JC rose from sleep gently, the hum of machinery under his ear keeping him drowsy. The agency must have fixed the filtrations system, JC thought, his mind fuzzy. He stretched, hands and feet hitting solid walls, making JC shoot straight up in his bed… Only it wasn’t his bed. It was the couch in the galley on the Fancy. The previous days events came rushing back to JC, the Treat dying, the subterfuge to get to the docks, the pilot…JC blinked, looking around the small galley area, looking for the pilot. What was his name again? JC rubbed his head, trying to remember. Timberlake. That’s it. Justin Timberlake. JC closed his eyes as the pilots face entered his mind. Justin Timberlake, who seemed to hate him for being a Trick. Their conversation of the last evening came back to JC. “A Trick,” Justin said, his voice full of venom. “A fucking Trick.” JC blinked at the hostility coming from the younger man. While it was true that Tricks on Oasis weren’t exactly the top of the social scale, they weren’t considered scum, either. And though JC wasn’t proud of his profession, neither was he willing to take abuse for it. Not anymore. “Yes, a Trick,” he said, his voice sounding surer than he felt. “You have a problem with Tricks?” “You could say that,” Justin had replied, glaring at JC once more before turning to the control panel of the ship. “I just don’t hold with whores,” he finished. That hurt. JC didn’t know why it hurt—he’d been called worse in his career. But for some reason, those words, coming from this man cut him. “You don’t understand…” JC began, only to have Justin turn to him, his blue eyes flashing fire. “I don’t want to understand,” Justin said. “I’m going to throw you off this ship as soon as we reach a port, then we’re done.” He turned back to the controls, dismissing JC. He took the hint, leaving the cockpit area and moving to the small galley. Finding the couch, he had eaten his stolen food (no way was he going to ask the pilot for anything to eat) then slipped into a deep sleep. Now it was morning. Or was it? He looked for the chrono, noting that the time elapsed since leaving Oasis had been 8 hours, so yes, technically it was morning. He looked around the galley, noticing for the first time the small things he’d missed last night. The space was neat and tidy and almost painfully bare. No personal touches, no pictures, nothing. JC had been on a few ships in his time (always parked at the docks and of course, as a Trick) but most pilots he’d met kept something in the galley area. He heard some movements behind a shut door, and steeled himself. The door opened and the pilot entered the galley. “You’re up,” he said. “Good. We get to Post Harbor in an hour. You can disembark there.” Post Harbor. No, it was too close. “I…couldn’t we, I mean, would it be alright if I, if you take me somewhere else?” JC asked, hating the fact that he had to ask. Justin shook his head. “I want you off this ship.” Justin removed a food packet from a cabinet, slipping it into the hydrator before turning to look at JC. “What’s wrong with Post Harbor?” he said, looking at JC’s disheveled hair and sleep soft eyes. Against his will, his cock twitched as the Trick’s tongue came out to wet his dry lips. “It’s too close,” JC said. “I mean, it’s under The Committee, so it’s,” his voice trailed off. “Please. A bit farther.” He opened his bag and pulled out the wallet. “I’ll give you all this money. Only take me away from Committee space.” “I don’t want your money,” Justin said. “Why? Because it’s stolen? Or because it’s mine?” No answer. JC looked around the ship. No way was this man as honest as he’s playing. “You’re a smuggler. A pirate, maybe. So it must be because I’m a Trick.” Again, no answer. “Fine. Leave me at Post Harbor. But when we land, you’ll be arrested with me, you realize that.” The pilot laughed. “No, I won’t,” he said. “They’ll never know you’re on board.” JC didn’t know how to answer that. He watched as Justin turned to the hydrator, pulling out his now ready meal and moving to the table. The smell of food in the galley made JC’s stomach rumbled, but he doubted the pilot would give him food. He regretted eating all that he’d taken from the Treat’s room now. JC squirmed a bit on the couch, another function coming to JC’s attention, and he realized he’d have to ask the pilot for at least one thing. JC ignored the smirk on the other man’s face. “Can I use the head?” JC asked. Justin jerked his head toward the door. “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered, moving out of the way so JC could walk by. The sleeping chamber was even barer than the galley. The bed was neatly made, the sheets and blankets on the bunk a dull gray. Indeed the entire room was gray, from the walls to the bed to the cabinets. The only spot of color was a painting on the wall. It was a starscape, full of reds and blues and violent purples. The painting was bold and disturbing. Somehow, JC knew that this was done by the pilot. JC used