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Reentry always made Harriet a little uneasy. At the very least, she couldn't see much from the engine room where she was strapped in. Here she monitored the energy output as the frontal thrusters slowed the descent of the Rebellious Bastion. She thought about her former lover, Captain Cyrus Stark. It was odd working for an old flame, but there was little demand for non-military engineers, except on smuggler ships such as this one. There remained a playful tension between her and the Captain, probably because they were the same species, both being rats, and that they previously shared a bed. The captain seemed to be more interested in more feminine women of other species since their separation. Harriet was quite a tomboy, lanky and boyish, and she was of course an engineer by trade.

The Rebellious Bastion had seen a variety of captains come and go. It had been decades since it's maiden voyage. Harriet was quite appreciated here, being able to keep this ship running despite it's advanced age. Even with all of her flying experience, she still got a bit nauseated during takeoff and landing but she was prepared. A shot of anti-emetic drugs had been left in a convenient vial nearby on the control panel and she quickly downed it. Outside the ship was shaking, it's outer ceramic hull heating to surprising temperatures from friction with the atmosphere. In atmospheres as dense as the one on Corpiarri, it was especially jarring, but on the surface, a trade outpost with lush greenery and fresh air awaited the crew.

The captain had little need to be in the cockpit. Landing was at this point, routine. Goods were frequently freighted(not smuggled by his standards) between worlds and systems. In the process he and his crew frequently collected a large cut. He sat strapped into the landing chair in his own quarters and monitored the process from the tablet computer he held onto. Everything was going according to plan. Soon, the trade outpost on this world was in view, and before much longer, the ship hovered down to earth after slowing it's descent. There was the brief jarring shake of it's frame as the landing gear touched the concrete pad below, and then nothing. He went out to the cargo bay on his own as the loading ramp opened and the engines powered down.

There, a tomcat in advanced years was already waiting. He presented the captain with a suitcase, the contents of which were revealed soon as it was laid on a crate and opened. 50 disks of pressed electrum - an alloy of gold and silver - per each cannister, another 50 in all. This was valuable cargo, after all. 2500 disks was one of the better pulls the captain made in his business as a freighter captain. After a quick handshake with the cat, forklifts came and carried the numerous crates of medical supplies off the ship.

The captain inserted each individual cannister into the pneumatic tube input in the docking bay. Here the contents were loaded into a central deposit box, after the disks were counted. Each crewmember could collect their cut at their leisure from the central commons. The captain had the largest cut for sure, but it wasn't that much greater than his trusted and respected crewmates. The largest cut went to the ship's maintenance. For a ship of it's size, the Rebellious Bastion had little in the way of living quarters but a large cargo hold. Such was it's purpose. Freighters had little need for a large crew, but this meant that maintenance often needed more hands than the ship could support. Harriet had been given clearance to manage this fund, and to maintain a roster of competent workers on call in each of the most common worlds the Bastion visited.

"Payment has been received, crew," said Cyrus into the intercom system. "Captain - if you remember, in addition to our standard maintenance, I discussed installing weapons systems on the Bastion. We can't always rely on being able to outrun other ships while moving through hostile sectors," chimed in Harriet back through the engine room. She was no military commander - no soldier for that matter - but lately the risks of the trade had grown, and she had just as much interest in saving her skin as anyone. "I do remember. You will notice that I have authorized a budget of 400 disks for this. Since you'll be transporting such a large sum to the arms dealers' district, do remember to retrieve my pistol from it's hiding place in my quarters. I'd accompany you, but quite frankly I know nothing about ship guns. I trust that you'll do a better job of choosing something that can disable a hostile ship. Cyrus out." The captain closed the signal, but briefly met eyes with her in the commons moments later, as they both needed to collect payment from the ship's internal banking system.

Harriet was definitely still attracted to him. He was taller than her and handsome, with a light sinuous build. Uncommon among rats, he had a completely white coloration save for some blonde headfur which was usually parted to the side. She remembered more lewd details too - that he was quite hung. The captain was in his late twenties, but had spent most of that time offworld. Interstellar travel was quite comfortable to him.

