8 June 1288 AW
Degra Moon IV, Surq System. Captain Mordecai Tyler scanned the nearly barren landscape, approving the flat expanse of icy, snowy ground around him, lit only by the faint glow of the distant red dwarf, Surq. Between the desolate surroundings and being comfortably removed from the freezing wind and lack of atmosphere, thanks to his thermal suit and breathing mask, Tyler had found his personal paradise. It was impossible for him to be further from humanity, and he couldn't remember the last time he had a moment of uninterrupted freedom like this, to enjoy solitude and an empty agenda. It might not have been a vacation for anyone else, but to the space pirate, the moon had the perfect conditions to test his newest toy, an MRC-221 rifle.
Tyler smiled widely, satisfied with his location, and cemented himself to the ground on his stomach, aiming the rifle at a practice dummy (an earthman) he had set up a good distance directly ahead of him. The plasma weapon, its magazine fully-charged, felt perfect in his hands. He looked through his infrared mask, took one last breath and fired his first round, tearing away the dummy's left shoulder. Pleased but feeling unfinished, Tyler prepared for another shot at its chest...
Thunk.
Thunk.
Tyler was sure he had been alone all this time, but something was now tapping his right shoulder every few seconds. He wasn't immediately annoyed and continued to test fire from a prone position. He steadied his breathing and aimed once again.
Thunk.
"Damn it," grunted Tyler, who was less than a millisecond away from squeezing the trigger. He repositioned his weapon and readied it one more time.
Thunk.
"All right!" As he shouted, the light around him started to grow much brighter, unnaturally so for the dim moon. Tyler was beginning to think his grip on reality was leaving him. "What the..." The light increased, and now he could definitely tell there was someone else on the empty moon with him.
"Get up, Mordy!" a woman's voice ordered as he felt another dull thunk on his shoulder. The moon before him gave way to the view of the stark gray wall behind his bed; the ground turned back into his bedsheets and pillow. He now realized he'd been sleeping on his stomach, but he was still in the awkward position of aiming an invisible rifle at his headboard. Tyler let out a long, exhausted groan.
"For the fucking love of Light, I can't get more than a couple of hours to myself ever, can I?" he asked the voice that had demanded he join the ranks of the living. He was fairly sure it was Shir Gold who had prematurely drawn him out of his sleep, and he lifted his face from his pillow and looked over his shoulder to see the green-haired former socialite kneeling on the end of the bed near his feet, confirming his assumption. She had her hand in a bag of taffy and pulled out another piece and lobbed it at him. It bounced off his cheek and into a small pile of other taffy pieces next to his pillow. The captain was almost certain he was the only privateer in the galaxy to get a candy wake-up call.
Between large chews of the sweet candy, Shir complained, "Are you going to get up now? I've been throwing taffy at you for five minutes."
Tyler exhaled as he sat up in bed; a landslide of taffy fell away from his body as he did so. He brushed away the remaining pieces and glowered at Shir. He looked over the woman sharing the bottom half of his bed. "Why are you only wearing... that... whatever that is?"
Shir raised an eyebrow. "A nightshirt? This is what I always wear to bed, silly."
"Mkay, and since when did I start permitting my crew to waltz into my quarters wearing next to nothing?"
"You've seen me in less," Shir reminded Tyler with a sly grin as she hopped off the bed, grabbed a pair of trousers from a pile on a nearby chair and tossed them at the captain. He caught them midair while continuing to look at Shir agitatedly.
"Yes, I have," he rolled his eyes, "but that doesn't set the standard for all future morning encounters, Lieutenant."
"Ooh," excitedly purred Shir as she put down her bag of taffy, crawled back on the bed and snuggled up to Tyler, "'Lieutenant?' You want to use rank even in the bedroom? That's so kinky, Captain." She walked her fingers up his chest, stopping at his shoulders and pushing him against the mattress, letting the gaping neck of her nightshirt fall open to give Tyler a full view of her front, revealing her lithe, gymnast's body.
