Pixie Hazard Archibald Bradford (sneezy the snowman read aloud txt) 📖

was going to be scandalized to death by the banter going on between the crew and their captain; he probably would have fled the room if Maria’s arm wasn’t around him.

“Pretty sure you two dykes are into cock as much as anyone on this ship.” Billy said as she took up her hand and sorted through the brightly coloured cards.

“Bryan’s straight, I checked. Thoroughly.” Maria declared primly.

He did not appreciate being brought into the conversation when the captain’s eyes fell on him and she grinned wolfishly.

“I dunno, I heard him mulling over you and Bunny spit-roasting him the other day, it’s a short leap from there to the land of sweaty man-balls bouncing against his chin.”

The young man’s face twisted with revulsion as the others laughed at his discomfort.

“Don’t worry baby, we’re just playing.” Maria murmured so that only he could hear.

Eniella waved her datapad at the pair of them on the couch.

“You two lubby-dubbys should get over here and brawl with us.” She invited, changing the subject to take pity on Bryan.

Davie smiled smugly as she likewise took up her datapad and reset the holo-projector.

“Yeah, my woman needs all the help she can get. I’m mopping the floor with her.”

Maria looked to Bryan as his eyes flicked uncertainly to the captain and the doctor, now immersed in their card game.

“Oh, don’t mind those two.” Eniella said; “They’re playing some ancient game from Old Earth, too cerebral for me.”

“It’s all about getting into your opponent’s head.” Donnie said without breaking eye contact with Billy.

The doctor tucked her straight black hair behind one ear as she looked to her cards.

“Do you have any... threes?” She finally asked.

The skipper answered with a smug grin.

“Nice try. Go fish.”

__________

The poorly named Mung Station was located next to a hollowed out asteroid ninety kilometres long. The celestial body was once rich in a number of precious metals that all ended in ‘ium’, the most copious being the highly coveted rhodium.

Now it was a pockmarked rock of nearly worthless iron and silica, slowly turning in place, indifferent to the few hopeful miners picking over its well picked-over carcass.

Its official designation was a boring series of letters and numbers but the locals all referred to it as ‘Old Banana’ given its shape.

The polite ones did anyways: Old Banana had countless other more... phallic, nicknames.

The station that orbited it was built by Juan Corps when humanity first reached this sector and discovered a number of asteroids just like the Old Banana. They had sought an early mining advantage with the construction of their outpost, and indeed they had it, clearing out the most valuable pockets of precious metals in short order before their competitors arrived in the system.

The glory days of Mung were long past however, with Old Banana and every other valuable rock in its vicinity long since depleted of resources and more updated stations having been built closer to the remaining mining sites in the system.

This meant that the venerable station was good for only one thing: selling gas.

It was a smart move on the part of the Juan Corporation; by abandoning their mining efforts and securing the license to distribute slipspace fuel in the sector they ensured that Mung Station remained relevant and profitable.

However because it was a reliable stream of income the focus of its owners had long since shifted their attention to riskier but more lucrative prospects, which meant that a local criminal element had been allowed to flourish aboard the station.

Like mould behind a refrigerator.

The crew of the Pixie Hazard left the transport in stationary orbit outside the station, just one of dozens of ships that were either waiting for an open berth or simply taking advantage of the Juan Corporation’s security presence to catch some rack time on their way to parts unknown.

Davie had set up proper remote navigation so aside from slipjumps the transport would follow the Pixie around like a lost puppy once they were underway again.

Once the pilot finished docking they all met up in the airlock where Donnie turned to her crew.

“Who’s my anchor watch?”

Billy lifted her hand.

“I’ve seen enough of Mung to have a firm preference for the Pixie.”

“Can’t argue with that, need me to pick you up something?”

“We could use some more nanites. The stock in the infirmary took a hit between you, Maria and Bryan.”

Donnie put one hand on her formerly-injured hip and fought not to roll her eyes.

“I mean something I can afford. Like half of a sandwich, or a day old muffin.”

Billy shrugged.

“Pick me up some mango juice?”

“Oddly specific flavour, but deal. We’re off. Supply order should be coming shortly.”

“Copy that.” Billy nodded.

With that they cycled through the airlock, observing proper quarantine procedures even if they were the only ship that bothered.

Because pink-eye was a thing.

Mung was hardly the fanciest shithole in the galaxy, though it wasn’t the worst either. A snootier spacer might complain that the beige neocrete in the corridors was cracking and in need of a new coat of sealant, and that the shops on the promenade were cramped and their staff abrasive.

But save for the local criminal element Donnie and her crew didn’t really mind the place.

A wave of smells washed over them as they stepped out of the Pixie’s airlock into the grungy docking bay; garbage, sweat, grease, and the dry and faintly bitter smell of oxygen.

From their last visit they knew that the station was undergoing some major renovations on its life support systems, so the corporation that owned it had to pump oxygen into the ventilation to keep the station’s occupants alive.

They had barely taken five steps away from the ship before Donnie was rolling her eyes.

“Argh, not this clown again.”

A coarsely bearded man