Not a Prison Ship Read online

  “I love you, too,” Nick replied and followed up his statement with a long, lingering kiss that didn’t end until Fo-vi set the main course, a chicken casserole, on the table before them. The side dishes had already been laid out. Nick lifted his head, grinned at Cai again and plucked up one of the sides—pastry puffs he’d made special just for an opportunity like this. He brushed the savory puff against Cai’s lips then popped it into Cai’s mouth, watching his husband’s expression as Cai bit into the spicy, cheesy goodness.

  “What was that?” Cai asked once he’d swallowed.

  “An idea of my own,” Nick confessed. “Filo pastry stuffed with several cheeses, butter and, of course, green chili.”

  “I like it,” Cai announced. “May I have another?”

  Nick was only too pleased to oblige. He teased Cai with the pastry, skimming it over Cai’s pink lips, pulling away before the Gator could bite. Cai chased that pastry down, mock growling as he finally nipped it from Nick’s fingers. “Ready for some casserole?” Nick asked casually.

  Cai slid himself off Nick’s lap and sat up. He was still close enough that the two of them were just about mashed together, but Nick had both arms free now. He deftly cut and served the casserole, a series of corn tortillas layered with chicken, chili and cheese between them. The pastry puffs were a flavor complement for the casserole, so Nick had also made Spanish rice and refried beans from scratch to balance out the heat.

  The Astrogator ate with single-minded intensity, but he did appear to enjoy what he was eating. Nick knew all about the fragility underlying Cai’s immense talent. The energy for everything a person did came from food, and in Cai’s case, he burned that fuel at a much higher rate than most. Sometimes, in the Chamber, Cai’s blood sugar could dip so low as to precipitate a medical emergency. Fortunately, his adjuncts were programmed to take care of him and could be counted on to take steps to correct low blood sugar. Nick made sure Cai drank enough of the Synde-laced tea, too, since he didn’t add any of the drug to the food he cooked.

  That was the other weakness of an Astrogator. They had to have the drug in order to function. Synde was designed to ease the interface between the wet, sloppy organics of the body and the cold, crystalline neurologic circuitry necessary to operating an interstellar spaceship. Cai’s body was full of neurologics that mated to the neurologics of the Laughing Owl, enabling him to not only become the ship, but also jump it from one star system to the next, defeating relativity by bypassing the issue entirely.

  The pirate Gator had been denied Synde in order to force his compliance. Nick wondered how long Cai would have held out in that situation, and he suspected the answer would be not long at all.

  Cai was apparently thinking along the same lines or was picking up Nick’s surface thoughts again. “Lin was stupid to resist. All he did was damage himself,” Cai said quietly. “We Gators have too much in the way of neurologics inside us.” He turned his right hand up to display the dodecahedral half-sphere embedded in his palm. “This interface is the least part of what was surgically implanted in me. Entire bones have been replaced with neurologic crystals. If I don’t have enough Synde in my blood, I risk real physical damage to myself that has nothing to do with drug withdrawal.”

  Nick brought Cai’s hand to his mouth and kissed the crystal, smiling at Cai’s soft gasp. He released the hand and said, “I will make sure you’re never in a situation where you have to prostitute yourself in order to receive the Synde you need.”

  Cai’s eyes danced with sudden laughter. “If I had to beg you, I wouldn’t mind it so much. And think of all the things you could do to me...”

  Nick was about to drag Cai into the bedroom to try out some of those things when he was pinged via the shipnet. Since it was Cortez, the ship’s XO, he acknowledged the contact and allowed it to expand into a full two-way communication channel.

  “Sir,” Cortez’s shipnet voice was a lot like the man, sharp and to the point. “The pirates are secured and ready for interrogation.”

  “We’ll be right down,” Nick said, shifting a regretful glance to Cai as he broke the contact. “Duty calls, love.”

  Cai stood and stretched. “Let’s get this over with.”

  * * * *

  The Laughing Owl’s brig wasn’t much—just a row of rooms with door controls only on the outside. Kenison had been moaning about the laxness of these cells since their first mission. According to him, a drunk hacker could break out of these rooms with very little effort. So when the pirates were captured, Cai had taken care to detail a round-the-clock guard roster so that if the pirates did stage an escape, they wouldn’t get further than the next room.

