Page 28 of Courting Mayhem

“You’ve got a great butt, what’s the problem?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“I’m a warrior, not a stripper.”

“The fate of the galaxy hangs in the balance, and you’re worried about your image,” I shot back. “My outfit leaves little to the imagination, but you don’t see me whining about it.”

Poppa Jacob quickly brought up a picture of our barbarian warrior costume, complete with a leather battle harness and pants. “How about this one?”

“That’s acceptable, but I’m not a dancer.”

“That’s okay, all you have to do is stand there,” I advised.

“We’re approaching Agbon,”Papi Sten announced.

“Copy. We’ll change into our costumes.”I bit my lip to keep from grinning. The expression on the war commander’s face was a mixture of horror and dread.

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Chapter Seven

From our ship’s main viewscreen I surveyed the water world of Gliese. From space it looked like a peaceful paradise. The beautiful emerald seas were dotted by small islands with stunning white sand beaches and bright turquoise Riu trees swayed in the gentle breeze.

Since I had visited this hellhole a dozen times, I knew the beauty was a mirage. The inhabitants of the slums would slit your throat for your shoes. The beaches were full of hungry blood fleas. Any lifeform that set foot on an untreated island was dead within an hour.

The wandering groves of carnivorous Riu trees thrived in the warm water and were incredibly difficult to out swim. They have sharp, spiky leaves and if cut, ooze a crimson sap. Their tentacle-like roots propel them across the seas in their search for food. Anyone stupid enough to get too close, found themselves wrapped in small feeder roots and digested until only a hollow shell remained.

The sole commerce on Gliese is fishing. Fishing trawlers of all shapes and sizes sailed the oceans searching for a clawed lobster-like fish called fangtooth. The popular delicacy sells on the open market for six hundred credits a pound. The fangtooth are difficult to catch and a single bite causes an agonizing death.

Agbon spaceport is built on an island stripped of sand and vegetation. A labyrinth of thousands of floating shanties surrounds the spaceport. Independent fishermen, day laborers and the lost live in these slums. The two room shanties are made from poly-plastic which offers little protection from the blazing sun or storms. The shantytowns have no police, garbage collectors or working toilets or power. A few lucky souls have small solar generators.

Poppa Jacob suddenly growled, “Holy fuck! There is a forest of Riu trees three kilometers from the spaceport.”

“No way.” I tapped my viewscreen controls. Dang. There had to be at least two hundred trees. “Someone has to be feeding them.”

“The spaceport comptroller decided it was cheaper to dump bodies into the trees than cremating them,” Papi Sten inserted.

My eyes widened in horror. “What stops the trees from just swimming in and chowing down?”

“Nothing. The comptroller has been ordered to get rid of the shantytowns. This is a cheap way to do it,” Papi Sten said as he busily entered data into the ship’s log.

Poppa Jacob shuddered and plopped down in the captain’s chair. “Those tree roots are like octopuses and damn hard to fight off.”

My temper flared to life. “Before we leave, we’re incinerating the forest.”

“Agreed.” Poppa Jacob abruptly switched topics, “Did you know the Tai-Kok never attacked Gliese?”

“Really?” Color me surprised.

“Not enough people to justify a slaughter ship,” Papi Sten said.

I grinned. “Or maybe they landed on an untreated island and the blood fleas got them.”

A laugh broke from Poppa Jacob. “A good possibility.” He began cleaning his nails with a wicked looking fishing knife. Bright green Gliese gang tattoos adorned his bare chest. His tattered red shorts revealed his thickly muscled thighs. On his grimy feet were battered gray sandals.

I wrinkled my nose. His disguise included smelling like a slum dweller. Papi Sten on the other hand, was decked out in a purple merchant’s robe. I had to admit it did an excellent job of concealing his battle armor and arsenal of weapons.

Derek teleported onto the bridge. Heat flared in his eyes as his gaze roved over my costume.

I fluttered my eyelashes at him and assumed a sultry pose. My green bra barely covered my nipples and the belly dancer’s skirt slid provocatively around my bare legs and ass. Look all you want war commander, but I’ll never be yours.

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