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A Renegade Reborn

Pt12 - Cowboy

By H. A. Kirsch

--

"I hate this place."

That was Strake. I heard his voice from the 'kitchen' in the 'apartment'. I don't know why I'm couching that, it was a fucking kitchen. A nice one. A future space kitchen. Not only was there a sink and a stove and a refrigerator and a thing that sort of was like a microwave except it could basically do any kind of heating and flash-cool food, there was also a chef.

I got all gussied up in my Mafia Wolf attire since I was going to go out and find someone I didn't know. I blew into the kitchen and Marece was calmly having a cup of space coffee - actually, a drink called Nerak which I got some of from a pitcher as soon as I saw it. He wore his cargo pants, sandals, Hener stuff, and was completely ignorant of Strake.

Strake, on the other hand, wore his motorcycle chaps, his harness boots, his leather vest (he had a traditional biker vest) and fingerless gloves. Notice I did not say, 'pants'. No pants. Just big, black, floppy cannon-dick. Maybe eight and a half inches, but his glans looked like it wanted to explode out of his foreskin and I was reminded a bit of the rhino guy back on Daleon. He smelled like sex, and looked like he had a hangover.

So here's Mafia Wolf, Fuck Tiger, Male Lesbian Bunny Rabbit, and then a poodle in an apron that said 'I <3 Dogs' who was cooking something. "Who's the doggy?"

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I hate this place," Strake said, and didn't ask. "You love asking questions."

"Nah, you don't hate it, you're happy you fucked Marece until he burped tiger cum last night," I shrugged, and went to see what the dog was doing. Aside from eavesdropping, he was juggling between some chicken eggs and was that real steak? "Is that real steak? Like from a cow? Like an earth cow?"

"We don't raise cattle for no reason," he said, and wow, that was a real fucking Southern accent. I conjured up some prime sex feelings, and he just kept on cooking. "Y'all are a hoot, by the way. Like someone took the lil' bits of fun outta Bran an' threw out all the bad parts, then 'jus multiplied it like rabbits."

"I didn't hear that," Marece called out.

"Bless his heart, that TARE re-ject has th' soul of an angel."

"The fuck are you from, anyway?"

"Tennesee. I'm one of you blanks, from what I consider the Real Earth. I got a vibe on that dead-as-dust Bran, he wasn't jus' a weirdo Sel-nar blank, he was, he was bleached. They called it broken, I guess that's better. He was a skinbag who got turned to a wolf, an' that never goes too well. Maybe that's why he wanted to do it to everyone else."

"I hate this ugly fucking apartment! I hate space stations. I wanna be on a motorcycle and since they don't have those here, and I don't mean fucking jet-powered skip bike shit, I wanna be in a ship," Strake said.

"You ain't goin' nowhere 'till you eat up, big boy," the poodle said, and quickly plated up the breakfast steaks, then eggs, then some potatoes he removed from the super-ultra-microwave. "By the way, my name's Panko. Yes, like th'Japanese bread crumbs."

"Uh, hey, so why're you makin' breakfast, Panko? And... in our fuckin' apartment? Temporary apartment."

"I got a lil' drunk last night celebratin' the demise of our unfortunately awful arrangeur, an' came over here thinkin' I had to make his breakfast 'lest I play foot-stool in th'mud again. An' I found y'all and weeeelll, then I checked the news an' then I remembered an' then I made y'all breakfast anyway 'cuz that poor stripes looked jus' awful."

"I hate fucking faggots!" Strake snarled.

The poodle lifted an ear. "Then you bes' hate your self. Anyway, I was tryin' to say I was Bran's cook."

Strake chuffed, and then sipped from his drink, which seemed to be the same Nerak stuff me and Marece had. I sat down at the 'breakfast bar', and regarded my food. And the presented hot sauces, of which there were seven, and apparently two kinds of ketchup that were not bottled.

I gave the steak a try. Shit, that was an actual steak. And despite how thin it was, medium rare inside and seared properly on the outside. "Get your cranky ass over here and eat something. This dog's got it right. And we're not gonna stay here forever, although I might hire him anyway. This is just temporary."

"Until fucking what," Strake sat next to me. When I say he stank like sex, I mean it. He also stank like body odor, and just a bit of blood. I'm not sure he showered the previous day after the events.

"Until I figure out what I'm gonna do here for real, and then once we start going around finding people to help me do it."

Strake picked up the steak with his fingers and took a big bite. "Jesus christ, you're really fucking human," he groaned towards the poodle, and quite disgustingly ate his entire meal as fast as he could get it off the plate and into his skull-crushing mouth. Marece was more demure, and also didn't like the steak at all. He did, however scramble his eggs into the hashbrowns and dumped in various diced vegetables set aside for it. I ate his steak.

"Marece, you're awful quiet."

"I was going to politely announce that yes, in fact, Strake spent the night in my bedroom. And then you very disgustingly explained it. Also, you listened in on us fucking and stole his awful description of how freakishly copious his orgasms are."

"You a Hener, sir?" The poodle said, and had his own meal on the other side of the table next to Marece. "You don't have one of them Ruskie accents."

I cut in. "So I'm not the only one who thinks they sound Russian. Speaking of Hener..."

"Yes, I'm one of those, of course, how else would I... formerly work for TARE." Marece scowled at him. For a lapine, he really made faces. "I pride myself on very thoroughly knowing common English. I worked extensively with... people who only spoke CE. And, in case you're wondering, my Hener faith is why I spent last night pinned underneath a battering ram with white stripes."

"I'm white with black stripes," Strake grunted, and then burped. Then he swallowed. "Steak. Now you try it."

Varius appeared, shirtless, and smelling of WoundTac. "Tally was insistent," he said, and checked out his own food. "Human food," he said, and cautiously tried everything.

"Okay, where's Mike, we gotta take a group selfie," I said.