  “It won’t be enough,” Kenison told Cai when he walked in with Nick.

  “What would you have me do?” Cai replied, stung by the criticism and tired of the man’s complaints. “Chain them hand and foot?”

  “That’d be a good start,” Kenison agreed sourly.

  “I think locked cells and armed guards are sufficient,” Cai said. “Chaining is inhumane, and you know there’d be protests if word got out, and word always gets out.”

  “The media’d have a field day,” Nick mused, shrugging a shoulder at Kenison. “We have to try the least restrictive measures first.”

  “As you say, sir,” Kenison saluted formally then turned back to Cai. “They’ve all been dosed with Essence for you.”

  Cai managed not to grimace. Essence was known galaxy-wide as a treatment for Synde-overdose, was used galaxy-wide as a pleasant, non-addictive stimulant and flavor enhancer, but what wasn’t known, because the Guild took care that it wasn’t blabbed about, was that Essence opened the subject’s mind and made a telepathic probe much, much easier. When it came to an Astrogator and a subject who’d drunk the Essence produced by that very Gator, even natural shields like Nick’s wouldn’t suffice to keep the Gator out.

  “Let’s start with some of the crew,” Cai decided. “Bring them out one at a time.” He wasn’t ready to face the source of the cold, cruel mental voice he’d heard over the navnet, the pirate captain with the ridiculous but somehow still chilling name, Dread.

  The first pirate was an average-looking fellow whom Cai thought would look far more natural in an office, dressed in a suit and surrounded by ledgers. “State your name for the record,” Cai said.

  “Fuck off,” replied the pirate.

  “Felipe Eugene Bailey, also known as Sharpwit,” Cai stated, plucking the information from the pirate’s thoughts. “You stand accused of piracy.”

  “I ain’t no pirate.” Sharpwit smiled, showing lots of teeth, most of which were yellow, none of which had ever seen a dentist. “I’m a supercargo, a good one.”

  Cai probed the man’s mind, seeking information deeper than the surface thoughts being projected at him. He recorded all of it, of course. Every memory the man had of he and his crewmates subduing captured ships, raping the women and some of the men, loading the stolen cargo then silencing the witnesses by cycling them through an airlock was plucked by Cai, examined, recorded and sealed to the man’s file. His guilt was beyond question. “Take him away; bring me the next one,” Cai said at length.

  Nick touched his arm, handed him a glass of iced tea. Cai sipped it, tasting the cinnamon and the Synde blended atop the black leaf tea itself. He smiled at his husband briefly as Sharpwit was led off and another prisoner brought out.

  This pirate looked young—he couldn’t be more than fourteen, Cai realized. He began all over again. “State your name for the record, please.”

  “Mouse, if it please you,” he whispered. Cai had to agree with the name. The boy was small, his eyes dark, his hair a mousy brown-gray shade. Cai could find no other name floating in the boy’s thoughts.

  “Mouse, then,” Cai repeated. “You stand accused of piracy.”

  “I’m just a cabin boy,” Mouse said. “I know they was pirates, but I wasn’t given no choice, the capt’n, he bought me on Sparta so�
��s they’d have someone to cook ‘n’ clean for them.”

  Cai sighed softly, not doubting the boy, but he had to probe anyhow. He was as gentle as he could be in verifying the boy’s words. Mouse was Spartan-trained from a young age; he had no memory of his parents. He’d been sold at auction at the age of twelve—the youngest age a slave could legally be sold at—to Captain Dread. For three years, for the boy was fifteen, he’d worked as a servant to the pirates, cooking and cleaning by day, being used by the captain by night. It angered Cai deeply to witness the abuse this boy had suffered.

  When he managed to pull himself together, outside of Mouse’s mind, he said, “This boy is innocent. Kenison, have Girard mind him. See that he’s cleaned up, fed and treated with dignity. I don’t want him anywhere near the scum we have down here.”

  Kenison was already issuing the necessary orders. His gaze was sympathetic, something Cai hadn’t expected from his granite security officer. Kenison offered a hand to Mouse. “Come with me; I’ll introduce you to Girard. I promise, nobody will hurt you.”

