Pussy Pirates
Chapter 10
Month 76—April on Anouilh
“OKAY, ORLANDO. We can accept a trickle of vacationers starting in September.” We’d hammered out a pretty profitable way of using the Cuban travel department as our booking agent for the resort. Not bad. In turn, we were going to remodel the old resort on Papillon for tourists who didn’t want the porn goddess experience.
We’d spent a couple of hours with the trade negotiators from both the Confederacy and Cuba, watching Dakota direct camera angles and action. A dozen girls started in the kind of costumes you’d expect in a sexploitation jungle war movie where the girls were guerilla fighters. They wore torn camo short-shorts with their cheeks hanging out and bandana tops. Their camo makeup looked more like the black streaks under a quarterback’s eyes than any serious attempt at camouflage. And as the scenes progressed, the clothing was lost in bits and pieces until the girls were fighting naked.
“And they will have a part in these action scenes with the girls?” the negotiator asked anxiously. He was obviously thinking of becoming one of the first vacationers to have an action role adventure on the island.
“He will. Just remember, not every girl on the island is interested in having a boy/girl sex scene. There will be limited options,” Dakota said.
“Ah. Only the ugly girls get laid,” Iglesias nodded knowingly.
“There are no ugly girls on the island,” Miss Molly snapped, putting the little man down firmly. She’d chosen to wear a leather dominatrix outfit today that was mostly three triangles connected with leather straps and a pair of thigh-high boots. Iglesias was still displaying a hard lump in his pants an hour after the filming ended. The Cubans left, escorted back to the confused troops on the other side of the causeway.
“Now,” I turned to the Confederacy negotiators. “What is it you want from our little island?” Major Thom looked uncomfortable but buckled in for the negotiation.
“We want the right to produce any weapon you invent for the game. We have Marines who like playing the game and using the virtual weapons. As they become more proficient, they’re making models of them and having contests to prove their prowess. A few of your designs are unique and could be powered by existing methods. Unless you’ve got methods of powering them in the design.”
“That’s not a bad ask. We don’t have much in the way of a manufacturing ability here on the islands. We’ve had to farm out the manufacturing of our toys, the game controllers, and the masturbators. What I’d like are working weapons based on our designs. In exchange for your right to produce them and distribute them for the Confederacy, we’d receive shipments of working weapons with the right to distribute them here on Earth. I know out there you have needs to be met right now. Here on Earth we still have a few years before your lines fall. We want to have players on Earth who find themselves ready to do actual battle when the dickheads get here,” I said.
“It really is a training game, then,” Major Thom said. “That was our guess, just seeing how well the Marines are taking to it. But your Earth warriors won’t have the muscle and reflex upgrades of Marines.”
“Can’t have everything, Major. That’s one of the reasons we use girls as the avatars in the videos. If they can make players believe a girl can fight like this, it will give them confidence that they can do it, too,” Tatts said. She’d been quiet through most of the negotiations, but this was where she’d agreed to reveal herself to the visitors. “Ubie, how many of the prototypes do you manage and target?”
“One hundred seventeen,” a voice said from just behind Major Thom. The Major turned quickly only to hear the voice from a different direction.
“So, you do have an AI,” Thom whispered. “When we got the message sent from Anouilh, there was speculation that it was faked and the AIs wouldn’t corroborate any speculation of an AI here. Centurion Oswald said there was. Both the Arabs and the Cosca built ships based on ancient data but they didn’t have AIs. You didn’t build this one yourself.”
“He was budded and placed in our care. He’s a quick learner but we’re taking our time to make sure we’re all shooting at the same target,” Tatts said.
“And how are you qualified to raise a budded AI? In the Confederacy, AIs are programmed and trained by other AIs,” Andrea said.
“I am Dr. Rachel Gunn. You may not have access to all my records. Most, I assume, are still classified since I still can’t talk about them. I’m a computer psychologist.” Both Andrea and the Major got a faraway look in their eyes, something I’d learned to recognize from my previous encounters with the Confederacy.
“You’re right,” Thom said. “Most of the information is classified way above my need to know. We have been informed, however, that you are eminently qualified and competent in dealing with artificial intelligence. I can tell, however, that you must have spent time in a med tube for a sixty-year-old woman to look like you look.”
“It was part payment for services rendered,” Tatts said.