"Is that the fox who doesn't shut up?" the poodle asked.

"As opposed to the wolf who doesn't shut up, yes," Marece said.

"Oh he's so cute, I thought he was gonna run up the wall. He had somewhere to go, he was meetin' someone. He ate one of those pre-mades. He said he likes 'em anyway. I said well we can't all be saints."

"Saints usually do shit like get stoned to death or crucified or bled or something," Strake growled.

"Ain't that the truth," Panko sighed wistfully.

"Anyway, I'm off to meet someone myself. If I can find him. If he exists. Thank you for the food, frenchie," I gave Panko a slap to the shoulder, and then left before any more sarcasm could be fucking poured all over the floor. I was about to fuckin' slip.

--

The village was strange. It was laid out the way that a theme park would be laid out. It felt like it was made to look like a place, not that it was actually a place. The buildings weren't particularly old - like I said before, it wasn't really an Old West town - though it looked like it was engineered to be bedraggled. A real close look at a beaten little fence around a garden showed that it might have looked like it was plucked out of some Late 20th Century USA Number One town, it was extremely sturdy. If I tried to kick it over, I'd have broken my foot.

Nonetheless, people actually seemed to live and work there. There were children. And, it's hard to express how important this was, people wore cowboy boots and cowboy hats. Sometimes.

The center of the town was actually the most modern, and out at the edges where one left to go off to the farm area, it looked more rustic. There were single-family houses, a few scrapyard sort of machine shops, and then a dumpy-looking place called "Jim's Ol' Shack". It featured an animated neon sign of someone in a cowboy hat drinking out of a boot.

I walked inside, and as much as I wanted it to be some kind of creaky saloon, it was really more of a checkered-tablecloth barbecue diner. The bar counter was as food-friendly as it had beer taps. The menu was one of those black and white letterboards where the letters were always uneven, and half the menu items were phonetically spelled in TIL. The liquor behind the bar was partly identifiable and partly shocking neon colors - for whatever reason, Selnari and Tark intoxicating beverages tended to be flagrantly weirdo colors.

The person at the bar was a woman, definitely not a Jim, and to my absolute shock and horror, a regular bare-skin human. I had not seen a single one so far.

"You're looking at me like you're thinking, I better call the cops," she said, while tidying up. A few other people ate at tables and one down further at the bar, all Selnari, all oblivious to me and her. "Big-shot."

"You haven't even seen my gun, how do you know I'm a big shot?" I said, and used my Brooklyn Welcome turnout gesture. "You're probably thinking, what's that new fucking wolf coming here for? Well, not for breakfast. I already ate. That shithead former guy has a chef that comes with my apartment."

She looked so unimpressed that it hurt.

"It's temporary. They stuck me in his apartment for an easy place to stay. My name's Hawk."

"I know who the hell you are, everyone does. And honestly, if people around here act like they don't care, that means they love you. If they act like they do care, you're fucked, and it goes downhill from there. And I can really tell you're an Earth blank because you aren't shitting your pants seeing me. We occasionally get newcomers, and they all lose it. You're not supposed to be there. I'm not supposed to be anywhere and if I'm gonna be anywhere, I might as well be here on a station that basically everyone forgot about. Now order something. I'm not talking any more unless you do."

"Oh yeah?" I said, and sat down at the bar, and didn't order.

I sat there for fifteen minutes. I timed it in my augment display. She ignored me. I counted it down to the second.

"Alright," I said. "It's fuckin' early. Can you do a bloody mary?"

"You want it full of all kinds of stuff? Or just strong?"

"I want breakfast in a glass," I said, then readied my hand over the tap point. There went fifteen credits. "That's a little steep." On one hand, it was expensive. On the other, it was laughably cheap based on prices for things I'd seen recently.

"You wanted it fancy," She shrugged. She was surprisingly fair skinned, freckled, and had red-rooted blond hair that she mostly pulled back. She wore a red-brown leather jacket, a blue fabric shirt, bluejeans, and cowboy boots. I actually leaned over the bar to look. "Don't get any ideas."

"I'm as queer as they come," I said. "I was looking at your outfit. If I didn't know I was in space because I can feel the gravity scraping my protons, I'd feel like I was taking a pit stop in the middle of a long drive through somewhere I'd rather not stop."

"I'll take that as a compliment. This place doesn't look like this because we want it to. It looks like this because it's built to look like this, made out of plastic titanium or whatever, and Bran never gave anyone enough money to change it."

"You're a tough tit. That's nice. Also, you have cowboy boots on. And off this station, no one does. In fact, you can't buy them anywhere. I went to a very, very expensive place on Corrin Station and they couldn't make me a cowboy outfit. They made this, though."

"Aren't you fancy," she said, while preparing my drink. Despite the tough banter, she was going all out. I could see chunks of horseradish.

"Hey, I own a space station now. I gotta look like it."

"It's definitely an improvement over the last guy. He was all business and all the wrong kind of business." She sighed as she turned around and presented me with the drink. It even had one of those irritating plastic stir-straws that you always drink through and always wonder why you bothered. "So what's next, you're gonna kick us all off here and turn this into a casino or something?"

"Nah, you get to run the casino," I laughed, then coughed. Tabasco. Bacon. Bleu Cheese?! "Seriously, this is actually good. Why did you make me an actually good drink? I'm an asshole, I'm a wolf, two things that the previous big cheese was, and I come in here staring at your ass, though really I was staring at your boots. I don't think you understand the amount I like your boots and don't care about your ass."

"Because you're a fucking new person and you're fun, also, you think I'm gonna make a shitty drink for someone who bought this station?"