Cyrus remained fond of Harriet, but addressed her mostly in a professional manner, save for playful flirting. She was not his type, or so he had come to tell himself. She was thin, small breasted, and definitely a tomboy, and these days often dressed in unflattering work clothes stained with engine grease. Still - without her, this little business venture of his would have never gotten off the ground, and the captain couldn't concieve of a life spent outside the hulls of a spacecraft.

The bank machine spit out 8 cannisters of electrum disks, which Harriet took and carefully placed in a locking briefcase like the one payment had been delivered in previously. Then she excused herself to retrieve that pistol and holster, at present the only gun on the ship. For Cyrus, the machine whirred and buzzed. It gave him five disks of the metal, as well as some smaller pieces cut from the disks in even amounts, pressed again and folded into proportional, smaller denominations with their value stamped on them. Fiat currencies were sometimes a staple of planetary economies, but only precious metals were of use for the needs of interstellar traders.

While Harriet's assignment was more practical, the captain had other things on his mind. Cyrus nodded to some of his crewmates as they filtered out of their quarters and the cockpit into the commons, but then was off, lowered to the landing pad by a circular lift that emerged through the bottom of the Bastion. He wore a pretty common uniform for free-enterprise civilian captains. While Harriet shopped for weaponry, he made his way to the red-light district. Cyrus had reasoned after all, that a captain must keep a level head, by keeping his needs well taken care of. He knew that he may well run into his other crewmates at the brothels, but only if he stayed longer than it took the others to buy supplies.

The red light district was never very far from a major port in any city. He paid the cab driver two slivers as he stepped out just around dusk. The neon lights of the brothels cast a hellish glow in the dimming light. He approached the front door of the Vixen Ranch - a name which confused him because the vixens were surely bred elsewhere and because it was a tenement building in a major city - and pressed the intercom buzzer. After he was scanned for weapons and sufficiently valuable contents of his pockets, the automatic door slid open and he stepped in.

The music wasn't as loud as the chatter, and mainly served as a beat for the waitresses, bartenders and whores, all female or feminine enough, to sway their hips to. The name wasn't entirely accurate as this brothel kept more than vixens in it's roster. In various states of dress and undress, the brothel represented a decent cross section of the known galaxy's species and races. A buxom and topless tigress with pierced nipples approached Cyrus as he sat at the bar, and asked, "The usual?" to which he nodded. She returned with a tall pilsner glass of pale yellow beer which she set on the bartop, and he tipped her almost as much as the drink cost. "So who's ass is on tap today?" asked the rat with a bemused sort of grin, and she tapped the bartop twice. The menu program loaded on the touchscreen surface of the bar in front of him.

Cyrus enjoyed browsing for a while. Most of the bios read the same, except for the girls who specialized in one service or another. He was distracted from the screen only by the occasional girl who would walk by, in particular a curvy coyote who he found shortly after in the menu system. She was dressed in a very wild-west sort of way today, with chaps, cowboy boots, an open vest with nothing under it, and the obligatory hat. Her boots even had spurs on them, though they didn't look particularly sharp. Cyrus flagged this coyote down and she was happy to come over. With nothing concealing the parts of her that customers might be most interested in, she was free to lean forward as she faced him with her heavy breasts hanging out the front of her vest. "Yes, sugar?" spoke the coyote in a charming drawl. Then she spotted the picture of herself on the bartop touch screen menu, a real lewd one, bent over this same bar with two of her own fingers buried up under her tail, while two others splayed the folds of her cunt. "Just admiring the view," said the captain, "Also I noticed your bio doesn't list any of your rates. I was wondering what it would take to have an hour or two of your time. I've spent a few weeks in a cramped ship with my ex leering at me and no real company." The coyote flashed a toothy sort of grin at him, turned and flagged her tail to give him a view of the goods before she sat back into his lap. She made eye contact with the tigress bartender who made an 'OK'sign with her fingers. "For you? A disc an hour should cover my services, depending on what you were wanting." With this she gave a grind down of her hips toward the quite evident bulge in the rat's dress slacks. Cyrus noticed that in the holsters at her hips were a bottle of lube and a fat black dildo. "I was in the mood for some no-holes-barred action, and I'd like to ride bareback, cowgirl." With this, the rat grinned, and the coyote licked her black lips. "Had a feelin'. Truthfully, that doesn't change my offer one bit. Think you can hold your horses for a little while? I'm supposed to put on a little show," she said as she swatted herself on the haunches after she revealed this little tidbit. This made the captain think for a few moments. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you a nice tip if you can direct me to someone up for similar services, at a similar rate, who I can fuck right here in the lounge while you do your thing with that big black tool." The rat tended to drive a hard bargain in this way. Still, she swatted him across the hips with her tail as she accepted a couple slivers of metal. Then she bent over the bar and made a point of showing Cyrus what he was missing out on, even as she flipped through the touchscreen menu. She selected a russet vixen of similar build and promptly pressed the 'call' button. "You're welcome, sugar. She'll help you right over there," drawled the coyote as she pointed toward a couch and then walked off.

