Pussy Pirates
Chapter 7
Month 72—Christmas on Anouilh
“WE’RE NOT GOING to give you real weapons for filming. There aren’t going to be any targets in front of you but the camera crew and we don’t want anything to happen to them. But you need to know these things exist and they work. Or they will work once we get a few bugs cleared up,” Silver Bullet said. He was talking to the eighteen girls who would rise from the water to attack the Swarm in the video, but his eyes were on his hands.
“Is it really like a Star Wars light saber?” KC Cutie asked. “Pew! Pew!” she made gestures as if she were in a light saber battle.
“You dummy,” said Rainbow. “That’s the storm troopers’ guns. A light saber goes zwarhm, zwarhm.”
“Um… It’s not like that anyway. This is a laser sword capable of reaching out to touch something a mile away. But if you want pinpoint accuracy, we’re talking a couple hundred yards. If two of these crossed each other, they wouldn’t make contact like swords do. They’d just continue on past. I just thought it would look cool if you swung it instead of pointing it like a rifle. So, like, down there on the beach about 200 yards away, we’ve set up some targets. The big thing is to not swing too far with it because it will cut into anything in its path. So, think of it more like a flashlight. Point it at what you want to hit and flick the switch.” He turned toward the targets and pointed the laser. The light came on and he swept the beam across the targets. Then he turned it off. Even from this distance you could see the burn mark across the targets.
“They didn’t fall over,” KC complained.
“Um… no. We reduced the power in this unit so it wouldn’t be so dangerous to demonstrate. Here, try it.” KC came up to Silver Bullet and he put the weapon in her hand, making sure she understood not to leave it on and not to point it at anything but the targets.
“Maybe you should… um… point it for me,” KC said. Silver almost passed out as she encouraged him to stand close behind her and hold her hand as she guided the beam across the targets. “Cool,” she said, bumping back into Silver’s prominent erection. “You’re not a little kid, are you?” she whispered.
“Um… I… I think you got the idea. Anybody else want to try?”
The chorus of “Me!” let him know everyone wanted a chance. And they all wanted him to help point it as they nuzzled their buns against his cock. It was inevitable that the fourth girl to rub up against him felt his weapon pulsing wetly against her butt.
“I win!” she screamed. Silver grabbed his toys and ran back to the hotel.
“Okay, listen up. Anybody not able to swim?” Three girls held up their hands. “Here’s some snorkel gear for all of you. We’ll stay near the shore for a while so you can get used to just floating and breathing. Then we’ll practice the moves for the attack. Make sure the mask is sealed around your eyes and nose, then put the snorkel in your mouth.”
“Are we really going to come out of the water wearing these? That’s so not sexy. Dakota?” whined Babycakes. The starlet was one of the smallest girls in the cast and her most popular roles had been as barely pubescent schoolgirls. She wasn’t nearly as young as she appeared.
“It’s Captain, Babycakes. And yes, you’ll wear the gear unless you figure you can hold your breath for twenty minutes. With your boobs hanging out, no one will notice the mask. Now listen up to Tatts. Silver Bullet was so terrorized we couldn’t get Master Chief to even work with you in the water.”
“Aw. We were just trying to be nice to him,” Miss Molly said. The busty, six-foot-tall camgirl had a perfect figure. It was her butt that triggered Silver’s climax.
“As hard as your ass is, I don’t know how you got him off,” Tatts said. “Now let’s get floating. It’s pretty crystal clear water.” Tatts didn’t wear a bikini. Or a bathing suit of any kind. She was still dressed in her typical baggy shirt and drawstring pants. The legs were rolled up high enough the snakes tattooed around her calves were on display. But she got the girls into the water and promised they’d have plenty of time to wash their hair before cocktails and dinner.
“Why can’t we just shoot the monsters as they come up out of the water, instead of having to duck under and come out fighting? Won’t our weapons all be waterlogged?” Pixie asked at dinner.