"I didn't buy it. I was gifted it. That's even better. I think Harley Benson, the real owner, wanted me to clean house. Me. I use foxes as floor swiffers. Nah, actually, my security guy slash pilot did the dirty shit. I'm giving it a few days before someone out there realizes that we killed Bran Horek. Look. I can talk about this stuff all day with everyone I walk up to. I'm actually looking for someone."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Good way. I don't know who it is, though. I mean I don't know their name. All I know is they're on this station, or at least were ten years or so ago."

"And you came into the bar because you watch a lot of movies where you go into a country bar and the bartender knows a lot of stuff. Or video games. Trust me, I played a lot of The Last Gunslinger."

"Shit. That was based on the movie, "The Gunslinger", right?" I perked up everything that could perk.

"That movie was a hoot! It was like softcore porn! It was like a gay leather porn movie, except there wasn't any sex, and everyone was dubbed into English from Italian or German. Some weird class I took in college studied it. I wanted to make movies. Then, I got into the wrong crowd and we decided to check out the STEZ. Oops." She caught me looking impressed but mostly suspicious. "That's right. The migration. I'm from where you're from. At least they didn't screw my brain out of my head by turning me into a gerbil or something on the way here. And now, I'm the morning shift bartender in some pirate cattle ranch on the other side of the galaxy. So who's this mystery man?"

"A cougar. He dresses, or dressed, like a gunslinger. If I believe my friend's tastes, we're talking just like the movie you and I were just talking about."

She looked pensive. "Are you for real? I mean, are you really the new owner, and you're really not some sort of nightmare-fuel slaver torture-freak?"

I shrugged. "I'm gonna try my best. I got the Hener Consulate pulling some strings to get the 'ship blanks' that Bran brought in, taken off this ship, and put into refugee status. That's good, right?"

She gawked.

"They even promised not to 'look into anything' while they were here. I don't know what there's to look into, but considering it went through TARE, they kinda specialize in looking into stuff. So why are you pushing? Not like you don't have reason to doubt me. I doubt me. All I wanted to do was fuckin' not die in some sun-explosion or whatever. You wouldn't believe what's happened to me since I got thawed out. You wouldn't believe what's happened to me since yesterday morning. So. Do you know this cowboy cat guy?"

"Alright. So you know how there's the ranch? There's also a farm, kind of on the other side of it. It's not the same as a regular Earth farm, it's all vertical farming stuff. Anyway, there's a zone kind of in between there and here. When you get there, it'll look like this sort of sandstone desert kind of place. There'll be a house tucked away in there. The guy lives there and his name's Dwayne. He's not very friendly. However, he makes unbelievable high quality leather stuff. Tack, clothing, accessories. Rich people like riding horses even if it's, you know, space. Plus people even buy it as far away as on Erex and stuff. If anyone's going to make you cowboy stuff, it's him."

I slurped the last of my actual drink, and then proceeded to eat through all the stuff. "Well, thank you very much."

"Don't mention it. By the way, I didn't give you my name on purpose." She then turned away to bus my glass off into the sink.

--

I walked clear across the village, and realized that I had no idea how to actually get where she'd described. Not only that, but after walking across the village, my feet hurt a bit. It was big. It was designed to feel country cozy but it was also large enough to hold way more people than apparently lived in it.

My augments weren't much help. Something seemed wrong, not so much with them, but with whatever let them hook up with the station.

["Hey Neer, can you get this?"] I tried contacting the doberman who, while supposedly my assistant, hadn't popped up yet.

["Hawk! Sorry I'm not there! I got some really excited messages from Mike, the fox who's with you? He wanted to see some of the trial area. Having any problems?"]

["I can't seem to get a map of the station and I'm trying to find this guy who's kind of living in this desert spot. At least, that's what the lady at Jim's told me."]

All of a sudden, I was looking at a blackout zone and a 3D representation of Neer with Mike next to him. They were in a completely different-looking area to where I was. Mike was frantic with glee. "Hawk? Is that you? This place is incredible! I was kind of shocked yesterday after, you know, the killing stuff. And I didn't really pay attention. This is amazing! This place I'm in is like some kind of ghost-town Neo-Tokyo cyberpunk place!"

"That's pretty impressive," I said, and I got to see them sweep away and get replaced by a view of the 'city'. It really was something. Ooh. I'm getting an idea, but I also need to get where I'm going.

Neer spoke next. "Yeah, there's a big computer problem here, actually. Bran screwed everything up to keep people from finding out about all the indents that came from your rich people ship. I'm already trying to find some way to fix it. I think, unfortunately, that there's some security software that's secured with a bio-cipher. And we uh, kind of already destroyed Bran's body. Also, he was dead, which tends to ruin them."

"They burned him on a pyre! It was crazy," Mike said. "I'm going to try and help Neer, too, but I'm not the best computer geek. I know that's funny cuz I'm a computer geek for a living, I mean, but that was Earth stuff. That supercomputer thing that could simulate the entire planet's weather system? It's like a pocket calculator compared to this stuff."

"Okay. Well, so how do I get to... it's this guy, Dwayne's place."

"Aha! Where are you, show me your visual feed..." which I did, "Okay. So if you go a little into the farming area, you'll probably run into this guy named Bison. He's unmistakable, because he's a mouse. He also never wears a shirt and always wears coveralls and a straw hat. He looks like a country boy. Just tell him Neer told you to get him to take you to Dwayne, and he'll do it. Anyway, we gotta go!"

He hung up, and I looked around. This was the exact opposite of Daleon. Daleon had public transportation, tons of people, and basically you could find out anything about anyone or anywhere at a moment's notice. Here, on Datix, I had to 'go talk to a mouse about going to see a cougar'. That sounded like a recipe for cartoon hijinks, or a vorearephila porno plot line.

--

Neer was right on the money. I started to wander into the farming area, and someone came out of a building and wandered right up to me. A mouse, in slate coveralls, no shirt, rubber mud boots, and a straw hat.

"You the new big guy?" He said.

