Skiffy meets Trans meets Erotica. It's the year 22-something-or-other, and
the places are starships, a planet and a gay bar or two.
 
 

 '. . .words words words / are all you ever give me / in your world / that's
all I ever can be . . .' The pop song on his communication console woke him,
announcing an incoming call. Captain Joe Dio had fallen asleep in his
quarters after running his 'Siazi Sex Slave' porn virtuality beyond its next
possible orgasm. He'd run it through to the end, all the way, let it fuck
his senses mad. But still he'd had no relief. The pain was making him sick.
 'Dio,' he answered, voice only.
'Switch on your monitor, Captain.' He complied and provided Admiral Raymond
with the image of his sweaty torso, his disheveled hair, his smudged
make-up, his erect cock. If Raymond's pudgy face didn't make it go down,
nothing would. What the hell. It was her own fault for making him turn on
the monitor. Besides, she always flaunted her massive mammaries, like
clenched fists, to enforce discipline. 'Apologies for interrupting your
down-time. I suppose this could have waited until tomorrow, Dio, but,' she
didn't quite seem her usual formal self, 'I'm sure you know that I wasn't
the one who gave you this job - this assignment.'
 'I didn't know, but I guessed as much.'
 'Mendell did.'
 Dio reached for his g-string. 'But he's - not in the chain of command.'
 'It's all politics at this level. Necheyev is on your ship because I put
him there.'
 'But he's served on the Cleopatra for almost a year now.'
 'This has been building for some time.'
 'You would have preferred him in the job instead of me.'
 ' I would never have created the assignment.'
 'So you are against an agreement with the Siazi?'
 'The Siazi are small-fry. They're here to distract us.'
 'Obviously they're distracting me a lot more than they're distracting you.'
 'Well, in spite of your taste for small-fry, you must see the Yago are the
real danger.'
 'But sir, no one, Hari, I mean Captain Hari, Coco and whatever he is
Dragan, none of the Siazi are even pretending this is about anything other
than the Yago, I mean, eventually it isn't.'
 'Yes, whatever he is Dragan.'
 'I think we can assume, that Dragan is to Hari and Coco, what you are to
Necheyev, and Mendell, apparently, is to me. Maybe you, Mendell and Dragan
should have these talks instead.'
 'That's exactly what's going to happen. Or to be precise, Mendell and
Dragan.' Your daddy's been a wicked boy again.'
 'But - did we do so badly?'
 'No, no, you were brilliant.' She forced a smile. 'Congratulations.'

 'Why do you think your people sent you to do this job?', Coco had screamed
at him outside the Horsehead Nebula the other day when Dio  had interfered,
because the argument between Necheyev and the Moreance's second in command
had turned nasty. They were fighting on the planet's dusty white sand, the
alien's beautiful chocolate corkscrew locks flying, Necheyev's make-up
melting. It wasn't the first time either. The two had clashed before, and
the Siazi had picked fights with other guys at the bar. Brave of him really.
He was only 5'3'' and built like a skeleton. It appeared the Siazi were
stronger than they looked. And they weren't above fighting dirty. Though
their teeth couldn't do more damage than the human variety, their claws were
something else. He felt them that time when he pulled Coco off Necheyev, the
Siazi's fingers digging into his body so, he let go of him immediately, and
Coco catapulted away from him with such force, Dio struggled to keep
upright. It was then that he knew, that the porn virtuality was a fake.

 When Raymond switched off, the music came back on.  His dick had stayed
hard throughout. Dio retrieved the anti-surveillance device his father had
given him, plugged it into the console and placed another call. He went full
frontal on monitor.
 Hari's face appeared, close up but framed by darkness. It broke into a
smile. 'I'm glad you called.'
 Dio gazed at the alien's eyes. On the screen they looked unnaturally large,
their lashes black and heavily spidery, little spider legs embracing when
the lids touched. The yellow hair was unrestrained. 'I guess this is it.'
 'If you want it.' The alien held the human's gaze. It took an effort to
break contact.
 Dio's discipline was still working well enough to make him take a shower
and put on his uniform and new make-up before heading to the Moreance. He
applied highlights and lowlights to his statuesque cheekbones and cleaned up
the smudged lipstick. He fought to keep out the questions that bombarded his
consciousness. He would ponder them later. Only Hari counted now, Hari and
himself. No one passed him on his way to the shuttle bay, so he fantasized
Hari walking his cat-walk two meters in front of him, down the narrow
corridor, not a swivel and a wiggle, not a left and right, but an up and
down, super-lean muscle and elastic, super-lean membrane that showed you
everything, bones and sinews and veins, too skinny to live. But all the time
the questions formed in his head. 'Will I ever see you again?'  he called
after the imaginary Hari as he turned the corner, was gone. When he found
the real one he would ask 'what's going on and why?' As soon as he returned
to his own ship, first thing, he would call Mendell, and demand an
explanation. A bitter flash of jealousy hit him, and it killed what remained
of his hard on.

