Starbound (Benny and Gunner)

[LilGunner]

Starlina Edessa, notorious pirate, Captain of the Fortune's Razor, rolled a red silk garter up her leg to rest high on her taught thigh. In her stateroom she stood in a matching, red silk thong, a tiny bow sitting on her tail bone, and a strapless bra that blended with he caramel shade of her skin. Her thick mane of ebony curls hung loose to her waist, floating behind her as she sat at a small vanity to put on her make up. Not too much, a little mascara and eye liner to make her cocoa eyes brighter and bigger. A touch of rouge and red lipstick. As she lightly blotted her lips a knock sounded at her door. "Enter!" She called out. The door swung open and a young man stormed in. He was lighter in shade than the woman, but with the same almond eyes, neat nose, and dark hair. Poor thing had gotten his father's ears that stuck out a little, which was why he wore is hair down and long to hide them.

"Augh! What the fuck Star?" He hollered, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'm blinded!" Star scoffed as she slipped the post of fine, gold, hoop earrings into her ear lobes.

"Stop being a baby Brishan. What do you want?" She opened a small drawer that held her collection of perfumes.

Brishan stayed at the far end of the room, arm still over his eyes. "You sure this is a good idea? I mean…sneaking into the ball is bad enough but getting him to help us? What if he kills you? Or tries to arrest you?"

Star rolled her eyes at Brishan as she selected a scent. A soft, almost earthy fragrance with just a hint of sweet summer. "We've been over this…we need help to find that thing and what pirate band are we gonna trust huh? I ain't havin' no murderin', rapin', scallywags on my vessel. At least he's got some honor."

"Puh…same honor that tried to blow us up like…a million times?" Brishan moaned and lamented at the memories. "Most of the time so you could just tweak his nose and and and and flirt."

"Listen," she said as she stood up. Even without heels she was tall for a woman, her limbs long and strong. She took a few strides to stand in front of her brother, reached out to hug him. Brishan resisted at first but finally relented. "This is for us, yeah? All of us. With this score we can retire, comfortably. Maybe you can settled down with-" She was cut off as Brishan wriggled from her grasp.

"Don't bring Gwen into this," he hissed, still keeping an arm over his eyes. The siblings stood in silence for a time. Finally Brishan heaved a sigh. "Fine, fine fine. But if he kills you…I get everything."

Star threw her head back and laughed, a throaty and musical laugh that made her body shake. "Yeah I guess you do. Now get out of here before you actually do go blind. I'll see you later tonight." With that she ushered him out of the room, she had to finish getting ready. A long sparkling dress in a brilliant ruby color. She wriggled into it carefully. It clung to her flat stomach and the dips in her sides, hugged the round swell of her bottom, and clutched at her chest held up by, more than likely, some kind of sorcery. The back dropped low, exposing her tawny flesh all the way to the small of her back. A long slit opened at her left leg, letting the hint of the garter peek through. Finally, a pair of heels, just as brilliant, red, and bejeweled as the dress. She was ready to do battle.

Star strode confidently in her heels, back straight, hips swaying with every movement. It was a short enough walk, even for a woman in heels. The fine establishment, holding a ball, was her target, one for private and public militias. She slowed as she made her approach, scanning for a likely victim. It wasn't hard to find. A gangly youth, all dressed up in his big boy uniform, the golden bar of the lowest ranking officer in the Imperial Navy. His straw colored hair was combed neatly under his cap. Perfect.

She continued walking, adjusting her stride to turn. Star strode right into the youth. She made a show of tilting and wobbling, putting her hands out. While she was the one who grabbed the young ensign, by all accounts it looked like he was the one that caught her. She saw his eyes go wide, drifting up and down her form as he held her. A feigned look of surprise and gratefulness painted her face. "Oh…" she said, putting a hand to the voluptuous swell of her chest, letting her fingers graze down her sternum to continue drawing his eye. "My what a gentleman," she purred softly. Her other hand rested behind the kid's head, fingers brushing at the nape of his neck. "Thank you for the rescue."

"Oh…huh…uhm…y-you're welcome?" The young man stammered. Ever wild dream of any young man was suddenly coming true. Coming true for him. The woman dropped out of seemingly no where, ever for grateful for a rescue.

Star took her time, eyeing the young man, making a show of her 'appreciation' for him. "A man in uniform, I should have guessed. Are you heading into this ball?" Her eyes lifted to his, though remained slightly hooded.

"Ye-yes ma'am," he replied, slowly standing to right both of them. Though even standing Star kept her hand on the back of his neck. She stood eye to eye with the lad.

