Express Delivery

"We have... around twenty minutes until docking," I said. "Pack your kit."

"Will do." Her fingertips brushed my neck then she was gone. Behind me, I heard the hissing of the cabin door. Humming tunelessly, I steered the ship along the guide path. I could have let the AI do it but it felt nice to be in charge at least for the next twenty minutes. Xanuth was nothing more than a glorified asteroid field, the local sun hadn't managed to exert enough gravitational pull to form whole planets but it had managed to attract all kinds of space rocks which formed, according to the star charts, a complicated web of interconnected debris fields, much like the electron paths around a large molecule.

Eventually, the Waystation showed up on my scanners. Unlike most of its kind, this one wasn't built into a strip-mined asteroid. Instead, Nemex hadn't spared any expenses and built a two-kilometer across wheel-like structure which hovered at the outer edge of the system like a gleaming top. A central "axle" protruded from the center of the wheel. The docking facilities were on the outer edge and a quick scan showed me an interesting mix of ships, from trading vessels to a handful of smaller warships up to a large, horseshoe-shaped Gravon mining barge which was almost half the size of the station itself. I couldn't help but notice some very high-price-looking ships -- sleek luxury yachts built seemingly from glass and precious metals or large-wingspan manta-ray designs. Not exactly your usual mining system clientele.

And it all happened under the protection of the Nor Intelligence Service. Since Psycarium was so rare, they seemed absolutely okay with turning a blind eye to Nemex's side gigs, as long as their Mentalists received their constant supply of ability-enhancing rocks.

I initiated the necessary handshakes with the automated docking systems. Forty-five minutes after leaving the TransNet, Waystation 36's docking clamps engaged and a flexible boarding tunnel attached to the main airlock. I made a quick detour to the cabin and changed into street clothes before holstering my trusty concussion gun. I also added a few extras to my kit in the form of a few knockout grenades and a collapsible shock rod.

True, I was a smuggler and not exactly against breaking the law but I tried to avoid killing whenever possible. Most authorities got really pissy when dead bodies started piling up. Why risk death yourself when the alien weapons we had relatively easy access to took care of enemies in a nonlethal way?

Even a glancing hit from one of the concussion weapons was enough to ruin your day and tagging someone with the tip of the stun rod was guaranteed to even drop a rampaging Gravon. Also, this loadout made the "self-defense" idea a whole lot more believable and most cops, alien or local, were inclined to let me go after a stern warning. I did have a plasma rifle stashed away for really bad emergencies but we were only here for a shopping trip. No need for heavy artillery.

Making sure I had everything I needed -- comms, money, a multitool or two and my weapons -- I went in search of Jenala. I found her waiting near the ship's ventral airlock. She had dressed for the occasion. One of the new robes, hood up, and her full complement of weapons. Her whole appearance warned strangers not to try anything funny. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Still, a quick pep talk wouldn't hurt.

"A word of advice. Don't stare."

Jenala scoffed at me. "It's not my first visit to an alien space station. I can be inconspicuous."

"Uh-huh. I still remember our first meeting."

Jenala came close, within arm's reach, and caressed my cheek. "Are you still mad I ruined your furry threesome?"

A bit confused at that sudden bit of intimacy, I took a step back. "'Mad' might be a tad strong. I thought I'd mention it."

"Duly noted." She flashed me a quick smile. "I understand you don't want to stick around longer than necessary, right?"

"That's the plan."

"What are we getting and where?"

"First, we need to top off the reaction mass tank. It's almost empty."

"I'm sorry. I've been taking at least one shower each day-"

I waved her apology away. "No worries. That's the least of our expenses. Compared to what fresh ingredients and spices will cost, reaction mass is negligible. You wanted to buy a flight suit and after that, I'd like to visit a clinic."

"To finally solve the mystery of my unreadable DNA?"

"No. Despite my curiosity, I will respect your wishes and won't dig into your past unless you freely share it with me." I shook my head. "I have a small medical issue I want to deal with."

"That's very kind of you. So... Station Services, the market, the clinic and then we're off again?"

"Thereabouts." I opened the airlock. Jenala and I squeezed into the tight space and waited while the lock cycled. I was very aware of her body pressed against mine. She had slung an arm casually around my waist to keep balance. Eventually, the outer door opened and we entered the Waystation.