 On the Moreance the walls were transparent. No doors. That and the scent of
Jasmine that wasn't Jasmine. The lack of privacy had shocked Dio on this
first visit. Somewhere to his left emerged a heap of bodies, a tangle of
limbs and locks of hair. He hadn't seen real Siazi sex this close up before.
At least it looked like sex. He allowed his gaze to pan left and study the
spectacle but Hari didn't slow down. Only when Dio caught a sudden
reflection of himself observing this Siazi gang-bang, a knot of heaving
creatures in the foreground and a tall dark figure passing in the
background, did he tear himself away from it.
 He was following Hari's lead with everyone else, Raymond, Dragan, Coco,
Necheyev . Most of the Siazi crew took no notice of them or at least
appeared not to. Some had tasks to perform, others huddled in groups,
sleeping, eating or fucking. Only the alien children stopped whatever they
were doing to stare at them.
 He wished he didn't have to experience this in the company of Raymond.
Necheyev he could handle. But with the Admiral behind him, at least he had
the perfect excuse to focus on Hari's rear and that rhythmic, bouncy
leopard-walk of his.
 They entered a semi-shielded area. Even the sounds from beyond seemed
dimmed. Hari led them to a rectangular table with three seats on either side
and the Siazi indicated to them where to sit: Raymond facing Dragan in the
middle; Dio left and Necheyev right opposite Hari and Coco.
There was something hugging about the place, the seats so comfortable and
low, not like a formal meeting.
 Dragan opened a small, red flask from the table. Everyone had a  tiny red
bowl in front of them about the size of an espresso cup. Raymond held up her
hand to prevent Dragan from filling her bowl. He looked at her hesitant for
a moment but proceeded to fill his own with some of the bottle's content:
thick, metal-blue stuff, it moved like liquid wax but didn't set. Dragan
gave the bottle to Hari, and Dio made a decision not to follow Raymond's
example. The flask passed to Coco who gave Necheyev a challenging look
before filling their two cups.
 Dragan started by taking a sip. Coco downed the whole lot while glaring at
Necheyev. Dio focused on his own drink, reached for it and raised it
carefully, while Hari did the same. Looking at each other they sipped
together. This was Siom. Surely it had to be. The Siazi intoxicant his
father had told him about.
 The synchronicity of their gesture did not go unnoticed by the others, and
a part of Dio felt himself going down a dangerous path, the other part
divined how appropriate his behaviour was to the situation, and he permitted
himself the pleasure of continuing his fixation on Hari. He realized how
this scenario would have been played out with a less prudish people, and,
maybe due to the Siom, he wanted it so much. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw Necheyev taking a sip.
 Damn Raymond. Why did she have to be here? And then she had the nerve to
ask 'Shall we begin?'
 In the back of his mind formed an image of Raymond and Dragan fucking. He
tried to wipe it off his inward sight. He couldn't help grinning and noticed
Hari smiling at him open-mouthed and hot. He realized suddenly, almost as
though awaking from sleep, that Raymond and Dragan had moved on in their
conversation.
 'We do want to keep autonomy,' she hesitated, clearly disturbed by the
absence of a title in front of the alien's name, ' Dragan. We acknowledge
your protest about our restrictions, but - I cannot see a way round it. We
don't propose to tell you what you can do on your own ship, so I don't see
how you can tell us how to rule our own planet. All we want is the security
of a treaty, diplomatic relations, trade, not - cultural contamination - in
either direction. Surely that is in your own interest. We are looking to
negotiate a signed agreement. For now. Later maybe -'
 'The Siazi do not negotiate and sign agreements, Admiral Raymond,' Dragan
placed his empty bowl on the table, 'and neither do the Yago.'
 'Then, we have nothing to talk about.'
 'Indeed.' Dragan said with that voice that was like two voices an octave
apart. 'Would you like to do something else?  I could show you more of the
ship maybe.'
 'I think we should be going now.' Raymond got up. 'Captain?'
 'I'm alright here.'
 'Captain Dio, if you please?'
 In spite of himself Dio noticed Raymond's erect nipples, pushing against
her uniform armour-plating, buttoned up tight to the throat. And noticed
Dragan noticing it, noticing it demonstrably. Her front looked as though she
had ejaculated through her nipples. He didn't know whether to feel for
Dragan for having to tackle Raymond, and her bull-dagger contempt for
everything, for life itself. For scrawny, skinny, titless, fatless boys -
boys. Or to despise him for degrading himself like this, laying it on,
without meaning it, unless he did mean it, in which case - he despised him
even more. He wanted to be alone, with Hari. He didn't know what he hated
more: Raymond herself, or Dragan's awareness of her.