"Ma'am, you don't have to be so formal with me. I'm Gwen. You know, I was heading in myself, care to escort a lady?" She leaned in, giving him a small peck on the cheek.

"Oh, hum, yes I-I'd be delighted Gwen. I'm Arnold," he said, offering her a quaking arm. Star beamed at him the way a cat beamed at a mouse. She released her hold on the back of his neck and took his arm.

"Lead the way my dear Arnold."

They passed inside easily, Arnold with his invite and Star on his arm. It was resplendent inside. Uniforms crisp and clean, men standing around with women on their arms. Arguably more delicately dressed women. Arnold and Star garnered some looks as they entered. Arnold beamed with pride as he strode in, a real man with a woman on his arm. Not just any woman either. A woman that drew sneers from other women and slightly slack jaws from men. Star gave her cloud of hair a light flip as though she hadn't a care in the world. Now to find her real prey.

 

[BennyQ]

The Imperial Ball taking place above the radiant green and blue world of Vides was supposed to be an exclusive event, catering to the nobility, officer, and aristocratic class of fourteen major sectors of colonized space. It was located high in orbit aboard one of the Paradise-world’s many space platform, operated by the local rich and wealthy, with spacious chambers and halls decked in opulence and pomp. Here, everyone from technocrats to private military to industrialists who owned entire moons, and everything in between, would rub elbows, discuss new deals, and sip fine wines imported from Earth.

It was not Captain Trevjona Bevell’s first foray into such a function. A bloated museum of archaic tradition and self-importance, it was also a necessary gathering that pushed the boundaries of the United Earth Dominion’s controlled space across the Orion Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. Though, it was only recently that Trevjona would be announced as a singular entity among the grandiose list of names, rather than some adjutant or assistant to some other officer. And he had earned it. Fifteen years he served as a naval officer, straight to the Academy at sixteen, serving aboard capital ships by twenty, and soon acquiring his own command and vessel just two years prior. He was one of the youngest commanders in naval history to acquire the command of a capital ship, surpassed only by a handful of others.

The daughter of one whom was now in attendance, though Trevjona did not yet know it.

Dominion space was far too vast and far flung to be adequately governed by a centralized military, so that while officers and crew were trained in select academies, most of the patrol and garrison duties were distributed to the purview of local rule. Capital ships were constructed in vast foundries and dockyards by the ruling government of Earth, but they were in turn leased or outright sold to local rulers in various sectors, to be employed in whatever manner was deigned fit. Many commanders thus found themselves, if they could not purchase or own their own vessels outright, at the service of planetary governors and elites with little to no purview from the governing councils of Earth. Some were employed in honest, protective services. And others…were outright used as privatised military, used against whatever and whomever should cross the local governor’s mood.

Trevjona, with his familial “old-money” background, was one of the few commanders who not only owned his own vessel, but could also choose which contract he might take for his next term of service, for whatever sector or governor could appeal to him. That was the primary reason for why he attended this Ball above Vides Prime. Someone here would be offering to Trevjona and his crew a lucrative assignment to take for the next few years. Just…which one of these self-important aristocrats of the stars could appeal to him and his sense of…morality and honour. That pool seemed to shrink every year. Everyone was looking to carve out their own fiefs while making it seem like they still adhered to the Imperial friendship and cooperation between all human polities now stretching across this arm of the galaxy.

So far, after a hour at this abysmal Ball, the pickings were looking rather slim and terrible. He might just go into business for himself. Like a pirate or marauder. Not a few Imperial Captains went rogue every year, the Imperial propaganda machine decrying them as rebels and scoundrels, but the rumour mill within the Imperial Navy whispered quietly of dishonours done to them, unethical commands issued to them, or exhaustion with corruption by their civilian governments as the reasons cited for their betrayal.

Elegant music swayed down to them from unseen balconies above, the ceiling vaulted several dozen stories above, which on any space ship or platform would be considered a massive waste of space. But the elite and rich did not have that problem. In fact, they could even afford actual musicians, not merely robots or loudspeakers to source it in from elsewhere. The wine was claimed to be from vineyards on Earth but Trevjona could not tell the difference. And he was from Mars.

Trevjona was accompanied only by his Executive Officer, Cato Metelus, who like his Captain was dressed in a sharp dark blue uniform and black trousers. While at the Academy everyone had dressed in Imperial grey, once one was distributed to their distant commands essentially each vessel designed and operated it’s own uniform. This was merely Trevjona’s look, aboard his flagship, the Parthian.

