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"So you have been watching some porn?"

"It was highly educating -- and left me with so many questions. The movies seemed rather... formulaic and almost ritualistic, with the male or Marked ejaculating on their partners."

"Don't ask me for the history of the cum shot. Excuse me." I slid out of bed and into the small bathroom. In part to escape her questions, in part to deal with my bladder. I also added a quick ninety-second ultrasound shower to clean myself up. Relieved and cleansed, I returned to the bedroom, grabbed a fresh set of underwear and socks before climbing into my flight suit. I was keenly aware of Jenala's eyes following every move I made.

"I checked the course divergence readout every hour or so. No major disturbances so far," Jenala said. "I also tried some of your pre-packed foodstuffs."

"Let me guess. Godawful, right?"

"A bit bland but leaps and bounds better than the food tubes I'm used to. I've also put on a new pot of coffee. The last one was suddenly empty."

"You drank two-thirds of the pot?"

"Yes?"

"How do you feel?"

"A bit shakey. If from lack of sleep or excitement I can't tell though."

"Probably a slight caffeine overdose. Are you tired?"

"I should be. It has been almost one whole cycle since I've had some sleep."

"Cycle?"

"We measure time in cycles. One moment." She consulted her bracer then looked up. "In your terms, a cycle equates to thirty standard hours. Three shifts make up a cycle, ten cycles are a trenak, five trenak-"

"All right, all right. We operate in three eight-hour shifts. Somehow all Precursor species seem to be familiar with the 24-standard-hour day."

Jenala muttered something under her breath I didn't get. Louder, she added: "I should probably try and relax a bit while you keep watch on the autopilot."

"I will."

I remembered my suspicion from before my mega-nap.

"First I'd like to introduce you to the auto-doc. Just in case."

"Introduce me to it?"

I strode to the wall panel the system was hidden behind and opened it. There were three parts to the auto-doc: A specialized medical computer containing diagnostics and treatments to most common and some rather uncommon issues spacers might encounter on a long journey and a highly sophisticated pair of cybernetic arms with a bewildering set of specialized tools which it could swap in and out to perform a wide range of operations, from lasering an eye to a full c-section. The arms were long enough to easily reach the bed and they had disinfectant nozzles to create a sterile environment. The final piece to the puzzle was the dispenser, a specialized synthesis engine able to mix numerous kinds of pills, syrups and injections. Refilling that thing cost a small fortune but the investment had paid dividends several times already. Even on a well-maintained ship like Consuela, accidents did happen and plasma burns needed rapid treatment.

"Yes. In case you need a blood transfusion or a few patches of synth-flesh, I'd like to make sure you're compatible. For that I need a quick gene sample." Using the auto-doc's computer, I ordered an oral swab kit which the dispenser spat out after a few seconds of busy humming. "Any objections?"

"No. It sounds like a sensible request. What do I do?"

I stepped close and brandished the Q-tip. "I'll use this to get a bit of your saliva and let the auto-doc analyze it."

"Your species seems to have a weird obsession with faces and mouths," Jenala said. She leaned her head back and obediently opened her mouth, allowing me to get the sample. "What's wrong with a simple blood test?"

"Less invasive this way."

I fed the sample back into the machine and invoked the analyze function. I didn't lie -- the auto-doc would save her genetic imprint for future drug and replacement fluids or tissue synthesis. But it would also tell me which species she belonged to. Faceless cells were highly mutable but their particular DNA sequence was a dead giveaway.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. Instead of the simple readout screen declaring which species she belonged to and that her imprint had been saved, I was greeted by a bright red error message. A nagging alarm tone rang out as well.

Jenala rose and peeked over my shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Says here the sample is contaminated."

"With what?"

I scratched my head. "I don't get it. I'm sure I've used a fresh test. Mind if we try again?"

"Of course not."

I reset the machine and repeated the procedure. The same result. The auto-doc vehemently complained about Jenala's spit being contaminated with other species' DNA.

"Is that a side-effect of drawing water from the synthesis engine? You said it uses reaction mass made from waste, excrement and the like."

I shook my head. "I'm no expert but the manual says the synthesis engine breaks down reaction mass to the atomic level and recombines it as needed. There should be no traces of DNA left. Gimme a sec."

