Alexander Outland: Space Pirate Read online

  Table of Contents

  Praise

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  CHAPTER 72

  CHAPTER 73

  CHAPTER 74

  CHAPTER 75

  CHAPTER 76

  CHAPTER 77

  CHAPTER 78

  CHAPTER 79

  CHAPTER 80

  CHAPTER 81

  CHAPTER 82

  CHAPTER 83

  CHAPTER 84

  CHAPTER 85

  CHAPTER 86

  CHAPTER 87

  CHAPTER 88

  CHAPTER 89

  CHAPTER 90

  Acknowledgments

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright Page

  PRAISE FOR G. J. KOCH’S ALEXANDER OUTLAND: SPACE PIRATE

  “Alexander Outland: Space Pirate is a delightful read, packed with insanely funny lines, wonderfully weird characters, and twisty thrills. A total blast of a book!”

  —Carolyn Crane, author of the Disillusionists trilogy

  “Like some twisted, exhilarating combination of a theme park and an orgy, Alexander Outland: Space Pirate is rocket-paced, sexy, thrilling, and fun, and no matter what you think it’ll be going in, you’re wrong. You might need a cold shower by the end, but you won’t regret the ride.”

  —Jeffrey J. Mariotte, author of Cold Black Hearts and The Slab

  “A fun read and an amusing vision of the happy-go-lucky pirate in space, desired by all women, working with the best misfit crew in the galaxy. There are strong echoes of Jack Sparrow, Harrison Ford and Errol Flynn in Alexander Outland. Author G. J. Koch has a good ear for dialogue, a mind attuned to devious plots, and a nice argument for why this space pirate would love the beaches and bars of Marseille.”

  —T. Jackson King, author of Retread Shop and Little Brother’s World

  “Alexander Outland is a stew of science fiction, comedy, action and adventure that nourishes the eyes, brain and funny bone.”

  —Kevin L. Donihe, author of House of Houses and Space Walrus

  “The most engaging rogue to hit the spaceways since The Stainless Steel Rat!”

  —Sandy Mitchell, author of the Ciaphas Cain series

  Mark Twain said that whoever you dedicate a book to will be sure to buy a copy. In that light…

  To John and Mary (you know who you are), this one’s for you!

  Space. I’ve heard it called the final frontier, the last hope for mankind, where all dreams can still come true, and a variety of other noble-sounding phrases.

  Know what space really is?

  It’s the dull stuff in between planets.

  Planets, now planets are where it’s at. People. Women. A wide variety of women. Anything worthwhile’s on a planet. Unless, of course, it’s on a supply or transport ship, going from one planet to another.

  The one good thing about space? It’s a great place to hide if you’ve relieved someone on a planet or a transport of what matters to them.

  Not that I do that all the time. Well, not often. Well, not every day, okay?

  You know, I left home because of this kind of pressure.

  Never a day I haven’t been glad of that choice. Great-Aunt Clara, wherever you are: Thanks. I like life a lot better now that I’m nowhere near you.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Vessel Three-three-six-nine you are cleared to land.”

  “Thanks, doll. You free later?”

  “Captain Outland?”

  “Yep.”

  “Captain Alexander Napoleon Outland?”

  “That’s me. But you can call me Nap, babe. That’s what all my friends, and satisfied ladies throughout the galaxy, call me.”

  “From me and all the rest of Thurge Mission Control—don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Normally, it’s the ladies offering the flattering remarks, doll.”

  “Captain Outland?”

  “Yes?”

  “Shut up or I’ll direct you to land in an active volcano.”

  Touchy. Of course, it could have been due to my activities the last time I was here. “You’re not Zahara, are you?”

  “No. And you should thank your world’s god that I’m not.”

  Well, one potential nightmare avoided. “Why so, doll?”

  “Put it this way: When she finds you, you’ll wish I’d had you land in that volcano.”

  “But, I’ll bet she thinks it was worth it.” I followed the coordinates. Nice, smooth landing strip. No volcano in sight.

  “Not sure. I imagine you can find out yourself. We let her know you were here.” She had that tone, the one women get when they’ve really shoved it to you and are happy about it.

  “You related to Zahara?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  I pondered. It’d been a while since I’d been on Thurge. It wasn’t exactly the garden spot of the Delta Quadrant, and there wasn’t a big call for black market magma. We were only back here because our current job required us to pick up a supply of the only thing Thurge had to offer. “Uh, Carolita?”

  “Wow, you remember me. Enjoy catching up with Zahara.” Not so good. I remembered Carolita. Amazing in the sack. Nasty, nasty temper out of it. Probably why she was so great in the sack. “Carolita, how you been, babe?”

  “Captain Outland?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m going to enjoy watching what Zahara does to you.”