“I’m satisfied,” Andrea said. “Now we’d like to know what you are doing in the asteroid belt and how the Confederacy could benefit from it. We’ve been sending out mining operations to the belt on a regular basis, but there are inefficiencies, shall we say. I have a shortlist of elements that are needed for weapons and ship building that are rare in the universe. If Major is providing functional weapons for your Earth force, we’d like you to provide raw materials to power them.”
“Major, you held out on us. That’s your name, not your rank.”
“Both,” the man replied. “No one wants to talk to a Major Major Thom, so I don’t repeat it. My mother was a big David Bowie fan.”
“Then to answer the question bluntly, we don’t want money. What good is that going to do here? Oh, there is still a majority of Earth inhabitants who believe accumulating wealth will somehow help them stave off the aliens—if they even believe in them. But we need something very different from the Confederacy.”
“So, you want out of here after all,” Andrea said. Her disgust was apparent.
“Quite the opposite,” I said. “We want you to ignore us. Completely. Don’t look around our operation in the asteroid belt. I’ll tell you we have four miners out there and they are supplying materials for our replicator there. Don’t give any more thought to our game than playing it and manufacturing the weapons. Don’t investigate our AI. He’s disconnected from the AI network. Don’t attempt any more pickups on our island, no matter who comes to visit. On the other hand, we have no qualms about Confederacy operations on Papillon. In fact, we’re renovating the resort over there so there will be an attractive haven for prospective pickups. You might find it useful.”
“Ignore you. You aren’t just mining the belt, you’re manufacturing something. Something we might not want you to do,” Andrea said. “I need one assurance, though. I need to know that nothing you have created, will create, or use will be employed against the Confederacy.”
“As long as there is a peaceful relationship between Earth and the Confederacy, none of our weapons will be used against them. If, however, we discover ourselves being invaded or attacked by the Confederacy, we will retaliate. That includes invasion by human members of the Confederacy. As long as we’re fighting a common enemy, we’re good. Once that enemy is gone, there will be an arms’ length relationship between us and you.”
“You can’t speak for Earth,” Major said.
“Right! I’m speaking for the Pussy Pirates. And you should understand that nothing we plan or implement will be used to take us out of the system. Unlike the Confederacy, we are here to stay.”
Month 79—July in LA
AH! CALIFORNIA. The last bastion of sanity in America. I looked out at the ocean breaking on the shore and thought about the state of the world. It was utter chaos. California had been calm. Maybe stoned, but calm. I missed it in a way.
Not that I imagined California was perfect. It was stupid to deny the imminent invasion of the Swarm. But it was an anchor embedded in what it means to live free. And, since it was a Confederacy-free zone, the violence in California had been at an all-time low compared to the rest of the states. Earth First had been virtually unknown in the Golden Gate State. There was nothing there to attract them. They were all off raising hell where the Confederacy was making extractions. There was no reason to be in California.
Despite being Confederacy free, California Republic maintained open borders so far. Its relationship to the United States was ambiguous. Supposedly, people still paid taxes, but Federal offices and all but established military installations had been closed. You still had to stop for agriculture inspections and an occasional Border Patrol roadblock, but there was nothing stopping anyone who wanted to join the Confederacy from emigrating elsewhere, nor from moving to the Republic if they could afford the taxes and living costs. There wasn’t a big influx of immigrants, illegal or otherwise. They had just enough immigrants to keep the agricultural market alive. You could replicate an orange, but people would pay a fortune for one that was naturally grown on a tree and swear they could tell the difference.
As far as fashion went, there had been less change in California than anyplace in the world. Yes, things got more daring during the early years after the president’s announcement, but topless fashions and butt-floss bikinis were common on all the beaches long after California became Confederacy free. Locally, people still laughed about how the world was struggling to keep up with California.
And the porn… California was the capital of the porn industry—always had been, always would be. It was, in fact, the only place on Earth where women felt safe. A guy might try something with a woman he met on the street. That was just grabbing ’em by the pussy. But you didn’t touch a sex worker unless you paid her. That was stealing.
Until recently. Dakota was right. Things had changed. The perception was that there were fewer women left on Earth for the remaining men. Every man who left Earth to join the Confederacy took at least two women with him. Current estimates placed the average number closer to three to one. The men left behind perceived there were fewer women left for them ‘to choose’ from. Not that they’d ever had a choice before. For a long time, women everywhere flaunted their bodies, dressing in less and less—sometimes only body paint—in order to entice sponsors to take them away to the stars. The painful reality was that thousands of ‘ruined’ women were left behind. After a pickup, many hated the Confederacy more than before.