The relative quiet of Consuela's interior was replaced with the sounds of Station Services. Loader mechs stomped past, carrying cargo or supplies. Repair barges took off or landed, their gangly arms unfolding as they left their parking positions. People yelled and occasionally there was the sound of something metallic hitting Armorgrade floor panels.

The moment we cleared the boarding tunnel, a Silician dock worker came our way. His azure-skinned body was encased in yellow and black body plating, adorned with hazard signs and warning stripes. A heavy-duty crane arm was mounted to his back like some kind of mechanical scorpion tail and his right shoulder sported a rotating warning light.

"Welcome to Station 36!" he called, his vocal synthesizer programmed to sound extremely excited. "I am Logos-Twelve, your personal docking assistant!" He waved with one hand. A large display was mounted on brackets on his forearm. We followed him into a small booth across from the boarding tunnel's terminus. It suddenly became much quieter.

"Docking fees for your position will be a hundred credits per hour," the Silician said, stopping behind a waist-high counter with a built-in terminal. "How long will you be staying?"

"Is there a benefits package if we use your facilities?"

"Absolutely!" Logos-Twelve beamed a megawatt smile our way. "Your docking fees will count towards replenishment of reaction mass or fuel cell exchange. Hull repairs are extra, though."

"Let's be optimistic here and say we'll be here for the next twelve hours." I transferred the access code for the maintenance ports. "Be so kind and top off our tanks and the fuel cells."

"It will be my pleasure!" The Silician placed his hand onto the terminal. His fingers diffused into a meandering network of blue filaments, their tips seeking cracks or jacks which led to the inside of the terminal. A moment later, a cut-away view of Consuela appeared on his arm-mounted display, indicating the state of the reaction mass tank, life support wear parts and fuel cell charge, along with the total cost of refuelling and maintaining her. The docking fees barely made a dent in the five-figure total. Shrugging, I paid up. With such a long journey ahead, I would be an idiot to skimp on maintenance.

"How long until she's ready?"

Logos-Twelve removed his hand from the terminal. His fingers solidified and he blinked. "We should be done in less than three hours. There is one ship ahead of yours but even so -- by the time you're ready to leave, Consuela will be in tip top shape!"

"Great. Thank you." I motioned for Jenala and we left the booth. We had to walk a fair bit along the outer ring until we could move deeper inwards where the Promenade was located. There you could get pretty much anything to make your space journey a bit more enjoyable if you were willing to pay the greatly inflated prices. Shopping usually was much cheaper planetside but, since Xanuth didn't have any world to visit, we begrudgingly paid the Waystation premium for food and luxuries. After a good two hours of scouring the stalls, shops and flying vendors, we returned to the docking ring with two repulsor sleds piled high with fresh ingredients, spice packs, varying kinds of premade foods and some other amenities. Jenala had splurged on a milspec flight suit like mine and even added a concussion gun to her arsenal.

"I'm still a bit confused you're willing to pay almost twenty thousand credits for so much perishable food when you have this amazing synthesis engine on hand," Jenala said, handing me ration packs. I stacked them in the fridge and supply cabinets.

"You have had enough meals out of it already. They do the trick, they're fulfilling enough, but they taste like cardboard after a while. A machine working off a script can't compete with a sprinkle of pepper or Zuthrian Fire. Or even salt."

"While browsing your entertainment, I have seen adverts for a new synthesis engine add-on which supposedly can season the food properly. Something called an 'sous-chef module.'"

I nodded. "Have you seen the price tag on that thing? I could buy two disintegrator cannons for my ship for that kind of money."

"You could use the advance I gave you."

Ouch. "A bit late to change plans." The fridge door snapped shut. "Now that we have all the goodies, it would be a shame to recycle them. Maybe on the return trip. Until then, you'll have to make do with my cooking."

Jenala pushed the last stack of supplies into a cabinet and shut the door. "Just a thought. Now what?"

"A quick visit to the local Bodyshop and we should be off." I headed for the airlock again. Jenala caught up with me. Again, she moved in rather closely and casually leaned against me, her butt trapping my joystick between our bodies. Naturally, I went hard.