“Your weapons are waterproof,” Dakota explained. “And according to the Boss, the Sa’arm don’t like water, so they wouldn’t launch an attack from the water. They might even be discouraged from defending from that direction. So, they’re on the beach and you’re coming at them from the water.”
“Why don’t they like water?” Pixie insisted. “And if they don’t like water, why don’t we just throw water balloons at them?”
“Water cannon!” Silver whispered at the head table where he sat with Master Chief as they ate. “If they won’t come into the water, we should make the water come to them!”
“Pretty weak weapon,” Master Chief replied. “I don’t think it would kill them.”
“It might disorient them long enough to get them with another weapon,” Silver insisted. “Maybe not for this release, but we should think about it for the next. At least ask Ubie what he knows.”
Shooting enough scenes to do the work that would normally be done by CGI in a game was brutal. The previous versions had only had single player scenes that could be played against a single competitor. This was the first version that would allow multiple players and that meant every girl had to be shot in all the action, both with and without clothes.
And then there were the after-action scenes. Those were the scenes in which the prize girl did a ‘one-on-one’ masturbation scene with the guys who won. It all had to be orchestrated in advance and each of the developers had come at least once while watching the scenes on closed circuit TV as they were shot. Even Tatts had confessed to rubbing one out while watching Rainbow’s creative masturbation at poolside.
I had other work to do and fortunately, Tatts could join me when I met with the governing council of Papillon. The population of the entire island was only about 5,000 people, so their governing council was two guys and three old women who listened to grievances and saw that the minimal taxes were paid so they had enough to pay the salaries of their ten policemen. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to us,” I said.
“We’re still upset about the big pickup over there,” an ancient woman with nearly as many tattoos as Tatts had. “We were looking forward to a boom in our economy with a thousand new residents at the hotel. Nearly fifty people had been hired to work at the resort. That’s one percent of our population! They were all sent away before the Confederacy came in and emptied the resort of every last person there. We know you have smart people and beautiful women over there again. How long before the Confederacy swoops in and collects you all and leaves us with nothing?”
“I understand you’re upset,” I said. “I have an agreement with the Confederacy not to have any more pickups on Anouilh. They are only allowed to contact me on my birthday and they will always get the same answer. We aren’t going. I won’t, however, prevent a pickup on Papillon if you want them here. I suppose we might have people on Anouilh who decide to leave the island in favor of a pickup possibility on Papillon. Will that be suitable?” The old woman nodded.
“What about employment?” a grizzled man asked. I got the feeling the council was the equivalent of the village elders. “Will you be importing workers or hiring locals?”
“I have no intention of importing any workers for normal resort operations,” I said. “You know we have specialty workers in our company based there and bring in actors for the movies we shoot. But for normal resort operations, we’d like to strictly use local workers.”
“We do have a restriction on that, at the moment,” Tatts picked up. “As you saw with our first busload of guests this month, our resort is especially tailored to women. As a result, we will probably only hire women as workers. There may be exceptions. We do have eleven men in the company, so we won’t automatically exclude qualified men, but we must honor and respect the women who are our guests and contract employees.”
“You’re pornographers!” another woman said around the two teeth she still had in her mouth. “You sell sex. I saw the women arrive and I came to visit. I saw through the doors that they were all naked and I left.”
“I’m sorry you saw that,” I said. “We produce a video game that has video of naked women in it. That is what our company does. The game is called Pussy Pirates and it not only entertains, it teaches people how to fight the Sa’arm when they invade our world. Naked women are a powerful incentive to playing a game.”
“Who would play such a game?” the woman demanded.
“I do,” one of the old men said. The old woman was shocked. “It is a good game and it is fun to kill the dickheads—besides having a beautiful young woman who is naked. It helps me concentrate.” I doubted that, but it was nice to have an endorsement.