"Shir..."
She interrupted with a shh, straddling the groggy space captain, leaning down and whispering into his ear with her sugary sweet voice, "You can't tell me this isn't a fantastic way to salute the morning."
Well, he was certainly saluting something right now; that was for sure. However, Tyler remembered why he had told Shir to wake him early today, and that was to get a head start on preparations for their next job. The captain and his crew had been contracted by Esper Mansion for a new, important mission, which would be overseen personally by the hallowed Lutz. Tyler was expecting the arrival of the renowned Esper and his assigned guardian shortly after the usual breakfast hour, and the captain had personal business to take care of in the meantime.
"No time, Shir," replied Tyler, moving her gently to the empty side of the bed and rising from underneath the thin but warm blankets. He looked out the small, circular window next to the nightstand and took in a twilight view of snow, snow and more snow. A few houselights from the small Palman-Dezolisian settlement a short distance from the where Tyler had "parked" (as Shir called it) the Landeel revealed the town's early risers, most likely hunters or laconian miners preparing for another day of hard labor on the chilly planet of Dezolis.
"Aw," Shir whined, resting playfully on her side and drawing a finger along the bottom sheet. "You're no fun, Captain." She looked at him and pouted, fluttering her eyelashes.
"That won't work on me this morning, Ms. Gold."
"You know," continued Shir, letting a little more skin show as she moved a hand up her leg, "you never give me a flat-out 'no'; it's always 'not right now,' or 'not enough time.' I have to believe I still have a shot with you."
Tyler chuckled. "I keep my options open."
"You're more of a tease than I am!" exclaimed Shir, rolling onto her back and resting her legs along the headboard. "Why did you ask me to wake you up, anyway? That's extremely low-tech of you, Mordy."
"I ignore alarm clocks, but not pretty women. That's why."
Shir hoisted herself up to sitting, facing the headboard and holding onto it seductively. She looked over her shoulder coyly at Tyler, who had been observing his visage in the dresser mirror, checking for new lines along his brow. His gaze moved to his arms and hands, where he compared his right side with his left, robotic side. Though his left arm was surprisingly realistic in appearance, he knew someday-maybe sooner rather than later-his two arms would no longer match, and he'd either have to live with one old arm or hope Ken Miller, one of the last robotic engineers left in Algol, would still be alive to adjust his mechanical arm cosmetically.
He never thought he'd have a problem with aging, but at 45, he was starting to feel youth leave him behind, especially since he now had younger crew members like Shir to remind him he wasn't perpetually 29 years old. Though, the green-haired vixen didn't seem to mind his age (not that that was saying much about Shir's standards), and through the mirror's reflection, he could see her continuing to be persistent. A quick check of the time showed that she'd actually woken him up a half hour earlier than he'd originally requested. Clever, thought Tyler, and as for youth, there was one way to recapture it right now...
Turning around, he discarded the pants he was still holding. He leaped onto the bed, grabbing Shir around the waist and pulling her away from the headboard. She let out a delighted squeal as Tyler pinned her to the bed by her wrists and nuzzled her neck.
In a moment of hesitation, he let go and looked up a Shir. "You sure you want to do this? I'm not interested in getting hitched, you know."
Shir smirked, running a hand through his short blond hair. "Since when have I ever wanted to settle down?" She reached up and let her lips lightly brush against his. Her other hand was already on the move, exploring the contents of his boxers. That was all the confirmation Tyler needed to end almost four years of not mixing business with pleasure with his second in command.
He grinned as he bent down to kiss her neck again, but Shir stopped him midway and held his face above hers. "You know what would really enhance this moment?" she cooed. Tyler's response was an excited head shake. Shir answered her own question, "Ustvestia."
Tyler's happy grin instantly faded. "Are you trying to ruin my mood?"
