"NavCon to Pony Trecker.
"Roger, NavCon.
"ETA 1615. Dock 8. Confirm, please.
"Dock 8 at 1615. Confirmed, NavCon. We’ve locked on the assigned vector.
"Roger, Pony. Vector lock confirmed. DeckCon will take you in charge in about 35 minutes. NavCon over and out."
35 minutes. More than enough to get in touch with Suzie, Butch thought. He typed in a small "Hi! I’m here" message to be included with the ship’s SpaceMail.
"Pony Trecker to Comcon.
"Roger, Pony.
"Sending 2,63 Mb of SMail. Burst mode.
"Acknowledged, Pony. Receiving 2,63 Mb at my mark...Mark."
There it goes, thought Butch. Just in time. The ship locked to the station and as soon as it was connected to the net, Butch got his answer.
"Sorry, Butch. Not this time. Suzie."
What? Why not this time? He’d always been good to her in the past. Butch understood when, passing through the airlock, he discovered the other spaceships at bay. Five Space Marines shuttles were there, revealing the presence of a dreadnought in the system. As usual, all the feminine personnel of the station had been requisitioned to cater to all the boys needs.
"Folks like us are piece of shit for the station’s officials."
Stewart’s saying echoed Butch’s thought.
"What’s your plan now, buddy?" Stewart asked him.
"Don’t know.
"Me, I’m gonna get some better booze than usual and forget about those bastards for the next 72 hours.
"Mind if I join?
"You bet! Your treat first."
***
Ten hours later, Butch had forgotten about the Marines but some part of his body kept reminding him of more physical matters.
"Shit, man!" he told Stewart, "I need to fuck!
"Why don’t you ask that young bartender, here?
"Come on. Three bottles of fayalin and I’ll still be straight.
"No, no...I mean...I know the guy. Can get you anything...if you got the cash...
"Hum...I didn’t buy Suzie’s presents anyway..."
Butch left Stewart at the table.
"Hey, sonny!" he called, "You got a nice chick for a lonely spacehound?
"You like Manarkans?
"Hell no! Anything more human?
"Nope. Not until the boys leave town in...23 hours."
Butch slammed the counter.
"Holy shit!!"
Everyone in the bar stopped talking and turned to him but Butch’s angry stare dissuaded them to interfere. Conversations resumed.
"Sorry, chief," said the bartender, going back to business.
Minutes passed with Butch still mumbling his frustration at the counter.
"Hello, big shot."
Butch turned around. An average guy in a maintenance crew suit. None I know, Butch thought.
"I hear you wanna go for a ride?" the guy asked.
"Who are you, Mister Clever?" Butch replied.
"Relax, Max. My girlfriend’s in town for a while and she’s not requisitioned. Sounds OK?
"Your girlfriend, hey? Where do you fit, smarty?
"It’s OK with me, pal. Long as I can make some bucks on the side.
"And what does SHE say?
"Wendy? Believe me, she’s an absolute freak. I can hardly keep up. Say...you ever tried zero G?"
Butch laughed.
"Hey! Do I look like a cadet? Of course I tried. Can’t give a jab without bouncing back a mile. Gimme some gravity and I’ll give the works to any girl on this side of Orion.
"Sure you do, fellah. But, what’s the use of getting tired when the girl does all the job? Can you imagine being sucked dry while floatin’ effortlessly? No kidding, zero G 69’s her favourite. So what do you say? 300’s nothing for you.
"200. Because you’re as desperate as I am.
"Gimme five. The Astropalace. Room 309 in 15 minutes."
Butch gave the man the cash and, waving a stunned Stewart good bye, left the saloon.
The Astropalace was on deck 6, sector blue. He took the nearest elevator and walked through sector red. The area was filled with marines, each of them holding a girl close. While carefully avoiding their path, Butch resented their presence and his mood grew darker as he arrived at the palace. Fuckin’ Hell, he thought, that girl oughta be good. Room 309. Butch rang the bell.
"Yes?" a feminine voice answered.