The rat walked over and had a seat for himself and looked up toward the stage. A lop-eared doe with white fur and blonde hair had just finished making herself gush all over the stage with her practiced fingers. He offered polite applause as she cleaned up after herself and got off stage. Soon the promised vixen walked into view, walked over and immediately dropped down to her knees. "You drive a hard bargain, Mister," said the vixen as she looked up through her lashes at him. Matching her pelt was a crop of red hai, "A disc an hour, and you want two hours? If you weren't such a good friend of the 'Ranch, I'd have turned the deal down. Sure you can keep it up for two hours?" To this Cyrus chuckled some and reached down to ruffle her headfur. "I'm in the mood to pop twice, so that'll give me time to recuperate inbetween. During that time I'd like a warm body to keep me company. I'd also like to forego any protection and I'll probably fuck you in the ass. Is that a problem?" He asked her this as he glanced down. She just giggled and quite casually, opened the rat's dress slacks to fish out his erection. She looked impressed as she rolled her tongue over the thick glans. Just then the coyote walked onto stage with a swagger, her spurs jingling. "Mmmnnn, I don't get many paid breaks, honey, so I'll be happy to give you two hours of my time. I won't even make you wrap it, and I'll even let you stick it up my butt. How's that sound?" She murmured this against his flesh, but he could still understand her for the most part. "Real fuckin' great. I'll let you know when you can bill me. Until then, just let me fill you." As those last words left his lips, his cock slipped in past hers, and before long she was blowing him, just as the coyote bitch on stage was sucking on that dildo. She stood on stage with her knees slightly bent and her tail flagged, whipping over her wide cushion of an ass to expose the lewd pucker and glistening folds. Cyrus shifted some to let the vixen get his pants down more, and a paw slipped down to cup those heavy rat testicles. Her eyes widened some, but her mouth was too busy for comment, nursing as it were on his thick tool. Other guests around him were up to similar lewdness. After all, getting a BJ was one of the best ways to take in a sex show. A velvety paw gripped him around the base and jerked a bit at his bare, unprotected rod.

