Pixie Hazard Book 1: Junker’s Paradise By Archibald Bradford Copyright © 2020 Cover Art by Emily Hurless https://www.furaffinity.net/user/monstersheltie/ Introduction Donjoon Nelson is the captain of the Pixie Hazard, a dual purpose dropship/gunship that serves as a home to her and her crew of rough and tumble former marines. Together they bust heads and ass to keep their aging spaceship flying and their resident sex-cat happy. WARNING: This is a work of erotic fantasy, there is nudity, swearing, graphic violence, and plenty of naughty sex between man, woman, and alien cat-girl. If that isn’t your cup of tea please give this book a pass! Otherwise please enjoy! Table of Contents Introduction Table of Contents Legal Notes Prologue: Baggage Handling Chapter 1: Technical Difficulties Chapter 2: Transactions Chapter 3: Falling Pixies Chapter 4: After Action Chapter 5: Balance Owed Chapter 6: Fire and Fury Chapter 7: Work Work Work Chapter 8: Junkers gotta Junk Chapter 9: Breach Chapter 10: Big Damn Hero Chapter 11: Leaky Boat Chapter 12: “Science”, Inbound Chapter 13: Stormy Happenings Chapter 14: Morning Woes Chapter 15: Plants and Stuff Chapter 16: Exposed Chapter 17: Little Black Box Chapter 18: Heat Chapter 19: Underpaid, Overworked Chapter 20: Naughty Boy Chapter 21: The Plunge Chapter 22: Berthing Time Chapter 23: Special Delivery Chapter 24: Attachments Chapter 25: Over Bao Chapter 26: Uncomfortable Chapter 27: Spill yer Guts Chapter 28: Secrets Sting Chapter 29: WTF is a Chinchilla Chapter 30: Taste of Forgiveness Chapter 31: Make the Call Chapter 32: Hidey Hole Chapter 33: Overwatch Chapter 34: Dying Stars Chapter 35: Recuperation Chapter 36: Free Colony Chapter 37: Designation, Stardust Chapter 38: Heroics Epilogue: Destroyer of Worlds About The Author Other Books By The Lieutenant Legal Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you want someone else to read it please purchase them a copy. All of the characters in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older and any resemblance to persons living or dead is both coincidental and unintentional. “Whacking a ball up Mickey Mouse’s ass and having it come out his mouth isn’t golf.” Rest in peace old man. Prologue: Baggage Handling The Junker ship’s hold was pocked with rusty holes that revealed the interior of the bulkheads. The condition of the former mining vessel betrayed its age as being several times that of the lone occupant of the storage room. He wasn’t there by choice. Bryan Everson had to inhale through his nose due to the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth as a gag, the equally dirty sack over his head cloying him with his own heated breaths. He was shirtless, and the remains of the torn pants he wore did little to combat the chill of the metal surface of the cargo-hold. With his hands painfully tied behind his back by a length of wiring, he lay on his side curled up as best he could, trembling uncontrollably while waiting to be killed or worse. The Junkers had raided the facility where he was apprenticing and captured him and several others. One by one the rest were taken away to unknown fates, whether it was to be sold into slavery or killed for sport, he didn’t know. Now he was all that remained. He had been onboard for a couple of weeks, though it was nigh-impossible to mark time when he was treated worse than a sack of potatoes. The creak of the hatch opening made him flinch, and then freeze. Heavy-booted footsteps approached him. “What about it eh? You want I should kill him?” A coarse male voice asked from above him. The hard metal muzzle of a gun painfully jabbed into the side of his head and he screamed hoarsely, convinced that death had come for him at last. He almost felt a sense of relief despite the tears seeping from his clenched eyelids; it would at least mean an end to his nightmare. “Naw. We follow the commodore’s orders, even if I don’t unnerstand ‘em.” Another male voice replied sourly; “If we don’t hear back from the original buyer we might could still unload him on Hawthorne, he’s pretty enough for the brothels there. Though at this point he’s maybe eaten more than we’ll get for ‘em.” Given that their prisoner had barely been provided water, let alone food, the man was clearly exaggerating. The first Junker pressed his gun harder into Bryan’s temple, scraping against his scalp. “So... I should kill him?” His voice held a hint of confusion. “You damned idjit! Put that burner away before I take it from you! Why the hell you even carrying it around for?!” The pressure of the metal muzzle left Bryan’s temple, but he didn’t dare move. “What am I carrying it around for?” The first man asked in a voice of bewilderment; “Have you met the rest of this crew?” “Don’t give me that! You’re part of the clan now, and out here that means more than being blood kin.” Once again Bryan felt the muzzle against his head, but this time it was tapping repeatedly against his brow as the paranoid pirate thought on how best to respond. “What about that Burl feller? He was clan and Leroy and his crazy brother beat him to death in front of everyone!” Bryan heard a heavy sigh. “We been over this. Burl was good people, but Burl ate the last of the ice-cream. And that is just something you don’t do. It’s like a... uh... an unspoken rule! Yeah!” “That don’t make a lick of sense! The ship would be full of mostly eaten ice-cream buckets!” Their voices receded out of the cargo-hold as their argument continued. Whatever Bryan’s fate was to be, it was clear that these two scholars weren’t going to decide it for him. Not for the first time he lamented