"You know how to find Dwayne?"

That was the extent of our conversation. He had one of those ATV things, except unlike Neer's, it looked like it was about to fall to pieces. We got in and he drove me around at an alarming speed with seemingly little regard for whatever we drove over. If the vehicle could technically handle it, he just went blam right over it. That probably explained the condition it was in.

He didn't try to talk, and I smartly decided that meant I shouldn't, either. If I'd walked, it would have taken all day, mostly because I would have gotten lost. My sense of scale was still screwed up - we were going at least a few miles, and while each zone was laid out reasonably, the tunnels that went between them seemed inscrutable. I got a queasy feeling that perhaps things were packed into the station - the asteroid - however they'd fit, and not all on the same plane. Maybe we were upside down compared to where we just were five minutes ago, that kind of thing.

We finally arrived in a place that could have been somewhere in Nevada on Earth. Exactly as described, we were in some sandstone formation. "You see that rock there? Go there, and go left. Just left like you're turning around." Despite his appearance, Bison had a very deep voice and the sort-of-not-really Dutch accent that most Selnari tended to have. Definitely not some Earthen twang or urban swagger.

"Thanks," I said, but he was already driving off. So, I walked. I had very expensive, fancy riding boots, and they were Hollywood hayride dusty by the time I got to where I turned. To the left, a bit of a sandstone tunnel. Another maybe twenty yards, and I emerged into a clearing containing a village-style house with a workshop behind it. There was also a spot on the wall that looked like rock with an outline, and my augment display clearly told me was: ["MAINTENANCE CORRIDOR ACCESS - STAFF ONLY"].

Wait a minute. I had to do this weird-ass thing to get here, and there was a fucking door_right next to this guy's _house? I walked up onto his creaky wooden porch and banged on the door.

A long few moments, and I could hear boots clomp up to the door before it pulled open. There stood a cougar in spurred boots, leather riding pants, vest, denim shirt, and a brown leather hat. "I didn't want anythin' to do with that other wolf, and I don't want much to do with you, either." Then he slammed it in my face. This was a regular sort of house door, not the powered pocket ones on a ship, so there was a nice little gust of air against my whiskers.

I just stood there. For five solid minutes. Finally, more boots and then the door flung open. This time, he had a shotgun. "Bein' stupid makes me want less-"

I grabbed his gun. I'm not sure if I wanted to pull it out of his grip, or use it to shove him, or just do something even stupider. Either way, what happened was he just stood there, confused, irritated, and his tail whumped against the door. "I don't know shit about country etiquette but I do know that about ten years ago, a friend of mine bumped into you, and he told me just recently that you know cowboy stuff. Like what you're wearing. And for a wolf like me, that's really important. I see people around here like that. I don't see anyone else anywhere in the galaxy."

Like every cougar ever since the dawn of time (or at least since they evolved from whatever sabretoothed furball cats came from), he frowned at me. "Let go of my damn gun."

"If I let go, don't shoot me. I already got shot recently and I don't wanna get shot again."

"In your little shoot-out with Bran and his cat brigade?" He had a Southern-ish accent, though it wasn't exactly identifiable. Not nearly the salacious homosexual mess that Panko the Poodle used.

"No, but it's not an important story if you don't wanna have anything to do with me."

He sighed. I let go of the gun. He took it back. "Come on in, I guess."

His house was spare inside, at least in the living room. Now that I could get a better look at him... damn. His boots were knee-high, stovepipe, brown leather with a square snip toe, and a very real set of riding spurs with a tooled strap. His pants were jeans-style, a lighter tan color, and they looked seriously sturdy. His vest was tooled like the spur strap, and when I leaned in a bit, I could see that in addition to the typical filigree and knotwork, they featured some prowling cougars hunting a deer. He also had a revolver in a bullet gun belt. "If you're wearing a gun, how come you grabbed a shotgun?"

"If you jus' bought a space station, what are you doin' in my house? I'm nobody."

"Nobody with a real nice pair of boots."

"Looks like you're one of those, too. Yours are all dusty. But I can tell..."

I looked down, lifted the toe of one. "It adds character. I'm not kidding. I always used to think, if I could have just one outfit - I kinda collect outfits - it'd be a gunslinger. All leather. So what happens when I illegally buy my way off my supposedly dying planet? I end up getting unfrozen five hundred years into the future in another dimension where there aren't any cowboys."

He gestured for me to follow him again. "How'd you get shot?"

"You ever heard of Xyrex?"

"Pirate wolf guy. Red and black stuff. Records himself tossin' up ships for the attention."

"He boarded my ship and shot me, so I shot him back."

He laughed. "We're goin' into my workshop. Try an' keep your jaw in your head an' your dick in your pants. I don't do that kinda stuff anymore, not for a while. Not since... back wherever the hell I got turned into a cat really was. I'm not from where you're from but I'm not from this place, either."

We went out the back door of his house, across a few more yards of shaded desert, and entered into what looked like a big metal pole barn. Perfect for your big lawn equipment, your extra cars that mostly run, or your cannabis grow-op.

Or your fucking leather clothing factory. "What the fuck do you mean you're nobody," I said, and looked around. It wasn't just cowboy stuff - it was everything. About a quarter of the space - about as big as his actual house - was some sort of showroom, and if you could make it out of leather, there was at least one of them. Hener harnesses and Shadows masks, leather clothing of various persuasions, boots, gloves, bags, belts, gun-belts and holsters, saddles, bridles, wallets, watch-bands.

While there was a big variety, about half of it was cowboy stuff. Rodeo, wrangler, rustler, and rapacious outlaw gentleman. I peeked out into the rest of the place - it was all workshop. I knew a tiny bit about leather craft, and all the usual suspect equipment was around, not to mention tanning racks and all sorts of storage. There was also a bunch of machinery. I would have pegged one of them as a computerized mill of sorts, another as some sort of laser or water cutter, and a sewing machine that looked like it sew the ground back up after an earthquake.