The coyote reached for the lube holstered at her hip, and made a show of drizzling what was perhaps an excessive amount for the task she had in mind down her crack. She lowered herself to her knees on the stage and let off the most wanton sort of sound as she reached behind herself with her paw and shamelessly crammed two fingers into her own backdoor. The opening gave a vulgar flex about those fingers as she positioned the previously-holstered dildo beneath herself, and with one drop of her hips, enveloped it in her pussy. "Aw yeah... fuckin' suck it, vixen, just like that," growled Cyrus. Sticky, slippery pre-cum was undoubtedly leaking into the willing maw of the prostitute vixen already, mixing with her saliva. The vixen pressed her mouth deeper on his pole and her brow furrowed as it slipped into her throat. Still, she was a pro, and didn't stop until his entire cock was in her muzzle and throat. She managed only a second or so like this before she came up for breath, but by this time Cyrus was ready to move on. He made an 'about face' gesture with his fingers. She stood and flagged her tail and Cyrus appreciated the view for a few moments. Up on the stage, the coyote was panting as she wildly rolled her hips on that black rubber fuckstick beneath her. It glistened in the spotlight as she plunged herself upon it. "Do what vixens do best, and take my dick," said Cyrus, and the vixen complied, reaching down to grab his organ. She braced it as she sat back, bent at an angle that she wouldn't block the show on stage. She was hot and slick on the inside, quite the warm welcome for a dick in need. Soon, she sat back to coax him deeper, and every inch was enveloped by her. Her mouth parted open and she panted. Onstage, the coyote femme started to quiver a little bit, surely in the throes of climax. She went limp but still her tail swayed high and quick to the beat of the music, just as the vixen had started to give little rolls of her hips to shift that hard, veined ratmeat in and out of that slick vixen tunnel. Pre-cum was now free to mingle with her juices. The captain caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over. She smiled to him as he grunted beneath the vixen's efforts. "Freshen my drink and bring along some lube, please," managed the rat through his groaning. Her stare lingered for a while on where cock and cunt met, but then she slipped away to quickly retrieve the ordered items. On the stage, the coyote had recovered, but was far from done. Those fingers that she had inside of herself were being licked at... and the well-slickened toy was brought up her dusky crack to press against that wrinkle of skin between those cheeks. She winced a bit and the fur of her tail bristled as the toy split her open in a new place. Moments later a fresh glass of beer and a bottle of lube was brought along on a silver tray, and left in reach by the waitress. Cyrus took the bottle and grabbed the vixen's tail. After pulling it out of the way, he squeezed some of the slickness down the crack of her ass. "Finger your ass, vixen," ordered the captain. She was not as bold as the stage performer, starting with just her middle digit, which was a nice visual counterpoint to the dick slamming in and out of her box - and slam it did, as the rat repositioned himself for better leverage. The fox's eyes shot open as the weight of his balls came to bear on her clitoral hood and mons. This was just another day of work, but that feeling drove her wild, so that soon her finger matched the pace of the toy jamming harshly in and out of the performer on stage.

Cyrus felt her insides tense about him and start to milk at him just as he surged forward with his hips with sufficient force to clap them to her buttocks. His flesh tensed and jumped slightly inside of her, and then came the torrent of hot ratcum splashing against the mouth of her womb. The fox couldn't help but lose herself to this sensation. It was a risky act, even owing to the difference in species, and one that even she as a whore was unaccustomed to. Her toes curled, as did the captain's in his boots as he painted her insides with hot spunk. At last, the flow ebbed, shortly after her innards ceased their milking of his ball's contents. She had to rest her weight along the front of the glass coffee table. The rat, meanwhile, tugged himself out of her as he placed a light pressure between her shoulderblades. Around this time the coyote was getting off the stage, and she made a show of licking the toy she had employed as she walked past the pair. "I believe I've got you for another hour, vixen." said the rat as he went for his beer and took a drink, "Oh, and sorry for the mess. Like I said, I sure do get pent up."

The same waitress had been watching when this messy finish had happened, and she came over with some alcohol-free wet wipes. As cyrus recovered, he refused a cleaning with the wipes, but gave the vixen time to clean up. She pushed what she could out into them and wiped the outside clean, and these were deposited carefully in a wastebin. Then she returned to her customer, who had assured her he would require yet more of her services. "A quick once-over with your mouth should keep my cock and balls from sticking to the inside of my slacks. Then I would like you to escort me to a private room." The rodent sure was pleased with himself as he spoke. The vixen did as requested and took ahold of his softening prick to give it a few soothing licks with her tongue. "I'll bet you could just fill a rodent female fulla rat bastards, honey," murmured the vixen, "I'm a little concerned even with the different species and the birth control." Once she cleaned him, she zipped up his slacks and stood, beckoning him to follow her. The rat took his beer glass along with him, and walked up the spiral staircase with her as she led him to an unassuming bedroom. Now the captain was quick to get out of his uniform, revealing his white, almost transparent fur over a lightly muscled, wiry sort of build. he wasn't a big man, at least not in the traditional sense. Already he was a bit turgid again, too. He got into the bed, and laid back fully nude as he watched her. "I should be ready to go again after you've fingered yourself a bit. So by all means, get up here and on all fours, and let me see how you get ready to take dick up the backdoor." As he spoke, she did as requested, but first got some more lubricant out of a nearby nightstand drawer. This stuff smelled like it was raspberry flavored.