"You're doing that on purpose," I muttered against her hood. "What's gotten into you?"

"Besides my dildo? Not much lately," she purred back. "We need to talk."

"Right now?" I snaked an arm around her waist and held her against me.

"When we're done with the clinic." The airlock finished cycling and we returned to the station. Thankfully, there was no one else besides us in the boarding tunnel. I quickly adjusted my erection and caught up with Jenala as she exited the tunnel. I could see two repair barges move around Consuela on a screen overhead. One of them was elbow-deep in engine bay two, replacing the fuel cells while the other one, wearing a huge cylinder like an oversized backpack, was connecting a segmented hose with the ship's reaction mass tank filler nozzle.

We returned to the Promenade and made our way along the corridor. As with every other Waystation I had visited before, the noise levels were stomach-churning, the crowd was dense to the point of coming to a total stand-still in places and there were simply too many people in too small a space.

Jenala's hand closed around my wrist. "What services are being offered here?" she asked, pointing at a long stretch of holograms along both Promenade walls. Members of all species -- well, all except Gray -- were undulating in rather obvious ways. I saw a green-haired Nor male enthusiastically sucking off a Marked Zuthrian, a female Gravon being done by two Silicians, one male, one female, but both sporting their impressive Type-4 phalli, of course a tangle of Felinoids and even a Faceless as the nucleus of a writhing bundle of bodies.

"The kind you so vehemently protested against a few days ago." I made two small steps forward as a gap presented itself. "Remember?"

"Yes, of course. Hm." Her gaze wandered back to the holograms and I felt her body against mine. "How bad can it be? It looks like a lot of fun."

I checked the club's VRNet presence. It was called "Stardust" and was an officially registered brothel. Pretty upmarket too. I told Jenala.

"I want to see for myself. Can we go once you're done at the clinic?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not? A drink afterwards won't hurt, I guess."

A small lane opened up. I reversed her grip and pulled her along until we could enter the Bodyshop. It was one of several franchised cybernetics clinics, hospitals and beauty salons. The pandemonium outside subsided the second the tinted glass doors hissed shut behind us. This particular one was done up in Silician blue, along with the strange indirect lighting the techno-organic species preferred over direct illumination. Every edge on every counter or shelf was outlined in neon, gently oscillating between every color in the rainbow. Illuminated glass cubes presented replacement limbs, bodysculpt mock ups or various pieces of internal hardware. One whole wall was dedicated to Silician appendages, ranging from phalli in every conceivable shape or size to arms or what looked like coils of blue-skinned tube. Full-height screens projected silent ads for assorted care products. Fractally generated audio loops wafted at the edge of the subconscious.

Jenala looked around in wonder. "I have no idea what half of the things are meant to be," she muttered. "Except for this." She indicated an ad for the franchise's patented depilation service. "Although back home we use gene therapy."

A slender Nor woman joined us. She wore clothing similar to Silician body plating, each edge glinting like the furniture around us. She could have gone naked, that's how tight her clothing was. Providing a bit of modesty and an air of professionalism was an open, white lab coat. She was half a head taller than me, with an unruly mop of pink hair on top. Her eye color was inscrutable in the strange light. Her smile was almost as bright as the neon glittering on her suit.

"Welcome. I'm Doctor Najali. How can I help you?" She held out a hand and I shook it. Some little shock of static energy jumped between us.

"Hello. I'd like to book a quick consultation. There are two issues I need help with."

"Certainly, Mr.-"

"Rios. Salvador."

"Do you have any accepted insurance cards with you?" She gestured towards one of the screens where almost three dozen health insurance services scrolled past.

This time, and only this time, I was grateful for being under Neira's thumb. One of the first things she got me, besides connecting me with a ship builder on Waystation 63, was a Transportation Guild of Norwan membership. Probably doctored but so far it had worked. Health insurance and discounts on regular check-ups were part of the package. Another was freight and ship insurance, a service I would have loved to have before my previous ship got shot to hell. I activated my comms and tabbed over to the 'Licenses' page. "TGoN, gold level."