"I jus' got into this work, kind of as a tribute," he said, and moved to the front of the showroom area, then sat down in a leather chair. It looked old; I wasn't sure if he made it. He gestured to a painting. It wasn't the best painting in the world; there were two cougars, one identifiable as the guy across from me, and another who looked... maybe boastful. They both had weapons; the other cougar had a crossbow, whereas the one in front of me had a rifle. "Crossbow guy was Zeke, I'm Dwayne."

"Hawk. Nice to meet you."

He sighed. "Zeke was a glorious dumb-ass. Got an arrow right through his head into a Rock Tarak, from the human guy we were runnin'. That guy was no good. Took him to get him broken after that. Then I gave that whole thing up. Zeke was real into this cowboy stuff for the fun of it. Like he always had his gear on when we fooled around or rustled someone up. I needed somethin' to do, and got into makin' it. I didn't think much of it... an' then I just kept goin'. Now I look back and think, damn, I enslaved people, I took them to get their brains screwed outta their heads." Then he slapped the arms of his chair. "Alright. You know what you want?"

I felt overwhelmed. He sounded legitimately sad - it seemed like everyone who either went the long way around or was from that intermediate other-Selnar for some reason, had a really bad time. I also knew what I want, and abruptly felt stupid for asking for it. "Are you from Earth?"

He twitched his lip. "I am, I don't remember it. I was about thirteen when, I guess I got catted. I must've been from outside the wasteland."

"There any human stuff like movies in here?" He nodded. I leaned forward. "You ever hear of The Gunslinger?"

He leaned forward, too. "You wanna look like Karl fuckin' Moller." Karl Moller was the lead and titular actor in The Gunslinger. It was a sort of classic melodramatic dusty western about vengeance. It was also directed by an Italian gay BDSM porn director who wanted to break out of just doing porn. There's a famous scene when the gunslinger - a black wolf, although not as black as me, one of those charcoal-y ones - ties a bull guy to a chair with all kinds of leather straps and rope, and then shoves his long-barrel hunting revolver right down his throat. The first time I saw it, when I was fourteen or something, I immediately rewound it and watched while jerking off until I came. That was the beginning of the rest of my life. The whole thing was nuts; the foley artist leather creaks were like that ASMR shit for kinky men; the cinematography was like these glorious closeups of gear and panning shots of spurred boots and stuff; and the outfits.

"I wanna look better." I drummed my gloved fingertips on my chair arms. Dwayne stared. I picked up one of my dusty riding boots and crossed it onto my knee. Dwayne also stared. He stared the way that a pet housecat stared out the window at a bird. I half expected him to chatter. "I wanna look like Karl Moller played that wolf out here, in fucking space."

Dwayne lifted both of his eyebrows and purred. "I still think I don't want anythin' to do with you. However, I wanna do what you jus' described."

"How much?"

He shrugged. "You own the station, right?"

"Don't fucking play that game, just charge me. There's nothin' special about me, I'm just a fuckin' wolf with a big mouth. I just really want this and I'm fuckin' excited to find someone who can do the thing I want."

"I'm gonna do a brown outfit and a black one. Kinda different. You're real black an' I'm sure you love black leather, seein' as you're wearin' it. Sometimes it jus' isn't what you want. And I'll save you th' trouble of comin' back goin' I wish it was brown, I look like an' ink spot."

"Oh, the hats. The hat band has to have fox teeth in it."

He lashed his tail. "Like the lil' cute ones that run around in a field, or the big ones that walk an' talk an' have families."

"I dunno, can you get the big ones?" He gave me a dirty look. "I don't mean go kill foxes or somethin', maybe you can get them from dentists, maybe go grave robbin', I don't care. They can be fake, they're just... the point is that they're fox teeth, not that they are actually from a fuckin' fox."

He sighed and nodded. "You ever been measured up for clothes?"

I dug around in my augment stuff. Apparently, that Corrin place scanned me and gave me back a tailoring dummy of myself based on my body scan or whatever. Or maybe it was from when my augments were programmed so they could make a virtual avatar of me. Five hundred fucking years. "I got the thing you want. Lemme send it over." I did the stupid 'flick' gesture to send it to him.

"Alright. It's gonna take about a week. Either that sounds short or long or jus' about right, it is what it is. I'll let you know about the pricing later, since you wanna pay an' probably can pay whatever I tell you. And... look, you can go in that door outside to get outta here. I don't like people coming and going there. I'm out here for a reason. I guess I oughta extend a courtesy to Mister Big Shot Wolf."

Outside his shop and house, I contacted Neer. ["Hey, assistant. Time to act like one and pick me up at the maintenance door next to Dwayne's house."]

["Uh, he won't like that."]

["Look, I'm a charming wolf. Look what it's gotten me. It's got me owning the fuckin' floor under your feet. He says it's fine. And you should have told me it was there."]

About fifteen minutes later, an alarm sounded and the door opened. No wonder Dwayne didn't want people using it. Inside were Neer and Mike in the business ATV. I climbed in.

Mike was all smiles. Look at those fox teeth. "Hawk you have no idea what I've seen, did you see 2001, do you remember when the guy goes into that obelisk or whatever and there's all that colorful shit and his face is just all screwed up differently each time you see it like he's losing it? That was me." He practically climbed all over me leaning forward from the back - Neer had him sit back there so I could sit up front.

"Actually, I'm kind of surprised too," the dog said, as he drove us into the maintenance tunnels. "I've already managed to undo some of the stuff Bran did that wasn't too secure, and he had huge areas of this station inaccessible. I kinda hope he didn't do weird stuff in them, but they seem empty. He was a bad guy, like he did bad stuff."

"Oh I know how bad it was," Mike said.

