Gay Erotic Stories

The starship Freeport Ranger shot out of its quantum translation gate at 20% of the speed of light. As her gravitmetric field flared to life,protecting the fragile crew from the lethal g-forces of deceleration, thetranslation gate behind her lost it's energies to higher dimensions ofspace-time and boiled away into the vacuum. Some 300,000 kilometers away, the planet Beta Draconis IV glittered like a jewel against the void of space's eternal night.

Beta Draconis IV was what all the stellar almanacs called the planet. It's inhabitants, and most of the rest of known space, called it Haven. As it’s name implied, it was a place for those unwanted, and in some cases wanted badly dead or alive, by other systems to set up shop and home. Possessed of extremely, sometimes unconscionably, liberal laws on production, commerce, gambling, and a host of other issues, Haven was incredibly harsh when it came to it's own welfare and independence.

It closely checked every incoming flight for signs of out-system intelligence operatives, and fiercely protected it's citizens' safety and liberties, sometimes with brutal force. The punishment for a large percentage of crimes was death. Of course, a great many things that were crimes elsewhere weren't crimes on Haven, and the populace being what it was, there still needed to be a mechanism for men of power to dispose of rivals and liabilities. Hence, the institution of registered dueling, and also fairly simple self-defense laws.

If the other guy started it, he deserves what he gets. The common trader had little to worry about from the authorities on Haven, and far more to worry about from his business contacts. The Freeport Ranger's crew, though, was anything but common

“Here we are, Haven…the home of cutthroats and system lords. Ash, plot us an approach vector, I'll contact station control for our clearance.”

“I'm probably the only free-trader Captain in the quadrant who's not his own pilot,” thought Dexter Logan. But then, none of the other Captains had Ash. Dex didn't mind being the operations officer on his own bridge, 'cause he still called the shots, and his crew's collective ass had been saved more than once by Ashley Garret's skills as a flyboy. Skills hell, he thought with love, the man's a fuckin' marvel.

“Let's try to avoid trouble on this run, guys. We can only hope they don't cross-reference our ID's outside the system.” The love deepened. “I'm lucky he's mine.” He thought. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he accessed the Ranger's external sensor suite and started running the standard sets of condition assessment programs. While they were gathering their data, he activated the ship's communications array, and as it slid out of its hull recess, targeted Haven's orbiting star port for a hailing channel.

As if sensing his friend's attention, Ash looked up from his console as Dex set about his job. “He's getting worked up over this deal, poor guy,” he thought. He grinned to himself. “I'll have to get Dex down to the ship's gym for a few rounds, work off some steam” They made a great team, he and Dex. The fact that they both loved combat sports, and each other, was just icing on the cake. His board signaled a navigation alarm to him, the star port having acknowledged their vessel's ID and docking request. A vector for docking bay EE-385 sprang up on his astrogation screen, and station control took advantage of the open comm channel Dex had left them to greet them in Haven's traditional style.

“Freeport Ranger, you are cleared for docking. Do not deviate from your course, do not attempt to deep-scan Haven or this station. You are required to log your on-board activities and transactions with station control. Any planet side business transactions are to be filed with the Guild of Commerce. You will be scanned for contraband, and the right to board and inspect is reserved by the governing body of Haven.”

“They're never going to get any nicer, are they?” wondered Cole. Cole Vaughn was the ship's weapons officer.

“And what're you grinning at, Ash? You're gonna have to stay on-board after what you got into here last time.”

“Hey, it's no sweat. I can use the time to train up my ground fighting game.” He grinned in Dex's direction

Dex didn't even look up from his board, though a smile was plastered on his face, “Well, you do need all the help you can get.”

“Fuck, you two, I swear...one of these days you're gonna land each other in the medical bay with some serious hurts on. What're we gonna do for command crew while you heal up?”

“Hey, you should join us more often, Cole,” said. “It's a tough galaxy, and we're in a tough business to boot, and it's not like you can just shoot the guy trying to beat your head in, not with personal kinetic shields and EMP-sinks. It's all hand to hand.”

