BOOTY HUNTER Read online

  He redirects his eyes down at his princess and then leans over, placing both hands flat on the glass, and hangs his head. “It’s not right,” he says. “I can’t fucking do it.”

  I take a few steps closer. Looking down at the princess’s face. She’s older than the one I have up in my quarters. Older than most of them out in the harem room too. More like a queen than a princess. She’s one of the silvers. You don’t see many of them. Most of the girls we see pass through here are golden-haired. That’s the default color, I guess. We get a few blues, a few more greens, and every now and then a red or an orange. But we’ve never had a silver before. Or a pink, for that matter.

  They are the top of the Cygnian food chain, so to speak.

  I mean there are literally hundreds of thousands of princesses. Hell, every pure-bred female in Cygnian System is technically a princess. Those are the golden ones. The nobodies. The kind who get kicked out for being rebellious and angsty.

  The other colors are higher up in the spectrum. True royalty. And I’ve heard, though this is nothing but rumor—because pretty much everything you read or hear about the Cygnians is just that, rumor. They are super isolationists—but I’ve heard that the pinks and the silvers are all in line for an actual throne.

  They don’t rule outlying territories, or random moon bases, or floating stations like the golds. They rule planets. And one of them rules the system with the king.

  “Who is she?” I finally ask. Probably a question I should’ve posed to him a decade ago. Definitely one I should’ve had the answer to before I decided to fucking steal her.

  Crux shakes his head with defeated sadness.

  “Please,” I say. “Do not tell me this one is the actual fucking queen.”

  Crux sighs. “I wish I could, brother. But it’d be a lie.”

  “I stole the fucking queen?” I blink my eyes three times quickly.

  “You did, Serp.”

  And despite the fact that I lost two partners in this… I cannot help but be just a little bit proud of myself.

  I stole the motherfucking Cygnian queen.

  And I’m still alive.

  How?

  Booty, I realize. And Draden. And Ceres.

  There is a long stretch of silence after that revelation. Long stretch.

  Then Crux straightens up and turns to me. “We can’t thaw her out, Serp. The moment we do they can track her. And I don’t care what ALCOR says, if the Royal Cygnian Navy comes after us, there’s no way we can win.”

  “I didn’t say we’d win,” ALCOR interrupts. “I said we’d give them a helluva fight.”

  “We’d lose everything,” Crux says.

  “So wait a minute,” I say, holding up a hand. “I did all this for a fucking woman we can’t even wake up?”

  Crux looks me straight in the eyes, which are a lighter violet than mine, something almost neon swirling around inside his irises, and he nods. “That’s the fucking situation.”

  He walks out of the cryogenic bay, leaving me alone to stew in that final thought.

  ALCOR says, “Did you need something, Serpint?”

  Which makes me remember why I’m here. “Yeah… Booty is still in the vacuum. She needs to be moved into a bay. Like now.”

  “I’m rearranging the schedule as we speak. Sending orders to move her to Bay 201 now. Anything else?”

  “Um…” Because there was something else I wanted to talk to Crux about. “Oh, yeah. You ever heard of a fake Cygnian princess, ALCOR? Because this one you gave me, she’s claiming she’s not a princess. That she cooked up some magic potion that allows her to glow.”

  “No,” ALCOR says. “I can’t say there’s anything in any of the galactic databases on that one.”

  “Hmmm. Well, what do ya make of it?”

  “Lies,” he says simply. “Just lies. We did the DNA test and it wasn’t faked. We can tell. And even though her glow is dim, it’s real. So she’s nobody special, that’s for certain, but she’s legitimate.”

  “You’re sure?” I ask. Because something is definitely off about this girl.

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “You could feed her some passion limes. See if that brings her luminous flux up a few levels. That would provide the peace of mind you’re looking for.”

  “Do we have any of those?” I ask, kinda wondering if he’s become telepathic since I was last home. How does he know I’m having doubts?

  “I’ll send some up to your chambers.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You’re welcome, Serpint. Do you want me to come with you? Keep an eye on her?”

