Ganymede Station

GANYMEDE STATION

PART 1: CHEYNEX

CHAPTER 1.

As I looked high overhead I was taken aback by the sheer number of stars. An entire galaxy spread into the vast blackness of space all around us. Even while I was rocked by the man underneath me, my head was a million miles away.

Carson, one of many freighter pilots who stopped by this station, held me firmly by the waist as he slammed repeatedly into my ass. We were on the bridge of his cargo ship, the Comet Chaser, docked at Ganymede. I loved when he fucked me in this exact place aboard his freighter. It was cramped, but through the heavy windows above and surrounding us was one of the best views of the nearby cosmos. Sweat rolled down my smooth chest and arms as I held myself atop the ship's console. The steam we were creating from our exertions fogged the large windows ever so slightly, in gray patterns like clouds. Carson grunted and gritted his teeth as he fucked me for all he was worth. The feel of him inside was wonderful. He was one of my regulars, I would usually get a message from him when he came through this way, every other month or so. He was nice enough, I always looked forward to our time spent together.

"You're so hot, baby." He moaned into the cool air of his ship's cabin.

"Don't stop until I make you cum." I told him, pushing some long dark hair out of my face.

Carson leaned back in his captain's chair, gripping me more tightly. It was an awkward position for me, my feet perched on the chair arms and my hands holding me slightly wedged between the windows and ship's terminal, but I wasn't uncomfortable, in fact I felt incredible. He spit into one of his large, rough hands and I felt it wrap around the length of my cock and start to pump.

"Mmm, just like that, it won't be long now..." I said with a gasp.

I curled my long tail up underneath and pushed gently between the big man's hairy thighs until I was sliding into his sweaty ass cheeks. I nudged further until I was prodding against his tight asshole. He wouldn't let me enter him, but I knew the gentle, teasing pressure here would send him over.

"Ungh, you know the spot, don't ya?" He grunted with a grin under his whiskers. "Here it comes!" Carson shouted.

His hand was clumsy on my dick so I replaced it with my own to bring myself to orgasm. I joined him moments later, blasting streams onto my stomach and chest with thick bursts of semen. I threw my head back as the power of our combined climax wracked my body. Carson continued to thrust and his eyes grew wide with lust as he enjoyed watching me shoot. After several blissful moments our bodies began to slow and relax while our breathing returned to a less feverish pace. When I was finally spent and the frenetic sexual energy had dissipated, I carefullly climbed off the larger man's lap and leaned against the side of his chair, kissing his broad shoulder.

"That was wonderful, Carson." I said sweetly.

The grizzled freighter pilot gave a wide smirk. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of being inside you, Cheyne. You know just how to make me feel good!"

"You make me feel good too." I smiled back.

Carson rose to his feet and fumbled around in the pile of clothes near his feet until he found his underwear, stepped into them and pulled them up to his hips.

"I'm gonna get a drink, you want one?" He asked as he headed for the cabin door.

"That sounds great." I nodded appreciatively.

After he left the room I began to dress as well. I pulled on my briefs and heavy socks. Then I climbed into tight-fitting pants and a shirt, large heated jacket and heavy boots, out of necessity. The boots had mechanisms inside that could be activated to adhere to any metal surface in the station. If the artificial gravity failed, as it sometimes did, it was necessary to not only have the magnetic footwear handy, but also be adept at moving in them without gravity's assistance. The heated jacket was necessary for all scabarethen, that is, members of my race. Our planet is severe, arid, much hotter than human climates, and while we can deal with cooler temperatures for a time, we ultimately need to be able to heat back up and quickly. For scabarethen living in space, or human settlements, hypothermia is sadly the number one cause of death.

I zipped the jacket up and the sensors inside the cuffs and neck activated, alerted to my body temperature and began to heat the lining accordingly. I sat on a low bench near the back of the cabin and stared off longingly through one of the long, slanted side windows into the vast twinkling universe beyond. The view wasn't spectacular, there was construction, other ships and docking ramps obscuring what I could see, still, without actually being out in space, you could at least see the stars.