  I pondered. I could stay, get the magma I had a legitimate order for, and risk the wrath of Zahara, Carolita and, as memories came back, a whole lot of other girls who might not be inclined positively towards me. Or I could leave and find another way to make money.

  “Carolita?”

  “Yes?”

  “To you, Zahara, and all the other Thurge girls I’ve loved before—goodbye and good luck.”

  “Vessel three
-three-six-nine you are cleared for takeoff. Don’t let our planet’s atmosphere hit your tail on the way out.”

  What can I say? My Great-Aunt Clara always said discretion was the better part of valor. Never too late to listen to her sage advice, right?

  CHAPTER 2

  “Nap, why aren’t we stopping?” Randolph fell into the copilot’s seat. Would have been better if he knew how to fly, but the Sixty-Nine ran a mean auto-helper program.

  “Busy, busy, busy. Places to go, cargo to steal, new girls to meet.”

  “Oh. Zahara was around?”

  Lift-off. Nice. Smooth. Easy. I ignored the cursing I could hear from Mission Control. Zahara had arrived, thankfully, a moment too late. “And Carolita. Remember Carolita?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m surprised you do—she hit your head pretty hard. You had some trouble with short-term memory for a bit there.” Randolph managed to look almost conciliatory. Having a face like a basset hound helped somewhat.

  “Yeah, and you had trouble with long term. Why did you let me take an order for magma and then let me come to Thurge to try to fill it?”

  “I was working on the reactors and hyper-drives when you took the order. Like always. You know, why do you always try to make things my fault?”

  “Uh, because you’re here?” Why did I get crewmen who asked the obvious questions?

  “Nap, why the hell are we going back up?” Slinkie slithered in. The cockpit was getting crowded. Not that Slinkie was a bad addition. No woman from Aviatus was. The men, on the other hand, made Randolph look like the hottest male on two legs. Slinkie had a real name, not that I knew it. It didn’t matter. She was still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen, on any and all planets. However, we had a professional relationship.

  “I figured if I turned down the legitimate job, you’d realize you loved me.”

  “Oh, Dear Feathered Lord. Nap, we have been through this. You’re not my type.” She tossed her hair. Long, thick, brown hair, naturally streaked with a variety of red, gold and copper hues. She lived to toss her hair. Because it shimmered, even in the dark. I dragged my attention back to flying.

  “Because I’m human?”

  “I’m human, too, moron. We all are. Our ancestors bred like Lib-sunos. Earth rabbits, that’s what my great-great-grandfather called them.” Pure-blood Aviatians lived a long damned time.

  “See? We’re compatible. So, why won’t you admit you love the Outland?”

  “Aside from the fact that you actually call yourself ‘the Outland’? Because you’re a dog, and not in the looks department. Let me think, why aren’t we landing and doing the one legit job we’ve had in months… oh, feathers—Zahara, and Carolita. Oh, and I’ll bet Zithra, Lucia, and Amber were around, too, right?”

  How did she remember them all? I couldn’t remember them all. “Uh, yeah. Right.”

  “You don’t remember them, do you?” Slinkie’s voice could have cut diamonds. I risked a look. Yep. She had the eagle-glare going. Which was better than the vulture-glare. But not the dove-look, which I’d seen three times in my life. I’d been near death for all of them. Not a good trend, really.

  “I remembered Zahara. And Carolita! All on my own. Nasty temper. On both of them. All of them. Thurge grows nasty chicks.” That came out wrong. I winced in anticipation.

  “They grow lavaettes. My planet grows chicks.” Now her voice could cut space ice.

  “Earth term Nap’s adopted,” Randolph said quickly.

  “You know, you’ve been using that lame-duck excuse ever since I hooked up with this crew. Nap’s been to Earth all of once. And he was a baby.”

  “I was five.”

  “I rest my case. Anyway, it’s still insulting to me.”

  “Okay, Slink. You’re the only one I’ll call a chick from now on.” I looked at her over my shoulder and gave her my patented killer smile. “Promise.”

  She took a deep breath. It was a risk to continue to look at her chest, but always worth it. She had the best rack in at least twelve star systems. She opened her mouth.

  “Screaming or hitting will cause an immediate crash. We have not yet reached escape velocity.”

  She closed her mouth and I got the eagle-glare again. “Why do I fly with you?”

  “Because you’re secretly in love with me, but you don’t want to admit it, because you fear that you, somehow, are not woman enough to keep me from straying. You’re wrong, of course. I stray because I can’t have you. Vicious cycle.”

  Slinkie snorted. “Please. You were a dog before I met you and you’ll be a dog well after I’m gone.”

  “You know, this is you being planetist. Just because Zyzzx is a canial planet does not make me a dog. Any more than Randolph coming from Weshria makes him a cat.”

  “True. Randolph looks like a basset hound and you’re more cat-like. I’ll give you that. But, you’re still a dog, Nap. Or, to make you happy, you’re a tomcat. And you know what they say about tomcats.”