The splendid and intricate doors to the grand ballroom opened and in entered another guest, with a woman in red upon his arm. Trevjona at first had his back to the entrance, engaged in conversation with some uniformed magistrates from the industrial world of Icroth. The magistrate was promising Captain Bevell all manner of upgrades and maintenance for the Parthian if he were to accept a contract for his Sector. ”…our technicians can work with anything, Captain. Even with a bucket of cooking grease and roofing nails!” The magistrate jested about the capabilities of his work crews, laughing boisterously and confidently.

”I have seen your crime stats in your annual report to the UED’s Justice Ministry.” Trevjona responded drily. ”Not a lot of space lane incidents in your Sector, Sir. What kind of work do you expect me to be conducting?” And he already knew the answer. Breaking up strikes, arresting trade unionists, overall just oppressing the masses so that they kept the continental sized factories running and operating at full tilt.

”Surely a man of your talent and experience might enjoy a few years off the front line. I know your father will appreciate it.” The Magistrate responded with an air of wisdom, with his various fellows and colleagues wagging their heads like it was the utmost piece of truth Trevjona would ever hear. Closer to the Core meant closer to high promotion. But it also meant…laxity. And softness. Soft living did not make a man.

”…thank you, Sir. I appreciate the words. Please leave your details with my Executive Officer. You know I must weigh up every offer I am to receive today but I’m sure yours will be the most enticing.” Trevjona said neutrally, gesturing to Metelus, and bowing his head respectfully to the magistrates from Icroth before he turned, and rolled his eyes so tiredly, and made his way to the drink table. It was his stalling technique. Sure, Metelus could take down all the information and terms of a possible contract but Trevjona was not going to read it. It was…too slothful. And it wouldn’t bring him anywhere near where he needed to be.

Trevjona, hands folded behind his back, and broad shoulders squared, made his way to the drink table to pour himself a much needed cup. He didn’t care for vintages and he stared at the server so very drily as a dozen fine sounding labels were read off. Any will do and a delectable red was poured into a fine glass goblet. It was then that he noticed another flash of red, so very nearby. Others were murmuring too at the woman’s beauty, of which there were not a few in the hall, but this one seemed to be making waves. And so, taking his cup, he raised it to his lips, and stole a peek.

And froze.

It was…her. Here. In this hall. At this party. No doubt planning some scandal or scoundrel scheme. What the hell was she doing here? Trevjona paused in the act of drinking and was immediately no longer thirsty. Did no one else see this? Did none of these rich fools know who was among them? She must be planning some…robbery, or attack. Well, it wasn’t going to happen on his watch. He put the untouched cup back on the drink table, causing the server to frown at the waste of liquor, but Trevjona ignored him and proceeded to walk in a roundabout way, to approach that woman from the flank and rear. Unseen.

And as he passed by the dessert table, in a swift sleight of hand move, he plucked a knife and held it upwards along his sleeve, concealed behind his arm. She was in a small circle, with an Imperial officer, and some other individuals. She got them all in huh? No checks or screening to determine who she really was? Outrageous.

What the hell was Captain Edessa doing here? And Captain was a far stretch of the label she truly was, pirate, criminal, scum… He approached from the rear, unseen, until he was a handful of paces from her, peering upon her back and ravenous hair. And then he spoke, announcing himself into her space.

”They just let anyone in here, don’t they.” He commented drily on her presence.

 

[LilGunner]

Arnold was as radiant as a star, no puns intended, as he strolled the room with his new 'date.' He simply couldn't stop grinning as Star held to his arm as they walked. Friends from the academy stared enviously. His grades and scores had been good enough to get him a commission, but he wasn't ever top at anything. Not until a chance encounter just outside the ball. As they moved he could feel the sway of her hips occasionally bumping into him, the softness of the side of her breast against his arm. She sure held close to him. All the better! They strolled by a drink table, each taking up flutes of sparkling wine.

"Cheers to you," Star said in a low purr, placing a soft kiss on the side of Arnold's head before clinking her glass against his. The boy turned as red as her dress, unable to stop grinning. "Yeah, same to you," he managed to reply. They walked some more, sipping the wine and talking. Star feigned absolute interest in the dull academy stories he had to tell. His small amount of time on ships and his flight simulators. She remembered those days well and let him talk. Star laughed when it was appropriate, obviously he was the funniest man alive. She gasped in excitement as he regaled her with tales. All the while her verdant eyes scanned the room. It wasn't long before she found him. Crisp, stately, oh so pompous.