"Not intentionally," Shir quickly answered, pointing towards the door. The captain looked up to see the self-proclaimed musical genius, Ustvestia, standing in the open doorway with his pet musk cat, Rawr, perched on his right shoulder. Tyler groaned as he hung his head down, faceplanting into the pillow next to Shir's head and letting the rest of him collapse beside her. She sat up and patted his hair. "Aw, you know, some things just aren't meant to be."
He turned his face slightly to her and looked at her out the corner of his eye. "Also, you could lock a door once in a while," he added as a reminder. "That's helpful."
"I'm better at breaking locks than using them," she shrugged.
"Oh, don't mind us," a very amused Ustvestia chimed in with his chipper, melodic voice, resting an arm on the door frame. "I was going to ask if anyone was interested in my Algol-famous smoked mastodon sausage links for breakfast, but I can see Shir's already been smoking meat this morning," he taunted with a devilish grin. Tyler kept his face buried in the pillow and grunted.
"No," replied Shir, picking up a stray piece of candy from the bed and throwing it at Ustvestia. Rawr playfully batted it out of the air and chased it to the ground before it could hit the musician/communications officer. "More like a taffy pull."
"Even better!" delightedly sang Ustvestia, pushing away from the door frame and twirling and end of his thin, light blue mustache between two fingers. "Oh, and we've received a call from the town elder," he said as he pointed in the direction of the settlement, "who says you can stop by any time this morning to discuss setting up our headquarters. But how about food? Eggs?" He raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his glasses, "Over easy or over hard?"
Tyler sat up and rubbed his forehead. "Just make whatever you want to for breakfast. I have to go to town now, anyway," he ordered impatiently, hoping his audience would soon leave him. He rose from the bed and extended an arm to Shir, helping her to her feet and looking at her apologetically. He said to her alone, "Maybe some other time, Lieutenant."
Shir winked back at him and squeezed his hand. "Aye aye, Cap'n." She gently stroked his cheek before turning to leave the quarters. She patted her leg a couple of times to grab Rawr's attention. The golden-furred cat trotted over to Shir, proudly carrying the taffy prey between her teeth. She jumped into Shir's arms and gave the green-haired thief the piece of candy before climbing onto her shoulders and draping herself lazily around them.
"Aw, my two best girls," beamed Ustvestia as the cat and thief passed him on their way out of the room. Shir ruffled the musician's short tuft of wild, blue hair and gave him a peck on the cheek. Before she could get any further down the hallway, though, the crew's combat specialist, a modified Mieu S2 android named Bart, seemingly appeared out of nowhere and hurriedly charged through the crowded doorway, rudely knocking Shir and Ustvestia out of the way and storming over to Tyler.
"Captain," Bart addressed Tyler in his high-pitched voice, clearly upset about something, "I simply refuse to share the same cabin as that… that…" In a huff, Bart put his hands on his hips, inadvertently hiking up his dangerously short bathrobe, causing the tiny hairs on the back of Tyler's neck to stand up. The captain, discomforted, tried not to look down at the android, afraid of discovering whether or not Bart was anatomically correct. The android dramatically flipped behind his shoulder the end of the towel his hair was currently wrapped in and went on, "That… Joshua J. Kain. Ugh! Do you have any idea how messy that disgusting heathen is?"
"I have a general idea," replied Tyler, shoving his pants on.
"Then I demand a separate cabin, Captain!" insisted Bart, snapping his fingers as his head moved to one side.
Tyler ran a hand down his face and belted out, "Kain! Get your damn android queen out of my face right now!"
"Well, I supposed that's it, then?" Bart continued, bobbing his head back and forth and tapping a foot. "I'm so unappreciated by you people. After all, where would you be without all of this, huh?" He gestured at himself, drawing his hands down his body and emphasizing his rather confusing physique.
"Kain!" the captain called again, pushing the android aside, who feebly swatted at Tyler while he continued issuing complaints about everything from rooming with Kain to the water temperature in the bathroom. Suddenly the percussive sound of a large explosion came from further down the corridor, in the direction of the bridge. "Shit..." Tyler muttered, taking Bart by the upper arm and bolting out of the room towards the bridge, the rest of the crew following behind their captain.