  “You mean you’re not already?” I say, kinda smiling. But not really.

  “You told me to stay away. So I’ve stayed away.”

  “Since when do you listen to me?”

  “Since you came back without Draden,” he deadpans, his voice suddenly very mechanical. Like he needed to turn off his emergent feelings to speak that sentence.

  “Right,” I say, then exit the cryo bay and make my way back to the elevator.

  I want to go drink myself stupid. I want to lose myself in drugs. Or fuck some random woman who is not obligated to serve me because she’s here illegally. I want to forget what happened. And that it’s all my fault.

  But I don’t do any of that.

  I go to Bay 201 and wait for Booty to be brought in out of the cold darkness of vacuum so I can be there when they spin her back online.

  Be there to say, Welcome back.

  Or, You’re gonna be fine.

  Or, I’m sorry.

  CHAPTER EIGHT - LYRA

  So apparently my job today was to clean Serpint’s quarters. Like I’m the fucking bot in this place. He had fifteen tasks and each one came with a countdown. If I didn’t start the task within ten seconds I got a shock. If I completed the task in the allotted time frame, I got a gold star.

  A gold. Fucking. Star.

  And… wait for it.

  The bot got to assess me when I was finished.

  On a scale of one to ten, how well did Lyra complete the task?

  Was her attitude:

  A. Positive and upbeat

  B. Apathetic and neutral

  C. She complained the whole time

  Shit like that.

  I looked the tin can pile of junk in his optical sensors and told him, “Look, you little nanny bot prick. If you give me anything other than a ten, and I get a shock, which sends me into exhaustive convulsions because of the fucking piercings you forced me to endure, I will kick your little ball ass out an airlock.”

  I don’t think he’s used to dealing with anyone older than a toddler because I have completed every single task with a perfect score and my attitude was the mirror image of positive and upbeat.

  It’s not like there was anything to really do. It’s very clear that Serpint hasn’t been home in ages. There was a small pile of charred, smelly clothes in his bedroom and his bed covering was slightly wrinkled, but other than that it was just going through the motions. Dusting. Running maintenance protocols on the auto-cook, and the shower, and the recycle systems. Which was basically just pushing a few buttons while the bot fed me instructions from the manual. And ordering ingredients for his favorite meal. As if this barbaric bounty hunter can cook.

  No one cooks.

  But I did it and it’s like… fate or something. Because when the organic ingredients arrived for some weird meal called Mossian fowl with herb pasta, it came with passion limes.

  I laughed out loud when I saw them. So loud the bot asked me if everything was OK.

  Why, yes, you dumb little ball of metal. Everything is just perfect.

  Because passion limes are the third ingredient needed to make a new princess inhibitor. The citric acid reacts with the powdered palladium and when you add xenon the magic happens. Poof. Palladium antagonist is born.

  I have a feeling I can get the palladium off the hull of his ship. I’ll just feign
interest in her and ask Serpint to show me around. I’m gonna change my whole demeanor. Be a good little outlaw princess and bat my eyelashes at him. Then he’ll take me to the ship, I’ll figure out a way to get the bot to distract him, and presto. Done.

  The last thing I need is the xenon. Which can be found in most lamps on my home planet, but I can’t even reach the lights in this place. The ceiling is like six meters high and try as I might, the bot refused to float up and extract a bulb for me.

  However… xenon can also be found in medical lasers. So I have a plan for that too.

  Nope. I didn’t get any more shocks today, but I do have an honest-to-god problem with the… uh… piercing down there. How do I put this? All this walking around the apartment caused a little… chafing.

  And it fucking hurts. It fucking hurts like a mothersunner. My poor pussy. It hasn’t seen any action in so long and now it has more than it can handle. Plus, my inhibitor is totally wearing off. I am sweating little pink beads. It’s a good thing this bot is so stupid, because otherwise my jig would be up.