Using a fresh test swab, I took a sample myself and fed it to the machine. "We both drank the same coffee. If there is a contamination, I should exhibit it as well."

In much less time than it took to analyze Jenala's sample, the doc produced the results. "Human male. Sample already registered."

Jenala shrugged out of her robe. "Take a blood test then."

"Yeah, that was my next idea. If the blood test doesn't work, we'll have to wait until we're at the Waystation and use a proper scanning tube. Sit down."

I joined her on the edge of the bed and disinfected the crook of her elbow before using the self-drawing ampoule. Jenala didn't flinch as the tip of the five centimeter needle sank into her vein.

A moment later I fed the sample into the auto-doc. Another error message. More annoyed beeping. But this time, the computer offered a detailed analysis.

"It's still not working?" Jenala asked, pressing a piece of absorbent tissue against the puncture wound.

I scrolled through the detailed analysis of her blood sample, my own confusion growing with each line I read. "Says here your blood contains human DNA. It also contains DNA of the following species: Nor, Zuthrian and Gravon along with some unknown strands. The machine thinks we have fed it a Precursor species blood cocktail."

"Then it is doing what it is supposed to," Jenala said softly. "Let's just hope I won't need a specially gene-mapped kind of medicine any time soon."

"You are not telling me what this is supposed to mean?"

"Not yet."

"Even if your health depends on it?"

Jenala sighed. "Listen, Salvador. I don't want to appear uncooperative or even ungrateful. If I told you more than absolutely necessary, my people would see you as a security risk."

"The kind you space and forget about?"

"In your particular case? If I had to guess how Mother's security would deal with you... You'll be put in stasis and kept around as a research sample. Maybe dissected for medical data."

That gave me pause. The last thing I wanted was to end up as some guinea pig in an alien health tank. "I hope our deal includes some kind of guarantee I will be able to walk away with my money after delivering you."

"I will make sure no harm shall come to you. After all, you have been nothing but a great help so far. It would be a shame if you ended up as yet another research project." Jenala shot me a vicious grin.

"Why does your species seem to be so preoccupied with research this, research that? Even when you said you wanted to watch me jerk off, you called it a 'research opportunity.'" I sent the auto-doc to sleep and closed the wall panel.

"Nice try." A thin smile flickered across her lips. "Let's just say our kind is in a particular predicament and learning about how the galaxy has evolved in the past twenty thousand years is of utmost importance to our survival."

That shut me up real good. It was obvious I wouldn't get any straight answer out of my client any time soon. "Now what?"

Jenala undid the clasp holding her battle shell in place and allowed the garment to drop to the ground. Naked, she turned to face me and stretched. "After all this excitement, I think I'm ready for a bit of sleep. Where are replacement sheets?"

"Right here." I opened a drawer at knee level. "Give me the old ones. I'll synthesize a new set."

"Isn't that horribly inefficient?"

"Compared to running a washing machine, treating the sewage and returning the clean water to circulation? Not really. Breaking down the used bedding only takes a few kilowatts of energy, of which we have enough thanks to the power core."

"Will do."

"Anything else while I'm at it?" I asked, halfway out the door. I didn't mind Jenala prancing around in the nude. What I did mind was my own arousal slowly waking up. It was obvious she was at ease in my company and wanted to treat me as an equal but in the end she was my client and I prided myself on a somewhat decent work ethic. If I didn't hop into bed with Zeeris, I shouldn't think about boning my silver-haired passenger either. Even if the idea was extremely tempting.

"Actually, there is something else you could make for me." I turned around, only to see her bent over, pushing her perfectly curved backside my way. My heart beat a little faster as my mind conjured images of me hugging her from behind and-

In one fluid motion she pulled the sheet off the mattress. Jenala turned around, balling it into a tight lump and held it out to me.

I tucked the fabric bundle under one arm, trying my best to keep my gaze at eye level. It almost worked. "What is it you need?" I asked. Her frontal view was as enticing as looking at her rear. This close, she even smelled nice. I could feel myself get hard.

"If we can spare the resources, I would like to have a dildo. Yay long." She held her hands apart a good twenty-five to thirty centimeters. "Preferably silicone but I'll take metal in a pinch."