Earth First leave-behinds had a solution to their problem. Women wanted to be slaves, so grab them, enslave them, and breed them here on Earth. Yes, humans defy logic—not some of the time, but all of the time. Women began to move underground. There was a paucity of pussy. Like a run on toilet paper, the shelves were bare. More and more women were abducted and sent to compounds where the Earth First Alliance and other idiots held them away from the Confederacy.
California continued to churn out entertainment for the masses. Location shooting was more limited than it had been, but the miracles of digital editing made it seem the movies were filmed in exotic locations varying from Bangkok to Mars. Standard footage—called propaganda and fake news by both the radical right and the radical left—of space battles and Marines fighting against the Sa’arm was available everywhere. Like NASA photos from space, they were considered public property.
Since women were becoming a hot commodity, it followed that the porn industry was thriving. When watching porn, everyone could pretend to be an extractee. Every man could have a private harem. The actresses got paid better as time went by. Pickups were a common theme—even in the middle of totally unrelated movies. It was a porn producer’s dream scenario. The Adult Industry Expo moved to Los Angeles from Las Vegas when Vegas conventions began to be hot pick-up spots for the Confederacy. Earth First descended on the city like flies on shit. The top conventions in Vegas now were the Gun Show and the Concrete Show—neither of which attracted pickups. They overshadowed the porn industry and the Computer Expo. The latter moved to San Jose after having a huge portion of the brains of the industry extracted from Las Vegas.
That meant California was a treasure trove of hot girls strutting their stuff. The predators came across the state to pick up girls—whether they wanted to be picked up or not. The porn industry moved underground. It was estimated that over half the women in the industry now worked from home, giving live feeds over the Internet, ordering meals in, and seldom setting foot outside their apartments.
Over fifty girls—rescues, Dakota called them—were living on Anouilh now. And I was in LA on a rescue mission. Dakota was closing up shop and moving her entire operation to Anouilh. It was just too risky for the women to work in California.
Seventy-five women waited in Windward Studio, prepared for a big shoot and nice paycheck. They were the easy ones. They were all gamers and most had played avatars in Pussy Pirates. Dakota had vetted all of them over the past two months and determined these were all women intent on not being extracted by the Confederacy.
I set up a transporter nexus in a corner of the studio.
“I told you to come prepared for a week on location, so you have a couple of bags packed. Sorry, I couldn’t get porters for us safely. But we have secure transportation. Now here’s the rest of the story,” Dakota said. “This is a one-way trip. We’re not coming back.”
“I’m not going to be a slave in the fucking Confederacy!” shouted one of the starlets.
“That’s right. I’ve arranged a safe haven for us. There will be no Confederacy pickups and we’ll be safe to leave our rooms and enjoy some of the best sun and beach I’ve ever seen. You’ll continue to earn like you have been, but your food and lodging will be provided. It’s a women’s paradise. We’ll bring some men in from time to time to scratch the itch you get from going without cock for too long. There are only eleven men resident on the island and… well, they’re nerds. They’re the inventors of the game we play.”
“Him?” one of the girls in front asked, pointing at me. “He can’t believe he’s going to sleep with us. No way.”
“I think you’ll come to love the Boss and his nerds pretty quickly,” Miss Molly said. “I have and I’m going through his magic portal to spend the rest of my life on Anouilh. Even if I need to sleep with all eleven of them at once.”
“Mols? Is that really true?” asked a timid girl clutching a stuffed animal. She was about five feet tall and weighed less than a buck. I just hoped she wasn’t a minor.
“It’s true, Babycakes. You’ll love it when one of them shoots off in his pants just because you happened to walk by naked from the pool.”
“What’s the catch?”
“We’ll all be working more on playing and shooting scenes for the game, including really learning martial arts and how to use the weapons. There will be a lot of incentives for playing the game well and for getting a company of players registered to you. Everybody works,” Dakota said. “Now, to take advantage of this once in a lifetime offer, fall in behind Miss Molly. She’ll show you how easy it is and help you get settled on the other end. Boss?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“We’re ready.”
“Right this way, Ladies.”
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