 'Fuck Raymond! Ignorant bitch. God it hurts.' Dio and Necheyev had returned
to the Cleopatra, and Raymond to the planet. Dio dragged Necheyev into his
own quarters, and backed him onto his messy, unmade bunk. 'If we contact the
Moreance, do you think they'll let us come back up?' He reached for Necheyev
's crotch and Necheyev pushed him away and stood up.
 'No, and I don't especially want to.'
 'Doesn't this stuff affect you at all?'
 'Of course it does, and I intend to call on Bennett and have a good time
with him before it wears off. And if there's still some left after that,
I'll go to Phillips. Am I dismissed, Captain?'
 'Up there, you wouldn't have wanted to do it with Coco? You would have
refused?'
 'I guess I could have managed it, had it been appropriate. To further
diplomatic relations, which is after all our job.'
Dio lay back and looked at the ceiling. He didn't want to see Necheyev's
disapproval. 'And who decides what's appropriate?'
 'Your commanding officer.'
 'So, if I order you, you'll do it?'
 'I happen to know that Raymond already ordered you not to.'
 'Not in so many words.' Dio muttered to the crumpled sheets more than to
his second.
 'In just enough words, Joe, you know that. I don't understand you.'
 'You drank the stuff when Raymond turned it down. Is it not our job, for
the sake of diplomatic relations, to mediate?'
 Necheyev got increasingly angry. 'We are not neutral! Our loyalties are
clear. At least mine are. I know you've got a thing for this Hari, so put it
out of your mind.'  Necheyev was pacing left and right in the tiny space. '
Or get it out of your system. There are enough cutesy blondes back home, at
least they have the right equipment. The Siazi are not men!'
 'I don't care. I want him like nothing I've ever wanted. Or it.'  Dio sat
up facing Necheyev. 'I'll have HER, if that's what it takes. Maybe that's
what I've always wanted.'
 'I don't get you.'
 Dio stood up. 'I don't get you either. So we're both human. So we're what
is generally referred to as men, and we have no desire for what is commonly
known as women. But apart from that we really don't have much in common.'

 The alien ship looked deserted. That now familiar Jasmine scent wafted over
Dio. There was only Hari and himself. The Siazi was wearing his reflective
gear, which he'd worn at their first meeting. An outfit in which Dio saw
himself, but beneath which he could not see. Just like he couldn't look into
Hari's eyes, he could only look at them.  Keeping his claws sheathed, Hari
took his hand, enclosed it with his long and deceptively elegant but strong
fingers. And led him through the transparent maze. It was cold.  Dio was
shaking, lightly. He couldn't speak. Both Hari's hands held him, and it felt
like a stunning force held him. Hari brought him the Siom: it was heavy and
thick, but tasted light and airy, as though it evaporated when exposed to
the heat of his mouth, not hot, not cold either.
Only the faintest desire remained in his gut, somewhere between an itch and
a nervy pain. He looked terrible on Hari's vest. He wanted to go home.
 Dio woke up unaware of having fallen asleep and was suddenly able to move
again. Hari spoke to him in a way that felt familiar, but that he could not
understand. Was he seeing his own nakedness on Hari, or had Hari taken his
mirror-garments off, or was it a mix of the two? Dio screwed up his eyes and
hung his head to one side, then the other, but he couldn't make out what he
was looking at.

 Mendell had been drunk that night at the 'Sailor'. That was almost a year
ago. Raymond had joined them, nursing Raymond Junior while sucking banana
juice with coconut cream through a straw. Thankfully she had sat next to
Necheyev at the opposite end of the table. The milky stench of mother and
baby revolted Dio.
 ' The first time I saw a Siazi, do you know what the first thing I thought
was? I thought that' Mendell waved his index finger and nodded, 'that, would
be something for Joe. And now you got one. I'm happy for you.'
 'And in whose ear have you been whispering this little story? Which one of
our friends in high places?'
 'You know me, Joe, I don't whisper a great deal.'
 Necheyev budded in then, bitching. 'Oh, but don't you see, it's their
personality that won him over.' He said it half to Raymond who was fussing
over her baby and not paying attention.
 'Come, come, we're all sex objects to one another. Nothing wrong with it.'
Mendell grinned.
 Necheyev left with Raymond and offspring and, passing through the groups of
tables toward the exit, to Dio they looked like some kind of archaic nuclear
family. For a moment, as they stepped across the threshold into the night
light, they had that sepia glow, just like in those old photographs.
 'Joe, dear', Mendell touched his arm, 'there are only two ways to be a man.
Either you support the status quo and really mean it, or you try to
overthrow it.'
 'And which one are you ?'
 'I'm neither.' Mendell gave Dio the anti-surveillance device.

 When Dio woke up back on the Cleopatra, it was there beside him on his
bunk. The agreement. Archaic paper printed with text, words, letters, and
unreadable signatures added by hand, or whatever limb came handy.
 'The Siazi do not negotiate and sign agreements', Dragan had said. Would it
mean anything at all to them?
 Dio assured himself, that the anti-surveillance device was still turned on,
and placed a call to his father.
 
 
 
 

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