“Please, Captain. I can take care of myself, training's damn well required for anyone who wants to sign up with you and live through the month. You two, though...I've never seen two men so into takin' a beating.” He gave it two seconds.

“Giving a beating!” the command crew said in unison. They were grinning like maniacs at each other.

“Okay, half a second,” Cole thought.

Freeport Ranger was within 2,500 kilometers of Haven's star port when she slowed to 1 km/sec. Arcing round the massive space station, Ash headed for a rendezvous with the docking bay assembly on it's far side. “Final RCS burn in six minutes, Dex. We'll match orbit with the station in another ten. Think we'll have time to refit the thermal-exhaust system while we're docked? It shouldn't take much longer than offloading our cargo, and there're some less than ideal ratings coming back from the diagnostic programs.”

“Yeah, we should. I'm kind of hoping we can get this run done quickly, though. We could all use some downtime, and this place isn't my idea of a vacation spot. We just dump our load, collect our fee, and gate to the nearest tropical planet, said Cole.

Dex opened the intercom to the drive bay. “Stuart, how fast can you maintenance the thermal exhaust system?”

“Well, radiating the heat we built up over the last couple gate maneuver will take about forty minutes, so call it two hours, maybe three.” Stuart Krauss was Dex's drive system specialist.

“Alright, that's plenty of time. Cole and Danny come with me to meet our contact. Ash, you and Jack can help Stu get the heat-dumpers refit. Once we've made contact and settled the transaction, Danny can start bringing the cargo pods down.” Danny Williams was the cargo handler. Jack Carrin was their lifesupport systems specialist.

“Do we have an extraction plan in case someone gets arrested this time?” Cole asked wryly. This was a pretty long haul, and our profit margin is too wonderful to hex with a government bite out of it.

“Well, I'm staying here this time,” Ash said, “So the only one's liable to get himself in trouble is Dex.” He grinned at his Captain and partner.

“Well, that's good then,” said Dexter. “If I do get picked up, you're still here to bust me out.”

Haven's orbital star port was a huge rotating cylindrical space station with non-rotating spherical docking bays at each end. Mankind had developed the technology of artificial gravity along with the Quantum Translation Drive and the host of other miraculous technologies that came with Science learning to map the wave function of the universe, the key to the lock of quantum cosmology.

In something as massive as a space station, however, the ancient method of using centrifugal force to simulate gravity was far cheaper in power and just as effective. The station's interior was comprised of a series of concentric shells, providing thirty levels of living quarters and commercial areas hundreds of square kilometers in area. The closer to the outside a level laid, the closer to standard the gravity. Each level was basically a city onto itself, with thousands of residents and transient starship crews.

The outermost level, with the highest gravity, the best view, and easiest (and therefore most expensive) access to the outside was reserved for the rich, and for the station's operational crew. The closer to the center the level, the cheaper and seedier it became. At the center were the power systems and bio-reclamation sections. Not deigning to travel through the less desirable elements of their habitat, the techs from Level 1 had direct access crew lifts to use when they needed to get at the hub for maintenance.

Two-thirds of the way down the cylinder from the “north” docking bay assembly, on Level 28, a small group of people in an unobtrusive residential chamber watched the arrival of the Freeport Ranger on a holoscreen that had a tapped feed from the station's security sensors. Two were Human, the remaining five were Voracites. Nearly 7 feet tall, and weighing 300 pounds plus each, the Voracites were one of the most physically imposing sentients in known space--hugely thick slabs of muscle and steely sinew flexed under their deep burgundy skin with every movement.

They were a very intelligent, technologically capable species, possessed of a fierce and cold brutality. They thought little of other species, and took no pains to hide that fact. Only the parity of technology, a nearly inevitable by-product of attaining star flight, that they shared with the rest of the galaxy's inhabitants kept them from hunting the lesser races for sport. And, in truth, by the Voracites' definition, most others were certainly lesser. The most important consideration for a Voracite was whether or not someone could best them in single combat. Very, very few could.

