Plurk paste

“I think I’m gonna cry,” Johnny murmured as he stared at the most beautiful set of curves he’d ever laid eyes on. She shone in the sun, nestled in a bright green field that seemed impossibly well manicured. A discreet scan gave him details that made him close his eyes and dream of cold showers – she was more than just a pretty face. According to his data she was as well-endowed on the inside as she was on the outside.

He had to have that ship.

Without taking his eyes off of her he slid his palm device into his back pocket and identified her hull entrance, already mentally decrypting her security systems. It was no easy task; they were advanced. Whoever’d set up her shields and defense systems was good, but he was better. She wasn’t the first ship he’d boosted, but by the looks of her she may be his last. He could see himself living out the rest of his life on a beauty like this one.

The sun was setting and he took advantage of the low lighting to crawl up her side and pry open a side panel.

“Sorry, baby, I promise this won’t take long.” He paused and winced. “See, this is why I don’t date. If this is how lame I sound with non-sentient beings...” Johnny clucked his tongue, giving his head a quick shake before his lips quirked upwards. “Time to stick to what I’m good at.”

It was an hour before he had her decrypted, and another two before he’d coaxed her docking ramp down. He was drooling at the thought of giving her a much more intimate examination, but first things first: he had to get her in the air.

Johnny’d flown a lot of ships since he left the J, but none had felt like this. Sitting behind her controls felt like home, like the closest thing he could imagine to family. The tips of his fingers tingled with electricity and he imagined himself connected to the ship, just another bundle of wires and impulses wrapped in skin and muscle instead of steel and copper. When he was in this seat he felt powerful. Invincible.

Pain exploded in his left shoulder. He shouted, hand going for his gun as he turned to face his would-be assassin. She was small, but Johnny’d learned not to make the mistake of assuming size meant much of anything. The way she stood and the look in her eye told him she meant business. His arm was going numb, blood began to drip down his sleeve and onto the floor. He remembered the faucet in their washroom growing up, the old-fashioned sink dripping into a rust-spot at the bottom of the cheap metal basin.

“What the shit?” He managed eloquently.

“That’s my line.”

The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his side as his body crumpled, then the cold floor against his side as his world went black.