  So the plan is wait for Serpint to come home, complain—loudly—about how my new mutilation is probably infected, and make him take me to medical. Then… I don’t know. I’ll need another distraction so I can steal the little xenon capsule from the closest laser.

  I’ll figure it out when I get there.

  It seems like a long shot, but I am nothing if not a schemer. I wasn’t chosen for this little mission I’m on for being demure and obedient.

  Besides. I’m desperate.

  Desperate people do desperate things and lots of times they work out.

  Most times, anyway.

  Well, maybe half the time, if I’m being honest.

  But I’ll take fifty-fifty odds. Because my only other choice is to tell these asshole Akeelians the truth and hope they decide to help a girl out.

  Not likely.

  So scraping palladium off hulls and stealing xenon capsules from medical lasers it is.

  Then… maybe I can drug him? Yeah. I’ll drug him. I’ll put something in his whiskey. He has pain goo lying around. Chances are he’s got something in capsule form I can slip into his nightcap, right? Worst-case scenario I’ll sweet talk the bot into giving me access to the bathroom auto-pharmacy. I snooped while I was in there and Serpint’s got a whole list of recreational drugs on his approved list.

  He’s such a catch, isn’t he?

  I snort.

  Then I’ll do my little chemistry experiment and boom. I’m not a princess anymore.

  I’m sure this is all gonna work out.

  Pretty sure, anyway.

  I sit on the couch and fold my hands in my lap, trying to be casual, then cross my legs and swing my foot, satisfied I’ve got it all figured out.

  In other business, I did find some clothes, so I’m not naked anymore. I stole a pair of boxer shorts—who wears those anymore?—and a t-shirt from his closet. Which, by the way, was one of the tasks I had to complete on the list.

  Organize Serpint’s closet by color.

  As if that took more than ten seconds. He owns black t-shirts, white t-shirts, black military pants, two leather jackets, and one pair of boots.

  But he does have nice hangers. They’re made of the same soft silver material as his bed cover.

  He gets a gold star for that.

  I sigh and look around his living room. It’s a big space. “Is he coming home soon?” I ask the bot. “I’m so bored.”

  “Master Serpint has been in the medical bay all day waiting for Booty to wake up.”

  “Who the hell is Booty?” Does this asshole have a girlfriend? I huff a little. Not possible.

  “The ship.”

  “Ohhh.” I laugh. “I should’ve guessed that one.”

  I’ve heard about bounty hunters getting overly attached to their sentient ships. He’s definitely one of those freaks. The way he acted after mentioning she was hurt. Yeah, pretty sure this guy has a thing for his girl.

  I yawn and reposition myself on the couch so I can put my feet up. It’s been an exhausting day and it’s not even half-spin yet. He could be gone for hours.

  “So… maybe I could like… use that magical shower he’s got in the bedroom?” I ask the bot.

  “I don’t think so, princess.”

  “But I’m dirty. All this manual labor has worked up a sweat. Don’t you think Serpint would appreciate you taking initiative to clean me up so when he gets home I’ll be pretty and smell like flowers?”

  The bot considers this.

  “Please. I’ve been good.”

  He makes a beep that is definitely the bot version of a snort.

  “I have. And I’m sore from being manhandled. I’m sure Serpint—”

  But just as I’m about to finish begging, the door slides open and the man of the hour walks in.

  “How is Booty?” the bot asks.

  Serpint looks at him and growls. And it’s not the sexy kind like he was doing earlier, either. It’s the don’t-fuck-with-me kind.

  Well. That sucks. He’s in a bad mood. But I need to slip into my first scheme immediately if I have any hope of pulling this off.

  So I groan. “Oh… ohhhhh… ohhh.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Serpint asks, grabbing the bottle of whiskey that came with the food and pouring it into a glass.

  “She’s experiencing discomfort,” the bot chirps.

  “Something up, princess?” Serpint asks, turning his back to me to open the door to the fridge. He reaches in, grabs something and then turns, holding it in his hand so I can’t see what he has.

  I squint my eyes at him because he’s squinting his eyes at me.