  Cai waited for Mouse to walk out before he slumped against Nick. “I hope he’s the only one like that.”

  “Raped?”

  “Nightly, by the captain.” Cai grimaced. “Spartan-trained but not a bed slave.”

  “I see.” Nick glanced over the boy’s record before he sealed it. “Poor kid.”

  The guards brought out a third pirate when Cai signaled that he was ready. After that, it became routine. Ask for a name, get insulted, pluck the name out of the pirate’s thoughts, explain the charge of piracy that gave Cai the legal right to perform the probe then probe and record the man’s crimes and move on. The day slowly passed, the pirates yet to be questioned were periodically given more Essence, and Nick made sure Cai was well-lubricated with Synde iced tea.

  Chapter Three

  After questioning a dozen men, Cai announced, “I am tired. We will continue this tomorrow.” He stood and stalked out, doing his best to appear strong, when what he wanted to do was curl up and shake in reaction to the horror of the memories of these men. The last one he’d examined, a man named Bud Vinson but called Killer, had been a true psychopath. The things he’d done to his victims, living and dead, had horrified Cai. He wished he could scrub his brain clean of the man’s memories.

  Nick caught up with him. “Are you okay?”

  “No, no, I’m not okay. I feel dirty and violated just by reading the memories of these scumbags.”

  Nick caught him in his strong embrace. “I’m here. I’ll do whatever you want, whatever I can, to help you through this.”

  Cai rested his head on Nick’s shoulder and tried to relax, but every time he started to unwind, those memories would resurface like some ugly beast just lurking in the shadows. Nick started walking, and Cai let him guide them both, paying no attention to where they were going. He looked around when it penetrated his mind that wherever Nick was taking him, it wasn’t his chambers. “The gym? Why?” Nick knew that Cai didn’t work out, so Cai wasn’t sure why his husband would bring him here.

  “Physical activity is a good cure for thinking too much,” Nick said. “Also, I want you to learn some self-defense, just in case.”

  Cai finally nodded. Why not? It can’t hurt, might help, and it’ll make Nick happy. He followed Nick into the gym and moved to the training console where he first found and then enrolled in a personal combat-training course. The AI filled his mind, and the physical gym vanished for the virtual reality the two of them constructed together. Nick entered his simulation, dressed in a gray karate outfit. They bowed to each other, and the instruction began.

  Cai could feel his body moving as the AI taught his brain the moves and counters, the sharp, sweet ache of muscle exertion, the sweat slicking his skin, the deep breaths he took to meet his body’s demands—the physical was nearly overwhelming the simulation that occupied Cai’s mind, but Cai discovered Nick was right, too. The dark, unclean memories lifted from other brains faded from his mind as the physical work consumed his attention.

  The first training session was only an hour long, but when it was over, Cai felt limp with exhaustion. Nick took him into the next room, which Cai knew was supposed to be some sort of post-workout spa area, but the Gator hadn’t been in there since Laughing Owl had gained a crew.

  Nick stripped him naked and laid him down on a massage table. Cai turned his head to look at his husband—Nick was naked, too, except for his ball cuff, the mark of Cai’s ownership. Nick had given himself to Cai as a willing sex slave for a wedding present. Someday, Cai hoped to send Nick to Sparta to be trained, but for now, they played at master and slave and both found immense enjoyment in it.

  Cai reached out a hand and caressed Nick’s imprisoned balls. The locked cuff, two inches of stiff black leather, pushed Nick’s balls away from his body enough so that the two orbs were clearly delineated, covered by a layer of taut flesh and leaving nothing to the imagination. The cuff didn’t put enough pressure on the scrotum to harm Nick, not even when the cuff was worn continuously, as Nick wore it. Nick had a collar, too, but that couldn’t be hidden under a uniform and the ball cuff could be. Cai only removed Nick’s ball cuff if the man was going to leave the ship.

  Nick reacted to the caress by rubbing his balls against Cai’s hand. He leaned over and kissed Cai on the nape of the neck then set his hands, warm and oily, to Cai’s shoulders and started the massage. Cai sighed in bliss as Nick smoothed away all his stress and tension with his strong, loving hands. The pleasant aroma of lavender seeping from the massage oil also helped Cai to relax. So relaxed he became that when Nick straddled him, he spread his legs and pushed his ass against Nick’s erection.

