Dry, No Lube Ch. 06: Skulduggery

"Yeah." Pixy slapped a key on her desk, summoning Sergeant Plovsek back in: the interview was over. "You can use the coding gun in the wardroom to compose a message asking to meet with Commander Thajk. Other than that, I don't want to see you outside the Great Cabin until I can get you onto a circuit ship for the Hub. Juliet IX, sector headquarters. That's where you're going." She looked out at the stars. "While I stay out here. Doing Fleet's business."

The colonel nodded and rose. "Thank you, Pixy. I appreciate your candor."

"Here's candor," Pfeiffer replied at once, "get the fuck out of here. Now."

* * *

It was the middle of the Desperado's arbitrary night, the transparent hull showing its endless sidereal backdrop: always changing, always the same. Pixy stirred, reaching out through the stiff blankets on her rack, smiling tiredly when she felt Jeyne's familiar nude skin warming her bed. She let her fingers trace down his spine, but he had the bridge watch in three hours and she knew she'd better let him sleep.

A shape stirred in the corner of the room, near the galley. Pixy squinted sharply into the night, then snapped a hushed order to her light-lizard. "Soft illumination, Fucknut," she whispered harshly, the glimmer swooping through her cabin and, at last, reflecting off the hooded eyes of Wrae Juno, sitting in one of the dining chairs. "Juno. You okay?"

"Not really." She sounded glum, unnaturally so, and Pixy sat up instinctively to throw back the blankets.

"Come. Now." Juno had been trying to slip into bed with Pixy and Jeyne for months now, and always she'd been turned aside. But Pixy saw darkness in those eyes tonight, and she knew the woman needed arms around her. "Snap it up, sailor."

The slim woman darted across the deck and slid quietly into the rack, unwontedly silent as she wedged her body between Pixy's and Jeyne's. The man grumbled in his sleep, shifting, and with only a moment's hesitation Pixy wrapped Juno in her arms and drew her close. "Off, Fucknut."

"Thank you, ma'am. I just... it's been a tough week or so."

"I know." She hadn't heard the real story of what had happened on B-Milistine, and probably never would. But she'd heard enough. "This is why I stay aboard ships as much as possible. Nothing good happens when you get dirt on your boots. Fleet bends you over and gives it to you dry, no lube, but the Army?" She brushed the younger woman's hair back off her forehead. "All three holes. Two cocks each. Still no lube."

"Fuck that, ma'am." She paused in the night. "He's not going to help you get a ship."

"Yeah. I know." Pixy, lying there with her arms aroud the trembling Juno, sighed. "I'm ignoring it."

"You can't fucking trust anyone these days."

"Damn straight."

* * *

Pixy will return, perhaps sooner than later. Her future is brighter than it might seem, and so is the irrepressible Juno's.