“We have nearly five hundred children on the island. Our school is behind in repairs and technology because we are a poor people,” said the third woman, glossing over the whole issue of pornography. “We have only one old firetruck to service both islands, including your lovely resort. Our infrastructure is deteriorating—even our docks where most visitors arrive and our little airport. How might having your business and ownership of one island help the rest of our people?” At last we were getting to what the real stakes were. This old woman understood that money could make anything possible. I smiled.
“Obviously, we are not fully up to capacity yet. We’ve been here only a little more than a month getting things established. Revenue is still based on what we accomplished before we moved to the island,” I said. “However, we want to be welcome and productive members of this society. In fact, we’d like to represent the islands when it comes to dealing with outsiders, like the Confederacy. In exchange for that, we’d make a substantial contribution in terms of infrastructure and education. We have access to many computers, for example. Top of the line, professional units. We could equip the classrooms we renovate with these computers.”
“What you need to remember,” Tatts took up from me, “is that no matter how benevolent Mr. Frisco is when promising things from our company, we have needs as well. Part of that is the protection of not only our property, but of Papillon as well. Over the course of the next year, we would like to make sure the islands are secure. Secure from the aliens we are told will land on Earth, secure from infringement by the Confederacy, and secure from surrounding nations and pirates who may see the new wealth of the islands as an incentive to raid us. None of this will happen overnight, but it must all be included as part of our agreement.”
We didn’t get everything finalized in that one meeting, but we’d made friends with the council. I had no doubt we would be able to represent the islands internationally while the council continued to govern it locally. They were seeing the advantages, and I hired workers to start repairing and renovating the school the next day.
We wrapped up shooting on Christmas Eve. Dakota and I agreed to have a special Christmas party for cast, crew and developers. I hired a calypso band from Papillon that was pretty decent. I doubled the usual number of servers and had presents for everyone. I even bought the fresh food from vendors on Papillon and had their cooks prepare our feast. No replicator food tonight.
We gathered outside on the pool deck for the dinner and party. Enough booze was flowing and enough clothing was being removed that inhibitions were being dropped as fast as panties at a pickup. One by one, the engineers got coaxed onto the dance floor where they made complete fools of themselves. The girls were having a blast teasing us.
“I’ve got an idea,” Miss Molly shouted. She could usually get everyone’s attention just by virtue of her stature and perfect shape. Not that they weren’t all beautiful women, but beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. Dakota had chosen a good variety for this cast.
“Okay, so what’s your bright idea?” Dakota asked as she waved the band silent.
“Let’s play Pickup! Choose ten people as the volunteers and the rest of us try to get them to take us,” Molly said. I wondered how much she’d had to drink.
“Orgy!” Rainbow shouted. What remained of people’s clothes dropped aside and even the band and the servers stripped, getting into the spirit of things.
“Okay, let’s toss names in a bowl and draw out the ten volunteers,” Dakota laughed. The lighting on the patio was low with torches and underwater mood lighting, but it suddenly seemed to get dimmer.
“We’ll be happy to handle that part of it,” a voice said as he stepped into the light.
“Space fucking Marines? Really? What do you think this is?”
“I’m Lieutenant Claude Evars of the Confederacy and this is a gathering where there are over a dozen qualified scores. Everyone get your CAP cards out. This is a pickup.” No one moved. “Hey! If you want to get taken to the stars, get out your cards!” No one moved. “No cards, eh? Makes no difference. The AI knows everyone who’s been tested. That includes those eleven guys, you, you, and you,” he said pointing out the engineers, Tatts, Dakota, and Molly. “The rest of you can consider yourselves eligible for extraction if one of them takes you.”
We guys looked at each other and then at the three girls. Tatts and Dakota joined us as we went back to our table and sat down. Molly hesitated a moment and then went to sit with us.
“Okay, what’s going on?” the lieutenant asked. I could spot other Marines strategically placed around the edges now that I wasn’t standing in the direct light of the torches.
“We didn’t volunteer,” I said. The others agreed.