"Whoa, where did that come from?"

Jenala turned away from me and pulled the sleeve off the pillow. "Well, back home, my sisters and I usually used hands and tongues for mutual release. Sometimes brush handles. I've seen two fighters pleasure each other with the hilts of their swords but I'd rather die than soak my hilt wrap with vaginal fluids. Just because men don't factor into our education doesn't mean penetration doesn't." She turned around, grinning, and handed the empty pillow case my way.

"Well, and then I watched all three movies in the Purring Palace series and I have to say, the idea of a slightly curved, flexible sex toy was highly appealing."

I took a deep breath, trying to dispel the mental image of her going at it with a dildo on my bed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Her smile was a lot warmer this time. Almost inviting. I picked up the covers and made my way into the kitchen, exhaling slowly. It would certainly be an interesting three months if we kept this up. Maybe I should let her watch. Let's see where this gets us.

Back in the kitchen, I shook my head and adjusted my raging hard-on through the flight suit. Stop being a horny asshole. That's your cock talking, not your head. Snarling at my own unruly hormones, I stuffed the used bedding into the synthesis engine and recycled it. Then I sat down at the table, logged into the machine with my comms unit and had a look what was available in terms of sex toys.

Quite a lot, to my surprise. Seems the Nor engineers who built these were aware of lonely spacers on long voyages.

For males, there were cup-shaped pleasure givers, either with mouth-, vagina- or butthole-shaped orifices to thrust into. One particular model, freshly integrated through the updated firmware, was the "Fading Stars Special," a masturbation aid consisting of a cup with an articulated, semi-autonomous tentacle for the 'true Faceless experience.' There were also add-ons which would provide either vibration, warmth or suction. Maybe I should give one of them a whirl next time I felt especially ambitious. I switched categories and checked out the female-oriented toys.

There was an impressive selection of dildos, both the single-, double and triple-prong variety, in all usual sizes from anal to human to Zuthrian to Gravon and the fabled Type-4's the Silicians could slot in when the fancy tickled them. I ordered a decently-sized "Zuthrian Dynast" toy in purple and let the machine do its thing while I heated up some breakfast rolls to go along with the first cup of coffee of the day. The dildo was done faster than my breakfast so I claimed it and the accompanying supply of lubricant and cleansing gels and returned to the cabin module. I knocked at the door.

"Come in. I'm still awake," Jenala called. I entered, brandishing my gifts.

"Purple? How thoughtful," she said, sitting up. "This bed is soooo much better than the vertical sleeping pouch I had in my ship." My client bathed me in a radiant smile.

"Next time, you can simply tap this pad on the nightstand. No need to shout," I said, indicating the set of illumination, climate and privacy controls.

"Oh. Thank you."

"Also, should you need anything, double-tap the same pad. You'll be heard in the whole ship."

"This feels more and more like a luxury cruise to me," Jenala said, picking up the dildo. "Hmm. Interesting material. What are these?" She indicated the handful of gel packs.

"The clear ones are lubricant, the green ones can be used for cleansing afterwards. Tissues are in the nightstand drawer and there is a trash chute in the bathroom." While my guest nestled herself back into a comfortable position, I retreated towards the door. "Have fun."

"You know what they say -- it's more fun if two or more people are involved. But for the time being, I'll play with my purple pal here. Thank you."

"De nada," I said, leaving the cabin. Before the door fully closed, I heard her sigh with pleasure. The silky sound drove goosebumps up my spine.

A slightly toasty smell got me back to the kitchen in double-time. My rolls were a bit crispy around the edges but still salvageable. So I grabbed my coffee mug and took breakfast into the cockpit. There was nothing quite like the TransNet and the thought of instant death in case of equipment failure to get your mind off a wildly masturbating alien in your own bedroom. Works every time.

* * * *

According to my star charts, Waystation 36 was the closest one, situated in the Xanuth system, a freshly opened mining operation for Psycarium, the rare and expensive crystals Nor used in much of their psycho-active technology. Also, most Nor Mentalists wore chunks of it in direct skin contact, often implanted into either the backs of their hands or their foreheads. It amplified the latent psychic abilities the species as a whole had to dangerous levels. The Waystation had to be brand new because I used the Earth -- Norwan route regularly. So now the trip through the strobe hell of the TransNet would take only six instead of eight days and it would allow me to skip Waystation 63 and the unpleasant memories that particular sector held altogether.