Carson returned a few minutes later still wearing only his boxer shorts, carrying two human ales, they weren't a brand I recognized.

"Here ya go, Cheyne." He offered me one which I gratefully accepted.

I took a few sips and contemplated the flavor. It wasn't too bad, although drinks of my people always seemed to have more depth, more sweetness than human-brewed beverages.

"How is it?" Carson asked as he took several big gulps.

"It's fine, thanks." I replied.

He picked up his work pants from the heap on the floor and rummaged around in a pocket until he found his smartscreen, a handheld device that nearly everyone owned and used regularly. It could contact anyone almost anywhere, display any information desired and even monitor the owner's health and wellbeing. To my understanding humans have used them for generations.

He raised an eyebrow slightly and asked, "Are we gonna do this now?"

"Yeah, sure." I said, producing my own smartscreen from my jacket.

"Same amount as last time?" He asked.

"Yup, sounds good." I said.

Carson made a few taps and slides with a finger. "Done." He stated.

I made a quick check of my account and saw it update to reflect the latest addition of credits. "Perfect, then we're all set!" I said happily.

We finished our drinks over small talk. It was nothing too personal, things like, 'how is work going?' Also, 'how long do you think you'll stay in Ganymede this time around?'

Ultimately Carson started to fidget and said. "Well Cheyne, I'm pretty tuckered out, think I'll turn in soon."

Obviously this was my queue to leave, as I always did at this time of night but something stupid popped into my head and instead I remarked, "I could stay the night if you wanted?"

The big freighter pilot gave me a fairly confused look. "I uh, couldn't afford that."

"No, I mean, I know. It would be on the house. My place is just about the worst, so, not in a hurry to get back there." I replied quickly and gave a short laugh.

Carson grimaced and scratched his blond chest as he thought. "That's okay Cheyne, I think we should just call it a night. I'll message you when I'm next in Ganymede."

"Cool, yeah! No problem then. Catch you later, Carson!" I was already wearing everything I had brought with me so I quickly headed to the back door from the bridge, leading down to the airlock. I turned and gave a small wave and smile as the door slid closed behind me. Carson waved back, he still had a somewhat conflicted look on his face. I genuinely hoped I hadn't scared off one of my regulars with talk of wanting to stick around. I actually didn't mind spending my evenings with him, I shouldn't be so careless.

I passed through the airlock connecting Carson's ship with the dock. I left the small freighter behind and entered the narrow corridor leading back through the expanse of freight bays. It was fairly late by this time so there weren't too many folks working the docks. Of course time is still a relative thing in space when you aren't orbiting a star whose light dictates the hours of your day. Because folks still need to have normal day and night schedules and relative quiet while they are asleep, we follow a simple Earth time schedule. Immense lights in the yawning domed roof of the station slowly come to life every morning, stay on over the course of the day and fade away each night. Ganymede station is a good size and sees a high amount of goods imported and exported through the spaceport docks. It serves to be a meeting point between many well-trafficked deep space shipping lanes. It's large enough that it's home to over a couple thousand people, the vast majority being human but there are maybe a couple hundred scabarethen living here as well, including me. We are in a constant state of rotation which, combined with enormous generators under our feet helps to create the artificial gravity we all take for granted. Behind the thriving shipping businesses are much seedier hotels, brothels and gambling rings. It's cramped, cold, and reeks of too many people and too much industry crammed into the same space. I would hate it here, but I don't know anywhere else, so I have no basis for comparison. Maybe every place in the galaxy sucks just as much.

I left the docks behind and headed out into the system promenade, an extensive metallic road that extended all the way around and through Ganymede. Old and mostly faded display panels let visitors know street names and locations. Naturally the businesses that thrived in this place could afford newer screens that actually functioned properly. For reasons I can't quite explain, I liked the sound of the buzz from too many lights and neon billboards crowded along Ganymede's mainstreet. They made this place almost feel alive, the sound, the thrum of energy through wires and circuits, interconnecting the whole station. I headed through some back alleys where the street lighting began to flicker and fade. Fewer signs here, it was getting into the low rent apartment districts where the majority of the population lived. There was grease and probably some sewage on the streets where pipes had become blocked and begun to seep out, but the maintenance team didn't put too much priority on coming down this way. Hotels, casinos, nice restaurants and brothels were what made sure Ganymede stayed alive out here. These were what were maintained and kept shiny to attract any wayward miners or freighter pilots who happened through.