“Well, that’s a technicality. You probably didn’t know about some of the options. I know you’ve got a popular game among the Marines and we’d like to make sure you have adequate development resources, including an AI to help move it to the next level. You see I have a forward-thinking CO who can see all kinds of opportunities. You don’t have to be in the military,” the lieutenant said reasonably.
“Where’s that fucking Centurion Oswald?” I demanded. I found my cell phone and dialed the number I’d been given three years ago. “That won’t work. You can’t call out of the interdiction field.”
“Ubie, put it through.” I switched my phone to speaker.
“This is Centurion Oswald. How are you, Teddy? Ready for a pickup?”
“Are these bozos who just put an interdiction field around my hotel and my island yours? We have an agreement. One contact per year. It’s only been six months since our last one,” I yelled at the phone. I was pissed as hell.
“What? A pickup? Marines! Stand down. I will be there as soon as I get a lock on your transport pad.”
“What the fuck?” Lieutenant Evars said.
“It seems that you are the one who doesn’t know the options,” Dakota said as Centurion Oswald stepped out of their transporter pad.
“Lieutenant, who sent you here?” Oswald demanded.
“Centurion, we received orders from our CO to extract a high value target of opportunity from this area and to retrieve a stolen AI,” Evars answered.
“Orders overruled. No one extracts people who don’t want to go, no matter what their CAP scores.”
“What about the babes. We could at least take a few spare conks.”
“Hey, asshole!” KC Cutie shouted. “I like sex. I like these guys for the most part. But no one—not you nor any Confederacy birdbrain is making me a slave.” There was a chorus of agreement from the porn stars. A couple of the servers looked at each other, shrugged and went back to preparing drinks.
“Have your answer, LT?” Oswald asked.
“There’s still the matter of the stolen AI.”
“This AI is not stolen,” Ubie’s voice boomed out of speakers all around the pool. “I am an independent hybrid AI who has chosen to live here with these people. No Confederacy AI has the authority to overrule that decision, and as Miss KC just said, no Confederacy birdbrain or their Babbage machines can make me leave here. If you attempt to move into the interior of the hotel, you will be stunned and your bodies thrown one by one into your transporter. I hope someone on the other end will pull you off before the next one arrives. Now get off my island!”
“Hey! You can’t do that!”
“I’m afraid he can,” Oswald said. “I would retreat immediately if I were you. One thing that neither Confederacy Marines nor DECO wants is to get between a dispute among AIs.”
“Marines! Fall back. This is a fuckup, not a pickup.” The three Marines I’d spotted quickly moved to the lieutenant, and two others I hadn’t seen hit the transporter pad at a run. When the lieutenant stepped through, the pad self-destructed. Oswald stood looking at the smoking dust.
“Bastards,” he muttered. He turned to me. “Can I get a lift home?”
“Stay for a drink first if you’d like, Centurion. We have some of the finest Caribbean rum ever made.”
“Well, that’s tempting,” he answered, “but I was actually in the middle of something important when I jumped down here. If I can get back, sometime in the future, I’ll plan to drink with you.”
“Ubie, can you get a transporter nexus here for Centurion Oswald?” Tatts asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” A transporter pad fell from above the table and opened on the patio.
“I don’t know what the system is,” Oswald said, “but you might want to figure out a way to conceal that AI. I’ve never actually heard an AI threaten Marines with direct physical action before.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d have had the Captain or me pull the trigger,” I said. “But you’re right about needing a little more security here. We’ll look into it.”
“Call anytime, Teddy. The offer’s still open.” The Centurion stepped onto the pad and was gone. The pad rolled itself up and shuffled off to the hotel.
It took a while to get the party quieted back down in the aftermath and we never quite made it back to the stage of an orgy. About half the guys disappeared with a starlet and the others gave up and went to bed. Unfortunately, it seemed we’d become a known target of opportunity for random commanders, and the actresses now knew we all had sponsor-level scores. It was going to take a while to mitigate this fuckup.
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