Tuesday, November 1

doing it in the missionary position... part six

'dippy dippy dippy... i see you've turned your life around. i've always been a cheerful endorser of the penal system. glad to see it's still working.'

dippy said nothing. he looked at me. he was flanked by a couple pirate goons. they whispered behind him.

'that's him. that's the guy. oh man. wow... just, like wow. '

they looked like you'd expect. hard. very hard. very grizzled, scarred, dirty, tough. but when they opened their mouths, they sounded like assholes.

i let them know this.


dippy had this not quite there look, like he was trapped in some unpleasant memory.

'we're having dinner. let's go.'

the goons opened up a gloryhole. even i, a jaded spaceman, wondered how much fucking money these bastards had... a roving hole ain't cheap. dippy done good. i decided i'd let him know.

'dippy... you done real good!'

'get in.'

'hey... dippy... mind if we take ol' pokey over there... he and i have shared an intimate moment and it would be wrong to just leave him on this rock.' he nodded.

the goons grabbed dippy, who spurted a little drilling fluid in excitement, and we all climbed into the hole.

for a moment, my brain thought it was where my feet were, and my cock thought it was where my brain was and i sharted then i realized we were on the ship.

my brain reoriented itself. gushes of relaxation splashed over me. i wasn't built for terra firma... or ex-mining asteroids. i belong entombed on shoddily constructed, poorly maintained, alloy coffins that function by manipulating the (clearly absurd) rules of physics laid out by a virgin fuck-knows-how-many-years-ago. he was right, however, about the lead-to-gold thing. but that giant-malformed blobs of rock and shit follow easy-peasy circles and ellipses... who the fuck does he think he is? don't be stupid. nothing is that bland in this universe.

maybe the next one over is simpler. i'll have to check it out.

anyway... rocks and shit... not for me.

this control room for the gloryholes was quite nice. comfortable even. something wasn't adding up. how could dippy have become head of this pirate crew? he was an idiot. a complete dolt. it'd be like flapjack having my job. unthinkable.

i let him know this.

'dippy, lad... how come you to this august position?'

asking dippy about his job made me think about my job... i hadn't done it in ages. all that swag, lovely lovely swag, piling up in the grates around hangar 23 and beyond... all that money to be lifted... all those drinks to be stolen... gizmos and gadgets and such... so far away. so very far.

fuck it... embrace change. i'm now some kind of hostage. that's my lot. not so bad, really. you probably have to care for your hostage, if you want to swap him. bathe him. clothe him. keep him healthy. i imagine you have to feed a hostage too. i was getting hungry.

i let them know this.

so we marched around the ship. the rest of it wasn't particularly nice... lots of exposed bulkheads, rust and drippy pipes, puddles of corrosive fluids. pokey was both overstimulated and terrified. he'd run of and bang the wall, or another passer-by, then beep in terror and hurry back to catch and walk next to me, comforting himself with tiny little stabs at my calf. they grow up so fast but they still run back to mommy...

'oi dippy, might i inquire as to the duration of this detainment?'
best to treat him with some kind of fancy talk. wouldn't want to insult the poor dear.
there was no response.

i was trying to piece together why the hell we were on such a deathmarch from the gloryhole room. unless they are super-powerful, a glory hole can't really send too much cargo at once. a person is about the limit. this works for a few reasons, chiefly:
1) they can charge more money, because you have to send each person separately.
2) should there be a malfunction, and the 'hole slips out of its containment area, then losses are minimized. this was learned the hard way some years ago when a school field trip out to the space monkey asteroid belts had the delightful misfortune of a slipped 'hole which sent the entire sewer asteroid back to the schools 'hole room, covering all the waiting parents with tons of space monkey shit. hilarious...

it gets more dangerous when you have a 'hole on a ship. should it slip, then it can transport large amounts of life-support systems, engines, ordinance, and crew, to fuck knows where instantaneously... leaving a vaguely ovoid chunk bitten out of your fancy-pants spaceship.

not good.

so for very powerful 'holes they stick either at the end of huge booms that jut quite hideously out of the hull, like some priapic nightmare. or they put them way down below past the shuttle hangars, storage hangars, and so on. lower level kind of things...

guess where das orbit's bulk 'hole is?

blahblahblahmarchmarchmarchwhinewhinewhinecrycrycry and we finally arrived at a door, indistinguishable, frankly, from all the others. this ship sucked.

i let them know this.

we made our way into a conference room. a big table. chairs. all quite decrepit looking. i was sat, roughly mind you, at one end. dippy sat on the other. i still couldn't figure out the dynamic between this group. the pirates and dippy didn't seem to get along. or really acknowledge each other. is it possible that the hated him as much as i did?

i let them know this.

the pirates left us alone.

'oh whatever do you have planned for me?' i asked dippy in my sexiest little voice. ol' pokeydippy's calf with fluid.

dippy glanced at the bot, at the door, around the room, then walked slowly over towards me, eyes locked with mine.

damn... while the thought of carnal relations with dippy seemed rather unpleasant, he did look more like a girl than anything i'd likely sleep with (or had slept with) in a long, hard, frustrating time.

i let him know this.

'shut it, janitor, and listen. i'm fucked. and you've got to help me get out of here.'

'is that so... dippy, in case you hadn't noticed, you brought me here. how the fuck am i going to get you out of here? i don't even know where here is. or what here is. or who these fucking pirates are. and besides that, why the fuck would you want me to help you out? remember the last time we did this little dance, you ended up in prison. why would you trust me?'

'because i took skip and know where he is...'

that was something worth gambling on. i let him know this.

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