  Cai grunted as he felt the cool touch of lube against his pucker and sighed in enjoyment when Nick’s fingers pushed the lube into him as they worked to soften and stretch his anal sphincter. “Feels good,” Cai told him in encouragement.

  “You like this, don’t you?” Nick added a third finger and pumped them, readying Cai’s ass for his assault.

  “Ohhh, yes. I like it a lot,” Cai assured him.

  “My darling little faggot,” Nick said, using the insult as a term of endearment, which brought a smile to Cai’s lips.

  Cai pushed his ass against Nick’s hand, using his body to beg for more. “C’mon, Capt’n, ride your Gator. Show me your officer’s sword.” In tradition as old as the military, newly commissioned Space Corps officers were given engraved, ceremonial sabers made from the finest carbon steel. They were fully functional as swords but completely useless in a day and age where weaponry had, for the most part, become photonic. Slug-throwers like the pirates had borne were considered crude, old-fashioned weapons at best and a menace at worst—at least lasers didn’t penetrate ship hulls.

  Nick chuckled and withdrew his hand, replacing it with something far more interesting to Cai. “You make an excellent sheath for my sword,” he said as he slowly penetrated, the large, crested head of his cock pushing its way into Cai’s defenseless, open hole.

  Cai felt his rectum stretching to accommodate his husband’s large, thick tool, and he groaned in pleasure from the stimulation of so many nerve endings. Done right, anal sex was an exquisitely intense, pleasurable experience for both partners. Nick took care to do it right.

  The cock rocked in and out of him, pushing forward a little further with each thrust then slowly gliding back out of him until the crest of the head pulled against Cai’s sphincter, stopping short of popping free of him entirely. Then, Nick’s hips would thrust again, his spear reconquering the same territory before invading more deeply through Cai’s caste gates.

  “I like that metaphor,” Nick said with a chuckle, proving that Cai was broadcasting again. “I am your conqueror, impaling you on my spear,” he breathed into Cai’s ear. “Prepare to surrender your inner citadel to my mighty weapon.”

  When he finished speaking, Nick gave Cai several strong, hard, rapid thrusts, right
over Cai’s prostate as Nick brought himself to full penetration. Cai cried out in pleasure as Nick’s cock rampaged over his G-spot, pushing himself back into the thrusts wantonly. Nick stopped with his cock fully seated in Cai’s ass. He stroked Cai’s stretched cheeks with a strong, callused hand. “So soft, so beautiful. You look exquisite stretched out over my penis like this. Are you recording?”

  “Yes, Nick.” He shuddered with enjoyment as Nick rewarded him with a stroke of his cock. Cai usually only recorded their sessions when he was on top, so that he could come back and relive Nick’s lusty submission to him whenever he wanted. It was part of Nick’s submission, knowing that everything Cai did to him, that he allowed to be done to him, was being fully recorded with simulation-level detail. If Cai so chose, he could release his sessions with Nick as erotic sims that would allow the purchaser to experience having sex with Nick as Cai had experienced it.

  There was a lot of money to be made by selling sims like that. Cai also made sure to record the session from Nick’s viewpoint, and every so often, he’d have Nick sit through a recorded sim of himself being used for Cai’s pleasure, experiencing it anew with almost the same intensity as the live action itself had been. When Nick was immersed in Cai’s sim, he couldn’t tell if the cock pounding him was simulated in his mind or real. The pleasure was real enough, and Nick sometimes accessed the recordings on his own. Cai knew he did it, and he always monitored Nick’s sex sims because he got a vicarious thrill from Nick’s enjoyment of them.

  Cai wasn’t sure why he’d decided to record this session, though. He usually didn’t when Nick was on top, but perhaps, it was a reaction to all those memories he’d been forced to share. Honest, consensual, submissive sex was the antithesis to the multiple rapes Cai’d experienced secondhand as perpetrator, not victim, except in the case of Mouse, and Nick was nothing like Dread even at his most dominant.