“They have arrived as scheduled, Frax.” The man who spoke turned to face the Voracite nearest him, the largest of them, and clearly their leader. “As I told you they would. There's no need for your constant threats and posturing, I'm a man of my word. Are you?”

“Take care with your words, Human. I am not a man at all, I am a Voracite Warrior, Alpha of my tribe!” Frax's eyes flashed. “All you have earned yourself with their arrival is the right to continue breathing--for now. After the mission has passed its point of no return, and your duty is discharged, you will have added to that the reward agreed upon when we began this.”

“Fuck, you're incapable of saying anything that doesn't smack of melodrama aren't you?” As Frax's bright green eyes flashed, the man held up his hand. “And before you remind me how close to death I am, may I remind you that now they have arrived, I am the only one capable of bringing this mission to it's successful conclusion! They're expecting me, and would trust no one else with this cargo. You can no more kill me now than I could take you in a fistfight, and you know it! And as for later...well...I've taken measures to insure my own success!”

He turned to face the screen again, and watched as the starship slowed to a stop, perfectly aligned with the docking clamps. The micro-newtons of inertia it retained were just perfect to bring it into contact with the clamps, and they locked down onto the contact Points. No need for corrections or re-alignments. That kind of piloting was not merely impressive, it was unheard of for a biological pilot. The Human was quite impressed. He sighed, “I'll almost regret the necessity to kill him.”

Having finally made it through Inspection, Decontamination, and Customs checks, Dexter, Cole, and Danny climbed into one of the large lifts that ran from the spaceport down to the habitat levels. “Well, at least we've bought Stu his first hour and a half,” grumbled Danny.

“Could be worse,” Dex said with a grin.

“How?”

“Could be raining.”

Cole chuckled, “You always say that...you know of course that it couldn't possibly rain in here.”

“Where the fuck did you get that from?”

“Only one of the greatest comedic minds of the second millennium. If you had any taste for classical media, you'd know that!”

“I'll leave the fascination with the arcane for you, thanks,” said Cole. “Okay, so tell me again why we're bringing seven hundred tons of highly common and unremarkable quartzite ore to good Mr. Collins.”

Dex sighed. He just ‘knew’ he was going to have to go through this at least once more. “Because, that highly common ore has been inter-phase imprinted with the quantum signature of the very uncommon and, on Haven, highly illegal metal, Vallidium, which they need to make their QT Drive cores. When they pass it through a quantum phase rectification chamber, the matter will reorganize itself into their new fortune.”

“Which can also be used to make quantum bombs, reality-graphics projectors, and a lot of other toys that span the continuum of morality and legality between them. Given Haven's demographics, I'm not surprised that Vallidium's totally illegal, despite it's many benign uses. And I know we're getting paid an obscene amount of money to bring it here because of it. But why? Why bring it eight thousand light-years across the galaxy? If they have the chamber to re-sequence it, why not just convert some of the material they already have. They could have a whole fucking asteroid of Vallidium if they wanted it!”

“You're right, I can't make sense of it either. Maybe they're trying to make an ally out of the group that provided the imprint, or maybe they have the QPR chamber but not the quantum signature of Vallidium. I don't know. But, we've scanned a thousand samples of the stuff in the Ranger's chamber, and there's nothing there but the signature for Vallidium. And unless they've gotten a sudden breakthrough in scanner technology, the local cops can't scan our whole cargo, just the samples they take. Now, we've been very clever, and all the samples they got were un-imprinted lumps of quartz. I'm sure the cops think we're shady, or at least crazy, but we're legal, and all we have to do is offload the stuff and collect our pay. Now, would you please not badger me anymore, or I'll be forced to shove you out the nearest airlock.”

“Okay, okay!”

So, this doesn't bother you at all, Captain. It is pretty weird,” said Danny.

“Oh, no. This bothers the fuck outta me.” Dex said, suddenly frowning. “We've gotta be sharp, boys. But, it's more money than we'll see in any ten other charters short of outright smuggling. I'm not about to pass it up.”