"Right this way, please." She motioned for us to follow her. We left the showroom and walked into the back of the shop, past a noise-cancelling sliding door which led into a much less alien-looking corridor tiled in arctic white. Bright illumination banished any shadows. A swipe of her palm opened one of a number of similar-looking doors lining the walls of the passage.

Beyond waited a small examination room. One corner housed the scanning tube, a tall translucent cylinder containing two hand rails on around waist height and a sensor ring which would move along the inside of the tube to scan the occupant. Along the short wall opposite the door stood an operating table with a much more advanced version of the auto-doc mounted to the ceiling. This particular model had four arms and a blistering assortment of tools permanently mounted to it. The last major items of interest were a desk with a glass top and a few chairs. Najali smoothly slid onto the chair behind the desk and tapped a spot on the glass which woke up a display system around her.

"Rios, Salvador. Species: Human. Age: Thirty-one. Insurance number: TGON five-five-zero-zero-six-nine. Correct so far?" A friendly smile played on her lips.

"Yes."

"Perfect. Please sit down. What can I help you with today?"

I shot Jenala a playful smile, remembering how she had snuggled up to me in the airlock earlier. I wasn't a gambling man or fortune teller but something told me sooner rather than later we would end up in bed. And I liked to be prepared for all eventualities.

"I'd like to renew my contraceptive shot. It should be covered by my card, if I remember correctly." I took a seat. Jenala opted to remain standing, a somewhat restless presence behind my shoulder.

Najali scanned my details and nodded. "Absolutely."

Jenala perked up. "Contraceptive shot?" Her tone was tense, almost as bad as when we had talked about prostitution a few days back.

The Nor doctor eyed my client curiously. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of it?"

"No." She bit her lip.

Najali opened a cabinet behind her desk. She produced a high-pressure injector gun and loaded a blue-tinted ampule into it. "The medication protects against a wide spectrum of diseases and also makes the recipient infertile for a full standard year. It's perfectly harmless and well-tested for use on all Precursor species. The current formula even works on both sexes."

"Is it freely available?" Jenala asked, obviously struggling with herself to form the question.

"Yes and no. The treatment is usually part of a yearly check-up and most insurance providers pay for it if the client wants to but the medication has to be administered by properly trained personnel to avoid unpleasant complications. Every Bodyshop and every medical institute in Nor space will happily take care of that for you." Najali pulled a disinfectant wipe from a dispenser, cleaned my neck and administered the shot. "There you go. Remorse-free sex for the next year."

"Thank you." I gingerly touched the sensitive spot on my neck where she had injected me. "The next issue is a bit delicate. I do enjoy doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"

"Of course." The pink-haired Nor sat down behind the desk again.

"Even in the face of overwhelming monetary pressure?"

Najali looked highly offended. "Mr. Rios. Bodyshop's reputation hinges on the confidentiality of our data. In the last hundred years, there has only been one reported case of data theft and the culprit was one of our employees. I can assure you: Neither the details of our conversation, your personal data or ailment history will leave this room. Or our servers."

"Not even if the Black Scorpions come knocking?"

"We don't deal with known criminals or terrorists." Her tone brooked no argument.

I decided to let the matter rest. "Fine then. I need a full-body scan, including prohibited and controlled substances."

"What exactly am I looking for?" Najali asked. She rose from behind the desk and walked over to the scanning tube, activating the machine.

I used one of the chairs to deposit my clothing. Jenala leaned on the wall next to the door and observed the events with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

Naked -- and quite aware of the two women watching my every move, I entered the tube. It hissed shut. "Ever heard about something called a Nano-Shot?"

I heard Najali inhale sharply. There was the sound of keys being pressed, followed by the hum of the sensor ring above me powering up.

"You've probably done this a few times already but I'll have to remind you to close your eyes until the scanning procedure has concluded," Najali said. I heard a slight tremble in her voice. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes. She knew about it but didn't say so. Why?

"Excuse me," Jenala said. "What is a Nano-Shot?" I heard footsteps coming closer. "Should I be worried?"

I noticed the bright line of the tube's sensor beam passing over my field of view. When the sensor reached around chest height, I heard an angry warning beep. The sensor reversed directions at floor height and came up again. And once again the sharp, angry warning noise.