  “Ohhhh… ohhh—”

  “Cut the shit. I know what you’re doing.”

  “What?” I ask, sitting up. Then for real, I squeak out a little gasp of pain because seriously, that pussy ring might be infected and it really does hurt like hell.

  “Where did you get those clothes?” he asks.

  I look down at his t-shirt and boxers, then back up at him. “Surely you didn’t expect me to stay naked all day.”

  He takes a sip of his whiskey, then tosses a passion lime up in the air and catches it with the same hand.

  I squint my eyes again and he grins. “Fancy a little passion lime, princess?”

  “Uh… no. But thank you.”

  “Why not?” he asks, stalking towards me. “Afraid it’ll bring your luminous flux levels up enough to make you glow the way you’re supposed to? Hmm?”

  “What?” I put my hand over my heart. A spectacular attempt at indignation.

  Which he does not buy. Because he pulls a folding knife out of his pocket and cuts the lime in half.

  Good god. Just the smell of the little green fruit is enough to degrade my inhibitor.

  I stand up and walk away. But the rapid motion makes the folds of my pussy rub against the new ring and I have to squeeze my legs together to put pressure on the shooting pain between my legs.

  “Oh, shit,” I say. Then I turn on my best, demure, sad, I’m-a-damsel-in-distress face and say, “Really. There’s something wrong with me, Serpint. I think I need to go to medical.”

  “Need a little passion lime boost, maybe?”

  “Enough with the jokes, OK? I’ve been mutilated by that rogue bot and now my most cherished lady parts are infected.”

  He glares at me. “Eat this first. Then after I check you and find you’re telling the truth, I’ll send a medical bot up to take care of it.”

  “A bot?” I shout. “A bot is what did this to me! I want to see a real medical professional. And I can’t eat that,” I say, pointing to the fruit.

  “Because it will blow your cover and out you as a princess?”

  “No, because you can’t eat raw passion limes, you caveman.” So much for the good princess act. “They’re poisonous unless they’re fermented.”

  “ALCOR,” Serpint says.

  “Yes, Serpint.�
��

  “Is she telling the truth?”

  “About what?”

  “What do you mean about what? You hear everything, AL. Stop pretending that you’re not spying on every living and non-living thing on this station every second of the spin.”

  “I was busy elsewhere and did not hear the conversation. Please repeat it.”

  “She said,” Serpint growls through gritted teeth, “that passion limes are poisonous unless they’re fermented. Is that true?”

  I get the feeling Serpint isn’t on good terms with the station AI. But I am lying. And this ALCOR, he will know that.

  I start to come up with another reason when the AI says, “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Well, why the hell did you tell me to feed her passion limes?”

  Ooooo. Shit. They’ve been talking about me. That can’t be good.

  “I didn’t, Serpint. I said tushberries.”

  “You did not. Play the conversation back.”

  “That conversation has been deleted.”

  Oh. Man. These two… if the AI was humanoid I get the feeling Serpint would knock his ass out right about now.

  “Can I please go to the doctor now?” I whine. “I was mutilated by the bot and now it’s infected. I need medical attention.”

  “Would you like me to make you an appointment?” ALCOR asks.

  Holy suns! The AI is on my side! I smile sweetly at Serpint and say, “Why, yes. Thank you. Today, if possible.” Then quickly frown to make sure they all get that I’m not feeling well.

  “You have an appointment with the harem medical office in twenty minutes. See you then, Lyra.”

  “Thank you, ALCOR. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, princess.”

  I have to turn away from Serpint so he doesn’t see my smile

  Because it’s big. Very, very wide, and huge, and just…

  “He’s lying. You’re lying. And don’t think I won’t make you pay for this. Bot,” Serpint says. “Order me a tray of harem fruit and champagne. We’re going to eat dessert first when we get back from medical.”

  I sigh. As quietly as possible. And mentally pat myself on the back as the bot chirps out his reply. Because my plan is still in motion. All I have to do is talk him into a pit stop at the ship to scrape the hull and I’m golden.