Cole and Danny exchanged a glance, and then Cole cleared his throat loudly, “Um, Captain? Technically, it is outright smuggling...”

Level 3 Commerce Zone B-24 Subsection 5 was one of the high-end market areas. Not top-of-the-range, but nice enough that it didn't need to go by the name of Level 3 Commerce Zone B-24 Subsection 5. It was instead called The Baron's Market. The Baron was a nearly legendary figure among the plutocrats of Haven's orbital super city, one of the first hugely successful Human entrepreneurs in the system, and his company headquarters had been in what was now the Market. His company's industrial stations were still in operation, up on Level 15, but were now owned by a multi-system conglomerate.

Dex, Cole, and Danny emerged into the neon holographic haze of the Market's main strip, an avenue fifty meters wide that ran right through the center of the zone, wrapping a quarter of the way around the stations' circumference. Advertisements for everything from starships to sex-slaves flared silently over their heads. Due to the tremendous crowding of the street's airspace, none of the advertisers bothered with sound.

“We're supposed to meet Collins at the Gemfire Bar. According to the address he gave me, it's two streets to the left, about a hundred meters up.” Dex set off through the crowd, his crew a step behind him. They were a common sight to the locals, a group of starship crewers on their way to buy something, or sell it. The crowd noticed enough to part fairly easily for them, though. Dex cut a powerful figure, for a Human. He stood 6 feet 2 inches tall, and 230 pounds of solid muscle. His baggy cargo pants hid thick tree-truck legs and meaty, muscled calves, but his washboard abs, thick bulging pecs and cannonball shoulders were on display in the tight grey t-shirt he wore, his massive arms and club like forearms bore a couple tattoos in ancient Earth tribal patterns. His dark hair, bright blue eyes and a lean face topped it off. Dex always led the way in crowds. He drew attention, and he knew it. He loved it.

Cole and Danny walked a step behind him, drinking in the sights, and, incidentally, keeping a keen but subtle eye for anyone tailing them or taking too much interest in them. Only in the company of Dex or Ash would they not draw attention in their own right. Danny was a redhead, with green eyes, a very light dusting of freckles, and boyish face. At 190 pounds and 6 feet tall, he had the lean hard body of a classic Thai kickboxer. Cole had light brown eyes and hair, a rugged face covered in a day's stubble, and a build in the proportions of Dex, though he was 40 pounds lighter and 4 inches shorter. Physical fitness was something Dex wanted in his crews, and the level of training they maintained built on that, to say nothing of the fact that Dex's love of contact sports and intense workouts usually rubbed off on everyone.

The group reached the Gemfire without incident, though Cole was pretty sure he'd picked up a couple undercover cops tailing them. They kept their distance, though, and didn't seem to be too keyed up. “Probably just wondering why we've brought a shitload of useless rock here,” he thought. Still, Dex's crew hadn't done anything illegal, and if later, after Collins' group used their quantum bombs, the connection was made to the Freeport Ranger, well…they wouldn't have to bring a cargo within a hundred light-years of here after this charter, if they didn't want toThey'd be bloody damn rich.

“I don't believe for a minute that they're building QT Drives,” he thought. “I doubt Dex does either. Still, Haven's a pesthole, and I'm not gonna lose sleep over what these guys do to themselves.” The cops didn't even follow them in.

As they walked into the bar's dim interior, a thin bearded man in a very nice and expensive business suit took notice of Dex and walked over to them. His head barely reached Cole's chin. Dex towered over the man. Quentin Collins extended his hand, and Dexter's engulfed it in a handshake.

“Ah, Captain Logan, a pleasure to see you again. Glad you made it in one piece, eight thousand light-years is a damn long flight.” He turned and gestured into the crowd. “Our table's waiting, I believe. If you'd follow me?” He started off. Dex looked back at Cole, who gave him the all clear. No ‘heavies’ were on top of them. They started off after Collins.

“The Ranger's pretty big, for a private trader. She's well equipped, too. It really wasn't such a tough flight.” Dex loved his ship, and got a little defensive when someone implied his baby was less than perfect.