A part of me was curious to see how the next five-and-change days would play out. The easily excitable part. While I dug into my breakfast, I had visions of Jenala joining me under the showers or giving me a wake-up call of the sloppy, messy kind.

The more practical-minded rest of me doused those foolish notions with as much force as my mind could muster. No need to make things needlessly complicated, guanaco! She's my passenger, not a fuckfest waiting to happen. No matter how many innocent invitations she might throw my way!

Still... I stopped my hand from activating the surveillance camera mounted in the cabin, just above and across from the bed, which would no doubt offer a delicious view of her body.

I urgently needed something to do besides drinking coffee and steaming in my own hormones. A bit of advance recon wouldn't hurt. I still had a sizable stack of cash left over from Jenala's advance. Even with a real-time priority call across half of Nor space, there would be enough to pay for any expendables like reaction mass, fuel cells and better food.

Even though I was more or less a slave to Neira, I had other contacts. And I tried my best to keep my... working relationship with the intimidating Gravon crime boss on the down low. People tend to get nervous the moment the Black Scorpions are mentioned. Especially people like Ylzics, the Gray info broker. Of course he knew my dirty little secret. Trying to keep any info private was just asking for him to put the pieces together. I paid the horrendously stiff transfer fee for a high-priority call and waited until he could pick up.

People on Earth, when talking about aliens, usually meant one of three things before the Nor had come -- little green men like Marvin the Martian, bloodthirsty, armored critters like H.R. Giger's Xenomorph or the Predator or small, gray-skinned humanoids with oversized heads, large, pupil-less black eyes and a fondness for abductions and anal probes. As it turns out, the latter species actually existed, had visited Earth as far back as the sixth millennium AD, was supposedly responsible for the Sinking of Atlantis and more involuntary anal probings than the whole of Earth's urologists combined.

The Gray were split into three distinct factions -- the scientists, the religious zealots and those fed up with their species' unending (and often fatal) discourse if science or faith was the one true path to enlightenment. Ylzics belonged to the third faction. He spent his life working as a trader and fixer, procuring hard-to-get items or information for those willing to pay his usually reasonable prices. While the Gray scientists tried to evolve themselves and their slaves onto higher planes of understanding, the zealots were slowly turning into a true menace. Their creed of "through purity to enlightenment" was the utter opposite to the rather relaxed way most Precursor species and even the Silicians enjoyed themselves.

Ylzics spent most of his money and free time on his harem, a menagerie of voluntary "research subjects" who he observed having sex in the most outlandish and arousing ways possible. Gray are incompatible with anything but their own kind and only derive sexual stimulation through either voyeurism or mind-linking themselves with their chosen "test subject."

After the fifth ring the screen finally lit up and I was face to face with Ylzics. Like most of his kind, his head was disproportionate to his thin, emaciated body. And like most of those sharing his mindset, he loved to wear insultingly ugly printed shirts and garish jewelry. A long gold chain adorned his spindly neck and the top three buttons of his shirt were open.

"Ah, Salvador Rios. My most favorite Earthling."

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything. How are you, Ylzics?"

"Interrupted? No, not at all. I was about to retire for a few hours of entertainment. A customer has just delivered a pair of freshly installed Silicians. I can't wait to have my Marked Zuthrian properly train them. Do you want an optical recording? Only eight thousand credits."

"That's almost what I'm paying for this call. Another time perhaps." I waved his offer away. "I need information about the Xanuth system and Waystation 36. Got anything for me?"

"Gimme a sec." Ylzics pulled a keyboard into view and set his long, spider-like fingers to work. "Xanuth, you said?"

"Yes. Waystation 36."

The Gray wrinkled his expansive forehead. "That info is brand new. I mean, the earliest Star Chart update even mentioning Xanuth is less than two months old."

"Who are the movers and shakers?"

His small mouth turned into a frown of disapproval. "Not the NIS, that's for sure. The mining operation is run by... Nemex Interplanetar. Where have I heard that name before?"