Confedon's Fury
Jincheon's transport ship moved steadily through the void, towing Kader's cargo freighter in its wake.
With the journey growing dull, Jincheon opened a channel and struck up conversation with Kader, trading idle talk about this and that.
What he learned was simple enough: Kader was a smuggler, and every scrap of cargo they hauled belonged on the forbidden list.
The Jotala crew had originally been meant to handle the run, but the unlucky bastards who'd agreed to move the contraband had been scooped up by the police. That left a sudden vacancy for anyone willing to take the job.
Word reached Kader just as he was hunting for work. Dangerous or not, something about the offer felt right, so he accepted. He hired a handful of mercs, flew into the Began System—and promptly got cleaned out, which was how he crossed paths with Jincheon.
"The real problem," Kader's voice crackled over the comm, "is that the Confedon bastards—who hate the Jotala almost as much as they hate breathing clean air—were waiting for us."
"Sounds like someone leaked the schedule," Jincheon said.
Through Kader he now had a rough picture of how the pieces were moving.
"Which means another ambush is coming."
"Uh… yeah… probably? Still, you've got the Gareld and laser weapons. How bad could it get? Hahaha!"
Kader was already fretting that Jincheon might jack up his fee after the fact, so he made a point of praising the man's firepower. The praise wasn't empty, though. In a lawless system every pirate outfit kept one last-resort trump card, but those cards were exactly that—last resorts, never meant for routine work.
The Gareld might be the most common mecha left behind by the Calsorn Empire, yet only a handful of nations across the entire galaxy could mass-produce anything near its performance. Out here it was effectively a strategic weapon.
The only real worry was numbers.
"The Confedon lot could have sent two or three times that force and finished us clean if they'd wanted," Kader went on. "The fact they only sent what they did proves the Jotala family is keeping them in check."
The two families were locked in a constant turf war; the Jotala's pressure had kept the rival strike team modest.
"Even if they hit us again, it won't be anything huge. At this speed we'll be inside Jotala space in about five days."
"Five days," Jincheon murmured. "Looks like things are about to get busy."
He fully expected the Confedon family to make those five days miserable—and the thought put a smile on his lips. More real combat had been one of the reasons he'd taken the job in the first place.
But the universe rarely cooperates with anyone's plans. Jincheon knew that well enough; still, fresh from his first genuine mecha battle and riding the high, his head was filled with nothing but the hunger for the next fight.
The Began System was littered with asteroids. Pirates routinely hollowed one out and turned it into a base. The Confedon family's rock—neighbor and sworn enemy of the Jotala—was no different.
Inside, however, the place looked unsettled. Lights flickered. Whole sections had been sealed off as if for demolition. Faces everywhere wore the same tight, hurried expression.
"Wiped out?"
Deep in the core of the base, a massive Kelkata male with four eyes and a triangular mouth spoke in a voice like grinding metal. His name was Confedon—boss of a family that lived on piracy, smuggling, and every other brand of illegal work.
"Yes, sir. They sent one final distress call, then went completely dark."
"You hear that?"
Confedon turned from the Bio Device report toward a smooth-skinned orange alien standing nearby.
"Uh… well… that is…"
"You said that force would be enough."
"There must have been some kind of mix-up! That smuggler Kader doesn't have the muscle or the money for anything like this!"
The orange alien was sweating, babbling excuses. Confedon had no interest in those excuses.
"And?"
"W-well… we should send someone to check…"
That was as far as the alien got. Confedon's mechanical arm shot out, clamped around the creature's skull, and crushed it like rotten fruit.
Crunch!
He shook blood and brain matter from his fingers and delivered the correct answer.
"You take responsibility. You go check it yourself."
Kelkata were prized as combat muscle for their raw power and toughness. Confedon was one of the rare ones who also possessed brains and leadership, which was how he had carved out his own territory. He looked brutal and cruel, yet if the orange alien had simply volunteered to go verify the situation, Confedon would have let him live. Kill a man for one mistake and no one sane would work for you. The alien died because he tried to dump the cost of his own failure onto someone else. A man owns his mistakes.
Confedon clicked his tongue at the corpse of the clever subordinate he had once promoted.
"Krrr. Smart ones never know how to take the fall when things go wrong."
"He never looked all that smart to begin with, Boss."
A handsome man with peacock-brilliant hair stepped forward, smirking at the body. He was Fertia—half bird, half human, the two halves blended into something striking. A thin cable ran from the back of his neck into his clothing.
"Jezer. Take your high-speed cruiser and strip those bastards of whatever they're carrying."
"Boss, the Jotala are already pressing hard. Isn't that pushing it?"
Jezer Golmon was both a solid commander and an outstanding pilot. With Jotala pressure this intense, pulling his cruiser out of the line might turn a standoff into an invasion. Even Confedon was taking a risk by sending him.
"Hnh. Those cowards won't move without certainty. And if they do, that's exactly why I'm sending the man with the fast cruiser."
Anyone who still thought Kelkata were mindless brutes only needed to look at Confedon. Their hide could shrug off hybrid-gun rounds; their strength could pulp most other races. Because their bodies solved problems so easily, they simply never bothered using their heads first.
"Once those freighters slip into Jotala space, our hands are tied. Hit them and pull out before that happens."
"Understood. Two days and I'll catch them. Hey—it's me. Everyone assemble. Now."
Jezer was already calling his personal crew on his Bio Device as he strode toward the docks.
A moment later the ceiling lights crackled, died, and flickered back to life.