It wasn't a bad walk back to my apartment building, from the docks it was only about twenty minutes. My apartment was right in the middle of the scummiest parts of Ganymede. There was little point in being upset about the fact, I couldn't afford any better. The three story grey building was all but falling down. 'Andromeda Arms Apartments' was written in large blue letters over the doors, which looked like they had lit up at some point a long time ago. I opened the front door, and entered the small lobby where I was met by harsh, flickering lights. A glint of shiny plastic on the floor caught my eye and I found a small keycard on the dirty brown carpeting. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand, it looked like it could be another tenant's room key, and if it was, it was to a third floor apartment. It occurred to me that It might be worth poking around, maybe there was cash to be made. It was unlikely though, anyone who lived in this cesspit wouldn't have credits lying around, let alone any money in the first place.

The elevator hadn't worked since I had lived here for the past twenty some years so I took the stairs to the third floor. As I stepped out into the long, carpeted hallway it instantly became apparent which room the keycard unlocked. Just like the other two floors, this one had only a single straight corridor lined with ten rooms on either side. All the way near the opposite end of the hallway was a crumpled heap of body on the floor, sprawled in front of one of the doors. I approached the fallen person with some trepidation. They might be injured, they could be on some chemical, making them unpredictable, hell, they could be dead.

I reached the far end of the passage and stood over the body on the carpet. Not dead, sleeping it looked like, or more aptly, passed out cold. I tried the keycard in the door and I heard it click as it unlocked. I pushed it open and peered into the inky darkness beyond. Near my feet the unconscious man stirred and made a snort. He rolled onto his back and I got a look at his face. He was human, and I actually recognized him. I had seen him around the building occasionally. He had on faded jeans and a big jacket that looked military or maybe police-issued. There was a heavy eyepatch over his right eye and a thick black moustache that almost looked too big for his face. I guessed he had dropped his keycard earlier and when he hadn't been able to get into his room, just resolved to sleep in the hall. He was the local marshall for the station, and from the smell of his breath, beyond intoxicated. I decided that robbing him might not be in my best interests after all.

"You awake, marshall?" I asked as I poked at him with my boot.

He grunted and rolled onto his side.

I don't know why, maybe it was some neighborly obligation or something, likely it was just me wanting to put a marshall in my debt, but I determined I would get him into his room. I knelt down and got my hands under his armpits. I lifted with exertion, the man was big, heavy, and nothing but dead weight at the moment.

"Come on, marshall, help me out." I said with a labored breath as I hoisted the man.

He came awake from the movement and staggered to his feet with my help. He whirled around suddenly, his good eye open and shoved me bodily against the far wall.

"Take your hands off me, scab!" He drawled as he fixed me with an angry bloodshot stare.

Scab is a very derogatory name for my people, one of many that humans have devised over the years.

"Yeah? Fuck you too." I spat angrily. "I was just trying to help you into your apartment you worthless drunk."

I pushed away from the wall and produced his keycard from my pocket.

The marshall looked at me in surprise. I tossed him his key which he fumbled and dropped to the floor. Through a bleary eye he tried to focus on me.

"Go to bed, stop sleeping in the hallway." I said irritably as I turned and left.

Behind me the drunken man stooped to grab his key then shuffled into his room, shutting the door behind him.

I headed to my apartment on the second floor, unlocked the door and pushed my way inside. I was still annoyed over the exchange upstairs. I had actually tried to do the right thing and instead gotten hit, sworn at and made to feel like a fool. It was small wonder that nobody ever helped each other out in this place, there was nothing to be gained by doing so. I went to the cramped washroom and flipped on the switch, dimly illuminating the area. I started the shower running, it usually took several minutes to get hot water. I stripped all of my clothes off and piled them at the counter's edge next to the small sink.