the head, moving out of the small sleeping chamber and re-entered the galley. It was empty. His empty stomach now twisted with pain, he was so hungry. Spying the remains of the pilot’s breakfast on the counter, JC moved across the galley quickly, scooping up the plate and shoving the remaining food into his mouth. A whoosh sounded, making JC freeze. He turned, a piece of bread half way to his mouth. The pilot stood in the doorway, a smirk on his handsome face. “Figures,” he said, moving past JC and pulling a drink out of the cooling unit. JC finished the food, slipping the plate into the trash. He washed his hands, then joined the pilot at the table. “How soon until we reach Port Harbor?” JC asked. “About ten minutes,” came the reply. The pilot rose and signaled to JC to do the same. “Get your stuff and stand here,” he ordered, pointing to a space near the sleeping chamber. JC grabbed his duffle and stood where told. He watched as the pilot reached behind him and opened a panel in the wall. A few buttons, and the panel slid closed. “We’ll be searched, but they won’t see you,” the pilot explained. JC watched him take a small disc from a pocket on his pant leg. “After the search, you’ll get off this ship and stay off.” With that, the pilot pushed a button on the disc. A shimmer of light flashed, and JC blinked. There was opaqueness to his surroundings now, and he lifted a hand. Energy crackled, and JC realized that a hologram was now shielding him from view. Clever of the pilot, JC though, turning and opening the panel. But not clever leaving JC here. ***************************** “Oasis called about you, Timberlake,” the security man said. “Told us you blasted off without permission, and that I was hold you here for interrogation if you showed up.” Justin laughed. “And you do everything Oasis tells you, right Roger?” “Very little, actually,” Roger replied. “But—you are here. I guess I should search your ship, just in case.” “Just in case you find something you can steal, you mean,” Justin countered. “Go right ahead.” He watched as Roger and the rest of the security crew sweep Justin’s ship with sensors. As always, they found nothing. Justin’s acquisition of the hologram field a few years ago was the secret to his success as a smuggler. Try though they might, the officials of Oasis and its satellite planets had yet to figure it out. Giving Roger and the others a jaunty wave, he closed the hatch, then pulled the remote from his pocket. A shimmer of light flashed, and the hologram wall melted away. But…the Trick was gone. *********************** Justin punched the Fancy into hyper drive and leaned back in his chair. He wondered how the Trick had gotten past his hologram, and where he’d gone. The Trick’s face floated in his memory, the wild hair, the red lips, the long legs, the tight ass. In spite of everything, he had been a good looking man, and Justin always had been partial to the lean, leggy type. Justin checked the chrono, seeing he had quite a few hours before he reached Red Orchid, his next stop. He slipped hand into his lap, feeling his cock grow as he thought about the Trick again. Squeezing his cock harder, he pictured himself sliding into that ass, moving in and out of the Trick’s hot hole, bending the Trick over and taking him roughly, pounding pounding pounding… The whine of the blaster sounded next to his ear, making Justin’s cock wilt. He opened his eyes to the sight of a weapon aimed directly at his head. He peered up a bit, the Trick’s eyes cold as steel as he held the blaster on Justin. He waited, knowing that for now, the Trick had the upper hand. “Where are we headed?” the Trick asked. “Red Orchid,” Justin replied. “Is that Committee space?” Justin nodded. “Can we get anywhere else before refueling?” Justin shook his head. “Alright, I’ll just hide again when we land.” “Can I take my hand out of my pants?” Justin asked. As he’d hoped, the Trick’s eyes moved down, giving Justin the chance he’d been looking for. His free hand moved quickly, pulling the blaster out of the Trick’s hand, his other hand, now free of his pants, shoving the Trick back out of the cock pit area. His actions had the desired effect, catching the Trick off guard, making him stumble and lose his footing. A crash, and the Trick was on the floor. Justin flipped the weapon in his hand, grasping the handle as he stood up. He moved over the Trick, grabbing the other man by the arm and pulling him up onto the couch in the galley. Justin stood over the Trick, his eyes on fire, his voice taut. “Don’t ever point a weapon at me unless you’re going to use it,” he hissed. The Trick’s eyes widened as Justin towered over him. Justin looked down at the Trick, noting the trembling mouth, the wide eyes, the lithe body stretched beneath him. He knew it was a mistake, but figured he was owed one after being held at blaster point by his own weapon. With a groan, he tossed the blaster away and pulled the Trick up, crushing their mouths together.