"Yeah, you told me, part of me wanted to see those videos, part of me doesn't think anyone should ever, so I'm glad you deleted them." Neer turned back to me. "I always knew what the station was for at some point, but it just didn't really all click. I'm not even sure they actually ever used this place for any resort stuff - they just tested it out here. That company went under years ago. They were trying to compete where there's already a market for something that's pretty well-established, plus we're a little out of the way over here. Not too much, just out in the subnet and the real Network is pretty slow to expand unless it's their idea."

Oh, this is business shit. I'm a business wolf again. Thanks, Harley. Maybe I'll fuck you for it sometime. "So, since you're pretty involved in stuff, and you're not a business person like I'm supposed to be, what do you think we oughta do with this place?"

"The whole 'boutique luxury Tier 4 meat and leather' thing is a cool idea. That brings in money. It could probably be a bit more above-board, not so 'pirates when they aren't stealing things'. People could live here - what did you say, Mike, something like ten thousand? That's off by a lot. This station could support a lot of people. It depends on whether you just want to pack people in or have big areas of other stuff. It's not a big space cylinder like some of the other stations, everything that isn't in the stem is packed inside the asteroid, which is why it gets a bit weird when we're driving around. There's actually some more friendly transport, it's just long out of service or locked out or something. So we could expand luxury goods, we could attract people. People generally come with commerce, and inherent ship trading. We're a fueling depot for this region but Bran didn't allow general traffic to the station; if we opened that up..."

"That's a lot of stuff to think about."

"I like talking when I drive around. It makes the weird gravity stuff easier to handle," Neer said.

"I want to live in the cyberpunk part," Mike said, and basically vibrated. "Do I want the Walled City type one or the desert punk enclave one, I dunno."

"I oughta be asking Marece this because he's my resident Hener Expert who speaks English properly, but, they always put up those entertainment plaza things, right?"

"That's kind of Selnari in general, hedonism is important and it's something to be enjoyed and done intently. The Hener just take it to a weird degree. I've been to a Hener temple thing. It's weird, and I like sex as much as anyone else," Neer laughed.

"Back on Earth, it was like you weren't supposed to have anything sex related to a church, and so, there was always sex related to the church, specifically sex no one's supposed to have with anyone. Here, it's like there's a fuckin' sex church. Too bad I don't like church." Come on, wolf brain, you know what you want to say. "So has anyone ever made an entire station made for that hedonism stuff? Like a Hener Shadows Resort cylinder or whatever?"

"I don't think so. People like things near where they live. Space is big. It's kind of expensive to go all over the place. The Network's good with welfare but that doesn't mean you get to translate to the other side of the galaxy so you can get a blowjob from a horse."

I knew it. Just like back home. "What if," I started to say, and Neer slowed the ATV down, then turned my way. I could see his lips curling up in doggy glee. "Yeah, you're getting the same idea at the same time. I used to run a club. We had a regular bar and lounge on the ground floor, a dance floor and VIP lounge in the basement, a sex dungeon in the sub basement-"

"I ran a leather and rubber kink store in there!" Mike wagged and made the happy fox face.

"And then up above the ground floor, I had these sex rooms for rent, and then up above that was a brothel floor, and then some storage stuff, and then the penthouse apartment for the building where I had my personal little wolf den. That brothel part, I only did that for a few years. It was fine, it just wasn't as popular as I'd thought it'd be. I think a lot of guys on Earth like prostitution to be kinda dirty and clandestine, not like you walk up to a fuckin' food counter and order some ass. Also, the paperwork for regulations was a pain. I decided to make more sex rooms, but theme them. Maybe they were like mini-dungeons, but I mean theme them. There was a pirate ship one, a navy sailor one - like a steel war boat, there was a cowboy saloon - that was my favorite, there was a sorta medieval one that was real big that had a king's court and then a stockade and then a dungeon. That was a giant fucking hit. It was booked solid all the time, there was a waiting list, I had to charge a kinda gross amount of money just to keep people from waitlisting themselves for like six fucking months. That's no fun. No one wants to make a dinner reservation for next fucking year, right? And this was sex."

Now I was getting excited. I didn't vibrate like Mike did, but I was both aroused and having a creative orgasm. "This is a good idea," I continued. "I know that Selnari like sex. I know they like doing it in specific places. I know that they like indulging their dark impulses in safe ways, because I've done that, and it felt a bit weird because it was more safe than I'm used to, but whatever. Earth was a gross place."

"I think we gotta really work this out more. Want to head back to the apartment?" Mike cut in.

--

Suddenly, I was standing in front of five interested people. Even Strake seemed interested, and he'd also put something on to cover his cock and balls, although it was just a codpiece pouch. He also had spiked shoulder armor on. And an 'executioner's hood'. Strake had ransacked the icky dungeon and was apparently seeing what he thought of looking like a sexecutioner. Marece constantly looked over at him and tried to feign disgust. I knew better. I didn't need to be some weirdo empath to know that he was mentally undressing the tiger.

"Okay. Here's my short proposal. We turn this station into a destination for hedonistic stuff like sex. The more kinky and themed and 'dark interest', the better. Maybe not the whole thing - it's kinda big - but that's like a reason you would come here. And we do other stuff to get people to want to come here and stay here, so that it isn't some kind of money pit or ends up derelict or run by a cult or something."

"And?" Marece said.

I squinted. "What do you mean, 'and'."

"This station can hold what, a few hundred thousand people? A lot more? That idea sounds like what you do when you have some abandoned storefront."

"Hey, I didn't ask to suddenly own a fuckin' space station twice the size of my fuckin' home town. Luckily, I think we have something on our side here. I had Neer do a little bit of research, and there really isn't any precedent for this much horny stuff in one place. People go places to do other stuff and want to do horny stuff when they're there. So, it's an untapped market."