"Damn it all."
Alone now, Confedon spat a quiet curse at the failing power grid.
"Hmm."
With the ship on autopilot, Jincheon sat in the lounge chair and scrolled through data on his Bio Device—personnel files on the Confedon family, everything Kader had been able to hand over. The information was common knowledge on this side of the galaxy, so Kader hadn't even tried to charge for it. The whole arrangement was only a verbal contract; if Jincheon decided to change his mind, Kader would be left drifting for the next pirate crew to scoop up.
Once they learn the ambush failed, they'll come harder.
Jincheon expected a second strike and was studying the officers who might lead it.
Whoever they send will tell me how valuable that cargo really is.
Something about Kader's job had felt off from the start—this was more than a simple delivery run.
The Confedon family was more martial than the Jotala, and their officers were famous for command skill. The most famous of them was Jezer Golmon. He captained a dedicated high-speed cruiser, yet his true talent lay in the cockpit. He usually left the ship to his first officer and took the field in his personal mecha, carving through battle lines like a blade.
That mecha was the speed-type Lexerei—a standard military frame torn down and rebuilt from the inside out for pure velocity. Specs were classified, but survivors' accounts put it somewhere between top-tier C-class and full B-class.
Other officers appeared in the files, yet only Jezer registered as a genuine threat in Jincheon's eyes. If Jezer himself showed up, it would prove Kader and company had stumbled into something far larger than a smuggling job.
Honestly, I hope the bastard comes.
From anyone else that thought would have been the arrogance of a rookie high on one successful fight. From Jincheon it was simple confidence. The Lexerei's impossible speed and spatial awareness made it untouchable to anything short of overwhelming numbers or an ace pilot of equal caliber.
Slurp… lick…
"Haa…"
"Mmm…"
Sweet feminine moans rose from between his thighs. Heliane and Calsira—both previously out of sight—were kneeling there, sharing his cock between them.
"We're going to be busy soon enough. Might as well enjoy the free time while we have it."
Jincheon dismissed the Bio Device screen and stroked both women's heads, guiding their service. They split his thick shaft between them, lips and tongues working in slow, greedy rhythm, already addicted to the taste. Their tongues lashed harder, more frantic.
"Nnh? Khh…"
Their eyes met. Together they targeted the sensitive ridge just behind the head, tongues flicking in perfect tandem. One alone he could have endured; both at once made his expression tighten, the easy control slipping.
They had learned, in the short time since discovering lust, exactly how to torment a man—how to build the pressure slowly, then hammer the weak points until he broke. Free moments had been spent fucking; skill had followed naturally.
"Coming! Take it!"
The command would have made no sense to anyone else. The two women simply gathered beneath his cock, mouths open, eyes closed. Heliane's extra arm— the one growing from her shoulder blade—wrapped around the shaft and stroked without mercy.
Spurt! Spurtrrrk!
"Hahnn…"
"Haaa…"
She angled him downward so the thick ropes painted their open mouths and upturned faces.
"Khhmm…!"
Even after the first pulse, her soft hand never slowed. She milked him root to tip until every drop was spent—half swallowed, the rest streaking cheeks and dripping to the floor.
Jincheon's seed carried something unique; both women felt it soaking not only their skin but their minds, pickling their brains in pure lust.
"Hmm… slurp…"
"Mmh… lick…"
They melted into each other's arms without a word, tongues cleaning the cum from one another's faces. A Zabalcan and an Orobece—natural enemies—locked together, licking seed from skin.
Jincheon watched the lesbian show and savored the aftershocks of pleasure.
I can't… I can't run from this taste…
The smell is pickling my brain…
Heliane and Calsira were drowning in the narcotic flavor and scent, happiness flooding them. Common sense and reason screamed that this was wrong; neither voice reached a pair of bitches already conquered by cock.
"Fuhhaa…"
"Hahnn…"
When every drop had been licked clean they stayed tangled, looking up at him with the eyes of females begging to be used.
Jincheon lifted Calsira and settled her astride his thighs.
"Kyaa…"
The heat and scent of his body against her already-overstimulated flesh dragged a cute little scream from her throat. Contact alone pushed her over the edge into a light climax.
No more words were needed.
Schlick!
"Hihyaaang!"
His cock—still rock-hard after climax—sank into her cunt, and Calsira's voice shattered into pure pleasure.
"Heh heh. I've already fucked this pussy raw and it still clamps down like a virgin. That's why I like Zabalcan women."
"D-don't say… embarrassing things like—kyaahik!"
Instead of thrusting with his hips he seized both breasts and bounced her up and down on his shaft.
Plap! Plap! Schlick!
"Haah! Nnhhaang!"
Her modest breasts deformed under his grip, soft flesh bulging between his fingers.
Still not enough volume.
Heliane was the same; both of them lacked the heavy, overflowing size he preferred. Scientifically their breasts were ideal—perfect handfuls—but Jincheon wanted more than a hand could hold.
"If you're going to raise babies you'll need bigger tits than these. Let me help."
"B-babies… I… aaang!"
He ignored her protest, one hand mauling a breast while his mouth claimed the other nipple, bouncing her hard on his cock.
No… my breasts… too sensitive…!
The cum high was part of it, but Jincheon was also pouring qi into her chest, lighting every nerve on fire.
Schlick! Schlick! Schlick!
"Aaaang! Fuhhaaat!"
Calsira lost again. She wrapped arms and legs around him in a lewd tangle and sobbed out wet, broken cries of pure pleasure.