"Don't often get such nasty clients, stud, but I trust you'll tip well. The Madame says you always do," she drawled as she climbed onto bed and faced away from him while she applied the lube and got in two fingers. This made Cyrus laugh and smack her once on her ample behind. "Now now, it's rude to talk about tips before I pay my tab," remarked the captain, and then looked on as she worked those fingers in. He didn't need to stroke himself as he watched either, since she still had a paw free. Before long he was fully hard again, and she was good and primed for what was next. She turned around to face him as she straddled his hips, and watched his face as she touched his thick glans to her backdoor. "Are you this hard on your ladyfriends?" asked the whore, as she started to split herself open around his blunt tip. They both grunted as the wider head slipped in with a pop. "I'm, nnngh - a gentleman, even to ladies of the night," groaned Cyrus as she slid further down his pole until he was buried all the way in her. She reached down to rub herself a bit between the legs as she found her bearings. "I just figure, if I'm gonna pay for it, it might as well be the sort of thing a classy lady such as yourself can charge a premium on." The rat would have liked to think he had a point. She was bouncing upon him soon, and as a bonus, masturbated as she did. Then he reached down and took her hips. He dug his feet a bit into the mattress to give himself much-needed leverage as he shifted up and into her. Her ass was maddeningly hot, and perfectly tight around his rod. Also, his session was getting close to going into overtime. So he was quick to take the reins as he was known to do from time to time, and shifted positions with his dick still buried in the vixen. She found herself on her back, and his arms were hooked under her to keep her lower body lifted. This made it nice and easy for him to plunge harshly in and out of that well-lubricated vixen asshole, while heavy balls slapped against her tailbase.

The first hot spray went into her bowels, but he abruptly reeled back and out of her to jerk the last of that jizz out of his spurting dick. Some of it got as far as her tits, though most of the mess found it's way along her stomach, nethers, and crack. Without even being told, the vixen sat up and leaned forward to stuff that hot meat into her muzzle while it was still spurting. By the time he was done, the session was almost over. "Ahh... real fuckin' nice, vixen. Maybe before I leave tomorrow, I'll come in for a morning bang. Will you be around?" asked Cyrus. To this she shook her head. The captain got up and redressed as the vixen laid there, sticky and well used. "I hit it big today, so let's pretend I paid for three hours," remarked the rodent as he produced three disks from his pockets and tossed them onto the vixen's bed. With that, he walked out of the brothel without further comment to any of the staff, right out the way he came in. It was after dark by now and he briefly glimpsed the ship's pilot, a tall and willowy grayhound, just on his way in.

On his way back to the landing dock, the captain bought a carton of his preferred brand of cigarettes. He arrived in time to find the new weapons systems being installed on the freighter, concealed just below the cockpit. He gave a nod to Harriet as she supervised the welding of a large laser to the hull of the ship.

In his quarters, Cyrus showered off. The rest of the evening was uneventful. In the commons, he sat down in the dining table and waited as his crew gathered. It was a small crew, and the ship could support a few more, but they were sufficient enough to fit the needs of the ship. Harriet sat down first and glared some at Cyrus, likely knowing what he was up to while she continued to labor. Edgar, the pilot, arrived next and shot a knowing look to Cyrus. The navigator and copilot, Peter arrived, a skunk still in his teens with an inverted coloration of white with a black stripe. Then the doctor, Francine, a vixen, and her nurse, Clarissa, a short and slightly chubby brown mouse, sat down. Finally, the cook, a heavyset female brown bear, brought in the night's meal - rice, meat and vegetables, along with a large pitcher of water. "Tomorrow, we're going to receive our new cargo, and we'll embark to Tantadal. Due to the nature of the cargo, we'll need to take a different route, through a less lawful sector," began the captain as he leaned back, "Fortunately we've installed some new weapons systems, which we might need. The orders, if we are attacked, is for all personnel save for myself, Edgar, and Harriet to hurry to the cargo bay. If we're boarded, we'll have to surrender." The crew didn't look pleased about this development, but the promise of riches even exceeding the last haul was a tempting proposition.