Eventually she found herself in a small group. Two were compatriots of Arnold, the others business types of one sort or another. Star stayed quiet, happily playing the role of arm candy for her escort. His use was nearly finished. A sweet enough lad, she hoped his dreams wouldn't be crushed under the boot of imperial dominance. It would, of course, but she could hope.

She saw the men across from her raise their eyes, looking at something, or someone, behind her. When a voice announced his presence Star stilled. Not from fear, no, far from it. Her tongue ran along the line of her teeth, savoring the sound. How she did love to rile him up. Slowly she turned, just enough so she could peer around her cloud of hair. A green eye crinkled with a smile for the captain. She turned further, just enough to face him while still holding Arnold's arm. Her gaze drifted down to his toes, then back up to his eyes. She had to give him credit, he cut a fine figure. Shame about the personality.

"Captain Bevell," Star purred softly. "What an unexpected pleasure to see you here." For anyone else it sounded perfectly sincere. It was a pleasure to see him, but hardly unexpected. "If I remember right…I did promise you a dance, have you come to collect?" She turned to Arnold. "You don't mind, right sweetling?" The young man looked between Trevjona and Star. He clearly did mind but he quelled at the presence of a captain. "No…of course not," he said, trying his best not to sound dejected. Star leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Good boy." She put her empty flute in his hand and turned to take Trevjona's arm. "Smile my dear, you wouldn't want to cause a scene would you?" She said to him as she started leading him away to the dance floor.

 

[BennyQ]

She was standing with a plethora of young junior officers. Trevjona could not recognize their uniforms or heraldry, which meant that…they didn’t know. They didn’t know who Edessa was. Not from around his or hers Sector of space. She had those young, handsome idiots eating out of the palm of her hand most likely. How pathetic. He’d never be caught doing that! Right? In any case he outranked them, in more ways than one, and he was about to do them a huge favour. Nobody’s career was going to get wrecked over this. He’ll take care of this…She-Devil.

Trevjona stood rigid, hands, and knife, concealed behind his back. He watched her face, especially as her eyes roamed over his figure in that sultry way. Who said you could look? She always had a unique way of pronouncing his name. Like a feline predator savouring a fresh kill it felt like. This kind of dance was certainly not the type that had been promised, but he had the means of correcting that. He was just…so on edge. Furiously. But it was a cold, focused rage. He was so close too. So close to achieving his goal.

You don’t mind, right sweetling? She asked the clueless junior officer, who assented. Trevjona fixed him with a look and pursed his lips and shook his head. You helpless idiot. Good boy indeed. Then Edessa did a most strange thing. A…lady like thing. She stretched out her hand, expecting, like a gentleman, that he would offer his! Trevjona peered down at her hand, as if expecting there to be gadgets of mass destruction hidden under her slender forearm. And he only had a knife. He reluntanctly offered up his arm, discreetly transferring the knife in a quick sleight-of-hand technique behind his back, out of sight, to the other hand, while offering his dominant arm.

And together, they began to walk away, towards the dance floor.

He did not smile. He gazed at her the entire time she walked. This was the first time he had seen her in person. It was always behind a screen or monitor. And always the neck up. She had a wonderful side profile herself, feminine curves so outlined. He would have called her beautiful, if he didn’t already guess that she used her beauty only to cause distress. After a moment, pausing at the edge of the dance floor, he let himself scoff at her chiding.

”All the scenes you have caused and you’re telling me not to?” Trevjona reiterated. ”Maybe a scene is exactly what I want to cause. All these witnesses…this is one frying pan you are not going to get out of, Edessa.” He said, addressing her by her surname. Perhaps reminding her too, that she used to be like everyone else in here, and therefore…was a shame to his uniform and all of theirs. Or maybe because using her personal name would humanize her and make it harder to do what he was about to do.

Various couples swirled and danced before them. Men and women, men and men, women and women, there was no distinction. They were all free to indulge. And equal…in that they were the officer and aristocratic class. ”I take it you came here to enjoy one last soirée before you turned yourself in like a good girl.” Trevjona noted, a most miniscule prospect that was less likely to happen than the stars themselves changing hue. His boots remained anchored at the edge of the floor, not advancing with her to join the other couples. One of his arms stayed folded behind his back, in precise military posture. Holding the pastry knife.

”You obviously weren’t invited, and I don’t think you would have attended even if you were. You must have known how many people here would be gunning for you if they knew your identity. Yet you still came. Because…you’re up to something.” Trevjona reasoned out slowly, watching her expression closely for any hint to what that might be.