"Ow, watch the nails!" Bart whined as he was dragged along. "Ever heard of a manicure, Captain?"
"Bart," groaned Tyler, punching the code to the bridge's entrance and letting the doors swoosh open, "I'm only taking you with me because I have a feeling I know why you're so off today and why the fuck things are exploding in my ship." He stepped into the open bridge with Bart and barked, "Get out here, Kain!"
A plume of dark smoke rose from out of an open console cabinet; Tyler noticed Kain's legs dangling out of the same piece of equipment. The ship's mechanic and engineer climbed out and hopped to his feet, his face and coveralls bathed in grease and soot. He pushed his safety goggles to the top of his head and smirked at the sight of the rest of the crew in varying levels of undress.
"Seems I missed some fun already," Kain laughed. He gestured towards the group, "Y'all do this every morning? Well shucks, I shouldn't sleep in so much!"
Tyler ignored the comment and seethed through his teeth, "You have exactly two seconds to explain why my ship is full of smoke, then take care of Bart!"
"Oh, this?" asked Kain, holding up a fried circuit board in his left hand. "I have a new processor to install, an' I couldn't pry this one loose. I gave it a zap o' good ol' gaj an' it done come right out! Don't worry; I didn't touch nothin' else in there. Yer new board should be ready to go before we hit the dusty trail in a few!"
There was a time in Tyler's pirating years when he would have thrown an engineer like Kain to the curb for using such unconventional work methods, but the truth was that he didn't have the people at his disposal like he used to, and Kain, though doing it in the most reckless way possible, had turned the Landeel into one powerful, efficient spacecraft, the likes of which Tyler never knew possible. The captain decided not to inquire further about Kain's work and instead roughly swung Bart towards his creator (or "reconstructor," more accurately).
"The next order of business is Bartholomieu," said Tyler as he pitched the android Kain's direction.
"Jeez!" griped Bart as he stumbled into Kain. "Seriously, show a girl a little respect, why don't you?" He repositioned the towel on top of his head and yanked down on his robe. Kain gave the robot a startled look.
"Huh," observed Kain, pulling a small remote from his right pocket, "I musta accidentally leaned on Bart's remote here an' changed his mode." He read the small screen on the device in his hand. "Oh yeah, lookie here. He got set to diva mode."
Tyler smacked his forehead and heard Shir snickering behind him. "Diva mode?" Shir laughed. "Kain, Bart's already so flaming his gay can be seen from Andromeda. You actually programmed him to be more flamboyant?"
"Not even I can compete with Bart," added Ustvestia with a touch of jealousy.
"Hey now," defended Kain, pressing a few keys on the remote and instantly changing Bart's demeanor, who acted shocked and embarrassed to see himself in only a bathrobe. "Bart ain't gay or straight..."
"I beg to differ," Tyler interrupted in a mumble.
Kain snorted. "Anyway, Bart here was s'posed tah be helpin' me out this morning. I had him in demo mode an' sent him tah git some o' my tools I done left in the locker room. I wondered where he'd gone off to..." He looked over at Bart, who uncomfortably held his robe close to his body and stuck his nose in the air.
"If you'll excuse me," said Bart as he feigned composure while leaving the bridge in a genteel swagger, "I seem to have left my leotard somewhere."
Tyler remained unamused by Kain's antics and took a step forward, towards the engineer. "Keep him in line from now on," he ordered Kain with a point of his finger. "This is the only time I'll warn you." He grunted as he turned around, nodding at the rest of the group.
"The show's over, folks!" Ustvestia declared, waving his arms in the air theatrically. "Now, for an encore: breakfast!" The crew happily approved, following the blue-haired maestro to the galley. Tyler stayed behind, looking around his bridge and out its panoramic window. He reminded himself that Lutz and his bodyguard would be joining the crew of the Landeel shortly.
"No more surprises today," he sighed, resting his arms on a console and gazing towards the heavens, "please."