Queen of the Sky Frontier - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Eden looked over the cabin of the late captain, impressed with the quality of the shipbuilding. It was a smaller cabin than aboard the Cacafuego, but the wood was new and deeply lacquered and well-polished, the brass fittings glowed, and - wonder of wonders - there was a bookshelf, albeit with only three books on it.

"Well," she said, looking at the bed. "At least he didn't leave many personal things behind. I imagine that would be depressing."

"More likely the men already looted it all," Zenobia said. She leaned down and tested the bed for spring, nodded to herself.

"Oh come now, why would they take the books?" Eden snorted.

"Toilet paper, little mouse, why else? None of them can read, like as not." Zenobia slung her bag on a chair, sat down heavily on the bed.

"Toilet -" Eden closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She held a finger up for Zenobia, crossed to the door and stuck her head out. "Bosun!"

The old, one-eyed bosun came in sight almost immediately. "Captain?"

"Please pass the word that any man caught using books as toilet paper will be flogged halfway to death by Zenobia. Any stolen books can be returned by piling them in front of this door in the night. No questions will be asked. Clear?"

He stifled a laugh. "Yes ma'm."

"Good, see to it." She closed the door and sighed. Pirates. She turned and saw Zenobia unlimber her bandolier of knives and hang it on a bedpost. Topless, with her back turned, Eden was left to admire the rich pattern of stripes down Zenobia's back - broader below the shoulders, narrowing as they scooped to her waist and then widening again lower down. Her golden skin was stitched by numerous scars, all of which made her even more tactile and irresistible.

"Are you camping out on my bed? This is the Captain's cabin," Eden said, unbuttoning her own jacket and hanging it from a chair-back.

Zenobia flopped on the bed and rolled on her swelling belly, worked her tight breeches down over her ass, wriggled them off. "I need your clever hands, ratoncita," she said. Naked, she looked like a pagan lust-idol carved from molten amber. She was all long limbs and sweeping curves. Her ass was wider than Eden's shoulders, her belly ample and ripe, and her already heroic tits grown even bigger as she advanced in her gravid state.

Eden sighed and undid her sword belt, hung it carefully on a hook beside the bed where she could get to it. Months of this life had taught her to always be prepared. She took the spare .32 and tucked it under the pillow in case she needed it, then unbuttoned her pants, worked them down over her hips, stepped out of her boots as she pulled them off so she could fall naked into the bed.

"It smells of him," she said, scooting over and running her hands over Zenobia's skin, that golden skin that was always so warm.

"Won't for long," Zenobia said. She took Eden's wrist and pulled her in suddenly, kissed her roughly enough that Eden felt her long teeth behind her lips. Her dark brown hair was a mass of braids like thumb-thick serpents caught with gold wire and bone beads, the streaks of blonde and red in it just made it look more exotic against her dark skin.

Eden let herself be pulled against her, rubbing their naked skin together. As always she was much more aware of Zenobia's swollen belly than Zenobia herself seemed to be. Despite being five months pregnant, she conducted herself as she ever did, fighting and fucking and drinking as much as she could.

Zenobia licked at her mouth as their legs rubbed together, squeezing and pulling as they rolled over, tongues sliding wet and eager. Eden ran her hand over the warm swell of Zenobia's belly and then down, over the softness of her mound and to the hot wetness between her legs. The tiger-woman was already slick and ready - she always was after a battle.

Eden sank two fingers into the slippery folds and Zenobia gasped, pulled her in close with an arm around her shoulders. Zenobia's thighs opened and Eden got herself angled right, pushed her fingers in deeper. It was a side-effect of her gift that she could read the twitches and motions of a person's body as if it were a language, so long as she knew the person well enough.

She knew Zenobia as well as she had ever known anyone, perhaps better, and so every movement, every slight flutter and breath, spoke to her clearly. They kissed more deeply, Eden flicking her tongue around in her companion's mouth, loving the flavor of her as she slid her fingers in and out, probed the places inside she knew Zenobia craved. With her thumb angled just so, she could rub against the tiger-woman's firm button as she stroked her.

