At the boathouse

For the first time in decades there were lights on within Bunker 13. This place was originally a management station for men to supervise the transfer of cargo back and forth between the railway lines above and the canals below. After the catacombs were abandoned, it and many others were taken over by a myriad different entities in succession: privateers, organised crime, fugitives, and most recently by Jovian pirates. Bunkers were used as safe places for native spies and outerworlders to meet, during the Solaric Empire's peak of power. For any attack or raid to be worthwhile there had to be inside support. After the decline, more traditional methods of terrorism could be adopted, and the bunkers left behind.

There was always light at Bunker 13, pale orange and pulsating slowly, emitted by another great jellyfish of salted arenak. The ship was of the oldest space-faring spheres in the solar system. It was entirely built from a material magnitudes stronger than the hardest metal alloys, and with immeasurably higher resistance to temperature. The engine was built to endure, and would lazily consume the neutronium bar at its core for aeons before even nearing exhaustion.

Unfortunately as consequence of all the attributes that made this sphere near-indestructible and forever-enduring, any and all damage was often irreparable without complete dismantlement. A sphere like this stuck in enemy territory was best gifted for future archeologists. Everywhere in the space influenced by Sol could be dozens of such derelicts, still alive but in too inconvenient places to be worth salvaging. Thus, a coolant leak had been the sole and completely valid reason for which the sphere at Bunker 13 was written off.

Odyssa the whore was the bunker's new occupant. She was executing her grand masterplan for a better life. For years now her attention had been on Sol and the three planets circling it so close. For years she had watched and listened to the grapevine of gossip and low-level espionnage on Ringworld until at last came whispers of a possible new raid mission to the Core. Hundreds wanted in, veterans and youngsters alike craving a touch of glory from the war days. But the harlot was prepared. Through a strategic marriag to one of her own clients she puppeteered herself into a vacant spot on Croker's asteroid which was to make the main voyage, and from there wormed her way into Olar Skund's favour. His crew unknowingly gave her the final piece, in discussing whether they might find Bunker 13 still intact or not.

The plan had failed, of course, through no fault of her own. Even after bedding Skund and Taffy and all the rest of them during the long weeks from Jupiter, none had spoken of their objective in her presence. How could she have known that actually, the place that she hoped to make herself the queen whore supreme would have absolutely no market for her service? Now she was stuck. While her excursion up to the City was fruitless, yet returning to the pirates was out of the question. They'd kill her.

It was hard to keep track of time down here, but Odyssa knew what day it was nonetheless: food day. All the rations she'd stolen from the sphere were depleted, and she could feel her stores of body fat begin to waste away. It was important she stay fit at least until her decision was made as to her new future. Sex was her profession. There was bound to be some means to gain favour that way, even in a world full of free and boundless rutting.

Little preparation was required before going on the hunt. Odyssa had grown up on the Ice Moon, below the frozen shell in one of the floating underwater cities. Everyone there knew how to swim, and in far less dense waters than any oceans in the Core. All the whore did was tether herself to a hook on the edge of the trench with a metal rope, and set the old spaceship's hull to glow its most dazzling white. Then, armed only with wits and brutish strength, she dived into the canal after her prey - landing upon an unlikely maelstrom of activity...