"Maybe it's tapped and empty," Mike said. "To go with the beer tapping thing."

"Another thing on our side, is that this station was apparently used to try out ideas for themed resort areas for other stations. I think some got built and some didn't, the company folded, and now it's full of some cranky semi-Selnari farmers and at least one dislytic human."

Marece went crazy eyed. Oh shit this is going off the rails.

"Sarah! At Jim's Ol' Shack! She's not dislytic, she's a stack! That's not the same thing, really." Now everyone was looking at Neer. "A stack. Circuit stack. An android. Maybe with a human brain inside. It's a long story."

I snorted. "Okay, whatever, back on topic - there are a whole bunch of test areas here that were built out to see how the theming stuff worked, maybe even lived in a bit by people to simulate how things would work, and then abandoned. So we could un-abandon them and use them for our purposes."

"We're also far out from other things and not in Network," Marece continued.

"Thanks for shooting down all my ideas," I chuffed. "That's actually a good thing. And-"

"Pirate cove!" Mike blurted out. "It's like a pirate cove! Or like Port Royal!"

I squinted. "Mike, Port Royal was from a movie."

"Yeah, a Walt Disney movie! And what did Walt Disney do? Make theme parks that were elaborate for people to pretend they were in places!" Now we all stared at Mike. "Uhh, there's this movie series, Pirates of the Caribbean, it was actually based on a ride at Disneyland in Anaheim, California just outside of Los Angeles, a really huge city. Anyway, you're also WRONG! Well I mean, Port Royal's a real place, it's in Jamaica. It was a pirate hotbed because of all the Spanish sea trade with South America or something, and the fact that Europe didn't like what Spain was doing so they encouraged privateers to go after them."

"That's not very applicable to space and right now," Marece added. "I wouldn't say that the Galactic Network is purely peaceful, however in general the mass Selnari society is not nearly as inclined towards war as it seems humans were and maybe still are. Privateers are just opportunists because when there's something so big around, when you're very small and independent you inherently fit through the cracks. Also, regardless of Selnari origin in humanity, some Selnari are very driven to be independent."

"Great. More history lessons," I said, and rubbed my forehead, then the base of an ear.

"Anyway, these pirate hangout places were always strategically located with some sort of real trade importance, and not just boring stuff like wheat, luxury goods, spices. So what is this station? Tier 4 cattle! What if we encourage that?"

"Alright. What other ideas do people have?"

Strake raised his hand. "Don't do any of that shit."

"Are you really wearing stuff from that dungeon?" Mike asked him, ignoring his suggestion. "What if Bran killed people wearing it!"

"I killed people wearing my stupid dinner-party tuxedo. Are you gonna complain when I wear that? Plus, your robo-wolf killed two people by breaking their necks and you probably let him fuck you."

"Nnnnn," Mike growled through his teeth, and looked bested.

Marece spoke. "You need to do a lot of things to stabilize this place. I don't care what anyone says, there have to be people who supported Bran or at least want to suddenly have power, unless it really was bad here, and then I... well I don't know. There's all the soon to be refugees to deal with. The media will have a feast and you'll have to deal with them, and the thought of you projected onto video screens in busy cities and stations delivering a few choice fuck-words and talking about your own cock makes me..."

Strake looked over at Marece, who instantly turned red-eared and looked away.

"It makes you what?" I asked, and stepped forward.

"Oh, don't do that, it makes me... it makes me think I went into the wrong line of work. I could have just been an asshole with fashion sense, instead of trying to _do_something, however misguided."

"Poor you," I shrugged. He used one of his infinite variations of snark to mug back.

Neer lifted a finger and leaned in. "We're going to need help with the computer systems. It's hard to really disable all of the computer systems in anything - stations, ships, your augments, vehicles, city infrastructure. All this stuff is mostly Tark tech and it's got centuries of refinement. And, at the same time, like I said before, Bran tried to cover his own ass and then we roasted it to a crisp. The hare is right, we're going to have local law enforcement and probably the HSF here to start dealing with the Dominion refugees."

I paced around. I looked over to Varius, who shrugged, as if he didn't have an idea he wanted to share. "Okay-"

Mike cut in. "Oh! It turns out there's a few stellar operations techs here in the security forces. They weren't really fond of Bran, they just knew what would happen if they crossed him. They're helping clean up my ship a bit. So in another couple of days, we can go somewhere if you want. I got a.. Uhh... stipend from Harley."

"Me too," Strake said, and Marece nodded, as did Varius. I checked; well there we go, one hundred thousand credits. I still didn't really understand how much that was.

"Okay. So, just keep thinking of stuff. We'll tough out this weirdo apartment for a couple days, then whoever wants to go with me can go with me. I'm not gonna just sit on my ass. I'm gonna try to get some things done. Strake, you're my pilot no matter what. Mike, he's piloting your ship no matter what. Marece, Varius, you're free to do whatever you want, with or without me. Neer, I know you have shit to do, so don't let me keep you."

"Oh thank you Lord Wolf," Marece huffed, and then walked away. Strake did the same, and then Varius.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute? I have some more ideas," Mike said, and we went into his room. He closed the door and I thought he was going to explode with terrified glee. "Oh my god Hawk was I a total idiot today I was totally cranked up and wound up and it was insane, I can't believe this place, it's insane! It's so crazy I can't even imagine what we can do with it! We're at this intersection of some sort of insane opportunity and totally divergent people. Like I don't care what Marece seems like, he's really smart and he's probably doing weird stuff in the background. I'm sure he's been working with the Hener people even though he's probably not supposed to. Also ignoring all that important stuff, was I crazy, was I annoying, because I really like Neer and I don't know what to do, he's so cool and he seems to like me and I think he's hot," Mike said, and then deflated quite a lot as he looked needy for air.