“Don't be modest, Captain. There are a few other private traders the size of the Freeport Ranger--even some larger. And though I have no doubt she's got all the best systems, the fact is some starships never travel more than two thousand light-years from their home port, and most don't go more than five or six. You traveled eight thousand, and as far as I know, the Freeport Ranger doesn't even have a home port. You've really quite impressed us.” Quentin Collins smiled his most dapper and elegant smile, and poured them all a measure of the thick amber liquid from the bottle in front of him into the crystal shot glasses on the table.

Cole noted the label on the bottle. Southern Comfort Whiskey, bottled in 2110, at the original distillery on Earth--a 740-year-old bottle of booze! “Fuck me, this stuff's worth more than our combat spaceplane! Where's this guy getting his funding?”

Dex accepted the full shotglass from Collins, and held it in the air as though proposing a toast. “Well, on behalf of the Freeport Ranger and her crew, thanks for the compliment,” he said, and downed the thick liquor. He didn't even bat an eye at it. “Now, if we could get down to business?”

Cole gulped his own shot, and used a considerable effort of will not to wince as it scorched his gullet. He shot a glance at Danny. To the outside observer, Danny was as unaffected as any of them, but Cole knew his oldest buddy in the galaxy. The man was on the edge of spluttering. Cole fought down a grin.

Collins raised his own glass, and downed his bourbon. He sat the shotglass down and spoke immediately, without the slightest quaver in his voice. Cole was vaguely jealous. “Straight to the heart of it, eh? Excellent, Captain. We are ready to receive the shipment of quartz from you. We have a cargo bay secured for our use in the same docking sphere your starship is currently residing in. We also have a cargo shuttle if you are not in possession of one, though I'm sure you are. If it's amenable to you, we will inspect a random sampling of the cargo from each shuttle load, and if it meets our purity requirements, we'll transfer payment in full, plus standard hazard and shipment expenses, to your accounts.”

“You have proof of the available payment, of course?” Dexter asked.

“Of course!” Collins replied smoothly. He drew a Galactic Bank module from his suit and activated it. Dex drew his own and ran a query on Collins' module. Sure enough, the required 200 million credits were there, along with several times the amount.

“Normally, given how difficult it is to crack and simulate the Bank's encryption sequence, I'd accept this. But, this is a huge investment for us, and a huge payment, too. I'm afraid I'll need more than just a credit module that says you have my money.” Dex said. His eyes never left Collins'.

To his credit, Collins didn't blink. Sentients of many species had been known to whither under the fierce Logan gaze. “I had anticipated this difficulty, Captain.” He pulled another small device from his suit, and laid it on the table. It was stamped with the star port’s logo. “This is a government issued net-comm server, guaranteed by the Haven state. Its authentication routines are exhaustive and complex. Given Haven's paranoia of outside intelligence agency infiltration, and fierce protection of its independence and the rights of its 'upstanding' citizens, you have some idea of just how complex they are. You can run as many requests to whatever net addresses you like, through whatever links you desire, until you're satisfied of it's authenticity and security. Then, all you need do is access our account from the local Bank node through this module's data channel, and you'll see we're on the level. More and better proof I cannot give you.”

“Thank you.” Not for a minute inclined to take Collins at his word, Dex used his own net-comm to access the Ranger's flight computer, and had it run several thousand random address checks through the Haven net-comm. Once he was satisfied, he checked Collins' account again. The figures came back the same. “Mr. Collins, I believe we have a deal,” He offered his hand.

“Excellent, Captain. You may begin transferring the cargo, our people will meet yours at cargo bay RW-993. The station's infonet will have the location for you.” He poured another round. “Care to join me for a few more?”

