Black Market

***

He's really not sure how it started. Okay, it started when two of the female specialists dragged him into an dusty, rather empty, supply closet, pulled down his pants and took turns giving him a blowjob. Immediately after which, they threatened to tell Dee ALL about it if he didn't do exactly what they wanted.

Which was, basically, to start a rather select service that would more easily regulate the flow of trade and commerce among the colonial fleet. For certain... services rendered.

And they needed a highly-placed figurehead who had access to all ships and communications and could easily 'advertise' certain services in a discreet manner.

They'd told him they'd taken a vote and he'd been the winner by a large, large margin.

He walked away not feeling very lucky at all.

Three months later, the feeling hasn't changed at all.

Sighing and staring at the last 'payment' bound for Galactica's rather enthusiastic specialized crew, Billy tried not to think too hard about the whole thing. President Roslin would kill him. Well, if she didn't already know.

Before the bombs, he'd wanted to become a Caprica city alderman and help build schools in his old district. Something that would benifit the community and make the world a better place. Somehow, the idea of what he was now had never even remotely entered into his brain. Ever.

Billy Keikeya: Colonial Fleet pimp.

His mother would be so proud.

Sighing, he tucked the extra socks and cigarettes into his carryon and went to his shuttle. Maybe in the next life he'd have the energy for regrets.

-fin-

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