Zenobia gasped, biting at her lips, eyes closed and her tits heaving as she squirmed. Eden bit her chin and panted. As always, she found it as exciting to administer pleasure as it was to receive it, savored the feeling. Zenobia clutched at her with almost painful strength, her hips working as Eden stroked inside her. Now fast, now slow, now harder. She knew exactly what she wanted before Zenobia did.

Eden rubbed faster, tasting her friend's breath, licking her lips. She felt Zenobia's climax coming a long way off and built it slowly, letting it grow and grow in steady waves. She felt the tension rising in every muscle, in the way Zenobia's brow furrowed and her breathing grew rough. Even the quality of wetness on her fingers told her what she wanted to know, and she eased her up along the edge until the tiger-woman's grip was so tight it was almost painful.

Finally Eden gave a hard stroke inside and pressed against her mound and Zenobia went rigid, clutched the sheets, and arched up hard, her belly heaving. Eden felt a gush of hot fluid across her wrist and then Zenobia howled like a wounded beast, her pussy clenching so hard Eden felt as if her fingers were being squeezed by a fist.

Zenobia held rigid for a long time, then sagged hard back to the bed, heaving, taking breaths in great gasps. Sweat stood out on her skin, making her look more golden than she always did, her face flushed beneath its golden shade.

Eden snuggled up beside her, nuzzled under her chin and kissed her neck. Zenobia stroked her back with one big hand, petted her braided hair. "Oh good, little one, very good."

Eden laughed lightly. "I keep getting better at that. I wish you could do it to me."

"What about your boy, Theo?" Zenobia said.

"No, we tried that. Theo's talent is all calculations and numbers and codes. He's even faster than I am at that. But it seems whatever lets me apply my ability to the real world is something he does not have." She stroked Zenobia's skin, cupped her heavy breasts.

"Well, I will have to do the best I can," Zenobia grinned, rolled Eden onto her back, pinned her there with kisses and her great soft weight. Her muscles under the padding were hard as iron, and it was very much like being topped by some kind of animal, which made Eden shiver when she thought of it.

Zenobia kissed her way down, nipping at Eden's stiff nipples, flicking her tongue down over her belly. Eden moaned and opened her legs, biting her lip in anticipation as Zenobia crouched on all fours between her legs and plied her long, rough tongue. Her breath was hot and Eden felt her teeth nudging as she licked up inside for the taste, then busied herself on Eden's tingling button.

A growling sound came from the back of Zenobia's throat as she licked, and Eden twisted her head to the side, bit a braid of her own hair and squirmed, rubbing her pussy against her companion's fierce mouth. She lay spread, heaving for breath, her hands bunching in the sheets as she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensations.

She remembered the first time they had been together, aboard the poor old Jackson. The wetness from the bath, the summer heat of afternoon as they rubbed together. Even after all this time she still thought back on it often, and it still warmed her. She held her legs up, Zenobia's tough hands sliding over her hips, pulling her down against her mouth. Eden hunched over, bit her lips, and came, her climax rippling through her belly and leaving her breathless. She sat halfway up, making breathless noises, and then she sagged back into the pillows, panting.

Zenobia sat up, wiped at her mouth and grinned. "There we go little one, will that do?"

Eden laughed and stretched, eyes closed. "I suppose it will have to." She looked up at the low ceiling with the exposed beams of steel banded across it. Steel, everything on these new ships was steel. So much stronger than wood, and so much less prosaic.

She nudged Zenobia's haunch with her foot. "Well, Belial is off, so you will have to start acting like a first mate. Get dressed and see the crew is ready to sail."

Zenobia snorted and rolled off the bed, for all the world like an oversized cat. She stood and stretched, then gave a mocking salute. "Aye, Capitain."

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Eden emerged onto the deck after a quick clean-up, dressed in her proper captain's attire with her long coat and high boots, Dire's sword belted at her waist. It was getting on toward afternoon, the sun burning down in the West behind a mounting bank of cloud. Eden sniffed and discounted the possibility of a storm, though they might see some snow.

The Cacafuego drifted off to the South, and Eden raised a hand to her as she mounted to the quarterdeck. She knew Belial would be watching. He wouldn't leave them in a strange ship until he was sure they were underway.