“Certainly, thanks. Danny, head back to the Ranger and start getting the cargo offloaded. We’ll meet you back at the ship in a few. Have Stu give me a head's up at least thirty minutes before he's done with his overhaul.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Danny replied. He stood up, threw a wave and a wink Cole's way, and headed for the door. Cole didn't worry about him getting jumped on the way back, Danny was tough, and smart enough to signal for help if he saw something coming he couldn't handle. Cole turned his attention back to the table. He had to admit, Collins seemed on the up and up, and he really couldn't have provided them with better proof. He picked up his shotglass, and sat back to enjoy hanging with the big boys.

So why was he still so nervous?

Danny ran into only a little trouble on his way back to the Ranger. A couple of Garumens traders decided to relieve him of his valuables three sections away from the Gemfire. Or rather, attempted to relieve him. Danny saw it coming at least 3 minutes before they struck; he'd noticed one of them tailing him.

Ahead lay a narrow and rather poorly lit corridor leading to the lift lobby for the docking bay. At the moment, it was fairly empty. “Just my luck to be out walking around during happy hour,” he thought grimly.

Two-thirds of the way up the corridor, the Garumen waiting in ambush struck, leaping from behind a support pillar and attempting to clock Danny with a wild roundhouse. Danny stepped back smoothly, and when the large sentient was off-balance, grabbed his outstretched wrist, pulled the arm taut, and hammered a palm strike against the outside of the elbow joint all in a fast ballet of deadly force. The joint shattered, bone splintering with an audible crack. The Garumen screamed, and while he was occupied with that Danny stepped back and hammered a front thrust kick into the being's chest. Another snap of bone, and the muscled brute stumbled back a few meters and fell to the floor. He stayed there, whimpering quietly.

The whole exchange had taken only three seconds, and Danny turned to deal with the assailant behind him even as the first one was falling to the ground. However, he'd misjudged how much the other Garumen had closed in on him since the last time he'd had a chance to look back at it. As he completed his turn, expecting plenty of room to work, the hulking, low-browed mountain of blue-skinned muscle was right on top of him. The thing was at least as big and built as Dexter. Before he could step back and get some room to work, the creature snatched him up in a brutal bearhug.

Danny's breath exploded from him as the monster squeezed, its right hand locked around it’s left wrist, and digging into his spine. He could feel it's iron hard biceps pushing into his lats, and it's chest swelled against his straining muscles as it grunted in satisfaction. He started to see spots, and felt his ribs bending under the pressure. Grunting savagely, he slammed his head forward into the Garumen's face, pulping its Nose It screamed in pain and dropped him, stumbling back a couple paces.

Without even pausing to catch his breath, Danny stepped inside his assailant’s guard, and hammered one blow after another into its head and midsection. His torso protested fiercely, every explosive movement he made bringing waves of pain down his side, in his ribs, and his lungs burned like mad. He didn't slow down. Stepping back while the thing was dazed, he leveled a brutal kick at it's knee joint, and when it came crashing down to it's knees, he stepped back and brought a right roundhouse kick full bore into the thing's head. It's neck snapped loudly, and it dropped to the floor.

Danny slumped against the wall, gulping air in deep ragged breaths, letting the fiery tide of adrenaline ebb in his veins. The thing had probably broken at least two of his ribs, but other than that he was okay, so far as he knew. He waited and allowed his breathing to steady, then pulled his net-comm from his pocket. No way was he going to let Cole hear him out of breath. He keyed for Dex's comm.

“Danny, what's up?” came Dex’s voice.

“A couple Garumens tried to jump me near the docking bay lift,” he replied.

“You okay?” Dexter asked. There was concern in his voice, but not too much, and neither worry nor panic. He knew what his officers were capable of.

“Yeah, I'm fine, but I had to kill one of them, and really put the hurt on the other one. The internal sensors will show they jumped me, so I should be okay, but the cops are already on their way, I'm sure. You want me to hang around for them?” Danny asked.

“No, I don't want to delay the cargo transfer more than we have to. Log a notice in the cops' message-net to see me about the incident, and head back to the ship. I’m the Captain, I'll be responsible for your actions.” There was a pause.

“So, how long did it take?”

“I'd say about forty seconds.”

“Only forty seconds, for two Garumens? Impressive.” said Dexter.