Hello all. Just a quick foreword before the story begins. This is my first foray into writing, and I hope that people like what I have to write about. I have had many ideas tumbling around in my head for years, and this is the first time I have given them any real form. A certain popular writer inspired me (You know who you are, sir!) to give this a shot, and I wanted to say thank you to him, for telling me that I should do so! Now shall we begin?
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The blocky yet agile freighter, the
Darkstrider
, tore through hyperspace on course with its destination. The pilot confirmed they would arrive at the system they were headed for in a few minutes. She turned her attention away from the blue tunneling glow just outside of the cockpit.
"Are you sure about this?" Inari asked Taal'ani, their lone Fel'caan crew mate and resident computer systems specialist. She stood up and stepped away from the pilot's chair, which turned slightly as she moved. The area behind her doubled as both cockpit and bridge on this old freighter. Several wall consoles and podiums lined the walls, each one displaying various readouts of the ship's systems and status.
A luminescent, yellowish-white light illuminated the area. A holographic projector, which emitted a bluish-white light, took up the space in the center of the bridge zone. The machine displayed still frame shots of a thin and unkempt man in his early forties, with an untrustworthy look about him. Inari Sunara straightened out her red spacer's jacket as she approached, her boots clicking on the floor. Scrutinizing the stills, the captain looked certain, but turned to her crew mate for confirmation.
"I checked the vids we pulled from the security systems and cross-referenced them with stills from before. It's him," Taal'ani replied in her girlish voice while looking up at her captain.
Even at forty-six, Inari still had both the face and body of a woman at least ten years younger. With classically beautiful features, like that of the ancient film actress; Audrey Hepburn, albeit much bustier. Dusky skin, inky black hair, and brown eyes were indicative of her Middle Eastern ancestry. She was always striking to look at, a fact well documented by the amount of looks she garnered while the crew were on shore leave. The simple outfit of dark blue synth-denim pants and bracingly tight tank top was enough to send most men over the edge.
Though the same could be said for Taal'ani, as dozens of men looked at her nearly as often. She was a Fel'caan, a race of cat people that looked like the perfect hybridization of human and cat. She had tiger striped fur, a cat like nose and feline features. The cat girl also had the typical teeth associated with cats, though her teeth didn't interfere with her speech. She had dirty blonde hair on her head like humans do, which oddly didn't clash with her fur. It just made her all that much more appealing.
Taal'ani's alluring, swaying walk always drew eyes to her sizable cleavage and massively round rear. Her beauty marked her as an exotic creature, as she always stood out wherever they went. Though her six-foot-four frame towered over that of her captain's five foot-ten, she knew who was in charge.
Taal'ani would often wear form fitting clothes out in public as she loved the attention. Since they were on the ship, she wore an old torn second-hand t-shirt and baggy cargo pants. She liked to relax when it was just the girls aboard the ship. Her arm computer was displaying the video and still comparison, lining up the faces so they matched.
"So, you are certain it's him?" Inari asked again, her alto tone resonating with power, as she was a woman used to giving commands.
"Positive. Ninety-seven point three percent match. It's definitely him," Taal'ani said to her captain, with a look in her green eyes that almost dared the human woman to defy her. Inari chuckled to herself as she turned and sat back down in her chair. She knew that muley look in Taal'ani's eyes, which confirmed that she had made sure that there were no mistakes in the man's identity.
Michael Phillips, also known as Rat-Faced Mike, was a slippery and weaselly bastard that had a lot of pain coming to him. He was responsible for several brutal murders across dozens of systems and crimes that ranked worse than murder. Though the bounty on his head was considerable, it wasn't the only reason behind their search.
Mike had brutally tortured and murdered the parents of one of Inari's crew. This would be a most satisfactory capture for all of them, one that Inari would relish for a long time. It was also a very personal matter for two of the crew, Natalya and Korsa. Natalya was orphaned as a child and would have fallen victim to Rat Face's darker appetites. If Korsa, their medical officer, had not arrived and intervened, things would have been very different.
Priya, the co-pilot and sharpshooter of the crew, ambled over to inspect the face on the hologram. Priya was Inari's closest and best friend of the whole crew. They served together in the Federation Navy until a certain high-ranking officer wrecked Inari's career. Priya wouldn't let Inari just up and leave without her, so once she had finished her second tour of duty, she put in for a discharge and joined her friend in her new life.
They had been thick as thieves since the academy, and as far as she was concerned, that was one thing that would never change. Priya took a swig of cooled water, having just finished a yoga session in her quarters. Her shirt and pants were a riot of colors, though dampened by the amount of sweat that was present.
Inari eyed the woman in an appraising manner, drinking in the lithe figure, B-cup breasts, and perfectly toned ass. Noticing the stare on her captain's face, Priya flipped the braid over her shoulder and stuck out her ass for the captain to gawk at. She bent over to get a better look at the details on Taal'ani's arm computer, her runners squeaking as she moved closer.
"That's him, all right. I recognize the face. Though the last time I saw it, it was etched in pure terror, wasn't it?" Priya asked as she directed her lilting soprano voice towards an approaching Korsa, while smirking.
Korsa looked at everyone and said in mock surprise, "What? It's not my fault that the boy nearly pissed himself when he saw me charging into the fray."
Korsa was a Khontar; a race that is genetically similar to humans, but with very notable differences. Four arms, enough physical strength to bend solid steel, oddly colored skin and two to four feet taller than a regular human adult. These were the most glaringly obvious differences between Khontarans and humans, but not the only ones. Many were more subtle in how they were expressed, but the same could be said for any humanoid race.
Korsa's head was shaped like that of a human, with wide, expressive eyes, which glittered in the color of burnished gold, high cheekbones and a pert nose. Another unique trait of her race was the ability to change her hair color to whatever shade she wished. Though it would take an hour or so before the change was clear. She had gone a bright cobalt blue this time with silver tips, which oddly didn't clash with her deep red skin.
Despite Korsa's size, standing just over eight feet in height, she was perfectly proportioned. She had hips that matched Taal'ani's in roundness, but much wider than the cat girl's. They were encased in a set of tan cut away shorts, which only accentuated her figure. She folded both sets of arms beneath her breasts, making her massive H-cup rack threaten to tear apart the black long-sleeved shirt she was wearing. Although she was huge by human standards, she was perfectly proportioned.
"Mama K, you would make the most battle-hardened marine shit his pants if he had to stand against you," Natalya stated.
She then walked around Korsa to better look at everyone and the holo on display. As the ship's engineer, she was dressed in dark blue coveralls, which were smudged with grease and coolant. Idly dusting her hands on her clothes and flipping her crest of hair out of her face, Natalya stepped in for a better look, her heavy work boots clanging on the decking.
Giving her adoptive daughter a sassy look, she replied with, "Language, young lady!"
"Yes, mother," Natalya shot back sarcastically, while her musical voice gave over to a bout of laughter.
Natalya was a gorgeous chocolate skinned woman whose attributes matched Korsa's, albeit on a smaller scale. Standing at five-foot-nine, with a considerable bust and a plump ass, she almost looked like a pygmy version of Korsa, minus the second set of arms. The mother/daughter dynamic they had kept them close and was sometimes comical, often sending the rest of the crew into fits of giggles.
"OK, enough!" Inari said, while stifling a fit of giggling. "Let's focus and figure out what needs to be done. We don't know much about what we will find when we come out of hyperspace, besides a patched-up outpost that's been abandoned since God only knows when. There will be some ships lying about, but we don't know how many and what weapon loadout they have."