The Magister - class were not proper military craft, but rather intended as a heavily-armed corvette, with a single-hand helm and a great deal of modern automation. When she entered the helm she was pleased to see the controls entirely familiar, the whole enclosed in heavy glass to shield the pilot from the elements. There was a mounted spyglass and message tubes for lookouts to send sightings, as well as a compass and table for charts.

Eden knew within a few miles where they were. The wind was steady and she knew the drift rate from their original position. She didn't need to be exact right away, though she always was - she couldn't help it.

Zenobia stepped inside and took the wheel, tested the weight of it. "Spins easy," she said.

"Probably chain-assisted," Eden said. She took the throttle and pushed it up, set the engines to make turns for twenty knots. "It's the way of the future - soon you'll only need one man to fly a ship, even a big one. Everything will be automated."

"Where's the fun in that?" Zenobia said. "Which way?"

"Turn port until that says two one zero," Eden said, tapping the compass. "South south-west. We're for Bagdad."

"I know where we're headed, ratoncita," Zenobia said. The drive hummed beneath their feet and the ship began to move. Zenobia grinned as she started to work the wheel. "Quick to the start, I like it."

"Vethmann engines, I'll bet," Eden said. "Once we're underway I'll have to go look the engine room over, see what she's got down there."

Zenobia shrugged. "Go now, I can get us on course. Actually, you should check the whole thing over."

Eden shrugged. "Belial checked the stores and supply already. We'll need to take on water at Bagdad, otherwise we'll be fine." She patted the helm. "This is almost a brand-new ship, just run in enough to be reliable."

"And that worries you," Zenobia said.

"It does. It means the Union is paying more attention to us. That's not good." Eden turned to the table and hunted out a chart, spread it out and checked the heading. "Make that two one three, if you can."

"I can, this thing handles sweet as your culo," Zenobia worked the wheel with one hand. "You said the Union would not send another big entrada against us for years, that it was too expensive." Zenobia did not say it like an accusation.

"I did not think they would, and they may not. But that will only be true if we do not rouse them too much. The Brethren survived for years upon the apathy of Congress - the control of the nation is in the Northeast, and they could not care less about pirates preying on the West. The public may care, but that does not rise to a level that demands action, not easily." Eden looked at the wind dial, made a few mental adjustments to her course track.

"You mean the Renegades," Zenobia said.

"Partly, and Hood. I'm hearing too much about Hood, and if I'm hearing it, then so is the government. Over time, I could bring the Renegades back into the fold. Most of them had no personal investment in Dire's plan, they would come back eventually, but Hood is talking war, and that's a problem."

"He has Dire's plan," Zenobia said.

"I don't know," Eden said. "Dire had a solution to the same problem we have, it was a solution that called for a lot of killing, but it was possibly viable."

"What problem?" Zenobia said. "The government?"

Eden sighed. Zenobia was of a limited mind, she did not see the bigger picture, the long view. She wondered if there was any point in trying to explain it to her. Sometimes, even among all these rowdy corsairs, she felt isolated, alone with things only she saw.

"We are pirates and robbers and bandits," Eden said, looking out through the glass as the clouds rolled in. "Crime exists only in the absence of civilization, in the hollow places not yet filled, in the margins. We, the Brethren, the Renegades, all of us - we exist - we can exist - only so long as the full attention of that civilization is not turned upon us. If we stir up too much trouble, make ourselves too much a target, then we will be snuffed out."

Zenobia shrugged. "There are always outlaws, ratoncita. Somewhere there are always criminals, and there always will be. If things become too tight in one place, we will move to somewhere better. Governments and laws have always tried to squeeze out those who would live free, and they can never do it." She turned and smiled at Eden. "You worry too much. We have ships, and clear sky. We have blood and steel and fire. An outlaw can ask nothing better than that."

Eden laughed a little at that, but as she watched the clouds come in and cover the sky, she could not escape the feeling of dread. She felt the fragility of life, the slim line between fire and smoking ash, between freedom and death. The future was a mass of uncertainties and variables, and even her Experimental mind could not chart a course through it into a clear sky.

Continued in Chapter 6

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