup. It’d aged her but didn’t quite detract that she was somewhat attractive.
Ralph figured she was more likely in her mid-twenties.
Short blonde hair, buzzed on the left side, flipped over to the right side, hung just past the level of her eyes.
She had more than a few tattoos on her neck and shoulder as well as her arms. She had dark blue eyes and a frown adorning her mouth.
She was wearing a small tank-top that didn’t fit her well. Above her belly button with her cleavage impressively visible and partially spilling out.
Her pants were as tight as skin and it showed off her thigh and rear end spectacularly.
If he wasn’t busy, or had Marionette on his ship who made every other woman less, he’d likely try to strike up an actual conversation with her.
“I mean, you’re pretty, I won’t deny it. Definitely got the right assets to catch an eye, but I’m afraid I’m not after you,” Ralph quipped with a chuckle. “That and I doubt I could afford you if you were open to it. You’re way too attractive for me or my wallet. I don’t carry around millions casually. Or… uh… do you take payment plans? You’re probably worth it just for a smile.”
The woman stared up at him, a sudden grin blossoming on her face despite clearly fighting against it considering what he said.
“Damn, now I owe you, don’t I? You gave me the smile just like I wanted. Hell,” grumbled Ralph, leaning a bit further over the bar. “Alright. You got me. How much was the smile? Probably thousands, right? You’re going to end up making me sell my ship just to buy you a house aren’t you?”
The woman’s grin widened, her head nodding partially and slowly tilting to the side. Then her tongue started sliding back and forth across her upper teeth. It looked entirely spur of the moment.
Ralph had successfully knocked down the walls on a prickly personality.
“Consider it a freebie,” she murmured, then stood up.
And stood up.
She was easily taller than him. Standing at something close to six-foot three.
Ralph wasn’t exactly short at five foot eleven but he was looking up at her.
“Holy hell you’re glorious,” Ralph said, looking up at her. “Fuck buying you a house, I’ll buy you a planet so I’ve got you to myself.”
Laughing now she put her elbows down against the bar and leaned over it as well. She was now at eye level with him and staring into his face.
Her right hand drifted up and she grabbed the tips of her blonde hair and rubbed her fingers back and forth over it.
“Alright, alright. I get it. You’re infatuated with me,” she murmured. “But we both know I’m not what you want. Armed man like you coming in here means you need something considering you didn’t even look at the amenities.”
“Maybe I just want your number. Internet working here? Guy got a chance at smashing into your messages?” Ralph pushed. She seemed like a good contact to have even if he never came back any time soon.
“Well… maybe we can talk about smashing later and I’m definitely going to give you my number,” she answered, her hand drifting down from her hair to touch her neck and her jaw. “Still though, what do you need?”
“Honestly? I originally came in to get a line on someone to remodel a bedroom for me as well as the best place to go for clothes,” Ralph murmured. “Now I think I want you to help me remodel the bedroom personally and I’d love to take you clothes shopping and get you to try on everything.”
The woman eye’s narrowed and she only continued to smile at her.
“Clothes and a carpenter, huh? I can do that,” she stated. Then she reached into her tank top and pulled a phone out from what was likely under her breast.
“Oh hey, that looks like a great place to keep valuables. Mind if I put a few things in there? By hand, mind you,” Ralph asked.
Laughing again, the woman gave him a raised eyebrow, then reached out and patted his cheek. Her fingers lingering there.
“You’re a lot of fun,” she purred. Then she flipped her phone around and pointed at the screen. “Number? I’ll send you the information.”
Ralph quickly pulled one of the fifty-credit notes he’d had on his person. He laid it down in front of her and sighed.
“Well, consider this the down payment on that planet I’ll keep you all for myself on,” he lamented. “Or just for the information and your recommendation on who to go to.”
“Mmm, so you say. I’m Delilah. Most people call me Lil,” she said.
“A name like Delilah deserves to be spoken, calling you Lil is just plebeian,” countered Ralph and then pulled his own phone out while grinning at her. He moved forward a bit, putting himself only a few inches away from her. “Now… Delilah… my number…”