I looked myself over in the cracked mirror. I took good care of myself, it was important in my line of work. I brushed some dark hair out of my face. I appeared tired around the eyes, though most humans couldn't recognize what that looked like. We have large, wide eyes that are mostly black except for the large irises which range from pale yellow to crimson red. They will actually change color depending on our mood. Currently mine were brownish-orange, indicating stress and fatigue.

Steam began to drift from the tiny shower stall so I stepped inside. Water is normally a luxurious commodity in deep space but Ganymede was a good size and central enough to an asteroid belt nearby that was full of water ice. Freighters stocked with mining equipment would break up and haul the ice in where it was stored in enormous tanks in Ganymede's belly, broken up further, melted down, chemically treated, and pumped in liquid form throughout the station. Water recycling was just as important, nearly every drop of water that found its way down the drains from my apartment would be treated and reused elsewhere. Stations such as this had to be efficient to keep spacer societies running in the distant reaches of space where water, oxygen and building materials could be scarce.

There was a thin bar of soap on a ledge in the corner of the tight stall so I began to lather up my deep purple body. Oh right, scabarethen are purple, head to toe, varying shades. We have short claws at the tips of five fingers, a long, slender, prehensile tail and high, rounded ears reaching up over our heads. I grabbed the sponge hanging underneath the showerhead and thoroughly began to scrub my body. Despite knowing Carson, and being with him dozens of times, I still felt the need to clean myself after every encounter I had, with him or any man.

It wasn't a proud profession I had joined, but it was something I knew, and performed well. Most members of my race wouldn't lower themselves to selling their bodies which left me with an opportunity. Horny freighter pilots were rarely in short supply and many of them got paid on arrival here and needed to spend some of that money burning a hole in their pocket. I was lean, strong, relatively young and of course exotic so I did alright for myself. I still tried to get work where I could around the station but nothing I found paid nearly as well or consistently. I had grown up around humans even more than my own people and had developed an attraction to them early on, especially the big, burly men I saw everyday around Ganymede.

The water never stayed hot for long so I shut it off and stepped out as soon as I felt the first telltale change in temperature. I wrapped my body in a scratchy towel and started to briskly dry myself. I headed to the wall display between the kitchen and bedroom and adjusted the apartment temperature. As I have said, we need more heat than humans, which naturally leads to higher heating costs so I make sure to only turn it up while I am at home. I moved into my small bedroom and climbed into the bed. There's one window in the room but it faces the apartment building immediately next door so I just keep it hidden under a dark blanket.

I was tired, but have never been able to sleep easily. I pulled a sketchbook and pencil from the shelving alcove behind the head of the bed. Sometimes I would just draw when there was nothing else worth doing. It was a decent distraction I discovered over the years. I had heard stories, seen movies and shows about forests and oceans and deserts. Each was beautiful in drastically different ways.

I reached my hand to the wall and caused a low light to fill the room. My smartscreen had a mode where I could draw on its surface, but for whatever reason I loved the feel of the paper and pencil, made the work more real to me. I flipped the book open to a picture of a tree standing in a field I had been working on from the night before. It wasn't anything special and I don't claim to be much of an artist, but while I sketched in a new branch and leaves, I imagined what it might sound like with wind causing the trunk to sway. I wondered what it would smell like after a rain. I thought about what that rain would feel like on my skin. I started to add raindrops into the picture.

Eventually my eyelids began to droop and my head bobbed with exhaustion. I closed the sketchbook gently and tucked it back onto its recessed shelf. I touched the panel beside the bed again to turn off the lights in the apartment until I was surrounded by comforting dark. I allowed myself a yawn as I pulled thick covers up over my body. I curled up into a ball with my tail wrapping around my ankles. I tried not to think about what tomorrow might bring and instead thought about the view from the bridge of the Comet Chaser. There were countless worlds out there, seas, and storms, black holes and solar flares. Somewhere out in the vastness of space was my homeworld that I had never seen.