  “It’s better to neuter them young.” Randolph sounded like he was displeased with the basset hound comparison, which was always a shock since you’d think he’d be used to it by now. Of course, he was taking it out on me, not Slinkie, but then again, he was male and shared my appreciation of Slinkie’s assets.

  “Et tu, Randy? Et tu?”

  “Stop with the pseudo-intellect, Nap. It hurts us all. You gonna jump our favorite pile of junk out of Thurge airspace or just wait for the next eruption to do it for us?”

  “Everyone’s touchy. Besides, there’s nothing pseudo about my intellect.” I finished logging in the coordinates, hit the thrusters, grabbed Slinkie, and hit the hyper-drive button.

  Due to the way I’d grabbed her and the force hyper-drive exerted when you made the jump, Slinkie was on my lap, arms around my neck, my face buried in her chest. I was forced to wrap my arms around her, to keep her from flying back and getting hurt. One hand needed to be on her behind and one on the back of her head, keeping it snuggled against the back of my neck—for her safety, of course.

  When jumping, standard procedures were to remain strapped in until you were cleared through, which was normally three to five long minutes, depending. I’d jumped us to the Gamma Quadrant, a seven minute hold from Thurge.

  Argue if you want, but that’s what I call intellect.

  CHAPTER 3

  Our jump cleared and the pressure against our bodies let up.

  “You can let go of me any time,” Slinkie snarled. Her mouth was against my skin.

  “Mmmmm.” I wondered if I could hit the reverse coordinates with my foot. Another seven minutes like this and I could die a happy man.

  “Nap. No joke. Let me go or I’ll bite you.”

  “I knew you’d finally come around.”

  “I’ll bite you at the point where it’ll kill you.”

  “Your words say ‘let me go’ but your body says ‘Nap, you da tomcat’. My Great-Aunt Clara always said that the words themselves were only about seven percent of the communication. So, I’m going to listen to your body. It wants me, and it has the other ninety-three percent going for it.”

  Slinkie put her teeth against a spot I knew actually could kill if she bit hard enough. “I mean it.” It’s hard to say that sentence with your mouth open and your teeth against someone’s neck. I certainly was after feeling her do it.

  “Just bounce a little bit while you bite me. I think I’ll die happy that way.”

  Sadly, before Slinkie could either bounce or bite, the alarms went off, big time. You don’t survive in space by being slow to react to an alarm. Slinkie was out of my arms and off my lap in a second, I was monitoring shields and navigation, Randolph was checking hull, engine and drive integrity.

  “Sensors show nothing, Nap,” Randolph said.

  “I have nothing, too. Everything looks right, we’re where we’re supposed to be according to computers.”

  We all looked out the windshield. Three hundred years of space travel, and somehow, we sti
ll called them windshields. Or maybe it was only me. Anyway, nothing. Of course, I’d made sure we weren’t landing in any planet’s airspace, so we should’ve been seeing nothing. But we were seeing nothing that would cause alarms to go off. Which was a lot more unsettling than seeing something.

  “I’m going to Weapons,” Slinkie said. She dashed out. Her voice was on the com in less than a minute. “Scanning for hostiles.”

  I waited, counting down. Sure enough, in less than twenty seconds, a different voice came on the com. “Alexander, what in the galaxy is going on?” A quavering, peevish, authoritative voice. The Governor never missed his cues, even if I wanted him to. “And why aren’t we on Thurge? I was looking forward to the baths. You know how I love the mineral baths there.”

  “Yes, sorry, Governor. Had a little problem, had to leave. We’ll find you a mineral bath somewhere else.”

  “Why do you let him stay?” Randolph muttered.

  “Because it was my fault he got deposed.” It wasn’t wholly my fault, but it had been enough of my fault that I’d felt guilty. And the old guy wasn’t so bad.

  “Alexander Napoleon Outland, why are you lying to me?” Most of the time he wasn’t so bad. Some of the time he reminded me of my Great-Aunt Clara. This was one of those times.

  “Governor, later, okay? Alarms, potential hostiles, all alone in the big bad ether, you know the drill.”

  The Governor sighed dramatically. “Oh yes, I know the drill. I learned it all too well, back when I ruled Knaboor—”

  “Speaking of boors, we have a problem,” Slinkie snapped. “I can’t see anything on the system.”

  “So? Maybe that means it’s just a glitch.”

  “Nap, where are we, exactly?” Slinkie sounded nervous. Not good. She didn’t really do nervous as a rule.

  “Gamma Quadrant. In the vicinity of Herion.”

  “Oh, Dear Feathered Lord.” Now she sounded well beyond nervous.

  “What? What is it? We’ve been to Herion before, no issues.”

  “Nap, you remember that spacer I was talking to at our last pit stop?”