"Whoa, hold on," I chuckled. I looked over; Tally was watching out the window. "Hey, does he do that a lot?"

"I am observing the movements of people in this 'village'," the robot said. "It is both random and an evolving pattern. I am not needed for any duty at the moment and have ample access to electricity."

Mike gave me a half-squint, as if he wasn't sure about Tally's answer.

I guided him to sit. "You're fine. I mean, you're nuts, and you're hyperactive, and I can never tell if you can't read a situation or you just choose to ignore it. And I'm pretty sure Neer also likes you. He was smiling whenever you were around, and he's the one that did that selfie thing earlier, right?"

"I think he likes my outfits," Mike whispered, even though there wasn't a reasonable way for Neer to hear us. "Do you think he's a top or a bottom? It's hard to find tops who aren't assholes."

"Tell me about it. Look, I'm gonna go check on him, and I'll try to... figure out if he likes you, without you know, just asking him like you would."

"Awesome, thanks," Mike sighed.

I left the room and ran into Varius. "Don't linger outside doors like that. I saw Marece kick a door into a guy's face. It wasn't pretty."

"I like wolf ideas," he said, and slipped up against me.

"You like wolf ideas, or you just like wolf? Or you like how wolf makes you feel? Ungh, I'm gonna start talking like you."

"Pirate cove. What was name, Port Royal? Place for pleasure and debauchery."

"Where'd you fuckin' learn big words like that?"

"I find books in TIL on Daleon to read. I like reading. Fancy implant stuff," he said derisively, and then rattled off a bunch of TIL. "Sorry. I don't know insult for electronics in common. Debauchery, is what wolf likes. And Xyrex."

"Pirates are serious business, horsey."

"I know what real pirates are. Not just Xyrex. Maybe most are privateers. Maybe ten percent are, making crimes. Privateers trade, craft, like space... what is it... they travel around... only travel..."

"Gypsies?" He looked unfamiliar when I said the word. "Nah, that's racist. Travelers? That's... Irish. I know what you mean."

"Who come here for meat, probably not bad. And I like idea. Is exciting. Maybe it goes bad, we have excitement. It goes good, we have other kind of excitement. Wolf can protect me. Or I get sword."

"Varius... do you... like me? Like, do you have a thing for me?"

He thought for a moment. "I enjoy you."

"You enjoy me?"

"I enjoy you. Do good wolf things. Or bad ones." He then gave me a coy, patronizing smack to the rump.

I stalked around the apartment, and walked into Marece. "Aww fuck, is this gonna be my life? I can't fucking walk out the door without everyone getting in my way."

He grabbed me into a privacy field. "What me and Strake did is none of anyone's business. I know you want to stick it to me. It's completely average. This is what we're like. Also, I think I rekindled something in him," he said. "He tries his hardest not to have any emotions except disdain. I'm not sure if he can't, or is just trying very hard. As for you-"

"I didn't really ask for this kinda conversation, but if we're gonna be talking about our feelings, Varius said he enjoys me. Is that some Hener thing? Is he falling in love with me? I tried to get him to elaborate and he just repeated it."

"Oh, that's sweet," Marece said, and his soft expression was at odds with his patronizing tone. "It means exactly what it sounds like. For whatever reason, instead of being somewhat repulsed by your crude sexual froth that emanates from you like your stench, he enjoys it."

"What do I do?"

"Enjoy it back, I suppose. Are you actually going to turn this station into some sort of sin palace?"

"Do you have sin in your sex religion? Or is that like a loan word from five hundred years ago?"

"Unch! I honestly think you have no idea what you are getting yourself into. Also, I have pulled strings. I'm not supposed to be able to do it any more, but well, just because I don't have official TARE access doesn't mean I don't know people. How do you think I got myself into this mess in the first place? Keeping to myself?"

"Okay, I gotta go find Neer." I pushed myself out of his privacy bubble and the random noises from the apartment rushed back in. I saw Strake in his room as I walked past, and I waved him off as I headed out and down.

I had a feeling I'd find Neer outside. He was in a privacy bubble, which meant he was actually talking to someone. I couldn't tell if they were in it with him, or he was on an augment call. Implants is kind of tacky, apparently. It's augments. It didn't look like there was anyone in there. Nonetheless, I walked up, tried to get his attention, and after a moment he stuck his muzzle out.

"Oh! I'm just... there's... it's not a big thing, it's just a huge thing. He ducked back in, then a moment later, it dissolved. "What's up?" He seemed engaged, and not particularly stressed out. Like Mike, he was pretty active, though.

"As soon as our ship is fixed, I'm gonna take off for a little while. I dunno, a week or two? I have an idea to try and solve one of our problems. Your computer shit. I think I know someone. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go see them in person though. It's back on Daleon."

"That's great! It's not super critical urgent. We have plenty of functional systems, it's just anything beyond kind of limping along like we've been doing, we're going to need all the capabilities we can get."

Let's try this privacy field thing myself, shall we. I turned it on and stepped next to him. "I have a little private question. What do you think of Mike?"

Neer laughed out loud. "He's such a cute mess! When he saw that place he called Neo-Tokyo, I thought he was going to have a seizure. Hasn't he been around in.... Our world, for maybe ten or fifteen years?"

"I dunno, maybe it's inherently overstimulating. Every day, it's like I'm bowled over by the crazy stuff that's happening or possible."

"I can tell, Hawk. Not about you, I mean, I can tell. About Mike. Let's put it this way - I know how to contact him, and I definitely will." He abruptly looked distant. "Oh great. I don't know what you're on your way to do, but I'm redirecting you. We have our first annoying visitor. It's a... underground journalist. I knew they'd show up."

"I dunno, can I designate you as our PR guy? Public Relations? Fall guy?"

"No. Or rather, I really want to see you have at them." He grinned. "Docking area A-1. Let's head to my transport."